#not a filthy chapter but the end makes it pretty clear the next one is going to be from the very start lol

[uyuartik]

othello ch.3| anakin skywalker x reader

tags: othello au mini series, no major character death (just want to make that clear), borderline dark fic, aND NOW DEAR READERS WE GET TO SEE THAT DARKNESS, FILTHY SMUT, kinda hate s*x, jealous ani, reader is in her discovery era, BUT I SWEAR IT'S ALL CONSENSUAL, oral sex(fem receiving), piv sex, bondage but not really, restriction? is it called that?,

summary: The celebrations end, but the night doesn't.

a/n: welcome back! this is *the* chapter we've all been expecting, i think. i'm still shocked that i wrote this, it is so different from my usual style. but the parasites in me wanted this on paper, so here we are! i hope you like it!!!

don't forget to leave likes, reblogs and comments! it means a lot!

also crossposted on ao3!

word count: 3168

prologue | ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | finale

chapter 3

That was not the only acknowledgment he gave you that night.

Days of hate and yearning; love and lust came over him after that sentence, and he found his way to your room again, well past midnight. You were brushing your hair with an absentminded frown littering your pretty face, but the moment you saw him enter, it transformed into the loveliest smile he’s ever seen, then quickly disappeared for a variety of reasons. Fuck, he hated to see it fade away, see you abandoning out of your chair yet standing next to it, not reaching out to him like you always do. A little afraid, a little too angry to do so… You were the more contained one of the two of you, as always, yet he always had the ability to see those emotions behind bars, and held the spare keys.

“My Lord.” Your voice couldn’t contain the excitation of having him in your chambers, though. “Can I help you in any way?”

“Yes, yes you can.”

And he was grabbing you, stealing a deep, dirty kiss.

For a second, your shocked whimper which was successfully muffled by his lips was your sole reaction, but then the wanting overcame you- your hands cupping his face, raising on your tiptoes to be closer, trying to keep up with this strange rhythm. Anakin was the only man you’ve ever kissed in your entire life, and he was always sweet, treating you like you were a flower he was afraid to crush. Even when things got heated (and it did), he would always try to keep things where you could function too. But now, he seemed to have forgotten that principle, just drinking in your soul. That’s how it felt like, the breath stolen from your lungs, all voices drowned, the need for an explanation never a priority. He sucked on your lips ‘til they were swollen and numb, and occupied your mouth with his tongue, a challenge you didn’t fight to win anyway. The grip on your chin was borderline painful, and your weak point, your puppet string which he mastered. The wetness of your messes threatened to spill from the corners of your mouth. Filthy, so filthy.

He held your waist, pulling you to himself so tight that your balance was entirely maintained by him, but there was something different about this proximity, this way of touch. It was as if he didn’t hold you to be closer, seeking your warmth, but more like he groped you, conquering every inch of your skin again, declaring that it was his.

The man in front of you was somebody else, you could’ve sworn. It would have scared you.

But all in your questions and dead protests, you came to realize that you enjoyed it, perhaps not as much as when he was adoring you, but you did. There was no explanation you could make about it. You saw the storm in his eyes, but that blue was still thecolor of the sky you had memorized.

Thus, when the two of you eventually parted, you didn’t push him, or take a step back. You stood there with your mouth agape, trembling with each shallow breath, and that glimmer in your eyes telling a different story than just a stupor. Your cheeks reddened under his piercing stare, but you still didn’t want to let him go, clutching to his shoulders.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” The scorn was obvious. Did other men treat you like this too? Did you let them?

“I-“ You stuttered, not able to find the right words, not able to utter them out of shyness.

“You little whore.”

You flinched and shrieked, taken aback by the insult. How could he ever use that word against you?

“I’m not-“

“Let’s see, shall we?”

It took you a couple of seconds to understand what he meant as you were tossed to the bed, the soft material bouncing under you a few times. He was over you in a blink, knees planted on the sides of yours, haphazardly trapping your night between him and the bed, the fabric of your nightgown taut over your body. He found your lips again, ready for his taking, but you were not as trapped as you looked, and you were beating him on his own game with those hands, prompting him to devour you further, reaching for his neck, clinging, pulling him closer, touching him the way he likes to be touched, (that was nothing special actually, because, he liked your touch, each and every way your fingers traced him).

How could he hate you?

How could you hate him?

It was about the trust you had in him, knowing all his aversions are reserved for the battlefield and nowhere else, knowing he’d never hurt you deliberately, knowing a word from you and he would stop, anytime. Even with all the plots and mystery, you still held onto each other, desperate for the other. You didn’t shut down his advances, defying his tests by being your authentic self, and he couldn’t stay away from you, even while the accusations still dwelled in his mind.

“Ani, what’s going on?” You whined.

“I think you know what’s going on.”

The answer was so appalling that you were left mute.

You remained stuck as he traveled downwards, a path that would’ve taken him so much longer before. But now, he trashed the fabric up up up your body, the big fat lumps of white stacked on top of your belly, revealing just enough for what he had planned.

He was craving your taste for so long.

You cried out when he parted your legs, and delved right between them. At first, you winced when the cold air hit your core, but the more shocking thing was his very audible sniff, brushing his nose up your skin like he wanted to fill the entirety of his lungs with your scent.

Yes, that was how much he has been craving you.

Gasping, your hands flew up to his hair, albeit with a little difficulty. Your craving for him was not any different. Even in this intimate position, you needed to hold onto him further. He would try to hold your hand while he did this, it had always been the case for the two of you. He adored how your relatively tiny fingers grasped his so tight that they could actually bruise or even break, he liked how you tugged on his hair, that little short yanks as you lost control for a second, and regained it, afraid to hurt him. God, you missed his chuckles when he stopped to reassure you about it. But now, there were only groans, animalistic sounds as he seized you with his tongue, burrowing into your hole while he drank your essence to the last bit. You grasped his tresses a few times like before, short yanks before you came to your senses, and he couldn’t stand it.

Actually, he couldn’t stand the way you were the same.

If you were not as innocent as before, why couldn’t he sense it in your touches? How could it exist, and not have a trace in the twinkle of your eyes? How could your voice waver most naturally, most randomly as you were subjected to unimaginable accusations if you were truly guilty of them?

With more questions muddying his mind, he reemerged from his position, ripping your hand away. you opened your eyes, rising- til he stopped you, and with a flip you found yourself in a completely different position, on your hands and knees. For the first time, ever.

“Ani!”

You’ve pleaded his name before, but this time it was different- and he froze, waiting for your intervention.

But it didn’t come. It wasn’t a warning. You were starving too. Involuntarily arching your back, falling onto your elbows as if presenting yourself, urging him to keep touching you. His hold on the back of your thighs traveled up, ‘til his right thumb was pressing on your clit. That alone was enough to steal a sigh from your lips, an indicator of your willingness. Poor you, just needed a second…

“Cat got your tongue, my poor wife?” He tried, one last time. “Tell me what you need, I am not as cruel as them.”

Them? “I- I need you. Only you.” You whispered, burning with the exposure, and lust. Of course, the change was abrupt, but you were not opposed to it, especially when you were with him.

Thus, he got to revel in your essence once more, the fabric of your nightgown draped over his hair, essentially covering his head, and he was engulfed in you, your taste, your softness, your perfume… He basically pushed his nose right through your folds, stimulating you in the strangest way, while his tongue worked over your clit, chasing that pearl as you failed to contain your hips. While the two of you never kept things chaste behind the doors of your bedroom, this was about the most scandalous position you two ever shared. Your heart donned its wings and flew out of you just at the thought of it, knowing this wouldn’t be the last time you’d think about it, knowing one day you might ask for it again.

You lasted so short, for it was impossible to keep your every neuron from firing with these new sensations. You shook and shook, your legs only kept up with his support, leaking all across his face. Your sounds were half-muffled by the pillow you’ve buried yourself into, and you stood like that some time, just trying to process it all and he watched you, caressing your inner thighs. When he retracted his hands to undo his trousers, you whimpered, and fell to your side- or you would’ve fallen, if he didn’t catch you. The firmness of his hold was a clear warning, and you whimpered again, now knowing what he intended to do, besides the ache in you to reach out to him growing unbearable.

You heard the clothes fall to the floor, and your chest panged with how handsome he looked in the moonlight. Of course, you could only see half of him as your neck could only rotate that much. You didn’t even realize you held your breath, watching him locate himself between your legs once more, goosebumps rising on your skin with the anticipation of his next touch. Still, the expectation never lived up to the real sensation, dragging his cock through your wet folds with a loud squelch that reverberated in the silent room. You pushed back without a thought, and one of your hands reached backward, begging for him to take it, like he wasn’t already touching you. He took it- though it was your wrist he held, and he pressed it against the low arch of your back, your elbow bending.

“Are you going to behave?” He hissed, “Are you still my good wife?”

You nodded, your hair rubbing against the sheets in an unflattering way, one last flex of your fingers. He dragged his length across your entire pussy again, for he couldn’t contain himself nevertheless, his desire for you so great-

“Say it.” He reminded.

But, your answer was not what he expected. “I love you.” You said, breathlessly. “I love you. I want you- I’m trying to be good for you.”

What a shame, for the words “you already are” traveled all the way to his tongue, but wasn’t let out. Instead, he decided he was covered in your slick enough, and pushed the tip of his cock in. He could feel every hitch in your breath, every small sound of pleasure you let out, the sinful furrow of your brows challenged him greatly, with your words still echoing in his ears. He never wanted to hurt you, so he took great care in going slow, agonizingly slow, despite the wish of his primitive self. There was always the fact that he never took you in this position, and you were already on edge because of it.

You shuddered when the tops of his thighs met yours, going mad with how deep was in you like this, how good it felt, even though you couldn’t see or touch him properly. “Please move, my love.” Your plea came after a few seconds, and when he got the permission, he used it.

The first roll of his hips elicited a moan from you, your voice split in two by the thrust. Then, another. Even the barrier of expensive sheets wasn’t enough to mute them as you squirmed in pleasure, the yearning of the week before dissolving in a way that made you more delirious, and you felt like the world was showing you another layer of life, how love could be manifested without gentleness, and still feel this good, this pleasurable.

Anakin didn’t prefer this arrangement, not on most days. He favored seeing your face; your shy gaze turning hungry, the giddy eye rolls when he taunted you with “See something you like?”, your eyelids closing with tiredness- he’d die for every single detail his eyes could capture. But seeing you writhing with bliss unlocked something in him at that moment. He snapped his hips harder, burying himself deeper, a bulge prominent in your lower belly that he could feel with his fingertips, and abusing that sweet spot in you. You were dizzy with the inability to fill your lungs with oxygen- but then again, you were convinced you needed him more than you needed oxygen. His touch, the fact that he was touching you, being with you… Right now those were the matters that kept you alive.

The way your pussy gripped him, almost making it impossible for him to pull back- the struggle was evident in his rugged exhales, deep groans leaving his mouth louder than he intended to. With each sound he produced, you quivered against him. The desperation you had for him never failed to make him surprised. You hadheld him in every way before, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding onto his biceps, burying yourself in the crook of his neck… But now, you had no such chance, yet, you held onto his voice. It only fueled him further ‘til-

“Anakin.” He stopped at once. “Please, I want to touch you.” It was more than a wish, like a necessity.

He obeyed.

“You want to touch me?” He teased, still gripping your hand. You expected him to release you at any second, and pull out, that dreaded empty feeling disturbing you, but he did none of those things. With his free hand, he pulled your middle flush with his chest, letting your head rest on his shoulder. A few stray pieces of hair fell to the middle of your face, but your deep exhale blew them away. He watched it happen, your lips opening up, slightly shaky with the air leaving. This was surely one of the moments that would come back to haunt him as he died, one of the memories that flashed in front of his eyes.

Your free hand held onto his, meeting below your ribs, and your gaze consumed him. Without delay, you held your end of the bargain and reached for his mouth. You felt him twitch inside you, and continued to kiss him with greater need, your thumb brushing his arm repeatedly. He was proud of the way you did the most of it, even with one hand behind you, plucking the control out of him with such gentleness that he didn’t mind at all. He almost lost track of the situation, solely focused on the movements above your waists. Honoring the instinct to follow the curve of your body, his hand traced the underside of your tit, then your nipple, all with your hand glued to his arm. The thin fabric provided no obstacles for you to feel every catch of his callouses.

It was only when you fell to his shoulder again, breathless, that he was reminded of your previous activities. Maintaining eye contact, he captured your free hand, watching your eyes widen, and brought it back with the other, properly restraining you. Alas, you had no objections, and you only sighed when he lowered you back. Still, you were so needy for him, and you propped your hips even higher.

Of course, with both of your needs met, you were not far from the peak, and your warning, “Ani, I’m- oh” came in minutes, interrupted by a particular thrust.

“You’re what?” He knew exactly what, repeating the movement already.

“Just like that, please.”

Please. You were trying to break his mind, for sure.

With a cry and your back arching impossibly, you came, squeezing around him even tighter and painting him with your leak. The pulsation of your walls was too much for him to bear too, prompting his release. Throwing his head back, a beautiful moan left his throat and he pulled out at the last second, covering the small of your back with his cum.

The hot droplets hitting your skin impossibly scorched you. Did he not want to start a family with you anymore? During your first months, he did it on purpose, claiming he wanted you to himself for a while, and you thought the same. Besides, a shameless part of you guessed they would be scurrying around soon with the rate you were going at it. What had happened to sever him from that dream?

Your knees gave out when he moved to get a clean rag, a coldness seeping into your bones as he cleaned you, methodically and quickly. He handed you a new nightgown, and your muscles ached trying to take the old one off. Then, you watched him tidy himself too, much harsher than he treated you, filling you with the desire to kiss that patches of skin better.

Alas, you were too tired to do that when he laid beside you. You were too tired to even smile, but surely, the frown that occupied your forehead was gone that night, despite the new questions forming in your mind, as his scent filled your nostrils. Unlike the previous nights that kept him awake with gnawing doubt, he too found it easy to fall into the pits of sleep, in contrast to his will to do otherwise. How could he not, when it was the sight of you that brought him peace, the immortal old habit? Together for an hour, and with ten words top, the vision of your face he looked upon for merely minutes- yet there he was, stiffness of his muscles relaxing, the anxiety that chewed on his spirit lessened, his weary eyes meeting with sleep once again.  He had a feeling, a hope, that these emotions would last ‘til the morning, for he had not the cruelty to wake you up and speak about what troubled him.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Werewolf Bites and Hot Summer Nights

An AU in which Laura and Max can’t find Hackett Quarry and end up at the Harbinger Motel, before becoming camp counsellors for the summer. Max is moody and secretive and Laura keeps bumping into the grumpiest sheriff with the cutest puppy dog eyes, and when he gives her his number ‘just in case’ a girl can’t help but drunk dial him one night. Cue overprotective and jealous Travis. And shouldn’t the officer get a birthday kiss?

Banter | Enemies to Lovers | Battle Couple | Smut

Start with Chapter One

Chapter Five

Laura was being abducted.

Actually, she and the sheriff were being abducted in the sheriff’s car, by two hunters who looked like they dined on squirrel and shopped at Ye Olde Frayed Undergarments Boutique.

The withered, white-haired man was driving, his liver-spotted but surprisingly strong-looking hands on the wheel. The bigger man was filling the passenger seat, his shoulders so broad that one arm was pressed tightly against the window.

The only reason Laura wasn’t panicking as they bumped along was because Travis seemed one part annoyed, two parts resigned, and wasn’t saying anything.

In the seat next to her, Travis cleared his throat and adjusted his belt buckle. The innocent gesture hid what he was actually trying to do, which was push his erection down.

Laura recrossed her legs, trying to squirm her underwear into a more comfortable position. She’d pulled them on at the speed of light when Travis had reached out with his long arms and yanked the door shut. She was so wet she was probably leaving a damp patch on the seat. 

She and Travis exchanged glances and she remembered the filthy things he’d growled in her ear. He knew she’d liked them. He’d felt her getting wetter by the second.

She'd been so damn close.

The white-haired shook his head and muttered to himself. “Wait ’til your Ma hears about this. Just you wait, Travis.”

Travis stuck his fingers through the grille and rattled it. “Dad, I’m on duty. This is my goddamn car.”

Laura whipped her head around. “This is your father?”

He sighed and sat back. “Yeah, and my brother, Bobby.”

Bobby was sniggering in the front passenger seat. “Travis got caught with a girl.”

“Shut-up, Bobby,” Travis muttered.

What kind of mess was she in? They weren’t going very fast, so Laura tried the door handle, but it flipped uselessly. No wonder Max hadn’t been able to get out earlier. This place was a cage when the driver locked the doors.

They turned down a gravel driveway and approached a very large, very creepy old house, the kind of place that looked like it was haunted by ghosts that would send you mad and make you kill your family.

At the front door, Mr. Hackett parked and opened the back door for them, gripping the shotgun in his left hand. Laura got out, and Travis climbed out after her. 

“Let me drive Miss Kearney back to camp.”

“Inside. Now.” Mr. Hackett pointed at the front door.

“She doesn’t know anything,” Travis exclaimed, but Bobby grabbed both their shoulders and shoved them into the house.

Laura doesn’t know anything? That seemed pretty harsh to Laura seeing as she was a college graduate, but she supposed that Travis wasn’t referring to the theory of evolution by natural selection or Planck’s constant.

The vibes around Hackett Quarry had been strange all summer. Maybe she was about to find out what Travis was so jumpy about. 

Laura allowed herself to be marched inside along with Travis, but she paid careful attention to where the doors and windows were, ready to run the first chance she got. The house was as lovely on the inside as it was on the outside. Peeling wallpaper, old oil paintings and curling maps, squeaky floorboards.

They emerged into a living room lit by a single storm lamp. An old woman was sitting in a high-backed armchair.

The old man jabbed Travis in the ribs. “Tell your Ma what you’ve been doing when you should have been hunting.”

“Ma” was a stick thin, hard-mouthed old woman in her seventies who looked like she enjoyed dragging small children around by their earlobes.

Laura waited for Travis to tell these people they were all round the bend for kidnapping him in his own car along with a grown woman. As “Ma” bestowed her son with a gaze that glittered harder than diamonds, Travis paled.

“Well? Why are you here where you should be huntin’?” Her voice cracked like a whip around the room. Even Laura felt its lash.

Travis reached for Laura. “We’re going, Ma. I’m taking Miss Kearney back to camp, and then I’m—”

“You stay right there!” she snapped, and Travis did as he was told.

All the hairs stood up on the back of Laura’s neck. There was something very wrong in this house. A dark energy that turned everything bitter and sad, and it seemed to be radiating from this old woman.

Mrs. Hackett stood up and turned to Laura, raking her with eyes like lasers. Laura suppressed the urge to tug on the hem of her short dress and pat down her hair. She suddenly felt naked.

“Who the hell is this?” Mrs. Hackett asked.

“She’s a counsellor at—”

“Not you,” Mrs. Hackett snarled.

Mr. Hackett spoke in ominous tones. “They were in the back of his car.”

The old woman gave Laura a look that could melt metal and took in her bare legs and messy hair. The hot and heavy moments she’d spent with Travis were clinging to her skin, and she had the unsettling notion that everyone in this room knew what she and Travis had been up to.

“What were you doing with this girl, Travis?”

“We thought we heard an animal.” Travis looked meaningfully at his parents, trying to communicate something.

“We did hear an animal. Travis said it was a bear,” Laura said slowly, watching their faces. Bear had to be a lie. It just had to be. What were they hiding? Did Travis have another brother called Leatherface who prowled for victims on the full moon?  

“That’s Sheriff Hackett to you, girlie.” Mr. Hackett surveyed Laura with a severe expression, his lips pressed tightly together. Now she knew where his son got it from.

“Ma, Miss Kearney doesn’t know—”

The skinny old woman glared at her son. “Shut up. Was I talking to you?”

Travis flinched and bowed his head, and anger erupted through Laura. “Wow. Is that any way to talk to your son?”

Mrs. Hackett’s eyes narrowed. Mean old bitch. “You. Girl. What were you doing in the back of that car with my son?”

Laura tapped her chin, pretending to think. “I could tell you, but I just remembered it’s none of your goddamn business.”

Travis groaned under his breath and sank his face into his palm.

“I’m his mother. Everything that boy does is my business.”

“He’s fifty-six years old!”

Mrs. Hackett pointed a bony finger in her face. “Harlots and sluts like you can still get their claws into him.”

Travis lifted his head and raised his voice. “Ma! Shut the fuck up.”

Laura glanced at him in surprise. So he could stand up to his mother. Just not for himself.

“Don’t you talk to your ma that way,” Mr. Hackett growled.

Travis bowed his head again, but a muscle in his jaw ticked.

Laura shook her head and turned toward the door. “Okay, the looney toons have gone on long enough. I’m leaving.”

Travis caught her arm. “Not alone, it’s not safe. I’ll take—”

“Lock her in the cellar, Bobby,” the old man ordered.

“No one’s locking Miss—”

“We can’t. You know what’s down there,” Mrs. Hackett replied.

Laura’s eyes widened. What was down there?

“Then chain her up in the attic. We’ve got spare chains.”

Spare chains? Laura started to panic. “Are you all freaking crazy? No one’s locking me in a cellar or chaining me in the attic.”

Mrs. Hackett started shouting. So did Mr. Hackett. As if caught up in the drama of the situation, Bobby started exclaiming, “Travis had a girl in his car,” over and over.

“Everybody just calm the hell down,” Travis shouted, and everyone did, which seemed to shock him more than anything else that had happened tonight. “I’ll take Laura—Miss Kearney—back to camp. You’re all scaring her over a bear hunt.”

Mr. Hackett looked at his wife to make the decision.

Laura stepped closer to Travis and breathed, “Get me out of here, right now.”

Travis held his hand out to his father. “Give me my damn keys.”

“Ma” didn’t say a word, so Mr. Hackett handed them over.

Laura couldn’t walk fast enough as she followed Travis out of that maze of a house. In the front seat of his car, she put her head between her knees and dragged breath into her lungs.

“What the fuck. What the fucking fuck. I thought your family were going to kill me.”

Travis started the car and drove back toward the main road. “I’m sorry. It’s the bears around here. Everyone gets a little crazy about them at the full moon.”

Laura reared up. “It’s not fucking bears, Travis! Don’t lie to me.”

He winced, and Laura took a deep breath. The way he’d cowered in front of his mother was still seared into her brain.

“Does your family always talk to you like that?” she asked in a softer tone.

He pretended to be focused on the very difficult task of driving in a straight line down a straight, smooth road.

Finally, he muttered, “Don’t worry about it.”

That was one of the worst family dynamics she’d ever witnessed. That old witch treated her eldest son like trash. No one stood up for him. He couldn’t stand up for himself.

But he’d stood up for her.

Mrs. Hackett had called her a harlot and a slut, and he’d told her to shut the fuck up.

Laura nearly reached out for his hand, wanting to squeeze it, but every other strange thing that had happened this evening stopped her.

“What’s in your parents’ cellar that they didn’t want me to see?”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. “My family takes hunting very seriously.”

Laura flopped back against the seat and shook her head. “If you’re going to lie to me, don’t bother talking at all.”

Travis took her words deeply to heart and didn’t utter one syllable as they drove back to where they’d left the SUV by the side of the road.

The moment Laura got out of his car and slammed the door, she wanted to jump back in, wrap her arms around him and tell him that she was so, so sorry for the horrible way his family treated him.

Plus she’d left her orgasm in that car. He had it, and she wanted it.

***

Laura sighed and started the SUV. As she drove back to camp, she wasn’t surprised to see the sheriff following her. Keeping her safe from “bears.”

Travis arrived home just after dawn, eyes burning with exhaustion and a dismal feeling festering in his heart.

He lived in a house adjoining the police station and as he walked down the hall he raked his fingers through his short hair. A scent on his fingers caught his attention.

Laura.

He stared at his hand. What a humiliating experience, to have the girl he’d been obsessing over finally in his arms, fleetingly interested in him, only for his family to interrupt them at the critical time.

He didn’t care about himself. If only Dad and Bobby had waited just one more minute, then he could have at least given her something good and kept a heavenly memory for himself. There was no chance of that ever happening between them again. Laura wouldn’t come within a mile of him again after seeing how pathetic he was, a man who cowered in front of his mother.

Travis closed his eyes and groaned. At fifty fucking six years old.

Rum for breakfast? He sauntered through his house to the kitchen, picked up an open bottle of dark rum.

Rum for breakfast.

He necked it from the bottle, and the alcohol burned down his throat, stole his breath and silenced his thoughts. He usually had rum for breakfast the night after a full moon, when the exhaustion and disappointment were bone deep.

He could smell Laura on his fingers and damn, her scent was something else. The only thing he wanted to think about right now was the pleasant, warm buzz of the rum and hot, heavy moments with Laura in the back of his car. Her telling him to look for the bear. Again. And again. Demanding he rub against her. And she’d called him bossy.

A smile hooked the corner of his mouth. Little brat.

The wall phone next to him let out shrill ring, shattering his daydream.

Travis rubbed his tired eyes and picked up the receiver. “Sheriff Hackett.”

“What were you doing with one of my campers last night?”

Chris. How wonderful. More family. “Camp counsellor,” he corrected.

“Same thing.”

“She went for a drive in the moonlight, and Silas found us before I managed to send her back.”

“Shit. Which counsellor?”

“Laura Kearney.”

“Did she see—”

“No.”

Silence stretched.

“Bobby was saying stuff about you and her.”

Sometimes he could wring his little brother’s neck. “Bobby barely knows one end of a shotgun from the other.”

Chris made a non-committal noise. “All right. Thanks for picking her up and bringing her back. I hope Ma didn’t freak her out too much.”

“What do you think?” Travis growled, and slammed the phone down.

He took a final swig of rum and then went to his bed.

The week that followed the full moon always felt hollow because it was then that the Hackett family lived in their disappointment that yet again they hadn’t managed to kill Silas. Travis avoided the family home like it was filled with plague.

He was always thinking about Laura. Late at night he thought about her even more. He searched for a lot of college girl porn. Blonde girls with older men. Not innocent, helpless blondes, but bratty ones with fire in their eyes who needed to be held down until they were whimpering please and being pounded into the mattress. The ones who loved to be manhandled and spanked and told what to do. Forced what to do.

Nothing illegal or messed up. A game because they both liked it.

He checked his phone often, hoping for a sarcastic text from her that would give him an excuse to charge around to camp and tell her off for wasting his time when he was busy.

But his phone stayed silent except for calls about noise complaints and stolen cars.

He’d never wanted someone to talk back to him so much in his life.

***

Another month sharing a bedroom with four other girls with no access to her vibe, Laura was starting to go around the bend.

The first month at camp, she’d had the odd lewd thought about Travis Hackett. She’d been turned on and squirmed a little in her underwear. She’d been noticeably wet several times and felt the aching need to be penetrated.

She’d fantasied about his thick cock dragging in and out of her while she had one hand pressed against his chest with the other working her clit. The fantasy had always passed off when she became distracted by other things.

Now it wasn't passing.

She couldn’t bring herself to try and get off in her bunk while the other girls slept. She remembered Travis’ question in the back of his car. Do you ever touch yourself?

Chance would be a fine fucking thing. In her own bed, she loved to go to town on herself. She was never going to take that luxury for granted ever again.

It was late afternoon and Laura’s Triple X daydream had moved past the first orgasm she’d had with her fingers and now he was really going for it, pumping into her in an unrelenting rhythm, their mouths parted, breathing hard. She gripped his shoulders and held on for dear life. His shaft was glistening with her wetness. He pushed her knees up to her shoulders and leant his weight on her, because bratty girls needed to feel it deep inside them to know who was boss.

Laura groaned and pushed her hands through her hair.

“Something wrong, Laura?” Abi looked up from helping one of the kids with a drawing. Laura was meant to be helping with the group. Instead, she was gripping a pencil like she was about to snap it in half.

Sweet Abi. She imagined what Abi would say if she confessed the truth. I need to be screwed stupid by that middle-aged cop you may have seen around. Absolutely ruined by him. You get me?

Abi.exe has stopped responding.

Laura rubbed her breastbone. “Ugh, indigestion.”

“You go get something from the nurse’s station. We’re just about finished here, anyway,” Abi offered.

Maybe walking it off would help. Laura got to her feet. “Thanks, Abi.”

Dragging her feet, Laura walked dismally around to the lodge, wondering if she’d ever feel cheerful again.

Max was too proud to talk to her about whatever was eating him.

Travis was probably avoiding her over what had happened at the full moon.

There was a mystery at Hackett's Quarry that no one else seemed aware about. Everything was such a mess. 

As she reached the front of the lodge, a familiar cop car pulled up. A tall man got out, dressed in a blue uniform, his gold badge gleaming in the afternoon sunshine.

He saw her right away. He’d probably seen her before she’d seen him.

He didn’t look through her.

He looked at her.

Laura’s heart soared.

Her clit practically cheered.

The sheriff was here.

***

I’ve been able to get out a chapter a day this week but I’m busy tomorrow so it will probably be a day or two before I post the next one. I can’t wait to write the next part. I’m having loads of fun! I hope you’re enjoying it too. Until then, leave me a comment and let me know what you think of the story so far.  

CHAPTER SIX

[erika-being-erika]

More levihan reccomendations!

Part 1

• One Last Time by PiercingThePage

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levi & Hanji have been dating for about 3 years in highschool. He starts to have feelings for one of the pretty girls names Petra Ral. After he starts cheating on Hanji with her, he decides he wants out of the relationship. Until the day he decides to tell her, ends up being the day she tells him that she's pregnant. Will they make it out well, or will Levi start to realize he is becoming his own dead beat dad

• Having My Baby by Countess_Dorkula

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Another SNK Kink Meme fill. Follow Levi and Hanji as they go through the marvelous adventure towards parenthood.

• catch me if you can by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapter || on going]

Summary:

The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn't deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman's cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn't help but feel something close to fascination.

No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.

Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

• Partners by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

When Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed.

And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

• can't keep my hands off you by fanmoose12

[Multi-chap || completed]

Summary:

Hange, Levi and their not so secret relationship.

• Looking for You by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Returning from a long mission, all Levi wanted was to spend sometime with Hange. But instead he got a message from Erwin, urging him to come to HQ. There he found out, that Hange was missing for over a week and that his new mission is to partner with Moblit, Hange's loyal assistant, and together find and bring Hange home.

• A Tale of Two Slaves by TundrainAfrica

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

"Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything's a choice. And Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."

Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.

• Free-Falling by djmarinizela

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Skydiver and tea shop owner Levi Ackerman meets the town’s resident mad scientist and tries to convince himself that he's not falling for her.

• All of Me by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

By the time they reached the trees, Sylvia's sides were heaving, her flanks covered in sweat-foam, but they couldn't afford to stop; two titans had become more. Hange refused to look behind her, but she could tell by the way the ground shook that one of them was at least a 13-meter class.

And all she had with her was one blade and a horse who was about to drop dead of exhaustion.1

• Dreams May Not Come True by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levihan. Hange knows something is wrong when she goes down to breakfast one morning and the smell makes her stomach churn.

• Something Like Destiny by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Reincarnation AU. Zoë doesn't have dreams; she just knows.

• A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

A snk 1920′s AU:

Sina is wild, crowded, bursting with industry. Home to jazz, fashion - and corruption. Crooked politicians, dirty police, and powerful gangs have turned the city into a cesspit of violence where the powerful rule. At the center of the chaos are the Ackermans - one of the most powerful gangs in the city, Mayor Fritz - who is as corrupt as he is wealthy, Erwin - a police commander determined to weed out the corruption in his own department, and Hanji - a journalist willing to risk everything to expose their city’s darkest secrets.

• A Simple Choice by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

The rain had started up again. Fat droplets drummed over her hood, drenching the fabric. Her horse’s reins were wet and cold; though her fingers, numbed from continued exposure to the elements, could hardly feel them.

Following the sound of the explosion, they’d arrived at a clearing. It was a mess of blackened, shattered wood, and the wagon, a skeleton, was little more than a smoking husk. Beyond the wreckage, a titan lay prostrate. Felled, its limp, hulking form was barely visible through the rain.

As soldiers shouted, pointing at the creature, one of the horses still tethered to the ruined wagon, writhed. When the beast screamed a broken, panicked wail, her own horse shifted, flanks twitching with unease.

Hanji barely noticed.

The soldiers' voices, the poor beast’s screams, even the heavy, even thrum of rain - had silenced as she looked to the river.

A body lay at the edge of the dark, white-capped water.

• License to Science (And Kill) by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

When International criminal organization, TITAN, successfully steals an arsenal of missiles along with their encrypted launch codes, Code Blue is initiated. It up to Agent Levi Ackerman, a spy in a class of his own, and Research scientist Hanji Zoe, the premiere authority on the organization, to halt a global catastrophe in its tracks.

She lowered her glasses, brown eyes blinking over the rims. “Does this mean I have a-” One brow lifted. “License to Science?”

“No. But I do have a License to Kill. Don’t tempt me to use it.”

• Aftermath by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levi rushes to the wall in the aftermath of the Armored and Colossal Titans' attack.

“Are you worried about your wife?”

The question shocked him out of his musings.

Levi looked up, “My what?”

But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”

Levi cut him off, “My what?”

The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”

• Terrible Things by someonestolemyshoes

[One-shot]

Summary:

The first time he tells her she’s pretty, Hange is all kinds of filthy - sweaty, dirty, twigs in her hair and mud on her shoes and a great big disgusting ball of everything Levi hates.

She is also crying.

It isn’t like he’s never seen her cry before - they’re nine and crying is just what kids do, especially kids like Hange who like to play with things they probably shouldn’t play with and like to climb trees even though they’re kind of clumsy and so the crying, in it’s self, isn’t all that weird.

What’s weird is that Hange - Hange, with her print-smudged glasses and ratty ponytail and clothes two sizes too big for her - is crying because a boy called her ugly.

• Acquiescence by 3LevisInATrenchcoat

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

On Judgement Day, the tide brought someone strange.

• My soulmate by a_golden_hearted_snk_fan

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

When your soulmate gets injured or hurt, their injuries show up on your skin with a slight sting then slowly fade. It was a rare thing to occur, but Levi and Hanji were the lucky ones.

• SOS by djmarinizela

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levi is a reclusive senior student who shares an apartment with Mike, Nanaba, and his best friend, Hange, who he's secretly in love with. Oddly enough, they also belong to the same secret club with a special operations squad. The 104th cohort is a bunch of freshmen misfits they've taken under their wing, Moblit is Hange's lab partner also vying for her affections, while Erwin’s the newest instructor who doesn’t know how to teach. And they say school is fun.

• the moon is dark by alteirkay

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

His face was wet.

“What the hell?” He murmured touching his face to see if he was mistaken. He was not. His hair was damp with sweat. There was an uneasiness invading his whole body. He was filled with it like he had drunk it straight from a bottle. His chest was heavy, his breaths were uneven, and his right eye was throbbing like a hammer was hitting at it continuously.

He was feeling like he had just lost someone.

• The Experiment by KakashiSensei

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

After a public brawl between them, Commander Erwin confines Captain Levi and Zoë Hange to barracks. When the Survey Corps next heads out, they are left behind as a punishment. Soon bored out of her mind, Hange turns her scientific curiosity towards the most interesting specimen within her reach: Levi. When his past reaches out to him to claim him back, she joins him on a dangerous journey. Do budding feelings have a chance in the most desolate of places?

• windmill by alteirkay

[One-shot]

Summary:

Here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

• In Your Shoes by Neighborhood_Nori

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary

Levi, Paradis Studio's strict ballet instructor, can't stand the newly hired hip-hop instructor, Hanji. As a ballet dancer with his own complicated history with hip-hop, Levi only has respect for the more refined forms of dance. Can Hanji change his mind about her and her style of dance through determination, persistence, and her passion for dance?

• Distractions by Rookblonkorules

[One -shot]

Summary:

Hange’s love for pop culture interferes with her and Levi’s work.

It’s annoying.

• Leave You Whole. by zerothecreator

[One-shot]

Summary:

Levi spends his last moments in Hangë’s arms.

• Moments by Anonymous

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levihan Modern AU

She's a long-legged, sun-kissed beauty with tattoos in hidden places and multiple piercings.

Her leather jacket's on his bedroom floor, her ripped jeans too and she's pretty sure one of her heeled scarlet boots got left in the living room in their haste last night. At least her glasses are on top of the bedside drawer- they managed that, at least.

• more baby snacks by argethara

[One-shot]

Summary:

Levi tries to find out how and why boxes of Udo's biscuits are gone.

• Anniversary by EllePellano

[One-shot]

Summary:

AU One-shot: Erwin and Levi have a short conversation about the woman they both loved

• All We Are by TundrainAfrica

[One-shot]

Summary:

"We’re what’s left of the old survey corps Levi. We’re all alone.”

“We can’t be alone if there’s two of us.”

“So what do you suggest Captain Levi?”

“We stick together…” Levi answered. “We stick together, Commander Hange.”

During the time skip, Hange and Levi's relationship develops.

• Thin Ice by Xenobia

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Takes place between events in chapter 90 of the manga. Hange, now commander of Survey Corps, commissions Captain Levi to scout territory in the mountains to search for a supply tower she believes may still be stocked. The scouts need all the supplies and currency they can get in order to carry on with their goals. Against his better judgment, Levi joins her on this excursion. The bitter, early winter makes their mission harder than expected, however. The pair find themselves relying on each other to survive, and they find it increasingly difficult to treat one another as comrades in arms and nothing more.

• Hidden Meanings by WhatHistoryForgets

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Hange never thought a materialistic item could mean so much to her until she lost it.

• Of teacups and stale bread

[One-shot]

Summary:

Five times Hange prepared tea for Levi, and the one time that he did.

• Unintended Consequence(s) by Ella3982

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Not all of the Anti-Personnel Control Squad died when the cavern collapsed. Some of them escaped through the tunnel Hange, Moblit, and Armin used. When the two parties meet, the Anti-Personnel Control Squad takes the three Survey Corps members hostage with the intent to force the Survey Corp's hand. However, when they find out that Kenny Ackerman has died, they become more desperate.

If the Uprising Arc had ended a bit differently, how would it alter the course of the story? What would change, and what would stay the same?

• A Fire in the Shadows by free_pancakes

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

LeviHan in an Avatar the Last Airbender AU - a side story occurring alongside the events of ATLA

Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

• Speak Your Dark Pleasures to Me by Lamia of the Dark (VisceraNight)

Summary:

A collection of drabbles and oneshots exploring a sexual relationship between Levi and Hanji.

• Tips & Tricks by Sleepyheadven

[One-shot]

Summary:

Eren’s brow was furrowed forward in confusion as he spoke. “I thought you said that staring at people isn’t nice?” He said after a few moments, gathering his thoughts. He seemed genuinely bewildered as to why she was intensely staring down a stranger when she had told him countless times before that it was impolite to do so.

Oh, lord, was her only thought as she quickly scrambled for an excuse. “I - Uh - well, sometimes people stare at other people because -” before she could even begin to form a proper sentence, Eren interjected. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or dismayed by his actions.

“Is it because you think he’s cute? My friend Ymir stares at my friend Krista that way all the time, she says it’s because she’s so pretty!” Eren babbled happily, oblivious to the way Hange’s grip around the handle of the cart tightened. Her brown eyes darted back and forth between the stranger and her son, hoping that he couldn’t overhear their conversation seeing as Eren wasn’t the softest of speakers.

• A drunk man always tells the truth by krissixh

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levi finds out that Hanji is engaged to a rich man. He gets drunk that night and confronts her his feelings. The two have to confront a lot of difficulties to be able to end as a couple.

• Relapses by Oreotragus

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Despite having become a great asset to humankind, Captain Levi still has some trouble adjusting to his post-crime lifestyle, especially the social aspects of it. One extremely badly coordinated step out of his comfort zone creates a grand mess that he has to clean up.

• Weight of Survival by otterbeans

[One-shot]

Summary:

Hanji gives birth to Levi's unintentional child. She pretends to be surprised when he shows up for it.

• Don't drink the kool-aid by smallblip

[One-shot]

Summary:

Think of a number between one and ten. Because that's how you love in this world. First you toss out the word love. You tell it to its face that Commander Erwin Smith says “love is the ultimate cult of men... A sect... A dirty ploy by the whatever god is up there to make us all vulnerable..."

And then, everything falls into place.

• until another thursday evening by pinkweirdsunsets

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

and ever since they were only five, Levi had protected her, whether it was from the daily shenanigans she came up with or the criminal background he came from. She was his sunshine, messy and grinning, and he shielded her away from all terrible things.

until zeke yeager came along.

• Make It Make Sense! By cznpai

[Multi-chapt || completed]

I can't add the summary cause I've reached the limit. Welp i still have a lot of fics here so ill make a another post of reccomendations... HAHA bye!

[lumisfiction]

Just For Tonight

Kakashi x Black Reader

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Kishimoto, gif not mine found on the internet.

Warning: Black Reader Insert, fluff

Part 1

****Part Two*****

Y/n’s house was the most enchanting place in all the Hidden Leaf, four miles into a secluded forest lay a stone path with handcrafted lanterns along it. The forest that surrounded it was filled with every color of wild flower that Kakashi had ever seen. It was as if he was no longer in the village, like he’d stepped into another world, y/n’s world. A world of fireflies, sun flowers, moon flowers, roses of every color, and lilies. A pastel painting with a deep green undertone of the entire forest. All around him were arches, tall trees with branches that entwined with evening birds perched on them singing their evening hymn. The dim light of moon peaking through illuminating the walk way. If it hadn't been for Sasuke and Naruto he would have never found this place.

Tugging eagerly at his vest Naruto guided him farther until they came to a large clearing. The moon and stars were brighter as it reflected on the surface of the small pond in front of them. It seemed all matter of creatures came out tonight in celebration of y/n, the sounds around him growing louder. A pleasant loudness that blended with the atmosphere of the pond and on its surface glowing lotuses glided past. Naruto reached down and picked one up, crystal liquid pooling over his small fingers. Kakashi watches as its blue light dimly lights the boy's youthful face. He looked his age then, like a child who held the most precious thing in the world. “These are her favorite” cupping it delicately Naruto presented his hands to him. “I know you came last minute Kakashi sensei, you can bring this as a gift” Naruto grinned a mischievous glint in his eye. “A gift” Kakashi scratched the back of his neck, painfully aware of his unpreparedness. In his haste to cheer Naruto up he’d forgotten that he just returned from a mission. His clothes were dirty and his hair was grimy. “I think a gift is the least of my concern” Kakashi pulled at his filthy pants, he could fill the dirt under his fingernails. He thought about y/n then how pretty she would look and her face when she saw him. It would be their first official meeting and this is what she’ll see. Her first impressions forever skewered by his dirty attire. It made his hands tremble and he felt heat rush throughout his body, a nervousness swelling somewhere deep within him. Nervous to meet y/n, like a school boy who finally gets to spend time with his crush.

Sasuke looked behind him observing a riled up Kakashi. Even in the moonlight and a half exposed face he knew exactly what his tinted cheeks meant. “She shouldn’t be home yet, you can freshen up once we get there” his arms practically spilling over with an assortment of flowers. Kakashi looked over at Sasuke sighing, was he that easy to read? How long has it been since he was social? Was he so out of touch that he couldn't even manage to hide his emotions from a prepubescent boy.

His mind wandered off again as he began to contemplate his decision to attend. It was all too sudden, what if he made of a fool of himself? Or worse what if he isn't welcomed? Thoughts were spinning around and round his head so much so that a scowl returned to his face and his exposed brow scrunched. His inner conflict occupied all of his attention so much so he hadn't noticed Sasuke making kissing noises. Not until the boy began to tease him childishly.

"Kakashi and y/n sitting in a tree k.i.s.s.i.n.g" Sasuke relentlessly teased Kakashi with a child-like twinkle in his eyes. It was perplexing, the cool headed vengeful Sasuke was the polar opposite of his former self. Laughing and smiling as he bent down to pick even more flowers along the water. Stopping to look them over and disregard the flowers he no longer wanted.

It was so out of character for him that Kakashi hadn't noticed he was gawking. “He always brings her freshly picked flowers” Naruto came into view with a smug look on his face. Kakashi hadn’t noticed until tonight how different with her in their life they had become. How both of them practically morphed into children right before his eyes. Naruto was feather light and cheerful while Sasuke was playful, thoughtful, and happy. They look so innocent he almost forgot they were shinobi, genin who’d soon participate in the chunin exams. He recounted to himself a time when he looked like them. When he too was happy and innocent. Just a boy and his father.

All of them fell in a silent stride as they began walking again. Crossing over a small bridge that brought them to their destination at last. Willow trees and what seemed like a thousand fireflies greeted them. There at the foot of the path stood the most beautiful wooden arch with yellow flowers twisting around it's bark. Dangling loosely from it a chipped wooden sign that read "Happy Birthday y/n. “I made that” Naruto’s face gleamed with all the pride of a not so masterful craftsman as he pointed his finger in the direction of if. Sasuke scoffed as he remarked how tacky he thought it looked. With an ego as big as his competition he stated how much better his lanterns were in comparison. Naruto glared at Sasuke, his eyes sharp as he retaliated with an insult of his own. There was no end to it, both of them going on and on about what y/n liked best. It was driving Kakashi a little crazy, having to go on missions with their insistent contest was one thing, but this was a whole other sort of annoying. The kind that made him so irritated that all the cool level headed temperament in the world couldn’t prevent the annoyed look on his face. He thought about home and his warm recliner. The green hardback book that he so often read to indulge his perverted mind. The faint feeling of heat coursing throughout his slightly reddening cheeks. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time and stick to his original plan. A plan that didn't involve two rowdy brats.

The house was a deep oak red with hints of a darker brown. It was large with a stairway above it that led to a smaller house. It had flags and a large telescope pointing toward the eastern sky.

The entire estate was homely and welcoming, the yard embedded with an even more alluring green. Fresh cut grass and lanterns that spread about it illuminating everything in its path. Nothing could make this scene before him more stunning he thought to himself as he looked all around in awe.

She descended from the steps, the most beautiful sight of all, Y/n. Her raven coils shining in the moonlight and her skin glistening like the surface of a smooth diamond. She was most certainly magical, the tail of her white dress flowing behind her when she walked a smooth glide only a goddess would have.

"Y/n" as fast as their feet would carry them Naruto and Sasuke ran to her open arms ruining her pretty dress even though she didn't seem to mind. She embraced them with a hug that only a mother would give her beloved children. When they parted Sasuke was the first to present his gift, a bouquet of wild flowers "Happy Birthday y/n". Her face lit up as she leaned over to kiss his exposed forehead and his face become even more redder than before.

From the distance where Kakashi stood he saw the pearls her pretty teeth, her full lips lifting the bones of her cheeks. The way her breast sat prettily in her clothes and the playful glint in her almond eyes. She seemed to get prettier as he came closer and his eye drifted downward and then up again taking in her full form. All of his former reservations escaped him,his heart thudding in his chest as he made his way closer. Yes, Just for tonight he'll indulge himself.

Author Notes: Trying to decide if this should just be a three part or more series. Next chapter will be released soon and it will contain light smut. Thank you for all your support!

[henryobsessed]

The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 12

Word Count: 1838

Warning: Angst

A/N: Thank you @sillyrabbit81 and @amberangel112 for your help and encouragement. Also to my lovely readers, your comments on this story have been so engaging and encouraging :)

Chapter 12 – Jessie

Jessie had waited impatiently at the tree. They had fallen asleep together and she had been so eager to be wrapped up in his arms. But here she was waiting. It had felt like ages since she had arrived when she heard it. The sound of snapping jaws and deep desperate snarls. Standing, wondering if she needed to run, a wolf broke into the clearing. It wasn’t any wolf; it was Henry’s wolf.

“Henry are you ok?” she asked, watching carefully to see if it truly was Henry or if his wolf had taken control. But the look of anger and pain she saw in his eyes as he looked at her told her that this was Henry. This was the man she had grown to love; his feelings were clouding his mind right now and she knew she needed to be careful. He was unpredictable, what else could she do but offer a safe haven for him when he was ready.

She slowly knelt down, patting her lap, letting him know she was ok and that she was there for him. All the while she watched as he paced back and forth, each footfall a deliberate strike against the earth. Whatever had set him off must not have been good, she had never seen him in human form or wolf form this angry and in this much pain apart from that first night. Even then he had calmed the moment her presence had been seen. He continued to pace but his footfall grew softer, then he turned walking towards her. She could see his eyes no longer held the blaze of fire instead a pool of pain lingered. He laid his head in her lap, her hand automatically moving to caress him. She felt his body shudder beneath her hand as his breathing evened out.

At that moment she felt the shudder flow from his body to hers. She could feel his emotions, the grief, the pain and yet the comfort that she was giving him overshadowed all the other feelings. She closed her eyes focusing on the overwhelming sensations, breathing in the smells that surrounded her, the sounds of the birds chirping and then a snapping. Her eyes opened quickly searching the bushes until she realised the sound was coming from Henry. She stilled, not knowing what was happening, fear-fille her as she watched his limbs contort and change. Awe consumed her as she watched his human form appear, then heat crept up her cheeks as she realised clothes were not a part of the transformation.

You would think that seeing her lover in all his glory would make her desire him. And truth be told she did linger on his impressive organ between his legs, something she had felt many times but never seen. But all that was quickly consumed by the sound of Henry, his exertion evident by his laboured breathing and shuddering chest. Her hand tentatively reached out touching his hair as if he might break.

“Henry” she breathed softly, calmly. “Henry, are you ok? Can you tell me what happened?” His body curled up, shivering, his head turning to find her eyes. Not willing for him to see her fear she softened her features, leaning down and kissed his forehead. “It’s ok sweetheart, you’re safe.” Her whispers sounded as if they were shouted in the stillness of the forest. All the animals halted their sounds as if listening to their conversation.

He reached his large hand up to her cheek, touching her, as his horse voice broke, “I thought I had lost you, the forest would not let me reach you. I…”

Her hand braced his own against her face as she kissed his palm. “Shh, my love. It’s ok, your here and I am here. Nothing can harm us here.” They stayed in that embrace until their bodies calmed, their breathing gentled. Finally, the trees began to move again, the birds began to make their song as Henry shut his eyes and slept, his body exhausted. She smiled down at his face, the peace, when he was asleep, was something she had not had the privilege to witness until now. Her mind chuckled at the thought of him sleeping within a dream. She spent that rare time memorising the contours of his face. The way his nose was slightly crooked, his chin dimpled, his brow creased and the smile lines in his cheeks. For a short moment, she felt true peace, which gave her the determination that nothing would happen to her precious mate.

That morning she awoke to an empty bed, she could hear the sound of voices happy and laughing down in the kitchen. One more than she was prepared for, she walked down she saw Tom, Joe, Henry, and a strange man. However, it became very apparent who it was by the way that Joe was hanging off his body. This must be the allusive Dillon who she had spoken to on the phone but never met in person. He was everything opposite to Joe. While Joe had blonde hair, Dillion’s was black, where Joe was colour and bubbliness, Dillion was goth, his black clothing and pale skin accentuating his lack of sun. His profession was a gaming programmer who rarely left his house, so the fact that Joe had managed to get him to come out was amazing.

She stood for that moment and watched the banter, and friendship in the room. Even Henry was yipping as if he was joining in the conversation. Who would have thought that she would ever have this in her life? She saw that they had missed getting the milk, so turning she went outside. There, as usual, was the two bottles of fresh milk but what she saw next chilled her heart. A letter with a small poise of flowers sat up against the milk. She knew it wasn’t from Tom, so was it from Boyd? Not wanting to disturb the merriment inside she opened the letter.

Dear Jessie,

I know you were upset the last time we spoke, so I am willing to overlook your disrespectful behaviour. We have to talk, so you will meet me today just after lunch at the big tree in the forest. Come alone. I would hate for anything bad to happen to your precious wolf. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that Tom stayed over last night. If you want to keep him safe too, you will not let him know where you are going.

Our life together is going to be so special; I can picture you swollen with my children cooking in our kitchen. No need for you to keep your hobby working with animals, you will be too busy looking after me.

I love you Jessie and you will be mine.

Love

Boyd.

A shiver of fear ran down her back, not for her own safety but for that of her mate, and her friends. Stuffing the note in her pocket she picked up the milk leaving the flowers in the dirt and headed inside.

That morning she tried to enjoy the banter and giggles around her house. They had all decided to stay and keep her company. While Joe and Tom set about picking board games to play from the family cupboard, Dillon sat on his laptop in the living room. Henry was quietly watching her as she began making snacks.

“Come on Henry. Why don’t you go get the bag of chips from the pantry hmm?” A sparkle lit his eyes as he trotted off bringing back the Lays chips held daintily between his teeth so as not to damage them. “Go on, take them into the living room and give them to Dillion.” He tilted his head just slightly then nodded before heading out.

How was she going to get away with so much activity? Actually, it ended up very simple. After a morning of games and fun and food, they had settled into the living room to watch a movie. Jessie excused herself to go to the bathroom. After returning she noticed they were all preoccupied. Joe in Dillon's arms and Henry curled up next to Tom, where he had previously been turned the other way his head on her lap. Taking her chance, she slipped out the door and headed to her tree.

The walk that normally was filled with calm, instead anxiety was thrumming through her body. What was she going to say to him? How could she get him to leave Henry and Tom alone? As she stepped into the clearing, it was almost like a scene from her dreams, her tree, the wood filled with the sound of birds and other animals. But instead of Henry waiting at the tree, it was Boyd. Leaning against the tree, his tall, built body, no matter how appealing, held no enjoyment. Nothing like the fluttering in her stomach when she saw Henry.

“Well little lady, you took your time.” His rich voice sent the wrong kind of shivers down her back.

“What do you want Boyd? I made myself pretty clear the other night I do not want anything to do with you. So, you can stop this nonsense and give up.” Her voice held more authority than she knew she had as she tried to stare down the man.

Just like an animal, he seemed to pull up taller at the challenge. “Well now ain’t that a pretty speech, but you see I have the upper hand here. All it would take is a small word to the sheriff that your wolf tried to bite me, and he will force you to put him down. I can’t possibly imagine how heartbreaking it would be to have to do that yourself seeing as you are the only one qualified in this area. Plus, that little pansy of a boy that seems so infatuated with you, just one word from me to my boys and he won’t be able to get out of bed for months. And before you think running to his dad, he is backing me on this, he has no love for the boy.”

Jessie began to shake. What was she going to do? How could she even pretend to love this bastard? Boyd stepped closer just out of reach, spitting some chewing tobacco to the ground before he drawled, “"Now.. Come here little one, give me a kiss before I force it from you"

Trembling, she didn’t know what to do. She was ready to do almost anything, but the idea of kissing that filthy mouth and submitting to this animal was abhorrent. He took another step forward before she heard a deep throaty growl behind her.

Nooo!!!

What happened next all seemed to go by in slow motion. Henry jumping in between her and Boyd, the cocky grin on his face before he pulled a pistol from his side, and the sound of the gun going off.

Chapter 13

[nightswithkookmin]

Jimin is a pretty bOY

This is a continuation of our discussion on my last post. Thanks for sharing your thoughts with me, I think I agree with all of it.

Not sure how I feel about the calling eachother out bit or near scolding of others in the comments. Please let's be welcoming and respectful of others's thoughts regardless of whether or not we agree with it. It's ok to hold diverse views. We do after all come from different backgrounds and have accumulated different experiences and I think it plays out in how we see things. Everyone's opinion is valid. Plus, I purple yall.

Now, do I think he is trying to pack on muscles........? Yes. He said so himself in Festa when he said he would rush to the mirror when he thought he had gained some muscle only to find out his biceps looks like a muscled kindergartner.

He also said lately he's into exercising and staying in shape which is true because for quite sometime now since early this year he has been talking about how "weak" he is in their Vlives and have even given instances of him not being able to do certain things- certian simple and easy tasks- which is typical of him I'd say. He's always talking about how "weak" he is especially around JK and juxtaposing that with "but JK is so strong" which I'm sorry but I have to smirk at right now cos it's such a typical gay pick me simp thing to do. We've all been there.

Do I think he's trying to be a muscle bunny or revert back to his body shape around debut? Absolutely not. But I do think he is straddling the line of toxic masculinity which is what the conversation is about.

I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to stay in shape or even enjoying work outs. Last night I ran downstairs because I had left my stew on the stove and now this morning I called renew my gym membership because I discovered running can be actually fun to do... No. No it's not. The gym instructor would have to come for me kicking and screaming.

RM have said even though JM looks skinny and fragile he is one of the strongest within the group. Besides, this is not the first time he's expressed interest in working out and building his body- hello, on Era?

I remember people complaining he looked too buffed up in that period on SNS and PJMs quickly jumping in to clear the searches for it. The choreo for On required agility and endurance and required the members- not just JM build up some definition in their muscles.

We've seen them go through all that. So it's not simply a matter of black and white staying in shape or doing it because he feels pressured to do so. Especially, when you consider that he's undertaken some pretty unhealthy measures in the past in attempts to lose weight or soften out his body post these muscle building, weight gaining periods and we've always chalked it up to his dance and how as a contemporary dancer he has to look a certain way or this or that to try to justify and make sense of it. Next you, know there are six chapters of break the silence of him talking about all the dark places he's been, the pressures to look his best for his fans or for his job and all these other painful stories he's shared with us over the years. And it's like, but why? Why do this to yourself?

I'll never forget the look he gave JK when JK was talking about wanting to build muscles in one of the interviews for the promotion of Be- I think I made a post on it. When JK noticed JMs disapproving glare he backtracked saying he would want to stay skinny after gaining all that muscles.

I mean if I'm to be honest, he was bound to crack at one point. The signs were there being surrounded by all these men who adhere to the traditional aesthetics of a masculine body- from Namjoon to Taehyung.

I wish y'all will steer the conversation in this direction and make it more about gender norms and expressions and breaking stereotypes and diversity in the body aesthetics of men.

Jimin is a man too. He just isn't what people traditionally will label masculine. Androgynous is more an apt word in my opinion. How many times have I said, I think Jungkook hetero passes because his body aesthetics is quintessentially what most associates with a masculine man?

Breaking gender barriers is not just about embracing feminine apparels- that teeters on cross dressing quite frankly and can be a bit performative and baity. Then you have to consider their culture in itself has an inherent pro gender diversity feel to it.

Now, let me explain my problem with the Klout ad campaign a little bit.

Do you see how Tae stands out? And I'm not saying this to fuel the "Tae was their fav" debacle. It's the 007 feel... I'll explain in a bit.

Most often, alcohol advertisers as well as most advertisements intended to sell to men often try to appeal to men's internalized ideals of masculinity or try to shape and define what a man or masculinity should look like. These ideals are so often toxic and detrimental to men and mostly women too.

Take a look at these ads for example. All I had to do was google search ads for men.

Real men drink milk and look at the image they present as real men. This blatantly implies if you don't look like this, if you are not a strong cliff climbing man with abs you are not a real man.

The second image is subtle. I call it the 007 slash Kingsmen-esque ideals of masculinity. It portrays men as sexy cool badass- works out but isn't too buff, filthy rich or middle class, wears Rolex, designer clothes, is kind but has a mean exterior and is every 13 year old wattpad girls's dream of a man. In fiction, you see this kind of masculinity in characters such as Edward cullens to Christian Grey. And a lot of ads for men alternate between these two ideals of masculinity.

Do you see how they modeled Taehyung in these ads after this kind of masctheme? Tae looks the same in almost all the ads. 007 sexy cool badass.

Now, I may not be a makeup beauty guru or MUA or whatever, but one thing I've picked up on especially when it comes to makeup for men- BTS and Kpop idols mostly is that, they soften out the harsh features on their faces and make them appear more androgynous or effeminate to suit the Kpop look and they ditch it entirely in different settings.

So for instance, Tae and Kookie's natural hawkish eyebrows tend to get softened around the arch and edges- don't know how the fuck they do that- but it appears less in your face intense most times when they wear make up in kpop related contents.

However, in certain other contents that lean towards a certain gender theme those features are emphasized. Not to say hawkish features are masculine features. Just saying in men, Kpop idols, my observation is they soften those features out with makeup or surgery.

Now, take a look at JM in these ads and look at everything from his posture, make up, hairstyle and brows. It's as if someone took an eraser to his androgynousity and erased his feminine side. Take a look at his photo above and compare it to the ads.

I am not a man. But I feel the gender look they went for, intended to appeal to men, tapped into a rather outdated stereotype of what man and masculinity should look like.

What is a man?

What should a man look like?

What aesthetics of masculinity is Jimin gravitating towards now? And I'm not talking clothes, I'm talking the expression of his gender. Time and again, he's talked about how looking a certain way made him uncomfortable in the past because he was constantly fighting his feminine side. He is androgynous. Sometimes he leans more into his feminine side. Other times he leans more into his masculine side but this is the only time he's leaning into his masculinity that makes me uncomfortable to watch because like I said it bothers on toxic masculinity.

He's said whoever he was, the version fighting to look masculine, that wasn't him. So forgive me if I worry whenever i see him suppressing his feminine side and acting like 'one of the boys.' Him staying in shape is not synonymous with him erasing a valid part of himself or suppressing it. He can stay in shape, celebrate his masculinity and still be FILTER.

What I'm saying is, this not a conversation about him exercising. This is a conversation about an ad erasing his feminine side and boxing him into a narrow expression of his gender and how that might be affecting his view of himself especially in the way he's been gravitating towards a certain masculine aesthetics and how that could be toxic.

Tae has said the same thing and BTS have agreed the JM as of 2019 was the real JM according to them.They said he was that way- suppressing his feminine side, because there weren't much songs and choreos that suited him and so he had had to bend himself to fit with the others.

And so when I see him leaning a certain way I tend to wonder if his exterior environment is playing a role in that. I hope you can understand that.

He is a contemporary dancer and strength and flexibility are prerequisites for his craft. The company go out of their way to incorporate contemporary dance in their choreos for JM's sake which helps solve that problem of him trying too hard to look a certain way.

May be I'm projecting. May be my little brother is effeminate and I've always recommended Jimin as a role for him to tell him not to try to look different just because other boys look different. May be I've seen him try one too many times to kill himself in the gym trying to build on muscles and getting frustrated with himself because he ends up looking like someone else. You can't gym the queerness away. Society will never let you be who you want to be so you might as well flip it the middle finger.

These boys are being shaped by their environment. I hate to say this but the environment they are in isn't exactly progressive and the longer they stay in there cut off from the outside world...

Flying out helps. Meeting different people and being exposed to different cultures and conversations on gender expression helps.

Anywho, these are just concerns I have. Will have them till I see that's not where he is headed towards. But let's not act like these ad campaigns do not and can not psychologically impact these boys especially as these advertisers are not looking to tap into their own definition of gender and masculinity but shape it and redefine it to appeal to the demographic they intend to market to.

I think this is just a grey area for me. Rather than try to change JM to look a certain way in order to sell alcohol. I think the ground breaking thing would be to have a man who looks like JM show us how someone like him would sell a can of drink. I think that would be revolutionary.

Signed,

GOLDY

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part VII)

 Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: Sometimes, to understand the present, it’s necessary to pay a visit to the past. While reader is in a deep sleep, their unconscious plays a trick on them by reminding the most important and catastrophic moments in their life.

Word Count: 9.1K

Year 847, a very hot and humid day.

First day of training in the 104° squad. Each of the hundreds of soldiers coming into the slaughterhouse gathered in lines, lined up, waiting for our first orders. Announcement of names and locations. Some serious who didn’t need an introduction, other clowns who didn’t take the training seriously. Instead, I...was  waiting with an empty view towards the horizon, not seeing anything or anyone in particular.

First day, call and presentation; some came from cities, some from towns, but none from a filthy wealthy family of nobility, much less royalty. Most of us simple villagers, presented on a silver platter for the aristocracy, entering our graves on our own. Each one would have their reasons, some simpler than others, some more hypocritical than others, and others more selfish than all of us here.

First day, and there were already a couple on the ground and others being severely punished. Like the tall girl with a ponytail who had the brilliant idea to not only steal, but also cook a potato before training and eat it in the middle of line formation. A village girl, a hunter and faithful to her principles and culture; a girl who wasn’t ashamed to show her true colors on the first day, even if it gave her a punishment that would end up lasting for hours, until nightfall. An incredible example for the most stupid, but equally for the bravest. I think it was hearing where did she coming from that something inside me arose like a flower in the middle of spring, or maybe it was hearing her resound every minute around the training ground until the moon rose. I’m not very clear about it. Maybe I wanted to be nice to someone after a long time, and what better way to start with a person who was humiliated on the first day of what would be our next life.

I wasn’t quick enough to bring her something to eat when her punishment ended, a certain very short blonde beat me beforehand, but I was quick to save her a seat next to me the next night, while saving her a portion of bread. I assumed she would like it, and I wasn’t wrong. She devoured every last crumb along with her ration of dubiously sourced food on a metal plate. Hearing her eat with such enthusiasm brought a smile to my face, it reminded me of the little tadpole children who came and went in my town, asking for a piece of bread or an apple, even knowing that they had food at home. Those playful children who wandered through the small market, looking for some candy and returning disappointed at their doors when they hadn’t found any.

"I didn't hear yesterday where you came from"

Sasha, I think that's the name of the girl in front of me. Apparently she was talking when my mind wandered with nostalgia and melancholy. Her eyes were very fixed on mine, and as much as I looked away, I could still feel them penetrating my skull. I guess you can't dodge the past for long, right? At the very least, I tried to be as cautious as possible when giving my answer.

"I come from a village northeast of the wall Maria, far enough away from the wall to be warned of the fall before a titan reached our town"

She played with the poorly made metal spoon on a piece of carrot that came out of the poor soup, already cold, that this place delighted us for the second night in a row. I made me a mental note to go out hunting every now and then if I wanted to have a good meal and not end up anorexic and a failure.

“And what do you do in your village? In mine we are dedicated to hunting, but they’re taking away the land for the cattle” She took a huge bite of his bread, showing how angry she was. I couldn’t blame her, taking the land out of a hunting village was like taking away their essence, a part of their soul.

"We’re dedicated to raising horses and handicrafts" From our town came the fastest horses that the military police could ask for, some of them stayed for the field and keep the children busy.

Beautiful horses dedicated to the gambling of the nobility, others common for the plowing of the agricultural peoples. Horses dedicated to the race for the survey corps; what the government needed, we provided. It would be hypocritical of me to say now that the horse was my least favorite animal. It was not. For me they were the most beautiful, faithful and loyal creatures in this whole little world. My favorite animal without a doubt.

I wanted to talk about the various horses we managed to sell at a high price to the most authoritarian court on the Rose wall, but a noise from behind our table made my jaw drop.

A "Tsk" echoed throughout the dining room.

I turned my head, hoping to find an animal, or anything but a human like us. To my misfortune, I met the withering look of a brunette with bright green eyes, just as bright as those of the forest, and his hand holding the spoon tightly, as if my simple face angered him.

"Do you have a problem, Jaeger?" I remembered him from yesterday. Serious, tall, with a look that could kill you at any moment. Decisive and lethal. At the same time conceited and childish. He had won the ears and admiration of the majority here with well-used words and a touch of drama.

"Yes, I have a problem" his hand let the spoon escape on the plate, causing some drops to fly in all directions "I have a problem with people like you"

He got up from his seat, walking slowly but steadily toward my table, planting himself in front of me. The lap dog as a friend of his following behind him with a decomposed face, one hand half raised, perhaps to stop him if necessary. But let's face it, of the two, Eren was the one with the most strength, it was obvious to the naked eye.

"And what is that due to? Or do you wait for me to get into your little head and find some clue that can help me understand the cockroach you have for a brain?" At no time did I get up, I wasn’t going to lower myself to the same situation as him.

Half of my body had my back to him, so I was looking at him over the shoulder. He may not have liked that, ‘cause he immediately grabbed my shoulder and turned me around, waiting for me to look him in the eye.

"People like you, who come from villages far from the cities, who don’t know the real danger, are a problem" He looked so angry, angry with the world perhaps? I couldn't find an answer to that anger, nor the source of his feelings. But what I did know, was that he wasn't going to let me be trampled on by a fool who knew the world simply by seeing a titan within his short life.

"Excuse me, but you realize that many here come from villages far from the big cities and only very few saw a titan with their own eyes" And it was those same people who began to get up and look at him with bad eyes. The same ones who looked at him with wonder, as if he were an angel fallen from heaven to bring them the news of the world.

I fervently removed his hand from my shoulder and deigned to stand up, trying to gain some ground in this pathetic discussion. I wasn't going to raise my voice like I assumed the boy in front of me was going to do it at any moment, so my body did it instead.

"I don't understand what your complaints are about, but please, oh great Eren, the one who saw a titan bigger than the wall, explain to me" I could notice how his other friend was approaching towards his back, looking at me with caution.  Now, of the group of three, with her I had to be the most careful.

"Are you making fun of me?" he took a dangerous step towards me. 

“’course not” ‘Course yes, but I wasn't going to say it openly.

"People who don’t see the enemy in the face think they can come out of the walls to face it" did my ears hear that correctly? I looked at him as if a third eye had popped out on his forehead.

"Not having seen a titan in my short life doesn’t mean that I cannot go out to fight them"

"And yet you have no fucking idea what you're up against" the conversation was getting more and more heated, his feet were getting closer to mine and I could lightly feel his breath on my skin.

"That doesn't mean you can come and mistreat me" I instantly threw myself back, but ran into the legs of the table. Sasha's hand rested on my shoulder, unable to encourage me with words, but enough emotionally.

"Fucking villagers" he took a step back, turning on his heel and looking, without seeing, or so it seemed, the crowd around him "you don't know what it’s to see a relative of yours being eaten in front of your eyes!"

Ah, that's where so much hatred for the world came from. But I wasn’t his target. He must express his emotions, his anger, towards a common enemy, not towards a comrade who was going to help him in battle. Taking it with me wasn’t going to help him at all, and the fact I was from a small village didn’t mean I was naive and deserved the anger of the citizens. "I'm sorry that happened to you-"

"My mom was eaten in front of my eyes!"

"I'm sorry that happened to your mom! And I'm very sorry that you had to see it with your own eyes, but taking it out on me is not going to help you ”I pushed him back with my words, unfortunately they were not enough to stop his viper tongue.

"You can't know what it feels like to lose your mother like that" he turned his back on me, and before turning to his blond friend, he turned his head over his shoulder, looking at me again with contempt. "Go back to your village with your mommy and cries on her lap for being incapable of shit"

His comment blew me away.

He had left my mind blank and the only thing I managed to do was throw myself back, and sit down heavily on the hard wooden bench. My eyes stared into nothingness, unable to observe the multitude of eyes that settled on me with sadness, some with regret and support. Sasha sat down next to me on the left, while on the right a figure that I didn’t recognize crouched down to look me in the face. All I could make out of him, or her, were those big round blue eyes. A blue that reminded me of the rivers that flowed gracefully near my town. The same water that landed on a larger lake or river, and… perhaps, on the same sea.

"Hey, Eren-" I heard someone yell. From the tone of their voice I thought I distinguish Jean's annoyance.

I didn't have a second to reflect on what I was doing and before I could blink, a plate full of food was flying in the direction of the two boys, impacting on the wooden wall and scattering the pieces of vegetables on the floor and the people who unfortunately was close.

The two boys turned to see where the plate had come from, finding my hand half raised and smeared on the thumb of the cold soup. My body was euphoric, my breath hitched and my chest rose and fell quickly.

"You ... you don't know shit about me, or my family, or my people" I started slowly what would be the best speech I would have given in my 13 years, a speech that would bring me problems, as well as friends. “I’m so sorry about your mother, but in the same way, she was devoured by an enemy of which we still do not know exactly"

I came around the table and approached the brunette, meeting his friend halfway through. Without stopping, I hit her shoulder with mine, pushing my way over her.

"While mine was shot by the people who had to protect her" now my body was a few inches from him, taking Jean away from his side "my mother was killed for the simple fact of wanting to see the sea"

His blond friend, who hadn't been separated from him at any time, widened his eyes, even more than the person who bent down to comfort me. His eyes stared at me in amazement before turning to understanding and sadness.

"Judging by your friend's expression, he understand what I'm talking about" There was little space for me to move calmly, so I chose to get closer and closer to Eren, keeping my face a few inches from his. Even with the slight difference in height, I could manage to have an aura of warning and seriousness.

I raised my hand to his forehead slowly, preventing the girl from earlier from pouncing on me thinking I was going to hit him.

"The military police took her out of my house, placed her to the center of the village and with a pistol in the middle of her forehead" I closed my hand except for two fingers, simulating the muzzle of the rifle, and placed them in the same place as they did it with my mother "they shot her in front of her little child"

I detached my fingers from his forehead and with a "bang" I simulated the same shot that, to this day, continues to haunt me in dreams, after 6 years. My eyes observed his expression, the color had disappeared from his face, he was so pale that it seemed he was going to faint at any moment. There was no longer a trace of his anger towards me or towards the titans; An immature child had been left in front of me, from whom they had taken food for not knowing how to appreciate it.

I walked away carefully, noticing the trembling in my body, in my legs, and took small steps towards the door, leaving everyone who wanted to give me their condolences and emotional support behind.

"You are lucky that your mother was eaten by a spice stranger to her, mine didn’t have the same fate"

*** Weeks passed from that terrible night. The golden trio hadn't deigned to approach me, and for my part I longed for it to stay that way for the next three years. I didn't want people like Eren or his friends to get involved with me, I preferred the company of people like Sasha and Marco, Jean and Connie, as empty-headed as they were. I preferred to spend my free afternoons practicing archery, preventing some stupid from passing through the shooting range or next to the bullseye from getting a head shot.

"Here, I fixed your glove, now you are supposed to be able to put your thumb in without it opening" Marco had his hand extended, grabbing a leather glove, which I’d found in the storage bag of the training set.

The leaders had been very understanding when explaining the training I wanted to follow as free time. Although no faction was going to need a bow and arrow for sure, due to its inefficiency, I had given my point of view that it would end up being useful if an expedition needed more days than predicted and more food and provisions were needed, a bow was going to be of great help when hunting.

"Thanks Marco, you are an angel in this place" I proceeded to put on the worn glove and test its elasticity with the arrow and the bowstring.

"See you at night" and with that, the freckled man marked himself towards the canteen, greeting Jean in the distance who was waiting for him at the door.

The shooting area was not far from the entire training ground, close enough to observe everyone who came and went on the field, everyone who wandered without any direction or aim, and everyone who wanted to train. As well as being close enough to the training area with the movement equipment, equipment that was being used a lot recently by many colleagues in need of balance. One of them turning out to be the annoying brunette with bright green eyes, who was walking very dangerously with his friends on the target at the time I was about to release the arrow.

The small deadly weapon shot out and ended up hitting the red dot in the middle, grazing Eren's neck. He put a hand on his skin and when he saw the arrow stuck on the straw object he turned to look at me angrily.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? That almost hit me in the neck "

"If you saw where you walking you would realize you’re in the shooting zone, if an arrow hits you it’s not my fault" I yelled at him from a distance, preparing a new arrow to launch.

When I saw him take a couple of steps towards me, I stretched the arrow back as a warning, I wasn’t going to laid on a rose’s field while he went back to being a fucking asshole. Armin, I knew his name in these weeks when listening to a conversation he’d with another person, he grabbed his arm while Mikasa put herself as a shield. They both took him away from the target and I was able to shoot the arrow without taking my eyes off them.

I followed them until they positioned themselves on one of the balancing machines, helping Eren onto the equipment. I was about to accommodate a third arrow when I heard a scream coming from his direction. My head spun at the same speed an owl would, given countless hours of practice in the woods, and I watched the last second of Eren's fall, watching in broad daylight as his head hit the stone floor. The blow could be heard from a distance, even where I was located I could hear it as if it’s next to me.

Seeing him lying swaying on the floor, half hanging from the equipment made me burst out laughing. I couldn't stop the laughter from coming out of my mouth seeing him in such bad shape. He was going to have a safe bump and maybe some neurons would end up rearranged. My laughter didn’t go unnoticed, the commander Sheith passed on his way to the shooting area and stood in front of me, looking at me with that serious, expressionless gaze.

"Cadet (Y/S)!" I settled myself as best I could, putting the bow to one side and the arrow on the back sleeve before standing firmly "help young Jaeger heal his wound"

I was puzzled and my face reflected it.

"But, sir, why me?" I begged with my words to let me go, or at least give me a couple of hours of punishment, whatever it was before starting a conversation with that selfish man, much less heal his wound.

"Are you arguing with me, cadet?"

Every movement or prayer that I could make to try to accomplish my task vanished like a leaf in the wind. I lowered my head, avoiding his frivolous gaze and waited for him to leave, snorting. I reluctantly put down the bow and arrow sleeve next to a target and headed towards the three of them, Armin and Mikasa were trying to lift Eren off the floor as they took the equipment off his hips.

"Come on, I have to heal your wound" I didn’t stop to greet them, or to explain the situation. In the same way that I approached, I went towards the canteen, without looking back.

On the short drive I overheard Armin asking about my rare kindness, to which I replied dryly that if it weren't for the commander, I'd be breaking my asshole on the floor by laughing. We walked and walked, me in front and the other two physically stable, keeping the dark-haired boy as best they could, lifting his head so that he wouldn't hit himself again. Upon reaching the canteen stairs I yelled "Sasha, I need a bucket of cold water and a washcloth!"

I opened the door for them and pointed to a table near the kitchen door so they could seat Eren. I warned them to keep his head steady, to keep him from going forward or backward, and to keep him awake at all times.

"I didn't know you knew so much about medicine" Armin pointed out when Sasha came out with the bucket of water and a cloth floating in it.

I let out a slight "hmm" before positioning myself behind Eren, squeezing the hands of the other two and allowing them to let me do my job. I ran his hair back, trying to locate the wound and notice any cuts. Finding none, I proceeded to feel the area, finding the slight bump on the upper side of the forehead. I down the cloth in the cold water, letting it soak, and placed it on his head. The water was so, so cold, it had even made me shivered, but for some reason, Eren didn't seem to be fazed at all.

I didn’t give it much importance and I passed the cloth over the bump, waiting a few seconds for it to deflate a little before going through the sides, preventing the area from becoming inflamed as well. I soaked the cloth again and laid it on the side of his forehead, indicating to Armin to press down and not move his hand while I looked for a handkerchief or some bandage to cover the blow. In the same way, I explained to Mikasa to keep watching Eren, to talk to him, even if he wasn't waiting for an answer, to keep him awake for fear of having an accident in his brain.

I found what looked like a used bandage, quite disgusting for my taste, but I wasn’t going to take much longer of my time for "patient" who didn’t deserve my treatises. I stretched the bandage as far as I could over his head, giving it two full turns before pinning it around the back of his head.

"Try to find a better bandage for the blow" I washed my hands with cold water, hoping to get rid of all the irritation the situation had caused.

"Thank you" Armin sounded really grateful, with a hint of ... sympathy perhaps? With my hands clean, I grabbed the bucket and started to put it back in the kitchen when the blonde asked me again "where did you learn all this?"

I sighed not once, but twice, the kitchen door was open and I was about to enter when I threw a look over my shoulder "everything I know, I learned from my mother's books"

And with that I closed the door behind me a second time to the golden trio.

***

Year 850, a beautiful spring night.

The night before our graduation. A hectic night. Between the well-deserved nutritious food, meat and bread that we have longed for the past three years, and the shouts of encouragement for each of us who were present that night, a great party was put together. Many people defected and others didn’t have the ability to move on. Many were frustrated when they fell short of the top ten, fearing they would be sent to the survey corps, others claimingthey had contacts in the military police and had an assured position. Others fought for their point of view before such faction; and with others I mean the same suicidal brunette. Eren, finishing 5th out of the top ten, undoubtedly deigned to throw me in my face.

"Three years and I'm still better than you, your little village tactics were useless" he smiled wickedly and his eyes showed that characteristic glow when he won a fight. Although there wasn’t a fight here, therefore, there was nothing to be gained.

"Congratulations Eren" I turned around without waiting for an answer and walked briskly towards Marco and Jean, they were both heading towards the boys cabin and I followed them to the entrance, leaving a fuzzy Eren behind.

Now, tonight, with the years of training in the past, it was time to rest, have a night of peace before the real deal began. I never thought it would arrive the next morning.

From my position, far from the main entrance to the Trost district, a thunder crashed into the ground, followed by hot smoke covering our feet. The famous colossal titan stood imposing on the side of the wall, watching my companions who were a few meters from him. From where I was standing, I could see his arm rise and run the guns and the others, burning and blinding them with its smoke.

An calvary that started very early and had no intention of ending soon. Death and dismemberment in every corner, blood flying through the air, comrades being eaten. At each step we take, each turn a building took to dodge a Titan or go after one to kill it, a comrade fell in battle; with each step I took, it was one step closer to my own death. But, call it a miracle, call it divine grace, or simple luck, I managed to reach a roof of one of the many houses destroyed by the attack. From the roof, I could see the disaster more clearly, and I could examine my own disaster with great concern.

The pants were torn in the knee area, the tips of my boots brushed my bare skin and apparently bruised from some friction. I had a blood stain in the abdomen area, apparently from a person who was eaten near me and I didn’t have the dignity to see it. I didn’t have the strength or the courage to unbutton my shirt to see the disaster that surely my body had taken in the hours we were surviving in the city. I had enough of the bruises and cuts on my hands and cheeks thanks to some small rocks flying through the air from the impacts; I didn't need to see if my ribs were in place.

In the distance, perhaps three, four houses in from where I was, were a few comrades sitting on the rooftops of another house. It seemed a few had survived and came together to rest, there weren't many titans in sight and the few there were were wandering around without looking around. Those idiots gave me the chance to jump houses, without looking down. If I looked down I would’ve see the cobblestone streets stained red, I would’ve see limbs scattered right and left. I had a goal in mind and I wasn’t going to lose focus on the death around us.

I landed on the fireplace, hitting both knees when landing, I was running out of gas and it showed. The movement wasn’t being so fluid anymore. I scrambled down the stone wall of the fireplace, landing right next to Armin. My movement gear hit his, jerking my hips and torso on impact, nearly knocking me off the roof. Armin didn't flinch, he was just looking at the tiles, but given his expression, I think he wasn't looking at anything at all. He was just preparing to stare and lose himself in the terrors of his mind.

"Armin, what happened? Ar you alright?" stupid questions. Obviously he wasn’t alright, it was reflected in his empty and dark eyes, but my mind couldn’t process correctly.

It was in automatic mode, only thinking about survival, not the correct questions for each of those who were spread out on two rooftops. Of the many who had graduated, we were reduced to two dozen, maybe a little more without counting those who were in that huge building with the gas parts. Others may have taken refuge in a house, waiting for the right moment to move and reach us. But there was little hope, even if I didn’t say it out loud, unconsciously I knew there wasn’t much to do with the people who were not among us, because after all that was exactly what was happening ... they were not with us, they weren’t in the land of the living.

How pessimistic my thinking, right? I wasn’t wrong at all.

"Armin, where is Eren?" want to know the worst?, I already knew the answer before Armin could lift his head and scream the terrible news with his lungs.

In the end, the boy who so wanted to fight the world, succumbed to the terrors of him.

But what had impacted the most was that, minutes after hearing that news, minutes after arriving at the building for gas supplements and saving the comrades who had barricaded themselves, minutes after being saved by that fighting titan, we saw the same Eren, the same brunet with bright green eyes, appear. Alive.

The surprise we all get when we see him emerge from the nape of that eccentric titan. He was fine, his skin pink and hot from the smoke of the decaying body from his titan. His titan? There was no time to understand the situation. If that, how to understand it? We saw him resurface, like a phoenix, among the ashes of a dying body, fully alive. He had all of his limbs, even the ones that had been eaten; I could see the limits of his pants and the sleeve of his shirt torn, with perfect and huge bite marks.

I stood to the side watching the scene, Armin and Mikasa crying uncontrollably when they saw his heart beat. Scientifically and medically that was impossible. Technically speaking, nothing we were witnessing was possible; And yet there was the suicidal bastard, breathing normally. His eyes closed, his lashes drooping over his lids and his hands being held by his childhood friends. Jean couldn't believe the scene before his eyes, even the other trio was hesitant to say anything, with serious faces and completely stiff eyes at Eren. Each and every one of the reactions present entered what would be a normal reaction, missing one who wanted to kill him immediately.

And I think I rushed a couple of minutes.

***

Days after the expedition to the giant tree forest.

With Annie crystallized and guarded underground, a bit of tranquility arose within the walls; a calm that only attributed to the survey corps. Citizens panicked, not understanding, not comprehending even ten percent of what the latest information was being advertised in newspapers and billboards. The general did everything possible to give us time to resupply and rest from such a hard fight. The patrol had been divided in two, and I had remained as Jean's auxiliary escort, the poor man wanted to vomit all the trip when he had to suffer the terrible order of disguising himself as Eren.

And when the time for action came, we were both prepared to assist Eren in his titan form. I wasn’t still used to seeing him at a height of more than 15 meters, but his characteristics were still there: eyes, now huge, green and shiny, as if that shine never went away, no matter how violent or dark the situation turned upside down, and his dark haired, he looked silkier and smoother in this way that the originally he modeled.

Now we where here, Armin, Mikasa, Jean and I watching him and examining his vital signs. He had fallen into a coma for the second time. I couldn't blame him, I guess controlling a titan of that caliber used up a lot of physical energy, let alone the psychological, but to be honest… mental health had already leaked out the window.Each of us were standing in a corner of the room, sometimes Armin wandered between the door and the window, sitting close to his friend on the bed when he couldn't take it anymore from the anguish. Mikasa always sat next to him, holding his hand at all times, faithfully waiting for him to open his eyes. For my part, I was watching the sun set outside the window, as the sunset gave us its warm rays and prepared us for the cold night.

Every once in a while, whenever I heard a snort or movement coming from the bed, I would turn my head and come closer to feel his breathing. He was stable, and showed no signs of any disturbance. He was completely healthy, except that he was absolutely tired. Like all of us.

There was a couple of knocks on the door, pulling all of us out of trance. Jean and Armin were being needed to give testimony in front a small assembly, before the leaders continued speaking with Commander Erwin.

Silence reigned in the room. Mikasa was still willing to maintain her position in the chair, even if the sleep weakened her with each passing minute. I could see how her eyes were closing and her head fell from fatigue, it was obvious that she needed some rest. I put my hand on her shoulder, pulling the scarf out of her hands and trying to lift her up at the same time.

"Come on, you're very tired, you must get some sleep" I led her to a sofa that was doubtfully placed on the other side of the room. Normally our rooms were only furnished with a couple of beds, a desk and a closet, ah... and a paltry window. We couldn't bother with expensive decorations or furniture like a sofa. Above all, when we didn’t receive a decent salary.

"But Eren ..." I laid her on the few cushions, not very comfortable, brown and beige, that matched the small room. When her head touched the doubtful softness of the pillows her eyes closed completely and her breathing became calm, it was a matter of seconds before she fell completely asleep.

"I'm going to take care of him, you rest" I adjusted her hair before noticing she had entered the realm of dreams. Apparently my words were enough to give her that peace of mind to go to sleep.

I knelt to remove her boots and set her feet on the lap of the sofa. Notice her legs stained with dirt, I'd bet she'd have a couple of bruises around her knees and ankles, maybe even her feet. My body was moving heavily as I searched for a blanket among the few scraps of cloth lying in the closet. In the end, I ended up finding one a bit small for her body, but it perfectly covered her torso and stomach, that way she wouldn't take cold while she was in her defenseless state.

I wanted to look out the window again, but there was nothing to observe that I hadn’t seen before, a sad and dull orange sky. I settled into the chair, feeling that I was usurping Mikasa's place for some strange reason, and I kept analyzing the young man lying on the bed. His hair was matted and a bit dirty, a shower every now and then wouldn't hurt, although he smelled conveniently well, like freshly cut wood or dry grass. A scent that, while I was destined to smell more than necessary thanks to the expeditions, I felt no discomfort smelling it on Eren. It fit him very well indeed. I might even get used to being around him if it meant smelling such a sweet scent.

Seconds that seemed like minutes, and minutes that seemed like hours. Time seemed to play against me and I felt like my body began to weigh me more and more, and more, until I fell forward and lay my face on the hard mattress and the soft fabric of the sheet. Second-rate cotton, if you would let me say so, but it did the job. It was comfortable, too comfortable, enough to let me rest for a moment and close my eyes, making time flow more quickly.

I felt a hand gently rest on my head, moving and caressing me with a tenderness I hadn't felt in years. I opened my eyes immediately expecting to find my father in front of my eyes, but instead, I spotted a still asleep Eren, scratching himself and trying to wipe the sleep out of his eyes.

I pulled his hand out of my head quickly, but without being rude, and laid them on the bed. I rubbed my eyes and gave him a half smile "Good morning sleeping beauty"

It took a few seconds for his eyes to get used to the little light that filtered through the window and when they opened they surveyed the entire room, still drowsy.

"Where is Mikasa? Armin? " he coughed after feeling a little hawking in his throat.

I stretched out on the chair, accommodating the bones of my back and immediately moved to the side, letting him see a sleeping Mikasa, comfortable and warm under a blanket. Eren inspected her, perhaps trying to find any signs of injury or complaints, but finding none he turned his gaze from her to me.

"Mikasa is asleep" I settled back on the chair, this time stretching forward a bit and resting my elbows on the bed, holding my head on my hands "Armin and Jean had to go to give their testimony for the paperwork"

Ere didn't say anything, he just nodded and gave me a brief "hmm" before looking out the window. "How do you feel?" was the last thing I said before the room fell silent again and neither he nor I deigned to say anything else.

Years of hating each other weren't going to go away, just like that. It was going to be a long road now that we were in a much worse mess than when we were 13 years old. But at least, we could talk to each other without the need to jump on each other's jugular, that's progress, right?

***

Why couldn't this bastard have a little sense of preserving of his life? Why wasn't he a little more careful, and since we are, a little more common sense? Why couldn't he stay calm for a few seconds, analyze the situation and act according to his surroundings?

Now we had to do a search party to find the damned "last hope of mankind". Galloping as fast as the horses would allow us, avoiding on all sides dozens of titans, even when one fell, five more came out. It was an order that had become more and more dangerous. And to make matters worse, having to be behind two of the most dangerous titans we could have encountered was a suicide mission and most of us knew it. We were giving it our all for an idiot, who I don't think he knew the value of the lives that were being lost in battle.

Sighted in the distance, ranks breaking and each one trying to survive while we tried to have enough time to rescue him from the armored titan, large numbers of soldiers were being eaten or crushed. You know the terror I had in my eyes to see Captain Erwin being bitten on the arm and dragged towards God knows where? If a great man like him could be defeated so easily in the blink of an eye, what was in store for us? What was in store for me?

I kept galloping, begging Phillip to keep going as fast as he could, that he never stop and be careful of everything in his path. I was so scared that I didn't know exactly to who I was saying it, the horse or myself. For sure, I knew the horse wouldn’t understand me perfectly, but he was the only thing that I could grab to at that moment, the only one that could save me.

Both left and right, titans ran everywhere, the boys had managed to reach the battleship while the others did what they could to give them time, seeing Ymir was also a sight worthy of admiration if it wasn’t because I was givind my life at this moment. And surely she was helping the blonde of "girlfriend" instead of us.

In that sway between giant bodies and tiny soldiers, the ground rumbled, the earth fell away, even trees fell at our feet. When trying to reach Mikasa before she fell, a titan came out of nowhere in front of me, trying to dodge it would be a feat, especially when he had his immense mouth pointing almost completely in my direction. I will never be able to thank the soldier who cut his neck, for seconds later to be grabbed by another titan and break his spine in such a grip. With the body decomposing and the other titan out of focus, I was able to move on, circling the smoking mass, ready to support Mikasa when another mass fell very close to me, causing the horse to jump from the force of the impact. In that second of distraction I turned my head to look at what had fallen, the ground began to crack under Phillip's legs and it only took a footfall from the armor titan to completely break apart and pieces of earth and stone came out, shotting everywhere.

As I turned my head back forward, I saw clearly how a stone flew directly towards my head. Call it reflections, call it having a guardian angel on my shoulders, but I was able to move my head in time, causing the stone to impact the gap between my shoulder and neck. I shot backward, hitting my head against the hard ground. I felt my shoulder dislocate and I noticed how by leaps and bounds the shirt, previously white, was staining with blood, as well as the jacket and the floor. My head was probably bleeding from the back as well, but the pain in my shoulder kept me from focusing on anything else. It was impossible to move it, I tried to scream for help, but my words stuck in my throat, and even if I had been able to scream, it would have been overshadowed by the hundreds more screams that were begging for help. The grass around me felt a bit comforting, like a cold hug in the last minutes of life. Body pain prevented me from reacting to the sight of a five-meter titan approaching where I was lying. Tears began to flow, falling down my cheeks; I wanted to scream, say my last goodbye, but I was so petrified that I just closed my eyes.

If I was going to die, I would rather die without seeing the horrible face of that damned titan. I preferred to have the image of my family in mind one last time. The ground began to rumble, I thought more titans were going to come for me, that I was going to be smashed into pieces, but the longer it took to feel the huge hand or a pair of teeth, I opened my eyes, finding myself, not a pack of hungry titans, but with the clear evening sky.

I raised my head and to my surprise, a bizarre surprise, all the titans that were chasing us at the time, were now going towards one of the highest. I couldn't understand what was happening, I looked around trying to find someone, to see if someone else was seeing the same thing as me. In the distance I found Armin holding a figure, I couldn't quite see who, trying to breathe normally and stand up. I tried calling out to him, but my vision started to blur and it made me dizzy from trying to lift my head even higher. I brought my hand to my head and confirmed the blood that flowed behind it, I was completely soaked in my own blood and at any moment I would end up fainting if I didn't treat my wounds.

The grinding of a horse brought me back to a state of consciousness, Phillip was back next to me and he lowered his head towards my good shoulder, pushing it up and lifting me little by little. Standing back on both feet, I leaned on his stomach and in an attempt to walk towards Armin I heard Eren's terrified scream in the distance.

Both he and Mikasa were looking at the scene without understanding anything at all, and what bothered me the most was that those stupid were still sitting on the ground, without any intention of moving. As I could, I got on the horse's lap, lying on my stomach, both arms hanging at the side, and I told him to run as fast as possible towards the two figures in the most dangerous area that could be at that moment.

"Stop looking and start moving!" I yelled at them a few feet away. They both turned their heads in my direction, wanting to say something, but only managed to gasp a few times before I arrived.

I grabbed the collar of Eren's shirt and with what little strength I had left, I lifted him off the ground "NO TIME TO TALK, LET'S GO"

Seeing Mikasa being picked up by Eren and placed on his back, I indicated to Phillip to leave the area, to try to get to safety, along with the other soldiers. At our side ran the couple of stupid who almost devoured, wondering what had happened. Their words sounded more and more distant and the ride put me in a calm trance until I was unconscious.

***

Year 851, a beautiful summer day to go horseback riding without the hassle of a titan in the area. At the same time, a beautiful day to visit the forgotten and destroyed towns.

We took our time, observing the landscape. Trees that had fallen and left their tracks on the ground and on the trunk were beginning to show traces of vegetation in their wood. The grass crushed by large feet was beginning to heal and new shoots were coming to the surface, some flower buds could also be seen. The few stone paths were smashed, small cobblestones were smashed, and there was no possibility of repair unless they were remade. Today was the day; the day it was my village's turn to be toured. We leave early to the northwest, guiding us along the river, me in the lead. The night before I hadn’t been able to sleep, to close an eye, I was nervous, very nervous, I couldn’t even eat anything for breakfast. After four years, I returned to my home, or what was left of it.

Endless nights I dreamed of returning to my small village, touring the oldest houses and greeting its inhabitants, seeing the children run, now older, and helping them take an apple from the market. I dreamed of reassembling one of our horses, of stroking and caressing them, earning me one, perhaps two licks to the face. But what I most dreamed of was to see my father's face again, to see his eyes full of dark circles and sadness at having lost his wife, the woman he loved the most in the whole world; I wanted to hold hid hands again, see them splintered after carving a piece of wood and turning it into a beautiful work of art. I wanted to lie down by the communal fire, hear stories from the elderly, shameful stories, and love stories. I wanted to be able to repeat my childhood years, to see my mother one last time, to be able to say goodbye properly.

I wished my village had been intact, but at the entrance my heart shattered. There were no standing houses in sight, all had sagging roofs, broken windows, and dried blood marks from years painting the walls.

I got off the horse looking at the damage and I was leading him forward by the mooring. Slowly, being careful not to trip over any stone, I entered the town more and more, seeing the withered flowers and their dried petals lying on the floor. Children's cloth toys, a odd wooden horse broken in half. Some walls were burned, others full of holes, the clothes hanging outside the houses torn into pieces, the stable reduced to nothing. The center, where the market normally took place, full of rubble and garbage, on the left a path of dried blood, on the right as well. I approached a stall that had not been completed, a fruit and vegetable stall, now reduced to nothingness itself. I picked up the chunk of splintered wood and found underneath what scared me the most. An arm.

I didn't know who it was exactly, the clothes were almost the same for everyone, but I assumed it was a man's; It was in the process of decomposition, pieces of meat were half detached. Beside him, a porcelain doll broken on its head, its brown curls discarded, and only dirt and fiber remained. I picked it up with both hands and kept walking in the direction… in which direction? I couldn’t tell. Only my body was on autopilot looking around me for a sign, the slightest hope that someone had survived. But one look at the stables from the beginning was the only thing that put my hopes in the trash: there were pieces of horses lying all over the ground. Not even our pride had survived. My feet stopped walking, dragging on the ground, and stopped in front of the house that saddened me the most. Mine.

Of all, this was the one in the best condition, part of the roof had fallen to the side, not on the house, and a hole led directly to the living room. The walls were completely burned, not from the destruction of a horde of titans, no. Those burns were from years before, produced by the military police. Seeing that wreck brought me the vile memory of the day of her execution. The people were scared, they implored not to kill her, but those brutes turned a deaf ear and executed her without mercy. My mother was a very dear woman to everyone and no one denied her dreams of leaving the walls, my father loved her more than anyone ... but that love of his was not enough to save her.

"(Y / N)?" I heard Eren's voice behind me.

His voice echoed in my ears, but I couldn't fully register it, I was just looking straight ahead, towards the hole in my house, looking from the outside for fear of entering. "These were the borders of my life"

I took a step forward, then another, and then another, until I collided with the first stones of the house. From that place I could see how the fire from a small oil lamp had fallen on the floor and burned part of my father's favorite armchair. I took another step, fully entering what was left of my old home. I ran my hand over the dry, scratchy fabric, dust had collected over the weeks, maybe years. Given how advanced the bloodstains were, I couldn't exactly calculate the time that had elapsed. In front of the chair was still a small desk full of sheets, most of them ruined by rubble, but some survived. Some of these had broken tips, other were left with black spots, and others were flawless, as if they had been made yesterday. Beautiful drawings of people, others of nature, others of birds or city buildings.

I kept looking for more sheets, running those that were hopelessly damaged, and under my foot I came across a paper somewhat harder and thicker than the others, even framed. The glass was broken but it revealed perfectly a small family, a man, his wife and their child. "In this dusty and destroy little house, where an artist love his wife"

I took the drawing with me, holding it tight with both hands, until I reached the only standing door in the house. The door leading to the master bedroom. I stood there for a couple of seconds, wondering if it was right for my sanity, if it was right for my conscience to open it up and find whatever was on the other side. I inhaled and exhaled a couple of times before sliding the door open. Next to the bed, on the side where my mother used to sleep, was my father's top. I wasn't brave enough to turn around and see his face. I closed my eyes when I saw the scene and left what was left of the facade with my head lowered. "The house of my childhood is gone"

***

A couple of days after hitting the ocean.

We had settled next to the shore. Jean, Sasha and Connie were playing with the small waves that were breaking in the sand, Armin was inspecting small seashells and Mikasa was dedicated to dipping her feet in the cold water. We had made a small fire to cover ourselves from the cold of the coming night. Eren and I were in front of that same fire. He watched as the small sparks flew over the small sea of ​​flames until they exploded and died in the blink of an eye. Some fell into the sand before exploding, others continued to rise until they rose higher and became part of the beginning of the starry sky.

My feet were barefoot in the sand, letting the little grains get between my toes and tickle every time I twisted them. I dropped my head on Eren's shoulder, giving me the chance to close my eyes and reopen them after a few seconds, admiring the sea towards the horizon.

After so many calamities, after so many deaths and losses, a moment of quiet was more than necessary. Maybe being this close to the bright green-eyed brunette wasn't so bad after all.

I could get used to this.

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[joel-millerr]

What’s Your Favorite Color?

Chapter Seven of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Summary: reader is stuck on the Crest with Mando and the kid. what should be an uneventful trip turns into something that changes everyone on board.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, praise kink(?), aftercare, depictions of death, mentions of mental illness (even though the reader doesn’t explicitly say it--it’s more implied), slight spit play?

A/N: ok so this might be the dirtiest thing I've written but I'm just so proud of where this story is going and I hope you guys enjoy. also, the entire chapter takes place on the crest, and it’s one day :)

also big shoutout to @eznova​ who helped me with this chapter. LOVE U

--

I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.

That eerie reminder echoes over and over in your mind as you wake up from one of the best nights of your life. It’s hard to control the stupid, shit-eating grin plastered on your face as you lie in Mando’s cot. You’re alone, but his scent—a delicious mix of soap and musk, fill your nostrils and if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can imagine him laying right next to you, wrapping strong, tree trunk sizes arms around you and placing chaste kisses all over your skin.

You couldn’t have planned falling for Mando so deeply and so quickly as you have, mainly considering that you haven’t known each other for very long, but you know damn well that if given the opportunity, you’d do everything over again.

Stars, you don’t even know what his name is.

What is his first name?

Should you ask him? You don’t want to come off imposing, and there’s a part of you that wants to wait until he chooses to share that information with you, rather than try to wrestle it out of him, but he’s shrouded in mystery, and that just reels you in even more. You really want to pick his brain, figure out what makes him him, but you don’t know if you’ll ever get that chance. There’s the possibility though, that after last night, he’ll be more vulnerable around you. Maybe you’ll both be more vulnerable and inclined to share each other’s pasts. After all, you’ve been pretty intimate with each other.

When you finally decide it’s probably time for you to get out of bed and face the potential awkwardness that could happen between you and Mando, the door to the cubby hole hisses open, with neither the kid nor Mando in sight. Your feet touch down on the cold ship’s floor, and you slip into your boots. Once on your feet, you feel an ache at the apex of your thighs. It stings and you have to basically have to walk with your thighs spread apart in order to ease some of the uncomfortableness between your legs. Every move you make is a reminder of the night before. You can even feel him inside you, stretching your walls to hug him perfectly. Kriff, you’re already wet and you only just woke up.

Hoping a sanisteam will wipe away the crude thoughts from your barely conscious mind, you take to the fresher and wake yourself up with a brisk rinse. Once you’re out and throw on yesterday clothes—you make a mental note to wash your only other garments, you’re about to head up to the cockpit when you hear Mando’s voice. Stopping at the ladder, you listen in on what he’s saying.

“…but you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand?” His’s voice goes quiet for a moment. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too…powerful. Don’t you want to learn more of that Jedi stuff?”

It’s a damn shame how last night you had heard his true voice for the first time, unmodulated but still as deep and rough as it sounds with the distortion of his helmet, and probably won’t be privy to it for a while. You wish you could hear him, like really hear him, naked and untapped again but even if you don’t, it’ll just make last night even more significant.

You hear the Child coo in response before hearing Mando’s cadence again. “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do.” There’s a brief pause. “You understand that, right?”

For the first time, you detect some sadness in Mando’s tone. Like he’s trying to reassure not only the kid but also himself that he needs to go through with this, that even though there might be a part of him that doesn’t want to let the Child go, in the end he has no choice in the matter. It tugs at your heartstrings. The Mandalorian, a seasoned warrior, a survivor, a bounty hunter—at war with himself and his own feelings.

You can’t help but feel guilty as well. Ahsoka had warned you that one day, you too would have to make a choice but after last night… It’s no longer as clear-cut as you initially thought it would be. Had this come to you even just six months ago, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. You’d make the choice of being a Jedi, and forgo all attachments and dedicate your life to the Order. It wouldn’t be hard for you to set all your feelings aside—you’ve had many years of practice on that subject, but now things are completely upside down. It’s territory you’ve never been in before and Maker, that terrifies you. The longer you journey with the Mandalorian, the more you become weaved together like vines wrapping themselves around a duracrete structure. Similar to the ancient temples on Naboo, tightening and gripping in every nook and cranny until it’s impossible to separate one without destroying the other.

When you reach the floor of the cockpit, you watch Mando sit ever still in the pilot’s chair, with Grogu seated to his right. Your boots hitting the ground as you walk alerts the Child, his ears twitching in your direction and he giggles excitedly, holding that little durasteel ball in his hands.

“Morning,” you announce as you plop down in the seat to Mando’s left. Grogu peers at you with big eyes and makes grabby hands at you, so lean over and bring him into your lap.

“How long until we reach Coruscant?”

“A day or two,” he answers curtly, keeping his visor glued to the blues of hyperspace through the transparisteel.

“Oh, okay. Looks like we’ll have time to kill then.”

Mando rises from his seat, turns his body to you for just a moment before announcing his leave. “Does your blaster need cleaning?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He offers you a quick dip of the helmet before leaving the cockpit in one swift movement and heading down the ladder. Your eyebrows pull together as you stare at the empty doorway to the little room you and the Child are still seated in. Looking down at him, you whisper, “Why do I get the feeling he’s avoiding me?”

Grogu bats his eyes at you before gently sucking on the ball still firmly gripped in his claws. It’ll always amaze you how attached he is to that sphere. You might never know why it’s so important to him but then again, you suppose that it’s a secret between him and his caregiver.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that mind of his,” you confess—not necessarily to Grogu, but since he’s the only one around, you feel almost compelled to spew your concerns and confusions about everything that’s happened.

“What do we do, little guy? I suppose since you’ve had training, you’ll probably want to be found by a Jedi, right?”

Grogu mumbles something at you and for just a second, you think he might understand you.

“And you’re okay with leaving him?”

He coos almost sadly, and you can hear your heart shattering. This little creature has grown such an attachment to Mando. It’s exactly what Ahsoka said—Mando’s basically his father and truthfully, if your parents were still alive, you couldn’t imagine leaving them to join a group that shuns on attachments. It would take a strength that you couldn’t muster to pull yourself away from them, not after knowing the kind of pain of having to live without them.

“I’m scared, Grogu. Truthfully, I have no idea what to think about all this.”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. He’s not even really paying attention, too busy staring at the little ball in his hands. It’s okay, though. It’s enough just for you to express your concerns aloud. Your mind can get cluttered if you think about everything all at once. The moments you convey your thoughts verbally, it forces you to focus on what you’re actually saying, rather than all the hypotheticals that bounce around in your head.

“Should I go down there?”

Again, Grogu says nothing, he doesn’t even look up at you. Eyeing where Mando sat just minutes ago, you feel like a teenager. You’re both adults, you can’t just tiptoe around each other, it’s not like there are many places to hide on the Crest, anyway. If he won’t come to you, you’ll just have to go to him.

Holding Grogu close to your chest, you take to the ladder and head down, being mindful not to accidentally hit his head on the rungs. Just as you reach the hull, you notice Mando facing one of the crates, his blaster completely taken apart, wiping the coil with a dirty rag. Placing Grogu in the bunk to your left, you lean on another crate and watch Mando dissect his weapon and clean every little bit of residue off his gun.

“How’s your shoulder?” Mando asks, back still turned to you.

“It’s fine, kinda aches a bit but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answer, transfixed at the way Mando meticulously cleans his weapons. He’s nothing if not thorough.

“Mmm,” he hums low in his throat. The sound reminds you of the mind-altering grunts he made the night before when he was balls deep inside you, causing you to rub your thighs together at the memory. That sanisteam was supposed to get of these filthy thoughts.

It becomes suddenly very awkward in the hull and you get the feeling that you might be lingering. He clears his throat a few times but says nothing. There may not come another time where you could try to learn more about Mando, so now seems like right time. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you muster up the strength to finally ask him, “You were born on Mandalore?” Keeping your eyes down, staring at your feet because you just don’t have the nerve to look at him.

“No, Aq Vetina.”

“Oh… I thought—”

“I was a foundling.”

“Like Grogu.”

“Yes,” he answers deep in his throat.

It suddenly makes sense why Mando saved him from the Empire, and why Grogu’s still in his care. He sees himself in the Child. He sees the vulnerability, the childlike innocence and he understands that he is responsible for this little baby, at least until you find a Jedi that is.

“Do all Mandalorians hide their faces?” You ask curiously.

There’s not much that you know about Mandalorians. The few things you do know about them is that they’re almost impossible to find due to the Empire nearly wiping them all out, and that they’re some of the best—if not the best warriors in the galaxy. Given the fact that Mando hasn’t removed his helmet once since you’ve been around (until last night), you can assume he take his Creed very seriously, and can’t help but wonder if the Child has been fortunate to catching a glimpse of his face.

“No,” he answers methodically.

Already feeling like you’re pushing the limits of how many questions you can ask before he finally decides to shut you down and stops being so forthcoming, the genuine curiosity is sadly too strong for you to pull back. It’s not like you’ve ever had this much time around someone so secretive and mysterious as Mando, and there’s just too many pieces to this puzzle that you want to so desperately put together.

“So, why do you do it?”

“This is the—” he begins, but a chuff of air slips through your lips before he can finish speaking. “What?” He asks annoyingly, turning his body around to face you.

“I don’t know…” Your hands motion around you in an effort to find the right words. “I mean you did take off your helmet in front of me last night.”

“I did.” The words come out through gritted teeth.

“So, is the rule that you can’t take off the helmet or that you can’t show your face? Because there is a difference between the two.”

This must catch him off guard because Mando stays silent for a ridiculously long time. The two possibilities are that he’s considering what you’re saying—which you’re beginning to doubt, or he thinks you’re totally out of line and is choosing to ignore you. You have this bad habit of being pretty blunt and somewhat insensitive with the way you express yourself and that’s caused you some issues with others in the past, but it’s always gotten the results you wanted. Honestly, someone like Mando will probably have tough skin, so you’re pretty sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.

“When did this become an interrogation about what I choose and choose not to do?” He grumbles, resting his hands on his utility belt.

“Doesn’t really seem like you’re choosing…” you mumble under your breath, kicking the ground and keeping your eyes to the floor.

“What did you say?” He asks defensively, squaring his shoulders and then taking a step forward. Out of habit, you lean back further against the crate.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” you clarify, using the bottom of your foot to kick off the crate, and straightening your back. “I’m just trying to understand—”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re kinda stuck with each other for who knows how long, so we should take this time to get to know each other, don’t you think?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you rest your hands on your hips, waiting for him to either deflect or finally let his guard down and talk like two normal adults.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Your jaw literally drops, completely dumbfounded. It during moments like this that you so desperately wish you could see what his facial expression is. Why does he continuously try to keep a distance between himself and every living thing in the galaxy? Is he scared of being vulnerable around someone else? That his reputation as a hardened Mandalorian warrior would be compromised if he so much as shared a tiny bit of information with you? Does he think a Mandalorian would come and strike him down for having his own opinion about his Creed? That questioning the only thing he knew since he was a child would be considered sacrilegious?

It’s pretty silly how worked up you’re getting right now, but the way Mando dismisses you, it stirs up that anger inside you that is so hard to control. He’s always pushing your buttons, just as you push his—only this time, you simply wanted to know a little more about him. Is that too much to ask for?

Do you continue to press him?

Do you let it go?

Announcing your defeat by drawling out a sigh, your hands drop to your sides, looking down at the ground because you can’t be bothered to look at him in the visor anymore. “All right, well I’m going to head up to the cockpit and um…” You try to come up with a quick excuse to leave the room as it’s becoming more and more awkward with each passing second, but unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. You result to turning on your heel and climbing up the ladder without another word, not bothering to wait and see if Mando comes up with something to say before you disappear.

Once you reach the doorway, the blues of hyperspace nearly blind you, and your hand comes up to give shade to your eyes as they adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You’ll need to find something to keep your mind occupied until you enter Coruscant airspace, because you’ll quite frankly drive yourself insane not doing anything, so you walk over to the control panel in front of Mando’s chair and begin running some diagnostics to see at what capacity the hyperdrive is operating at, see if there’s any leakage that you could fix inside the ship and any little thing that might need some maintenance. After running a few tests, you realize that unfortunately, Peli had fixed pretty much every little issue with the ship, so there really is nothing to fix in order to keep yourself busy.

Fuck.

Feeling defeated, you fall back onto your bum and sit on the cold floor, back leaning against one of the walls, resting your right arm on one of the passenger seats. You’ve always hated silence. With nothing to distract yourself with, your mind always ends up wandering, overanalyzing every little minute detail of your life, meticulously going over each moment in time and thinking of all the ways you could have done something different, how the choices you made were wrong, how things would be better off if you did x instead of y. It gnaws at you, until the only thing you feel like you can do to stop the voices inside your mind is to scream and lash out, causing pain to yourself and everyone around you.

Is this the work of the Dark Side or is it just your unstable mind?

Is it both—working together and tearing you apart from the inside out? Slowly picking your brain apart, section by section, nerve ending by nerve ending until all that’s left of you is the worthlessness of your existence, a make-up of atoms and tissue that can’t be controlled or understood?

Stars, you’re doing it again.

You can feel your mind retreating deeper and deeper into itself, wanting to disappear from all of this. Making yourself as small as you can, you pull your knees close to your chest, head dropping down between them while your palms rub the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and clenching so hard you think you might end up ripping some right out of your head.

The harder you pull, the more anxious you become. Heartrate picking up steadily and the lump in your throat growing in size, it’s as if the space around you is screaming, that everything is spinning, which could explain all this anxiety you suddenly feel when in reality, it’s all just in your head. The cockpit is dead silent, there isn’t even the slightest sound coming from down in the hull. Everything is deafeningly still and yet you feel it’s all too loud, and you just want to scream. Scream until you feel your vocal cords explode or until there’s no air left in your lungs. Your body no longer feels like it’s yours, and instead it’s as if you’re just living inside of it, watching everything happen around you but not having any actual control over it.

Fuck fuck fuc kfuck fuck fuck

Being so wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t even hear Mando coming up the ladder. You don’t hear his heavy boots clanking against durasteel. You don’t even hear him speaking to you. All you feel is a presence and when you finally lull your head back and peek through heavy lids, you see Mando—on his fucking knees, trying to comfort you. One of his hands hovering over your figure like he’s not sure whether to touch you or not.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks as softly as he possibly can. It comes out smooth like honey but still sitting at a low register through his helmet.

“I’m fine,” you answer curtly, no longer feeling particularly chatty.

He sighs deep in his throat, and you can tell he wants to ask you again, maybe hoping he’ll get the truth this time, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a step back and sits down on the chair opposite the one you’re closest to and stays as silent as a statue. While normally you appreciate the company, right now you want to be left alone, but you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave. So, you stay where you are, both acting like the other isn’t there.

As time ebbs on, your breathing has slows down. Mando being there—despite not saying anything, has you distracted. Your mind’s starting to settle on what’s going on at the present time, rather than all the thoughts that clawed at you just minutes ago. Without even realizing it, he’s helped you significantly.

“How old are you?”

Taken aback by his sudden engagement in conversation, you lean into the wall behind you and feel your shoulders touch the cold durasteel.

“Sorry?” you ask, pulling your eyebrows closely together. This might be the first time he’s ever asked you something personal. When Mando asks a question, it’s usually because he’s searching for clarification, not because he’s genuinely curious.

“How old are you?” He repeats.

You tell him your age and he hums in his throat.

“What about you?”

Something like a chuckle emits from his helmet before answering. “Older than you.”

That’s as close to an actual answer as you’ll get from him.

Okay, since you’re back to asking trivial questions about each other, “Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

“Fun?” He echoes.

“Yeah. Like, what do you do for enjoyment?”

He stays silent for much longer than you expected. Maker, does he not know how to have fun? Maybe it’s the way you worded the question?

“What brings you pleasure?”

His head turns to you and cocks ever so slowly to the side. It’s impossible to hide the annoyance on your face. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest, a chuff of air releases from your nostrils.

“Forget it.”

“I…don’t know,” he answers somewhat defeatedly. The idea that Mando doesn’t know what having fun is comes as quite a shock to you. Even though you didn’t have much knowledge on Mandalorians, you didn’t expect that they were unable to have fun.

“Okay, forget that question. What’s your favorite color?”

“Who has a favorite color?”

“People, Mando. People have favorite colors.”

“I don’t.” Letting out a gentle laugh, you use the palms of your hands to push against the floor and rise off the ground, slipping into the chair you were leaning on previously. Turning your body in the direction of the Mandalorian sitting across from you, you sit cross legged.

“There isn’t a color that you gravitate towards? One you look at and think, ‘I like that’?”

“I suppose I never thought of it.”

He’s been missing out on so much. How he’s been going through life without having these mundane preferences or opinions on things is…almost unfathomable. Every person you’ve ever met has had these frivolous details that made them different, giving you an insight into their personalities but Mando has no preference on anything. He just…exists.

“I’m assuming you have one?” he asks through the modulator.

“Yellow,” you begin to say. “But not a flashy kind of yellow, more like a dusty, pale yellow.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is that your favorite color?”

“I don’t know, Mando,” you answer with a smile on your face. “I just like how it looks. It’s warm and inviting.”

“Hmmm.”

“I guess… It reminds me of the sun. Back home, the sun would shine so bright, and it was so big. I used to stare at it even though my mother warned me not do that.”

He doesn’t say anything more but given that this might be the longest casual conversation you two have ever had, it’s quite the improvement from just saying a couple words to each other.

“Why do you always wear your armor?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We’re in hyperspace right now and you’re geared up for battle. Doesn’t it get uncomfortable always wearing your armor? Isn’t it heavy?”

“It is heavy.”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together, your lips press into a thin line, unamused by Mando dancing around your question.

“Are… Are you not even allowed to at least take off your armor in front of another person?”

“I never thought about it. I’m usually alone so it makes sense to keep it on; in case.”

“In case what? We’re not going to get attacked in hyperspace.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Seriously, Mando. You need to loosen up a bit.”

“I do not need to ‘loosen up’. I’m fine,” he says, a hint of derision in his voice.

“Says the guy in full body armor all the time.”

“It’s practical.”

“Oh, it’s practical,” you mock, a grin creeping up on your lips.

“Yes.”

“Even when you’re fucking someone?” You remark, eyebrow raised.

The visor burns into you. He’s definitely caught off guard by your brass question. Your lips curl into a sly smile, your tongue darting across your bottom lip.

“No one’s complained about it.”

Oh.

It’s kind of silly how angry that statement makes you. Okay, not necessarily angry but it definitely stirs something deep inside you. It’s clear by the way he fucked you last night that you weren’t his first—he’s obviously experienced in that area. However, you can’t help the way your jaw clenches at the thought of someone else crying out his name while he fucks them senseless.

You’re mine.

Thighs rubbing together as you remember Mando’s confession from last night, it’s quickly replaced by the thought of him saying that to someone else. Has he said that to anyone else? Are you reading into this too much? What if the only reason he said it was because it was in the heat of the moment? People say things during intimacy that they don’t necessarily mean… You’re definitely overthinking things, right?

“What are you thinking?” He beckons, voice hitting that part inside of you that nearly has you fucking moaning on the spot. How can a voice be so intoxicating? It’s not even his true voice, it’s distorted and cuts up like static but it has you nearly soaked in your seat.

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on.

He doesn’t.

“You’re quiet and from what I can tell, your heat signature’s gone up.”

Your what? “My heat sig—? No, your helmet must be malfunctioning.”

“Oh,” he rises from his seat slowly, squaring his shoulders as he does but doesn’t take a step towards you. He stays painstaking still, visor never once breaking away from you. “Is that right?”

Stars. Your heartbeat is picking up, palms starting to sweat, and your throat is beginning to close up. Your eyes maintain their gaze, trying to regain some kind of control over the situation. It’s childish, really—always attempting to have even the slightest amount of authority over whatever situation you’re put in with Mando because you never actually have any control. He may fool you into thinking you do, but at the end of the day, Mando is always the one in control.

“Your heat signature is burning up, pretty girl,” he taunts.

Kriff, this is not going the way you want it to go. You can’t be the only one looking foolish right now. If he wants to play the game, you can play it too, and you’ll make damn sure you play it better.

Looking him up and down trying to pinpoint any indication that he may not be as calm and collected as he’s playing off, your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants. As your vision pierces into him, you notice him shift his weight slightly, his hands balled tightly into fists by his sides.

“Why so tense, Mando?”

“I’m not—”

“Oh,” you echo his words from just minutes ago. Slowly slipping out of the chair, you stand to face him, squaring your shoulders. Pleasure heats up deep in your stomach, travelling down to the apex of your thighs, reminding you of how sore you actually are. “Is that right?”

“Stop that,” he warns. You got him.

“Not doing anything,” your voice sounding as innocent as you can while your eyes convey the opposite. You want him to know that you won’t give in so easily.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Do—” he starts but quickly composes himself. Craning his neck, his next words drip out of him slowly. “Drive me crazy.”

“Any of your other friends ever drive you crazy?”

Okay, that was a low blow, but you can’t shake the thought from your mind. For Maker’s sake, you’re an adult. Obviously he’s had lovers before, why is this so hard for you to accept? It’s not like you guys are together, you’re simply stuck with each other for the time being. Not only that, but you’ve had your fair share of men. He doesn’t seem to be jealous about that.

I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you.

“Mmm, are you… jealous?”

“Maker, no.” Lie.

“Then why are your cheeks red?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkfuck

Why does your face always have to give you away? You can play sabacc with the best deadpan expression in the galaxy, but right now you can’t even hide your resentment. How is Mando able to get under your skin and expose your every emotion, every thought? He pulls it out of you and basically presents it to you on a fucking platter.

“Because you annoy the shit out of me.”

“Your body is telling me otherwise.”

“Stop cheating! I can’t read your body heat, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to play fair.”

All right, if this is how he wants to play, you’ll just have to be bolder. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through parted lips, your left foot moves forward, taking one big stride towards Mando, stopping just inches from his breastplate. You can practically feel his own heat vibrating off of him. His fists tighten even more, and you swear you can hear his breathing quicken, cutting up in the helmet.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Mando.”

He makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Stars, the air is getting thick, you’re all but drunk on this feeling. Your undergarments are stuck to your pussy, drenched with slick, waiting for someone to make the first move. The blood is pounding in your ears, but you try to maintain the best stony stare you can muster. This is a fight you’re not willing to lose. You bite down on your bottom lip, staring into the ‘T’ of his helmet through hooded lids. His chest pushes out slightly and his head angles to the side, just enough for you to see the underneath of his jaw. There’s some stubble poking out from the bottom of his helmet, and you lick your lips at the sight. Wanting to put your lips to his jawline and trail wet kisses along it, gently sucking at his skin. Maker, you might end up losing this if you don’t compose yourself.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice hoarse and low.

“For you to lose,” your answer is honest. You want him to break down and give in, just to give you the slightest bit of power.

Mando lets out this sound, a joyful sound you’ve only heard once or twice before but it nearly throws you for a loop. Hearing him laugh, even if it’s quick and low, fills you up with the greatest amount of delight. To see someone who’s always stoic and serious let out a sound of pure pleasure, it makes up for all the times he purposely chooses to get under your skin. All the moments he infuriates you, it all goes away with the sound of his laugh.

At this moment, you’re grateful that his face is covered because you definitely would have crushed your lips together by now. His helmet actually works to your advantage, holding you back from doing the one thing you would have otherwise done by now.

“I’m not touching you,” he whispers. It sounds less like a statement to you and more like a reminder to himself. He’s fighting his urges just as much as you are, but you will continue to fight this until he breaks, he has to break.

“Then don’t.”

All of sudden, you both hear a disturbance coming from the hull. The kid must be getting into trouble down there.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell him, choosing not to wait for Mando to say anything in return before making your way to the ladder of the cockpit. Fighting the urge to take one last look at him before disappearing down the rungs, you head down to the hull and see Grogu rummaging through the various crates placed around the Crest. Once he sees you, he shows you a big toothy grin and runs straight for you, arms stretched out. You bend down and pick him up, holding him close to your chest.

“Hey, kiddo. What trouble are you getting yourself into down here?”

Grogu babbles something at you and you smile in return. A small grumble, something like an animal growling, comes from the baby’s stomach and his ears droop down.

“Hungry, little guy? Let’s see what we got for you.”

Walking down the hull with the kid in your arms, you stop at the small closest Mando keeps his ration packs. There aren’t many packs left, just enough to hold all three of you down until you land on Coruscant. After that, you’ll need to buy some more packs. Grabbing one of the packages and a bowl from one of the shelves, you prop the kid on one of the smaller crates and begin emptying the contents of the pack in the durasteel dish.

It’s a dark green looking blob. Quite frankly, you hate ration packs. They always look like food that’s been mashed together into a jelly bar and even despite the fact that once you add water to it so that it actually looks like food, just the sight of it in its raw form is enough to ruin your appetite. The kid doesn’t care about all that though; he’d eat anything you give him. Back on Sorgan, you had seen him eat a frog whole—just swallowed it without even a second thought. It was impressive and yet totally gross at the same time.

Leaving him on the box momentarily, you walk over to the sink in the privy and let a few droplets of water touch the blob in the bowl. Within seconds, the bar transforms into a small bread roll. It’ll hopefully be enough to tie him down for a few hours.

Passing by the ladder, you call out to Mando. “Hey, I’m about to feed the kid. Do you want to come down for a meal?”

“Not hungry. Thank you,” you hear him answer. He never eats with you two. Given that he needs to take off his helmet in order to feed himself, he chooses to wait until you’re both asleep or nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t stop you from asking each time. Part of it is so that he feels included but mostly you hope that one day he’ll choose to sit with you both. One day, you think to yourself.

When you hand the bowl over to Grogu gently, he takes it with both hands and begins eating the bread like it’s the first meal he’s ever had. Your brows pull tightly together as you watch him devour his food. For such a small creature, he sure eats like a bantha. He could probably eat for a whole day without stopping to catch his breath.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how strong this little guy is. He’s so tiny and somehow, he possesses a power stronger than you could ever really understand. This is the same kid that saved Mando’s life from a mudhorn. This is the kid that swallowed a whole frog that was half his size. A child this small is somehow a Jedi.

Once he’s done eating, he peers up at you with big, black eyes and coos at you.

“Nah, I’m not hungry right now, kid,” you answer as if you understand what he’s saying to you. Then again…maybe you can understand him.

Ahsoka said she and Grogu could feel each other’s thoughts. You should be able to do the same, right? Granted you have no training in the matter, but you were able to communicate with him once, surely you could do it again.

Your hand reaches out to him and you hook a finger around his hand. He grips around your index and squeezes you tenderly. Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what he could be thinking, what he might be trying to tell you. At first, you don’t hear or see anything—just darkness. A part of you wants to give up, nothing that it was worth a shot anyway, but you choose to press on. Focusing hard on Grogu, you relax the tension in your shoulders and take a deep breath, exhaling through your lips.

By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind…

A woman’s voice fills your mind, but you can’t make out any of her features. Focus, you tell yourself.

You are as its father.

A Mandalorian. She looks different than Mando. Her helmet looks to be made of gold, with horns erecting from the very top. Her armor appeared to be different as well. Unlike Mando’s shiny, chrome beskar, her cuirass is a reddish brown and instead of a cape, she wears a fur coat on her back. Immediately, you got the impression she’s a warrior of her own nature, just as cunning as Mando, but in a swifter, more agile way, unlike Mando’s brash style of battle.

Just as the moment appeared, it vanished, filling your mind with images of sand dunes. Suddenly, you’re back in Mos Eisley. Only this time, you’re much younger, playing on the outskirts of the city with Tye.

--

“Tye, I’m tired,” you whine out to him. He’s running around the sand, punting a ball at you and then taking it away when you opt not to kick it back to him.

“Oh come on, we have to head back soon anyway. Just a little bit longer.”

It’s hard to hide your disappointment. Really, you just want to be inside. Today is such a blazingly hot day, and water is at its peak in scarcity. Most folks will be inside all day, avoiding the scorching heat. Less time outdoors means less water consumed, but Tye never listens to what he’s told. He does whatever he wants and drags you along with him and unfortunately, you have a hard time saying no to him, so you’re almost always roped into his shenanigans.

“Tyyyyyyye,” you drawl out. “I want to go inside! It’s too hot!”

Just as you say that a giant spacecraft enters the atmosphere, covering the entire surrounding area in shadows. You look up at the giant structure in awe. You’ve never seen a spacecraft so grand before, jaw dropping as you watch two smaller vessels appear from the hovering fortress above your heads. They drop down a little less than a click away. By now, Tye is at your side, both of you watching men in white uniforms exit the ships, charging towards your direction. An immediate fear washes over you, grabbing Tye’s wrist and running to hide behind a nearby moisture vaporator. Your heart is racing, and you feel Tye’s own panic coursing through your veins.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He whispers, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I don’t know…”

The men pass you by, not even taking a second to look around them. Their heads stay glued to what’s in front of them, hands gripping onto giant guns you’ve never seen before. Just as fast as they came, they disappear into the city. Screams and shrieks suddenly break out. People scatter, running out of the city walls in mass hysteria. Your legs itch to run, to find your parents, but Tye senses your urgency and grabs your forearm.

“We have to stay.”

“But—”

He whispers your name. “We don’t know who those people are. We’re safer here.”

Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the screams of the villagers echo through the city walls, causing you to wince. Tye wraps his arms around you, and you embrace each other, weeping silently in each other’s arms, praying to the Maker that these soldiers leave. The sound of Tye repeating, “It’s okay. We’re okay,” echoing in your mind.

It’s only when the sun begins to set that the town becomes quiet. The spacecrafts are gone, leaving no trace that they were even here. Your eyes are swollen from the tears, and you feel overwhelmingly exhausted. Body still shaking, burning off adrenaline and fear. Standing up is difficult, your knees are buckling but the need to see your parents is stronger than the quaking of your legs. You wake Tye up by shaking his shoulder gently.

“They’re gone. We have to head back.”

He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms. At first it doesn’t seem like he fully understands you, but when he looks up and doesn’t see the ship from before, he all but jumps up, dusting the sand off his clothes and charging right into the city.

“Tye! Wait up!” You shout after him, but he doesn’t relent. Taking large strides, you attempt to catch up with him, running past weeping elders, hysterical children, and what appears to be dead bodies all around you. Your mind doesn’t allow you to process what you’re seeing, you’re just too focused on catching up with Tye and then finding your parents.

His name being called in the distance stops him dead in his tracks.

“Mama! Papa!” He cries out, pivoting around in hopes to see someone he knows. When you finally manage to catch up to him, his mother appears from the shadows, tears streaming down her face. From the faint streetlights, her cheeks are dark red, and her eyes are just as swollen as you assume yours are.

“Sweetheart!” She shouts as she races to you both, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you until the air is all but knocked out of your lungs. It hurts, but you hold on to her anyway, feeling her warm, motherly touch.

“Where’s Papa?” He asks in the crook of his mother’s neck. Tye’s voice is hoarse from crying and yelling, and she attempts to soothe him by gently shushing him.

“It’s okay, son. We’re okay.”

“I have to get home,” you say, pulling away from her grip.

“Honey…”

The look on her face… you’ll never forget it. Tears welling up in her eyes, her jaw slacking because she wants to say something but not knowing how to say it. The pain you see in her green eyes, it’s like she’s just watched a loved one die right in front of her. Fear and anguish hit you in waves, crashing down on you more aggressively with every second that goes by.

“No…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Taking a step away from her, her arm reaches out to you.

“Sweetie…” she tries again.

Shaking your head in panic, you turn on your heel in one swift movement and disappear down one of the quieter streets and make for your home. As you race in the direction of your dwelling, your heart bangs against your ribcage, tears flying down your cheeks. You can’t even see where you’re going due to the water in your eyes, but you keep trekking on. Nothing’s going to stop you. Throat unbearably tight, you can barely let in little breaths as you turn the corner to where you live.

When you reach the street, you stop so suddenly that you almost tumble down on the ground, somehow managing to catch yourself at the last moment, your breathing ridiculously erratic. There’s a horde of adults crowding the front door to where you live. Your feet carry you to them at a painstakingly slow pace. Blood pounding in your ears, you can barely make out what anyone is saying. When someone finally catches sight of you, they rush towards you, dropping down to their knees to meet your eye level.

“Sweetie, we can’t let you go in there.”

“But t-t-that’s my h-ho-me,” you manage to say through shaky breaths.

“I know, but we ca—”

You push passed them before they can finish speaking and dart passed several other people trying to stop you until you squeeze through the half-open door into your house, pressing a button on the control panel by the doorway. The door hisses shut.

There’s only a bit of light offered inside. To your left, you see the table you’d sit at with your parents for supper. The chairs are tucked neatly under the table. You’re not sure if the banging you hear is from someone outside trying to get in, or if it’s your heart thumping against your chest but it doesn’t deter you from searching for your parents.

As you continue to scan the area, there’s a couple of cups lying around on the counter, but other than that, nothing is out of place. Relief begins to settle in but is rapidly replaced by sheer terror when you finally shift your head to the right. Then, you see them.

Your parents lying face down on the floor.

“No!” You cry out, running to them and dropping to your knees to hover over their bodies.

There’s a blaster sized hole in your father’s back, heat still steaming off his wound. Your screams could be heard from the other end of the city, clutching onto their lifeless bodies as you beg for them to wake up.

“Please, wake up. Mama, Papa. P-please!”

Someone pulls you off of them, wrapping their arms around your torso. Your arms flail around, clawing and scratching at whoever’s holding onto you. “Let me go! My parents! Let me go!” Your voice is shrill and hoarse, becoming more hysterical, but they never let go. Your parents become smaller and smaller as you’re carried away from them. The last thing you remember is seeing the door to your home whoosh shut…

Your body jolts, and you’re not on Tatooine, anymore. You’re on the Razor Crest. Grogu sits just a foot away from you, peering up at your shivering body. Somehow, you exposed a memory you had sworn to never remember. After that day, you locked that memory up in a part of your brain and shut it off, choosing never to think about it again. The pain was too much for you to handle. Instead of facing your pain, you always chose to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist. Once again, compartmentalizing your trauma and locking it away for good.

Grogu fusses and when you look down to him, his eyes begin to flutter. Poor thing gets so sleepy whenever he messes with the Force. You pick him up and hold him close to your chest, making your way to Mando’s bunk. As you pass the ladder, the kid fusses and makes grabby hands for the ladder.

“You want Mando?” You ask him, and Grogu babbles in response.

Climbing the ladder with him in your arms is a bit difficult, but you’re able to get to the top without too much of a struggle.

“He wants to be with you,” you tell him.

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. Extending his arms out to you, you hand Grogu over to him and your hands briefly touch. The brushing of your hands suddenly reminds you of the game you were in the middle of playing just before the kid decided to explore the cargo hold.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Turning on your heel, you head down the ladder quickly. How is it that over the course of just a few hours, you could go through so much emotional turmoil? Honestly, you haven’t even been awake for that long, but you’re already wanting to take a nap.

Fuck it, there’s nothing else to go in this hunk of metal, and Mando’s probably busy with the kid, so you decide to let your body rest. Crawling into the little cubby hole and shutting the door closed, you close your eyes and hope your body will allow you some peace of mind.

--

You’re reminded of why you hate naps so much when you wake up. Instead of feeling refreshed, you always end up feeling much worse. First off, you always wake up in a cold sweat and feeling super groggy. Quite frankly, it does the exact opposite of what you hoped a nap would do. Secondly? Mando’s cot is unbearably hard. It shouldn’t be considered a bed; it resembles more like duracrete than anything else. As much as you like finally being able to sleep not sitting up in that kriffing passenger chair, this is another struggle of its own.

Pushing the button on the control panel by the door, it opens with a swift motion. The first thing you clock is that the Crest’s lights are almost all out, making it damn near impossible for you to even see your hand in front of your face. How in the hell is Mando able to walk around here not being able to see a single thing? The second thing you notice is the sound of running water. He must be taking a sanisteam.

To think that just on the other side of that wall, he’s naked and wet? If it were anybody else, you’d strip out of your clothes and join them, but things aren’t that simple with Mando. There are boundaries you wouldn’t dare cross unless he gives you his consent. Rather than frustrate you, it entices you even more. It keeps you wanting more and more, especially because he can’t just give you everything you want, whenever you want. No, you have to work for it.

Realizing that now you’re basically just standing outside the fresher like a creep, you head up to the cockpit in search of the kid. Just like you suspected, he’s sound asleep in one of the passengers’ chairs, wrapped up in what looks to be Mando’s cape. The thought of Mando taking off his cape to wrap Grogu up makes you stupidly giddy.

Treading carefully as to not make any noise to wake him up, you tiptoe back to the ladder and shut the cockpit door, your feet barely touching the rungs as you descend back down to the hull.

Something in your stomach growls, and you’re suddenly reminded that you haven’t eaten since… yesterday? Kriff, has it really been that long since your last meal? You head over to the pantry where the packs are kept, extending your arms out in front of you so you don’t bang into anything on your way there, and grab the first pack your hand touches, not having a preference as to what you’ll be eating today—tonight? You don’t even know what time of the day it is. Time in hyperspace can be difficult to keep track of. The only way you’d know what time it is is if you checked the control panel back up in the cockpit and right now, it’s just not worth the trip.

The pack itself feels sloshy in your hands; it’s probably some kind soup. Reaching into the closet again, your hand searches for a bowl to put your meal in.

Mando will be out of the fresher at any moment now, given that the water’s been turned off for a minute or two. The door to the fresher wooshes open and out of reflex, you shut your eyes but are quickly reminded that the hull is so faintly lit that even with your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see him, but just to be safe, you announce your presence.

“I heard you,” is all you hear back.

“Can you turn the lights on a little bit more? I can barely see a thing and I really don’t feel like dropping my soup all over your ship.”

He doesn’t answer but within seconds the Crest transforms from a dark abyss to a twinkling, starry night. Not unlike the ones you’d spend hours staring at with Tye in the sand dunes during your teenage years.

Your head spins to your left, selfishly hoping to catch a sight of Mando, and Maker do your eyes latch onto him.

He’s not wearing a shirt, first of all. This is the most of his skin that you’ve ever seen before. The warm lights flickering off his back accentuates the curves of his muscles, concaving in certain areas and then protruding in others, outlining every bit of toned tissue. You can vaguely make out a few water droplets trailing down his golden skin, and it’s seriously taking all the self-control you have not to close the gap between you both and lick them off his back. An ache begins to build in the apex of your thighs, and you start to rub your legs together in an effort to alleviate some of the heat stirring inside you. Still wearing the kriffing helmet, though.

The second thing you notice is the vast amount of scarring on his skin. Each scar representing a different battle. You could probably lay him flat on his stomach, and his back would appear like a visual biography of his life, each mark giving you an understanding into his past, and the tests and trials he’s had to overcome over the years.

What were you trying to do, again?

Food.

You need food.

“Do you—” you squeak. Pull yourself together. Clearing your throat in hopes your tone will go back down to its normal octave, you repeat yourself. “Do you want any soup?”

“No t—” he begins to say but you cut him off before he can finish. You knew he’d say he wasn’t hungry.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes stay glued to the bowl in front of you. You’re certain that if you so much as looked at him again, you’d forget about the damned soup and pounce on him like loth cat.

“No.”

“Then you’re eating.”

Taking a second bowl from the shelf, you divide the soup evenly between both cups and begin making your way over to Mando, keeping your head down in the off chance he’s still not wearing a shirt, you don’t want to seem like you’re gawking at him.

“You can look,” he clarifies, noting the way you refuse to look up from ground.

When your eyes finally shift from the ground to look at him, he’s now wearing a black long-sleeved tunic that hugs his figure in ways that should be illegal. Your jaw is practically hanging and swallowing the lump in your throat causes a sound somewhere close to a moan to expel from your mouth, but you’re quick enough to stifle it with a cough.

As you hand him the bowl of soup, you’re feeling incredibly shy for some reason, your hand extending out and trembling as he takes it from you.

“I’ll eat in the cockpit to give you some privacy,” you tell him as you put your hand on the railing.

“No,” he says immediately, grabbing your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay.”

Lips curling upwards into a smile, you end up biting down on your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing and growing as you replay that in your mind.

Stay.

Moving away from the ladder, Mando pulls out one of the smaller crates and seats himself down on it. As you begin to look around for another box you could sit on yourself, he watches you closely.

“You can sit here, if you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

Once you’re seated, you begin to take small sips of your soup. Mando reaches over to where his vambrace is—scattered somewhere on another crate and presses a button on it. The Crest’s lights fade even more, leaving you both in almost complete darkness.

A muffled hiss fills the air, and you hear beskar touch the durasteel ground. You eat in silence for a few minutes, hearing only each other’s sips as you continue to fill your bellies with food. It’s incredibly domestic. A Mandalorian and a…well you’re not really sure what you should label yourself as, but you’ll stick with smuggler for now; the two of you eating together like an actual couple—even if that’s far from what your relationship actually is.

“No amour?” You decide to ask, trying to make a bit of small talk in the pitch-black abyss.

“Someone told me I had to ‘loosen up’,” he jests, knocking his elbow against your arm. Maker, you’ll never get tired of hearing that unmodulated voice of his. Something as simple of a voice shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. For a man who kills for a living, he speaks with such a gentle intonation.

It’s such a juxtaposition, really. In full body armor, Mando is definitely one of the most feared hunters in the galaxy. He’ll kill if something threatens his life or the kid’s life. Impossible to read, impossible to predict. But right now? He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. No helmet, no amour. His guard is as down as you’ve ever seen and is willing himself to be naked with you, even if he’s still fully clothed. How you were able to find yourself in this situation is something you might never be able to fully understand, but it is truly the greatest gift you could have ever been given.

“I’m sorry about before,” you whispers, feeling guilty about how you approached the question about his helmet. “I didn’t mean to pressure you about your Creed.”

It’s not fair for you to come down so hard on him. You might not understand why he chooses to live his life with such restrictions, but it really isn’t any of your business.

“It’s fine.”

You still feel angry with yourself for acting the way you did, but if Mando says it’s fine, the last thing you’ll do is continue your self-loathing and make him feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Taking the last sip of soup and feeling satisfied with your meal, you push yourself to your feet. “Are you finished?” you ask him.

“Yes, thank you.”

You search aimlessly in the dark for a moment in search of his dish and accidentally knock the bowl right out of his hand, hearing it tumble on the ground.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse, dropping to your knees in search for it. While frantically searching for the dish, you feel his hand caress the small of your back, sending shivers through your spine.

You’re starting to feel pretty flustered, the fact that you’re both in the darkness doesn’t help. There’s no way of anticipating what could happen and that’s exhilarating and unnerving. Of course, you eventually find the bowl and Mando’s hand disappears from your back once you get back on your feet.

Walking over to the pantry where the ration packs are, you place the bowls on the shelf, making a mental reminder to wash them later. Just as you’re about to turn around and head back to where you think Mando is, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Two hands grip onto either side of your hips and he presses his body against yours, pushing you right up against the little closet. A moan escapes your lips without even realizing it, and you can feel his hot breath tickle the crook of your neck.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all fucking day,” he growls in your ear.

Holy Maker, the heat in your stomach is somehow already becoming too much. You’re basically panting, the blood in your ears is almost deafening.

“I’ve been watching the way you’re walking. Did I hurt you? Do you still feel me?”

“Stars,” you breathe out.

Mando presses his lips to your skin, sending shockwaves through your entire core. You can feel his stubble prick your neck and it’s everything you didn’t know you craved. It feels deliciously rough.

Your hands brace themselves against the door, it’s the only way you can keep yourself upright. Knees already buckling, feeling the heat pooling from your cunt and drenching your underwear with slick. One of his hands begin to trail away from your hip and trace the waistband to your trousers. Instead of teasing you though, his hand wastes no time pushing passed your pants and panties, finding his way down to your cunt and cupping it with such force you jerk forwards, groaning as his hand finds your clit.

“Already so wet for me.”

Fingers leaving your bud, he slides them between your folds, gathering your slick on his calloused fingertips and then he’s shoving a thick finger deep inside you. His free hand flies to your throat, applying slight pressure with his thumb and index on that sweet spot underneath your jawline.

“Fuck,” you cry out brokenly. It doesn’t fill you up nearly as much as his cock does, but the way he moves inside of you, hitting that spot inside you no one has ever touched, marking it as his, causes you to see fucking stars.

Mando nips at your neck, alternating between sloppy kisses and bites hard enough to cause bruises, you can already feel an orgasm stirring inside you. You clench around his digit, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

“Are you already close?” He mutters in between kisses and nibbles.

“Shit, fuck I-I think so.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of his soft, damp locks and pulling hard, causing Mando to groan in your ear and buck his hips into yours. You can feel the outline of his rock-hard rock against your ass, and you grind into him, feeling his length burrow between your cheeks. You’re so close to your climax already.

Without missing a beat, he pulls out of you and his hand disappears from between your thighs.

“W-why?”

Grabbing your hips, he flips you around to face him.

“Up,” he instructs.

You linger there for a moment, unsure of what he’s asking you to do. When you don’t move, his hands grab onto your waist and lift you off the ground without so much of a groan. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms cross around the back of his neck, your head leaning on his shoulder. He walks over to the little bunk in the corner of the hull and lowers you onto the mattress gently, being mindful not to hit your head on the small doorway.

Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, the thrill of not being able to see him at all and not having a clue as to what he’ll do next, it’s incredibly sensual. Your legs unwrap themselves from his waist and dangle off the edge of the cot. His hands trail up to the waistband of your pants and tugs them down off your ass. Lifting your hips up to help him, he takes them—along with your underwear, off and you hear them thump to the floor.

Hands returning to your skin, he hooks thems under your calves and lifts them up so your bent at the knees, feet resting on the edge of the bunk.

The anticipation is getting to you. He continues to take his agonizingly sweet time running the tips of fingers on your naked skin, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to form on your skin. Lifting one of your legs and placing it over his shoulders, he peppers kisses from your ankle all the way to your inner thigh and repeats the same taunt with the other leg. Both of them now resting on his shoulders, he drops to his knees in front of you. Suddenly feeling nervous, you try to close your legs and end up squeezing his head by accident.

“Shit, sorry,” you whisper, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Shhh,” he hushes, placing a large hand on your sternum and pushing you back down on the cot gingerly, and then his lips are on your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites all over your inner thighs, slowly getting closer to your throbbing pussy but never getting close enough to relieve the pressure building.

“Mando, please,” you whimper.

“Do I have to gag you?”

Shit… How is he able to make that sound so fucking hot?

“I’m going to take care of you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?” His voice is gentle but commanding.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good girl.”

His tongue glides over your clit and there’s no controlling the moan that rips through you. Pulling away immediately, Mando stands up and presses his body into yours, his mouth merely inches away from yours, his large hand cupping just underneath your jaw.

“What did I say, pretty girl?”

You can feel his hot breath on your lips. If you just moved even the littlest bit forward, your lips would meet his. Licking your lips, you wrench your eyes shut to keep you from closing the gap.

“To be quiet,” you manage to say through ragged breaths.

“So be quiet,” he hisses, feeling his teeth sink into your bottom lip for just a second and then his weight is off you, returning to your thighs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned over his shoulders. Now, he wastes no time lapping you up, flicking your clit with his tongue with such a mind-blowing rhythm you have to throw your arm over your mouth and bite down on your skin to keep from making any noise. Mando never relents, developing the perfect torture. He plays with your bud then practically shoves his entire fucking face in your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you as far as it can go. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to bubble up to the surface, threatening to burst. It’s all too much, your body starts to shake from the sensations.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close. Dropping your arm to your side, your voice hoarse from stifling all your cries, you’re somehow able to find the strength to say, “I’m gonna come.”

“No,” is all he answers.

No?

“W-w-what?”

“Hold it,” he says hastily, then continues his assault on your pussy.

How in kriffing hell are you supposed to hold it? You’re basically already there and he’s denying you it. You can’t hold on; you can’t stop it.

“I c-can’t,” you confess.

And then he stops. His tongue leaves you, his hands leave your skin, and you’re left there on the bed, legs hanging off the cot, chest heaving from being so fucking close and then being denied at the very last second.

“What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly, a hint of anger but mostly disappointment in your tone.

You hear him make a noise and then something wet trickles down your clit down to your entrance. It’s…sticky and warm. Did he just spit on you?

Lifting your legs back up and letting your feet balance on the very edge of the bunk, his cock rubs against you, angling the tip of himself to slide between your folds, mixing your slick, his spit and precome all over his length and you. Mando continues to tease you, lining himself up with your entrance but never sheathing himself inside you. It’s driving you fucking insane, even angling your hips whenever he does, hoping he’ll lose his self-control and plunge into you, but it only spurs him on. He knows how much it’s annoying you and he’s fucking thriving on it.

“If you don’t start fucking me soon…” you warn.

Mando actually laughs at you, like this is all a big joke to him. Anger begins to mix with your arousal, this is maddening. Why won’t he just fuck you already?

All of a sudden, he slams into you with so much power, you actually slide up the cot, and you wail feeling so fucking full and tight, your cry filling the small space you’re in. You’re still sore from the night before and feeling him stretch your walls again is almost unbearable, but it feels too fucking good. You’ll take every fucking inch of him without a single complaint. Then, just as your pussy begins to acclimate to him, he pulls out, hiking your shirt up just enough for him to grab onto your naked waist and pulling you back down closer to him.

“Mando!”

He leans over you once again, a hand cradles the back of your head while his thumb rubs your cheek tenderly. “If this gets to be too much, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you nod.

“Words.”

“I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Good.”

Thrusting his hips against you, his cock continues to grind along your slit, making you dizzy from both the lack of touch and the taunting of his cock against you.

“Maker, you’re so fucking wet. You sure you didn’t come?”

Words aren’t something you’re capable of forming so you’re stuck resorting to answering him with broken sobs. Practically writhing from all the overstimulation and lack of, from him toying with you, the pressure in your cunt actually fucking hurts, you’re nearly begging for some release. Adding onto the fact that you can’t see a fucking thing, it heightens all your other senses. They compensate for your lack of vision; everything feels so much more intense than you ever could have imagined.

No one could ever drive you to the brink of madness and pull you back in at the last second. No one could possibly make you feel so satisfied yet deprived. You’re convinced you’ve traveled the galaxy in search of him, that your soul was missing a piece so small, you didn’t even know it was missing until Mando filled that void. He’s etched into your skin, your bones, your veins. Every nerve ending tissue has been electrified by this enigma of a man. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill those who’d try to come between him and his clan.

Kriff, you’re drained already. He hasn’t even begun to fuck you, but waves of exhaustion are coming over you. Mando’s still fucking teasing you, only ever prodding the tip of himself inside you and then pulling away before he can truly fill you up.

He said if this became too much for you to handle, all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop. You’re starting to consider it; you don’t think you can handle much more of the slow torture he’s inflicting.

Just as your jaw slackens, he slams into you in a sift motion, fully immersing himself inside your swollen walls.

“Fuck!” You pant out, wrenching your eyes shut and feeling tears trinkle down your cheeks. Mando doesn’t move one bit, just sits inside you like he’s waiting for you to adjust yourself to the size of him.

“Shit, you’re tight. Gonna train that pretty cunt of yours to mold to my cock,” he grits out. Big hands hold you down by the waist, and he ever so slooooowly eases out of you only to ram into you again, all the way to the hilt. You’re seeing stars, every move, every thrust bringing you closer to euphoria. The only thing your mind can process is how fucking amazing it feels to be clenched around his cock. It’s mind bending, it’s intoxicating, you’ll never get used to the way he fucking tortures you.

He develops a downright brutal pace, pulling out just enough for his tip to pierce your walls and then pounding into you, growling every time he touches your cervix. Once he’s fully immersed inside you, he bucks his hips and practically jackhammers his cock inside you. A sheen of sweat covering both your bodies causes the sound of skin slapping against skin to sound so wet and fucking obscene. Still pounding into you, Mando’s hands leave your waist to grab under your thighs, lifting them up to hang off his shoulders. Pushing down on the backs of your thighs, he practically bends you in half at the knees, an arm on either side of your head, and then begins a pace so fast and brutal, you’re sure you’ll be sore for weeks. The spot he’s hitting right now is one you didn’t think was even possible. It knocks all the air out of your lungs, you can’t even make a goddamn sound. Your throat is bone dry, and whatever pathetic sounds that escape you are barely audible and breathless.

“Stars, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters in your ear, and then he’s sucking at your neck, bruising the skin.

Mouth agape, you’re so fucking close to coming, a part of you doesn’t even want to tell him how close you are in case he stops. You don’t think you could physically handle it if he denied you again.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how much fucking noise your little cunt is making?”

On a normal day, Mando says as little as possible, giving you a quick sentence in response or even a one-word answer, but when he’s balls deep inside you, he can’t seem to shut up. He turns into a blabbering mess, offering you praise after praise like it’s a fucking prayer. Mando makes a note of everything. He comments on your gushing pussy, how your walls clench around him as you get closer and closer to your orgasm, how no one will ever touch you again.

How you’re his.

And you? You can barely throw two words together. You’re on the brink of losing your goddamn mind. Is this what being on spice is like? Feeling a sense of euphoria that hits you wave after wave, each one stronger and more intense than the last, teetering the line between sanity and insanity.

“…mine,” you hear him snarl. Reality doesn’t even feel real anymore, you can barely make out what he’s saying to you.

Something like a whimper slips through your parted lips.

“Now, come for me.”

He barely finishes speaking before your orgasm tears right through you. It begins deep inside you and is quickly shattering the earth around you. Crying out so loud Mando has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds expelling from your lips. He continues to pound into your pussy, riding out the ripples of your climax, not relenting even for one moment. There isn’t any fucking air in your lungs—Mando’s weight is still pressing you into the cot and your climax is so strong, your chest is way passed heaving now.

You’ll be chasing this high for the rest of your life, the feeling of Mando unleashing his feral instincts on you, and you just helplessly letting him take control of you—it’s unlike anything you ever could have imagined.

“Good girl,” he praises. When you don’t immediately answer, still in a haze from the mind-shattering orgasm that just expelled out of you, Mando stills, cupping your face with his hand and murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Your lips part, and your brain desperately tries to find any word that might help him understand that you’re okay and also anything but okay. Only being able to breathe in quick, sharp breaths, Mando places a kiss on your jaw and repeats in the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard him speak, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking your head frantically, you attempt to moisten your throat by swallowing, and it gives you enough to answer, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He reiterates.

“No,” you croak.

“Are you sure?” Stars, how can he be so relentless in the way he fucks you and switch into a nurturer so quickly?

“Mmm. Please f-fuck me,” you mewl against him.

His cock twitches at your plea, and he obliges. In an effort to help you climb down from the overstimulation, he eases in and out of you at a deliciously hard, but slow pace, and then he does something you couldn’t have been prepared for. Your lips are slightly parted, letting in little bursts of air to help calm your breathing, and suddenly, you feel wet, soft lips clash onto yours. Instinctively, you yelp into his mouth from the unexpected touch, but you quickly acclimate to it, feeling your lips move on his. It’s a little awkward at first, you get the impression Mando hasn’t kissed many people in his life, because your teeth end up clashing together a few times. He fucking giggles into your mouth and you all but melt into the cot. His tongue slips passed your lips and meets yours and you can taste yourself and broth on his tongue. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, pressing your lips even deeper on his. Mando moans low in his throat and you can feel the vibrations ripple in your own mouth.

He makes to pull away, but you keep his lips locked on yours, using your hands to keep him where you want him. He gives in without hesitation, letting you take control of the kiss as he continues to ram into you. The dreams you’ve had of this moment, the moment you’d feel his mouth on yours doesn’t even come close to the feeling of it happening to you right now. It all makes sense now. Every kiss you’ve had previously was just practice for this. It was all just preparing you for this defining moment, the moment you’d finally be able to break through Mando’s heavily guarded walls. Every smack of your lips, every flick your tongues, every broken moan in each other’s throats, they’re all just feats breaking down the duracrete barrier that he’s forced himself to build over the years.

Bodies intertwined, every part of yourselves wrapped up in the other, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, and you suppose that’s how this is was always supposed to be. Each of you were missing the same piece— the inability to be perceived as anything but a person of strong will. Believing that vulnerability was a weakness, instead of something that should be treasured, and without knowing it, your paths crossed and challenged every part of your identity.

Foundling, Mandalorian, bounty hunter, father.

Orphan, mechanic, smuggler, Jedi.

Those shouldn’t mix together as perfectly as they do, but stars, does it feel like everything finally makes sense.

A second orgasm begins to brew in your stomach, but you don’t dare pull away from Mando’s lips. You’ll never pull away until he forces himself off of you.

He leaves your lips for just a moment, panting and his own chest heaving against yours. “Maker, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Shhh,” Tugging desperately at his hair, you close the small gap between you and slosh your mouths together. You both whimper brokenly on each other’s lips, and Mando slams into you three more times before his hips still, feeling his cock pump his seed into your soaking pussy. Just as he begins to come, your second climax reaches its peak and crashes into you. His hands are back on your waist, digging his fingernails into your skin. Whatever moans you both cry out are muffled by each other’s’ mouths, catching the sound and swallowing it, burying it deep inside one another.

When you come start to come down from your climaxes, Mando drops his head to the crook of your neck, burying his face into your skin and pressing sloppy, chaste kisses right where your jaw meets your neck.

“I—” You attempt to speak, but your vocal cords are so raw, it hurts even just making a sound. You’re still practically bent in half, and your legs are burning up. Resorting to stir around hoping he’ll get the message, Mando pulls off of you, using both his hands to very gently bring them down his shoulders, one by one, once again giving each of your inner thighs some tender pecks. Pulling out of you, his come seeps out of your completely worn out slit. He peppers a few kisses along your waist, and then you hear his footsteps retreat.

“Where—” You begin to say, making to slowly prop yourself on your elbows.

“I’m still here,” he assures you.

You can hear him moving things around, and you seriously wish there was some kind of light allowing you to see what he’s doing but given that your eyes have gotten used to being in complete darkness, you’re sure you’d be blinded by even the smallest amount of light right now.

A few minutes go by and then you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you down the cot. Once he feels like your head won’t hit the top of the bunk, he lifts you off your feet, wrapping his arms around your back, and in turn you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you for a couple steps and then brings you down onto what you expect will be the cold ground. Instead, you feel cotton on your back as he lowers you down.

“Where did you—?”

“I have a couple of extra capes in case one gets too battered,” he says, answering your question before you can finish asking it.

As soon as your head touches the ground, you feel your eyelids shut, exhaustion overpowering you. Turning over on your side and hiking up one of your legs up so that your knee lines up with your chest, you don’t even care that your own slick and his seed is practically dripping down your legs. You don’t care that you’re still naked from the waist down. The only thing you care about is falling asleep, preferably in Mando’s arms.

“Don’t sleep yet. Need to clean you up,”

“Mmm,” you protest. “Later.”

Mando chuckles lightly and then he’s wiping the slick off your legs and entrance with what feels like… a pair of trousers.

“Are you using my pants to clean that up?”

“It’s the first thing I grabbed. I’ll wash it.”

“Mmm, you better,” you mumble into your arm.

Now, you’re starting to slip in and out of consciousness, fatigue taking you over. Mando rummages around the hull for a bit longer, and then joins you on the floor, throwing what you assume is another cape, over your half naked body. You don’t even have the energy to move your body over towards his, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re both still close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other’s skin.

“Hey, Mando?”

“Yes?”

“I won.”

Things are quiet for a few minutes after that, and you’re on the verge of falling asleep when his velvety smooth voice breaks through the silence of the Crest.

“Blue,” his voice is low and barely audible.

“Mmm?” You mumble, desperately trying to stay awake.

“I…like the color blue.”

Okay, now that puts a stupid, hazy smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular shade of blue? Bright… dark?” You may be barely conscious, but you hang onto every word he says.

“I guess… dark.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Why do you like that color?”

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s about to confess something to you that he hasn’t told anyone else. As if in this very moment, he’s about to give himself to you completely. “The Mandalorians that saved me from that battle droid in my village. Their armor was blue.”

Mando doesn’t elaborate any further, but he doesn’t have to. Feeling your heart tighten in your chest, you imagine what a young Mando must have been feeling when that droid pointed its guns at him. How he must have been utterly terrified and convinced that he was about to die. And then to be saved at the last moment. Seeing these warriors in blue armor coming to rescue him, to save his village from an even worse massacre. They were his saviors, it only makes sense that after all these years, that color would bring him solace and comfort.

It’s quite ironic, actually. Blues have the reputation of representing sadness or pain and you too have been accustomed to associating blue with your own trauma, and then here comes Mando.

The color symbolizes the exact opposite of what its known for. To him, it brings relief and reminds him of being saved; representing the beginning of a new life that he’s exemplified through and through. It’s a beautiful confession, and you’ll forever be searching for him in all the shades of blue that the galaxy has to offer.

Two opposites.

Yellow and blue.

One representing happiness and light. The other representing sadness and melancholy. Blend those two together and you create the fiercest of combinations. A beautiful balance of both extremes.

And when you think about it, what color does blue and yellow make?

[danniburgh]

Questionable Literature

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (sorry, we need a v)

Summary: It’s your day off and you just want to relax and read a book, but to be honest your choice is rather questionable, because it just edges you and you can't avoid imagine Javier doing the things the protagonist of the shitty book you chose is doing to his woman to you.

Word count: 2.2k+

Warnings: SMUT, FILTHY DIRTY THINGS, PLEASE DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNDER 18, THIS IS NOT A WARNING IS A THREAT, also teasing and cursing and everything that Javier Peña entails.

A/N: more at the end

so, i basically took a shower about an hour before starting this and i think the hot water put hot thoughts into my head, anyway here's some smutty smut, also, please forgive me if this is repetitive or seems off, english is not my native language and i forget the existence of some words

Masterlist // Read in ao3 // ko-fi

You were a grown ass adult, why the fuck were you blushing?

It was a pretty steamy thing to read but it was not the first time you read something like this, it wasn’t even like you were ashamed of it, it was just that after everything that had happened with a certain DEA agent for the last couple of months, you couldn’t help but put his face in the head of the vigorous, strong, tenacious, sexy protagonist of the book you were reading. Making you way hornier than normal.

You couldn’t help but hear his voice when you read the dialogue, and the fact that you were alone in your apartment while he was trapped in the embassy working his ass off was definitely not helping the situation.

For a moment you questioned your decision of choosing that very book out of the dozens that were carefully put inside your bookshelves, it was true that you wanted some light reading for the end of your day off but considering how wet you were under your sweatpants while finishing only the fourth chapter, you slapped yourself mentally for not choosing maybe a book of tales or some sappy romantic fast-reading novel instead of a very poorly written, housewife-y erotica novelette that you had somehow managed to bring down to Colombia.

“Shit” you sighed when at the beginning of the fifth chapter the protagonists were making out again. You lifted your eyes out of the pages and tried to rub your legs together for some kind of relief and sighed again, it was definitely not helping and your pussy was starting to hurt, you needed something else and you needed it quick. 

You threw the book on the coffee table without even bothering to mark the page where you stopped reading and stood up the couch, walked as fast as your shaky legs and wetness inside your panties let you to your room and opened the last drawer of your commode, under all of your old t-shirts that you used as pajamas there was the little cotton bag that guarded your oldest and bestest of friends. You grabbed it, took it out of the bag and considered for a brief second to just lay down on the bed and go at it, but you were as sweaty as your pussy was soaked and you just wanted to end your own suffering as quickly as you could and then take a nap, so you walked straight to the bathroom and undressed on the way, walked into the shower and turned on the hot water.

You actually took the time to wash your hair and your body before starting, once you felt a little bit more relaxed you turned the vibrator on and leaned your back on the wall, you made the small thing go over your nipples first, making them pop out and you felt a shiver down your spine, you felt even more wet and in the back of your mind you were actually surprised you could exude even more juices out of your pussy.

Forgetting all sense of foreplay you put the vibrator directly on your clit, whimpering on expectation, your hips rolled on themselves, waiting eagerly for more contact, your mouth started making noises without your permission and your eyes were shut as you felt both the vibrations on your clit and the hot water making its way down your body.

You were so exasperatedly entangled in your own body, with your hand holding the vibrator and the other hand stuck to the shower’s transparent and already fogged wall for some balance, with your loud moans mixing themselves with the sound of the running water hitting the tiles, creating a chaotic song with little to no rhythm and with one of your legs almost lifted in the air and the other sinking in the floor tiles trying to reach your orgasm that you didn’t hear the front door of your apartment opening, neither you heard a rough voice calling out your name.

The hand between your legs started moving rather faster than you would’ve wanted and your moans got even louder, for a millisecond you tried to control the noises you were making because for christ sake you had neighbours but the sensation inside your belly and inside your pussy and the shaking of your legs were starting to get unbearable.

“Mierda” you heard outside the shower, even thought it was a voice that you knew way to well, the sound of the door opening and the sudden interruption made your orgasm fly away from you and wave goodbye when you were the closest to reach it.

“Fuck!” you screamed, opening your eyes that were irritated from the hot water and the pressure you had put on them while chasing your climax, you turned to the door and watched Javier smirking through the transparent wall, he was just standing under the threshold watching you, he was holding the book you were reading before getting in the shower and you just knew what was about to happen. You hated the moment you had given him the spare key.

You just stared at him not being capable to move, only to turn the vibrator off, because your body felt so slimy that you were sure that if you moved more you would go down the drain.

“What?” you sighed, the water still running, still making a not so deafening noise as it was making five minutes or five seconds earlier.

Javier looked at you and his eyes wandered all over your body, he then lifted the book he was holding and smiled at you.

“Forty nights in paradise?” he asked, you knew he was trying his best not to laugh and he was failing “is this really the kind of stuff you read?” 

“Shut up” you said between teeth, just noticing how hard your chest was going up and down with your breathing. He ran the thumb of his free hand through his lower lip and narrowed his eyes “what are you looking at?” you barked, his smile grew wider and he threw the book on the floor, looking at your bloodshot eyes.

“Nothing” he shrugged casually and then slowly took his jacket off without breaking eye contact with you “I might just wait until you finish” he threw the jacket to the same place the book landed on and you rolled your eyes and started to move to stand up straight.

“Fuck off, Javier” you spat, looking down at your still shaky body.

“I rather fuck you” he stated, still looking at your movements. You stopped suddenly and looked at him, he was taking off his clothes, you looked at his eyes and he gave you a hungry look in return, you felt your core throb and you knew he wouldn’t let you get out of the shower without at least making you come once. And you couldn’t wait.

You opened the shower’s door when he was taking off his boxers and he walked in, the water was still hot, the bathroom was still steamy, and your hand was still holding the vibrator when he closed the door and grabbed you by the nape to eat your lips, you let out a moan and opened your mouth for him to lick inside, you were incredibly soaked between your legs and the fluids where already roaming through your thighs when he held the small of your back to put you closer to him, making you feel his erection on your belly.

Your free hand wandered almost lazily over his dampened chest and when you were about to put both hands around his neck he broke the contact, grasped your hips with both hands and turned you around to face the tiled wall, you let out a surprised squeal because of the sudden movement, he pulled your back against his chest and started kissing and nibbling your neck, his mustache brushed your wet skin, making you moan.

He took the vibrator out of your hand with his left hand and you closed your eyes, knowing exactly what was next. You heard the click of the thing being turned on again and you felt his right hand kneading softly the skin inside your thigh, he grabbed it and lifted your leg slowly.

“Javi” you let out, he moaned inside your neck in response, he caressed your lower abdomen with the vibrator and then you felt him push his hips against your ass, making you feel his hard cock and putting the small device directly on your clit at the same time “Javi, fuck-” your legs were suddenly made of clay, you grasped to his left arm that he had you wrapped with and leaned down, trying to find balance.

“I got you, baby” he whispered, letting your leg go down as he helped you lean down a little further so he could have access to your pussy from behind, you felt the hot water on the skin of your back and the sensation of warmness combined with the waves of pleasure the vibrator was still sending through your clit made you moan louder “that’s it” he said when you separated your legs and arched your back down to make your ass go upwards “good girl” he sighed. The embraced he had you in became stronger as you felt him position the tip of his cock just outside your entrance, you moved your ass backwards and he moved back as well. 

It became immediately clear to your fogged mind what he wanted.

“Javier” you murmured between hisses, opening your eyes and looked back at him.

“Yes, dear” he said, quietly, looking at you with a small grin. You groaned when he circled your clit with the vibrator.

“Fuck me” you said, gasping when he pushed himself inside of you, your nails clawed the skin of his arm, he grasped your hip and moaned under his breath when he was sunk completely into you, “more” you asked, he whimpered at the sound of your eager request, he pulled out almost completely and then thrusted into you again strongly, taking the air out of your lungs.

“Mierda, preciosa, mírate” (shit, gorgeous, look at you) he growled at the sight of your body, leaned down, entangled in his arms while he thrusted into you vigorously, losing himself to your loud moans, to the water hitting both of your skins, making them warmer, to the obscene, rugged sounds of his cock going in and out of your soaked pussy and the small tremble of the vibrator that was attacking your clit like it was being paid for it.

“Más” (more) you demanded, he adored when you spoke spanish even when your thick accent still came out, he started moving the vibrator up and down your clit with a slow turn on his left wrist, your right hand let go of Javier’s arm to hold some of your weight on the wall.

“You want more?” he said, tightened the grasp he had on your hip, you nodded enthusiastically. He let out another groan and started moving you with him, making himself go deeper into you while still rubbing your clit “like that?” he whispered.

All sense of language left your mind and you only nodded, your legs started feeling even weaker and you felt your whole body shake under Javier’s grasp.

“That’s it, baby, come for me” he sighed, leaning into your back to bite at your shoulder “let go, come around my cock” he whispered into your ear. A heavy wave of different sensations surrounded your body as your orgasm hit you, suddenly the water felt warmer, your skin felt softer, your legs felt heavier, your mouth felt dryer, your hands felt weaker, your throat felt sorer and the man holding you felt stronger “what a good girl” he said, still pounding into you, he turned off the vibrator with the same movement he made to turn it on, just to avoid overstimulation, dropped it to the shower floor, and you leaned down even more so he could chase his release as his hand went from your abdomen to your shoulder, anchoring himself to you, or you to him, you didn’t know.

“Javi” you said under your breath, feeling the speech coming back at you “come inside me, please” you asked, he let out a moan “fill me up” you let out a beg, feeling him coming undone behind you. You felt a well known warmness inside of you as he let out his orgasm hit and came into your pussy.

“Fuck” he said in shaken breaths, he caressed your body as you stood up straight with him still inside you, you raised your hand to the back of his neck and turned your head to him to kiss him, this time it was softer, his lips only brushed yours and you passed your tongue over his lower lip lazily.

“I’m exhausted” you said, giggling, he kissed your neck softly and made a small groan in agreement.

“Can you stand by yourself?” he asked against the skin of your neck, no teasing in his voice this time, you shook your head no.

“I just need five minutes” you said in a giggle, making him smile.

“I can give you forty nights” he said, pressing his grin into the union of your neck and your jaw.

“Oh fuck off!” you laughed.

**

A/N: this is my first time writing smut in english please be kind to me, also i know javier peña just would laugh at you reading erotica novelettes lmao IM NOT SORRY I WROTE THIS, lemme know if you liked it tho

[mighty-ragnarssons]

Knocked Up | Modern Vikings AU | Chapter I

Relationships | Modern Ivar x OC Summary | Ivar always thought he'd be one of those people that never find the love of their lives. But then he found her - or, as the story goes, she bumped into him. He never saw it coming. Then he had to deal with it, and all the consequences that came along. Warnings | some smut, a little angst, harassement, teenage pregnancy

You can read in AO3 as well (click here). 

Chapter 1

There was no one in town that didn’t know about the Ragnarssons, the children of the famous Ragnar Lothbrok. They were fearless, they were reckless, and they were dangerous, just like their father. That’s what everybody said.

Bjorn was the eldest, the first-born of Ragnar’s first marriage with Lagertha. There had been a daughter too, Gyda, but she had passed away terribly young. After that, Ragnar had only sons born from his second marriage, this time with Aslaug. First came Ubbe, then Hvitserk and Sigurd. All of them perfectly healthy and strong boys that, much like Bjorn and to Ragnar’s amusement, took after their father in several ways. Unexpectedly and accidentally, however, there was a fifth child, the last son of Ragnar, Ivar. 

Ivar was very different from his brothers.

Born with a bone condition, he was crippled from the start. It was not just his legs that wouldn’t allow him to ever walk on his own, but a whole lot more pain coming from his frail bones that were never to be trusted. No wonder he grew up as a vulnerable, angry, and sad kid, despite being his mother’s favorite and most protected son. And now, as he was becoming a man, people called him mad and a drunk, a wild card with whom everyone rather stay away from. Ivar didn’t mind, he preferred to be tamed than to be pitied after a lifetime of being looked down on. In fact, he would do everything in his power to remain like this. It was the only way to prove himself and stay out of his brothers’ shadow and, most importantly, his father’s to who Ivar was the least favored son, something which hurt the boy more deeply than his constant physical pain.

“Hurry up, Ivar. Crawl faster, or else when we get to the club Ubbe and Hvitserk will have gotten all the best girls” Sigurd’s voice echoed loudly through the house. 

Ivar was there a second later clearly annoyed at his brother’s mocking tone. “Last time I checked, dear brother, you need me to drive you. So shut up. Let’s go.” 

Sigurd couldn’t argue back. He did need Ivar to drive them to the club. He kept failing at taking his driver’s license. It was humiliating to have to need his crippled brother to drive him, but Ubbe and Hvistserk, the bastards, hadn’t been home. Minutes afterward Ivar was behind the wheel of his accessible SUV and off they were.

Thirty minutes later they were skipping the line to get into the club. The Ragnarssons had their ways.  If there was one circuit in which their name was known by everyone, it was the nightlife one. No party would ever start without one of them being there. Ivar and Sigurd joined Ubbe and Hvisterk in the VIP area. As usual, Ivar took a corner where he knew he’d spend the next few hours drinking, smoking, and glaring at the dancing crowd. Perhaps if someone caught his eye he’d make a move, but usually, it was more like his brothers to do that.  

“There you go” Hvitzerk handed him a joint “Don’t look so serious, Ivar. The night is young. Enjoy!” By the looks of it, it was clear that he was already a bit high. But again it was Hvitserk and unusual would be to find him sober. “A lot of pretty ladies out there. Want me to pick one for you?” 

Ivar knew Hivtserk was only joking, but he still didn’t like it. His brother, ignoring Ivar’s cold glare and much to his annoyance, started pointing out to random girls who were dancing. “Oh, look at that one. C’mon Ivar, ain’t she a treat to stare at?”  

Thankfully, Hivtserk stopped his stupid game once their oldest brother Bjorn joined them, bringing shots to everyone with the help of his wife, Torvi.

“Brother, to what do we owe the honor?” Ivar said, throwing one of his ironic smirks. 

“I bring good news. Father is going to be released from jail sooner than expected. In three months to be exact! I had to pull some strings but it’s settled”

The news was received with different reactions. Sigurd didn’t seem that happy, while Ivar was the opposite. Ubbe was the first one to hold one of the shot glasses and started the toast “To Father! To Ragnar!”

Ragnar had been in prison for almost three years due to white-collar crimes, having been convicted of corporate fraud and money laundering. His sentence would’ve been of more than ten years, but Ragnar had his ways and was able to cut a deal for five years. And now, apparently, he would only serve almost four. Throughout this time it had been Bjorn taking over the leadership of the family’s successful business, Northmen Ventures, of which all of Ragnar’s sons had become the sole shareholders just before he was imprisoned. This explained why they were one of the richest families in their Norwegian city of Bergen. 

Bjorn,  now age 30, had been the natural successor of Ragnar. Not only because he was the oldest and perhaps the favorite son of Ragnar, but also because at the time he was the only one with a university degree, having just graduated from Law School. Yet, all of Ragnar’s sons were meant to get involved with the business. At least that was their father’s wish. Ubbe, now 24, had just graduated from Architecture School but had recently joined Bjorn on the company’s executive board.  Ivar wasn’t given the opportunity to help out, something which he grudged his older brothers - for dismissing him for his age, despite the fact that he’d watch and learned as much from his father as possible since an early age. Now 19 he was a freshman in college taking Business Administration. Then there were Hvitserk, 23, and Sigurd, 21,  the ones more adamant about following in their father’s footsteps. Hvitserk was using the money they were all getting to sustain his pricy bachelor lifestyle, and so was Sigurd who dedicated most of his time to art and music. Neither tried to pursue a higher education degree. 

“Don’t get too excited. Father will be back and then what? It’s not like he cares about us.” Sigurd, the mood killer, chugged his beer aggressively “He didn’t let us visit him in prison not even once. Not even Mother was allowed to. He didn’t even care for sending a postcard for Christmas!”

“He must have had his reasons.”

“And he left us the company”

“And so what? He just wanted to prevent it from ending up in the hands of the government.  Fuck him! You might all want to play the role of doting sons, but I’m not gonna tag along” After this Sigurd stormed off.

The remaining brothers looked at one another. A little bit of what Sigurd had just said resounsed with them, but at the same time they were excited to welcome back their father. Things would be very different with him around. 

“I say we celebrate.” Ivar said, not minding Sigurd. He couldn’t wait for his father to be back so that he could prove himself once and for all. He was no longer the defenseless crippled child he was when Ragnar went away. 

Despite the good mood he was in about Bjorn’s good news, Ivar wasn’t vibing with the club’s atmosphere that night. Hvitserk and Ubbe were making out with some random girls, Sigurd was nowhere to be seen and Torvi and Bjorn had left already. Instead, he was craving for some adrenaline and he knew just the way to get it. Texting his dealer, he left the club with the help of his crutches.

Nothing was to stop him except that on the way out someone bumped into him almost causing him to lose his fragile balance. Fury grew on Ivar who was about to yell at whoever made the mistake of infuriating him that night, but that’s when her face lost the blurriness of a few seconds ago and Ivar lost his balance again but for a completely different reason.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to...shit” 

“Bitch, get back! For the hundredth time, you’re not getting in!” 

The girl’s expression quickly turned one of desperation. “I told you I have to. My cousin needs help! Don’t stop me, please” Her words were towards the bouncer that was now pulling her back, but her pleading eyes were on Ivar as if asking for help.  

“Hey, let her go!”  Ivar didn’t know why, but his rage got up to new levels when he saw the bouncer getting his filthy hands on her. “I said back off. Take your fucking hands off of her.”

At Ivar’s command the bouncer let her go. It didn’t matter that he was a big muscle guy, Ivar took a step towards him and faced him with a cold death stare. 

“She’s coming in with me, do you understand?”

“Ragnarsson, she is a minor. I can’t let her in.”

“I’m not asking.” 

His tone set it. He nodded so that the girl got in the club ahead of him. She didn’t even say a word, going immediately in. Ivar had to hurry himself inside to catch up. 

“Fuck, there’s so many people” she noticed looking absolutely lost.

“Let me help you.” he offered. 

“The bathrooms. My cousin... she called me, she didn’t sound fine… I’m worried something’s happened... She said she couldn’t move” she was trembling as she spoke. Ivar reached her hand with his. 

“If she is here we are going to find her.” he assured her “Follow me” 

It was not typical of Ivar to help a lady in distress but as he was guiding this girl through the crowd of drunk dancing people he couldn’t understand the need he was abruptly feeling for shielding her and, worst of all, to comfort her. These feelings left him uneased, but he was not going to dwell into that right now. If his suspicions were right and her cousin was somewhere in the club, then she was probably drugged to the point of unconsciousness and in a position to be taken advantage of. 

They swiped all the bathrooms at the club until at last they burst into one where a girl was noticeably knocked down in a corner.

“Cathrine!” the girl immediately crouched down on her cousin. “Cathrine, can you hear me?” 

“All of you, get out” Ivar demanded the girls who were inside. Some tried to complain, after all he was the guy in a female bathroom. These same girls that had paid no attention, or they just didn’t care, to the other girl on the floor. He then went outside as fast as he could and got a water bottle.

“She’s awake, but barely. Says she 's dizzy. She’s not talking right” 

“She was likely drugged” It wouldn’t be a first in that club “Make her sip some water” he threw the water bottle at them. He really wanted to level down to them, but with his crutches and all it just wouldn’t go well. “I’m gonna find help.”

 He ‘raced’ to the VIP area. Only Hivtserk was there with a girl on top of him. What was wrong with his brothers for acting as if their corner was a place of public foreplay display?

“Hvitserk, I need your help!”

“Go away Ivar” he grumbled and continued to suggestively run his hands on the brunette over his lap.

Ivar had to take the matter into his hands. The first thing he found was a leftover cocktail on the table which he threw at the girl. Her immediate squeak was so high and audible despite the deafening music. She practically jumped from on top of his brother.

“You crazy motherfucker!”

“What the fuck Ivar?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Come with me. I need your help.” 

Usually he didn't have much faith in his brothers - after all they were a pain in his ass most of the time - but this time he was really hoping to call on Hvitserk’s good senses. Fortunately his prayers were answered and his older brother followed him back to the bathroom

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a passed out girl. We need to get her out of here.”

“Would you go so far as in to get laid, little brother? Oh, you sicko” 

“This is not the time for jokes, asshole. You’re the sicko for even suggesting that”

Ivar was almost regretting getting Hvitserk to help, but the truth was that he alone wouldn’t be able to carry the girl out from the bathroom. The moment they got in there Hvitserk got a bit more serious and kneeled next to the two girls. 

“Let’s get her out of here” 

Together with Hvitserk, the girl helped raise her semi-unconscious cousin. People inside the club were so fucked up that they didn’t drop one second to look at them leaving. 

“Take her to my car” Ivar indicated and so they did. He unlocked his metallic grey SUV from afar and went on to open the backdoors where they laid the girl. “Let her get some fresh hair. It will do her good.”

“Should we take her to the hospital?” Hvitserk suggested.

A loud “No!” came from the inside of the car.

“She can’t. It will be too complicated” said the other girl but not without hinting her dissatisfaction.

Ivar finally took a moment to fully look at her. Dressed  in just a pair of jeans and a warm sweatshirt, she was lean and tall, but at least a good ten centimeters shorter than himself. Her blonde hair was tied in a messy bun with some strands falling down on her face. He had to hold the instinct to gently brush those aside. And her eyes… They were a very greyish blue color like he had never seen before. They were mirroring worry and nervousness. 

“I’m calling a cab. Thank you for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it weren’t for you” she said facing Ivar and Ivar only. 

“I can drive you.” he offered without thinking.

“We already bothered you enough -”

Ivar cut her off “Nonsense. I’m going to drive you” he declares in a way that offered no other option.

Relief poured from her gaze “Thank you”

It was quite the drive, further out of Bergen’s city center. By the time they got there the passed out girl - Cathrine - had regained consciousness, albeit feeling nauseous and dizzy. Hvitserk carried her alone in his arms to the inside of the house and further into her bed. It was time enough for her to fall asleep like a rock.

“She seems just to need some rest. Keep her hydrated when she wakes up.”

“If she was drugged then it should wear off her system soon”

“Noted. I don’t know how to thank you both” 

“You could go on a date with one of us, how does that sound?”

“Hvitserk!” Ivar admonished in reaction to the girl’s shocked expression “Please, ignore my brother. He, too, has drugs that need to wear off his system”

“You’re no fun, Ivar” Hvitserk couldn’t argue back on the drugs part. “A pleasure to help, milady. Until next time” He did a silly bow and left the apartment back to the car. 

“Is he always like that?” 

 “Most of the time, yeah.” Ivar shrugged his shoulders “Hand me your phone” Because she did without complaining, he got it and put his number in there “I’m Ivar Lothbrook. Whenever you need help.”

What he really wanted to say was ‘text me’. He didn’t have the nerve for that, tho.

For the first time that night she finally showed a glimpse of a smile “Honestly, thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help, Ivar Lothbrok” 

Her hand was touching his and for a moment everything seemed to stop. The way his name sounded on her lips… A shiver went down his spine. He wanted to hear it again, but most importantly he wanted to know her name.

But in that exact moment a horn yelled. Goddamned Hvitserk. He was going to wake up the whole street, which was the opposite of what the girls had asked. “I better go drive him home now or else he’ll wake up the whole neighborhood” 

Yet Ivar was finding it difficult to leave. To leave her. Another honk made him take the necessary steps.

“I mean it when I say for you to use my number whenever. Stay safe”

He finally closed the door behind him and walked back to the car, but not before looking over his shoulder. There she was, by the window, waving goodbye with a shy smile on her face.

He needed to see her again.

The next morning Ivar woke up rather hopeful of seeing a text message. Seeing there was none, his day didn’t kick off exactly on the right terms. Throughout the day he checked his phone more times than he cared to admit and each time he grew impatient and irritated. What was it about that girl to make him like this? It’s not like he usually gave a crap about whoever he met.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve got a right cob-on” his older brother Ubbe asked later that day when they were all chilling by the firepit  in the backyard of the Lothbrook’s home.

Although in Norway it was uncommon for people their age to still be living at home, in their case that’s how things were and worked out great most days. Usually it was just the four brothers and the house was  big enough for them not to be in each other’s ways.. Their mother, Aslaug Lothbrok, ran one the country’s finest art galleries. After her husband’s arrest she had moved her gallery to the capital city, Oslo, instead of their home city. Lately she spent most of her time there rather than at home. 

“It’s nothing. Leave me alone” 

“He’s hung up” teased Hvitserk “Still thinking about the pretty blondie from last night, brother?”

Right that moment Ivar wished he could smack the mocking smiles out of his brother’s faces. 

“Well, well, well Ivar. Didn’t know you had company last night.”

“He didn’t.  Not exactly. None of us did” Hvitserk proceed to put Ubbe on the loop in regards to their little episode last night. “Instead of asking her for her number, our little brother gave her his. Wrong move, dude.” Ivar immediately regretted telling this to Hvitserk. “Don’t be so bummed out, Ivar. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Speaking of…”

A blonde Ivar doesn’t care much about exits their home in Sigurd’s company, both appearing content which can only mean one thing. Margrethe is a constant guest at the Lothbrok’s and probably the only female with the fame of being acquainted with all of the brothers’ rooms. Although a favorite among the Ragnarssons, to Ivar she’s nothing but an unpleasant company he is forced to tolerate after they fall out months ago. 

“If that’s the fish you’re hinting at, I’d rather go vegan” Ivar mumbled under his breath.

I hope you liked it! It’s my first Vikings fic :) Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language. At least five more chapters will be on the way.

[deepdonutkid]

Buy me a drink and let me tell you why I need it

Authors note

Thank you very much for the request    @caelys​ I had fun writing it and actually I thought about modern!au John way too much. Like I made a model for his apartment and a playlist and I could possibly draw ten more fan arts of him.

It takes place in a modern setting, but it starts before John goes to the military. He and Tommy still work in the Garrison, besides some other shadier jobs. Arthur is a car mechanic or something like that. Ada still goes to school and Finn too. Polly and Michael are not mentioned here.

Female reader x bartender!John BIG PUNK VIBES HERE!

Actually, this was going to be a multi-chapter fic with intense slow-burn, but whatever there it is. Just say one thing and I’ll write a second part!

tagging  @bonniesgoldengirl​

 Warning: drinking, drug use, marijuana, swearing, infidelity mentioned, a little bittersweet

Word count: 2348

 The garrison was not a pub for everyone. It was full of gangsters and other low-life scum. A woman was a curiosity. Working there wasn’t pleasant, but John didn’t complain.

It was the only legal job he got after graduating. He worked at the Garrison twice a week, usually on Friday and Saturday.

The nice thing about this work was the free beer and he could make as many cigarette breaks as he liked.

Nevertheless, John was a little pissed that night, because he could see his friends drinking over there and he had to stand behind the counter. Tommy’s orders!

“Fuck off, Tommy”, he mumbled while cleaning bar. Of course, his brother didn’t hear that, he was busy making some phone calls. John didn’t want to know, who Tommy was calling or why. Probably their next job.

But while he was still on the first one, he didn’t want to think about more work. He already had enough. It was past ten and John hadn’t eaten for hours.

At first, he was to occupied from his work to notice you. You sat down at the bar and cleared your throat. It wasn’t on purpose or to get the bartenders attention. Actually, you just wanted your peace. You hated being trapped in your new apartment, while everything was still so empty. Since you moved, so much changed in your life, but you still felt lonely.

That’s why, you walked straight into the nearest pub, when you couldn’t bear the weight of your own thoughts. But now you realized you hadn’t a penny left. Or at least not enough for a beer. “Get me a glass of water please.”, you said to the bartender, who kept starring at you. First you thought he was a little weird and also a little intimidating, but then you understood what he expected from you. An order, of course.

“A glass of water?”, he asked with a grin on his face: “Really? You know, where you are, girl?”

Now you looked confused. Maybe there was an unspoken rule, to not order a soft drink in this place, but how you should know? After all, you’ve been pretty new to Small Heath. Three days ago you moved into your new place. It was small, but it was yours. Your private space and your sanctuary. “A pub… maybe?”, you joked: “So what about the water?”

“Ah, I get it… It’s the end of month.”, he responded.

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m always broke. Money is not my thing.”

“Not mine either.”

Now he got your attention. You took a closer look at the bartender. He was somehow handsome. A pretty face for a fucked-up place like this. Then you noticed the tattoos on his arms, that peaked out of the sleeves of his shirt. “Dead Kennedys. Nice”, you mumbled and smiled slightly, barely visible.

He put a filled glass in front of you and smirked. “No need to pay.”

Your eyes widened. That bartender really surprised you. He was nicer than he looked like. You took a sip from the glass and nodded. “Thanks… I guess.”

The water was okay, but everything you wished for was a beer or a whiskey. Something to stop your brain from thinking. However, you nipped the glass very patiently, because you didn’t want to leave this place too soon. You didn’t know the neighborhood and chances were high, you got lost on your way around town.

The bartender seemed to notice your tension. “Do you want to drink something else?”

“A beer would be nice.” You croaked

The handsome man behind the bar nodded and pulled out a pint. “A beer, it is.”

You didn’t know it yet, but you were the only thing tonight, that made his work bearable. Everything else was so boring and you were new in town. Every little thing about you was so exciting for him. Staring with the fact that you stumbled into the Garrison without knowing its reputation. Then your little comment about his shirt, yes, he heard that. And your overall appearance was just the cherry on top.

The leather jacket, the ripped jeans and your washed-out Kurt Cobain shirt said a lot about you and John was ready to listen. What else should he do in the next couple of hours until his shift ended?  

“I’m John.”, he said and served you a beer.

You noticed the twinkle with his eye and replied with a shy smile. “Just call me Y/n”

The two of you shook hands and exchanged a strange glance. Was he flirting with you? No, of course not, you brushed it off. It was part of his job, to be nice to his customers.

After a few sips of your beer, you calmed down a bit, but not enough. You fumbled in the inside pocket of your jacket for your package. You smoked Dunhill and probably started way to early in life. An end of your smoking addiction was not in sight. The package was already half empty, when you opened it.

“Fuck” you cursed and signed. How could you make it to your next pay check with just a few cigarettes left? Maybe skip dinner a few times.

“Cigarettes are empty too?” he asked “I would give you one of mine, but they are empty too.”

“No, I still have some left, but not enough until July. Maybe not even enough for the rest of this night.”, you explained.

You took two out of the package and put it back. “Want one? I don’t have money, but at least I still have something to smoke.”

“Whatcha smoking?” “Dunhill”, you answered.

A wide grin appeared on his face. “Me too.”

“I know, I shouldn’t… but I just can’t quit.” You shrugged and lit your cigarette.

John brushed it off. “Fuck em. I think, I’m never gonna quit too. This shit just stays with you forever.”

“True”, you signed and took a deep drag from your cigarette.

“So… why am I the only girl in this place? Is there something I should know?”

“Nah, not really. It’s just…”, he began to explain, but then paused to smoke. You liked how he leaned against the counter. Like there was no cooler person in this room. “I don’t know… most women don’t like it here. Too filthy or whatever.”

You nodded and looked around. Everything smelled like ashtray and whiskey. There was dirt lying around. Nobody seemed to bother, so you chose not to either.

“And you are new in Birmingham?”, he asked: “All the locals know to stay away from this place.”

Again, you nodded and hid your smile behind your hand. “I just grabbed my bass and some clothes and left.”

“Bass?” Now, John was hooked. Since he could walk and talk, he had a thing for music. Especially rock and punk and he blabber about his favorite bands all day. Of course, he never learned to play an instrument, because his family was too poor, but he stole every record he could lay hands on. “You play bass?”

“Yeah, I can also play guitar, but I sold mine to get here. I started playing in a band now and I really hope this is going to work out… somehow.”, you explained

“Maybe.”, he said: “I can ask Harry, if you can play here. Live music would be great.”

You beamed and jumped almost over the counter. “Really?”

“But I need to listen to a song first. Otherwise, I can’t do it with good conscience.”

“Yeah, sure thing! When I get the promo tape, I’ll come back here.” Finally, some good news for you. After all you went though you really needed that and right now you just couldn’t stop smiling.

Three beers later, you were already in an in-depth discussion about music and which bands paved the way for punk.

After six more beers, you danced to the song he put on. John watched you with the purest joy. Nobody has ever danced in the Garrison. Good for him, that Tommy left, because “something important” occurred.

On beer twelve you sang for all the man to watch. The Shelby just could take his eyes off you, even when you didn’t hit the right tone.

He even caught you, when you fell over the counter.

But in the end the bar had to close and you still had nowhere to go, so you waited for him to finish his work. It took twice as long, because John kept staring at you in awe.

After everything was done, he asked, if he should walk you home and you agreed. Actually, you didn’t say yes, you hugged him and rubbed your cheek against his. Then you made a purring sound and told him your address.

You even hold hands with him, but that was mainly, because you were to drunk to walk straight. But you had plenty of time to sober up along the way.

Finally arriving at the front door, you had to stop laughing and catch a breath to manage to say something. “Do you…”, you began and paused, because you didn’t know how to phrase it.

Without hesitation he answered: “Yes! Yes… I mean, it would be cool.”

And again, you started laughing. “I was about to ask, if you want to watch the stars on my rooftop, but I didn’t know you were going to be so excited about this.”

He scratched his neck and chuckled. “Yeah, we were talking about the same thing.”

“Oh honey, I’m taken”, you explained

That last three words crumbled his hopes, that have been build up since you walked into the Garrison.

But he was a gentleman and he shouldn’t expect anything from a woman. After all, you don’t owe him anything. Even though he thought you were flirting with him the entire night.

He just bit his lip and shrugged. “No problem here.”

Then he added: “But we might not see the stars though all the smog and light pollution.”

“Let’s give it a try.” you opened the door and smiled.

You took the steps up to your apartment, John followed you closely. When the two of you entered the small flat, everything was still dark. The alarm clock next to your mattress said four in the morning.

John was so curious, when he looked around. “You really didn’t lie, when you said, you just took you bass and nothing more.”

“Yup”, you mumbled and walked to a pile of clothes. “Do you want to smoke one with me?”

When you pulled out the joint, John grinned at you. His cheeks were still red. “Why not?”

Climbing out of your window and onto the roof sounded way easier than it turned out to be.

But the view was great, and that was enough.

You lit the joint and inhaled the white smoke, just to blow it out again.

“No stars in sight, babe”, he noted while looking up

He was right, but you were still glad, that he came up here with you. You feared the moment of being alone again. “Yes, but the view… is amazing.”

You didn’t notice, he was glaring at you when he said: “Yeah, it really is.”

Then you turned to him to pass him the joint.

John took one drag and coughed. “That shit’s strong.”

At first you tried not to laugh, but ended up giggling anyway.

“What?”, he asked with blunt curiosity.

When you calmed down, you had to tell him the joke that just crossed your mind: “I like my weed like my sex… keeps me paralyzed for a while.”

That was the last thing he thought he would hear from you. He would believe his ears, if he hadn’t starred at your lips the entire time. “Uhm, okay.”, he whispered and hit the joint one more time.

The longer you sat there with him, the more comfortable you two got. After talking the whole night about music and artists and stuff, you finally opened up.

You told him why you left your home town and moved to Birmingham.

And he told you in return something you would have expected either. “Just a few more months and I’ll be in the military.”

John didn’t look like a soldier or somebody who took pride in defending his country. You couldn’t understand, how a wonderful guy like him ended up serving the forces. It just didn’t seem to fit in. But then again, you knew him for a few hours now, so who are you to judge?

“I’m scared”, he whispered: “that nobody but my family will write me… and I’m going to be all alone in the middle of nowhere.”

That feeling was all too familiar for you. Your heart ached, when you glared at him. “I write you.”, you promised. “And phone you and what else.”

“You would?” His voice was full of doubt. “We don’t know each other really.”

It was true, but you always kept your promises. You moved closer to him, to hold his hand and look him in the eyes. “I would. I know this feeling too well.”

For one second you thought he was going to kiss you, and you were ready. The drumroll played, like it always did, when the first touch of two pairs of lips, unknown to each other, was close. But the drumroll was all you were going to get tonight. You kept staring at his beautiful mouth and how would it feel, when his lips meet yours. Infidelity has never been your thing and you would stay true to yourself, even when the chance was so tempting.

“Can you hold me?”, you asked, while avoiding his eyes. You felt pathetic for being so needy in front of a stranger, so you added: “Just for a while.”

John didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Instead, he just pulled you in arms and stroke your back.

The two of you felt all alone in this broken world, but right there you met and became friends. What a weird thing to happen.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader.  The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think.  Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP!   BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP!  BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms.  Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out.  Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift.  But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters.  As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent.  It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills. 

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off.  Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed.  “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.”  I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space.  It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures.  Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together.  Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting.  She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief.  Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order.  First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix.  Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the  Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space. 

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels.  Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone.  “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component.  The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is.  Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily.  Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something.  I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion.  The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom.  Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it.  Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

<< Prev  Masterlist  Next >>

[17caratssi]

Wonwoo! Will you stay

Jeon Wonwoo! A short series pt one | two | three | four After the rejection, Wonwoo finds your persistence cumbersome. Surprisingly, the quarrel results in you getting new friends.

Our current parents are not the ones who really had you. In actuality, you were adopted to a loving couple that has had no child for 7 years. Your biological parents were too poor to raise another child, and they chose to put you into adoption when you were only 5 months.

When the couples saw you in the centre, they immediately fell in love with you and agreed to take you as their child. You had your name registered under your father's last name and basically became the daughter of their family.

It was illegal at that time, but your parents were desperate to have a child.

It didn't shock you the first time you were disclosed to this information. You don't look like your mother or father, and the brats at school keep suggesting that you're adopted. Your parents then decided to tell you despite your young age.

"You are our daughter. No matter what others say, we love you with our full hearts. Don't forget that, darling," was what your mother told you 12 years ago.

You know they are the best family you could ever have, and they always do. Occasionally, you would thank them. Your mother was never fond of you thanking them, and your dad doesn't have the heart to scold you for the same reason.

He hates it too, but you want them to know that you're very grateful to them.

Your father turns to look at you and stroke your head tenderly. "Where can I find the best daughter like this in this world?"

"You can't anymore. The world only has one best daughter, and that's me~."

"You're super right!" he pinches your nose playfully and has you giggle. "Let's go home. Mommy said she has something for you,"

The next day, you walk to your seat and sit quietly. You feel quite tired from the lacking of sleep. Your friend from America called you last night, and it continued until 3 in the morning. You were too guilty to tell her that you have school in the morning and have to sleep.

In the end, you only got 3 hours of sleep before getting ready for school.

You rest your head on the table and shut your eyes. The students are not making any noises, and you quickly fall asleep.

Wonwoo comes in when you already wake up. He is pretty late as compared to others.

You greet him with a good morning and directly ask. "Your house isn't that far. Why are you late?"

Wonwoo pulls his chair and sits. He's quiet on usual, so you don't know if he's normal or moody.

"Wonwoo, what do you think they have for lunch?"

"Wonwoo, can you teach me Physics? I'm most terrible at it.."

"Wonwoo, what club are you planning to join? Let me join you, OK?"

"Wonwoo, what did you say?" you ask again. You have lost count of how many times to call his name. Wonwoo... Wonwoo... It just rolls off the tongue.

Wonwoo raises his head and faces you. He opens his thin lips and repeats his words.

"You're. So. Freaking. Annoying," he utters word by word as if tearing your heart pieces by pieces. It sends you into speechless mode.

Though he tries to speak through his teeth, some students can still hear him. The girls in front of you are flabbergasted by the vulgar word Wonwoo used.

Never have they ever assumed Wonwoo could be crude to a girl. They study your face, but you're smiling.

"I thought I made it clear yesterday that I'm not at all interested in you. I find you annoying since the first time we meet. You're just a stuck-up rich kid that has no shame," Wonwoo canes his chin with his palm and continues.

"Just look at you. Which part of you is charming? I'll tell you this. Maybe you can get the white boys to line up within a snap of a finger, but I'm not like them. I hate all the girls most when they're rich and think they're superior to others. I don't have to clarify with you which category you're in, right?"

When you and the girls think he's done, you all are wrong.

"I think I should be more clear with you-"

"Enough." the girl with shorter hair stands up and kicks his table. "You could've just rejected her nicely, but you prefer being an asshole, don't you?" she says. Her eyes are burning with rage as he stares at Wonwoo, and they only calm after her seatmate pulls her arm.

"Yeah, Somi's right. I'll talk to the teacher about this, Y/N. We'll have you swap seats with some boy," you read her nametag- Umji, and you're about to say something when Wonwoo interferes.

What he has to say is just him admitting that he agrees with Umji. "Tell everything to the classroom teacher. I can't be bothered sitting next to someone's so annoying,"

"Stop it now, will you?" Somi flares again, and Wonwoo resumes his previous business.

Umji and Somi really keep their word and tell the homeroom teacher the morning incident. The arrangement changes, and you sit with a girl in the second row.

Since then, it's quite difficult to peek at Wonwoo without being noticed.

Every day after school ends, Wonwoo flees before you catch up to him. You want to apologize to him, but the whole week has passed. In the meantime, you make friends with Somi and Umji. The depressing, lonely days become less severe with them.

During the recess, the three of you go to the field and settle on a metal bench. Somi's boyfriend is a basketball player, so she always watches over him at the basketball court.

"Why are your face so red, Y/N?" Umji cups your cheeks and jiggles them. "Are you sick?"

You shake your head from side to side and breathes out loudly. You've been holding to ask them about Wonwoo, and now's the time!

"I want to ask something, but don't get mad. How's Wonwoo's doing?" you literally rap.

"Slow down, Y/N! I don't get you-" Umji holds your shoulder and soothes your nervous heart, but Somi is quick-witted. She reiterates to Umji and then glances at you.

"What's so nice about that a-hole? You still think about him?"

Umji doesn't deny that, but she's curious about Wonwoo. "I don't know. Is it me, or Wonwoo appears to be quieter after you change seat,"

"It's good, though. I hate it when he opens his filthy mouth. I can't forget what he said to Y/N!" you keep silent when Somi makes a comment.

"Maybe he cares about me after all?" you say, unabashed.

Somi frowns and leans forward. "Have you lost your mind, Y/N?"

You shake your head rapidly. "To be honest, I don't feel angry at him for saying that to me. I was wrong in the first place, so he has all the right to snap at me," you sip the grape juice.

Somi and Umji are in disbelief, and it entertains you.

"I don't know if this is true love or you're too naive,"

Umji chooses, "True love, it is," which sounds extremely unpleasant to Somi. She turns away and fakes a gag. "Blergh! Don't you dare encourage her, Umji,"

"Let's go to class," Somi says after regaining her composure. You've been straining the urge to pee since the break started; therefore, you excuse yourself to the toilet, and the two go back to the class without you. On the way, you accidentally bump into your seatmate, Ahin, in the toilet.

She's with her friends, talking about someone.

As you enter a cubicle, you hear a familiar name being mentioned by a girl.

"Wonwoo..." following after is barely audible, "...bullied,"

.

Wonwoo packs his things up and is ready to leave. He hangs the strap on his shoulder, crossing his torso and kicks the chair. The others who are aware of his precedented action make way for him.

You see him and quickly follow after. Close.. very close, and you grab by his bag.

"You're so fast!" you pant.

"Let go,"

"No! Are you getting in or not?" Not responding to you, you pull him by force into the elevator. Good thing; there's no one else besides you two.

You don't waste a second as you make a quick X-ray on him.

"No bruise, no cuts? Are you really being bullied?" you are still gripping his hands while asking him.

Not liking the skin contact, Wonwoo twists your limbs, dominates your wrists and rebukes. "I'll not repeat it. Get your hands off me!"

"I won't do so until you tell me," You undo the action and hold his again. "Are you being bullied, or you're the bully?"

The elevator opens, and Wonwoo escapes. You're too weak to hold against him, but he was just being kind as to not hurt you.

Since you can't do that again, you just chase after him a bit before jumping on his back. You adjust his bag and cling tightly to his neck.

"What are you doing? People are watching-"

"You don't like the attention, right? You might as well answer me!'

Wonwoo stops in his track. It's dangerous to move since you're not stable.

He exhales.

"The latter. Satisfied?"

"You're the bully?" you stretch your head to look at him. You did not expect that answer from him and squeal nonetheless.

"Thank god! I thought you're being bullied 'cuz if that's the case, I don't know what I'd do,"

What was that?.. Wonwoo wonders how could someone be happy when they're just met with a bully.

"Aren't you a fool?" he struggles to stand straight as you shift your weight to the side. "Get down now,"

"Oh," You climb down and instantly admire him again. "You're so cool!" with your clapping hands, you quick to remind him. "Don't let anyone bully you, alright?"

"My dad's here. Bye, Wonwoo!"

Wonwoo can't read you. He looks up to the sky and ponders. "Why would I listen to just anyone..."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Sorry for the short chapter. The next ones are much longer, at least to me lol (¯▿¯)

If you like this story, you might as well check out the others here !

[chromochaotic]

Heyooo @galateagalvanized, thanks for the tag! tbh I've always thought your writing is just incredible; but more than anything, I love seeing how much fun you get out of it! Also, lmao, our dark ff.net past

I went and started a new post because the og one was getting pretty lengthy. I'm tagging @appolojustice, @coconi, @umbreonix, @andstillthestars, and @thesolidolivinephenomenon, if any of y'all feel like it!

Fanfic Writer Interview! I'd be interested in doing something like this for fanart, too, since I sort of think of myself more as an artist. 😅

How many works do you have on AO3? 31

What’s your total AO3 word count? 105,278

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3, 11 fandoms: luca, botw, hq!!, taz, dorohedoro, bnha, trc, critical role, oofuri, and snk. Does D&D OC fic count, too?

Dark past on ff.net and livejournal includes at least 5 more: hetalia, bleach, ironman, teen titans, and eyeshield 21.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The top one by far is still Benvenuto... lmao and I'm too embarrassed to even list the other 4, but they're all jm fics. snk was a dang huge fandom, huh

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

These days I do! In the past sometimes I got overwhelmed/didn't know what to say, but like Chel said, I think replying can encourage others to comment, and it can lead to fun conversations.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I was going to say none of them, but, well... A Filthy Lie ends (spoilers?? and nsfw/tw) with Percy realizing he can't handle Orthax's influence alone (after some preeeetty dubcon demon sex) and asking Keyleth for help. (and lmao if we're counting D&D OC fic, that one about Riley and Silas after the fey realm isn't as depraved or anything, but it's a bit more hopeless? if that makes sense)

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I think the closest I've done for that recently would be AUs for D&D, haha, so that's probably more of a no.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really, thankfully!

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do occasionally, haha—I'm still not super satisfied with how I write it, and pretty embarrassed by my older examples of it. As far as what kind, "fluff & smut" is a tag I seem to use a lot. lmao, these days if I write it, it's out of spite/not liking the current options on AO3

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think anyone ever translated Benven... Someone did print & bind it into a book with its own cover design, which was cool.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I meeeeean... Riley and Silas will probably always be special, but OCs have an advantage, right? other than that, I'm not sure I can choose just one.

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ah... I have a Luca idea with a vague outline, but things are so busy over the next few weeks, I'm worried I won't have a chance to give it a shot before I lose steam. :')

What are your writing strengths?

Maybe... emotional beats/fluff? If that counts? I love getting comments that use the word "heartwarming". Yeah, one thing that made my day recently was getting a message saying this person still goes back and rereads Benvenuto after all these years, because it's comforting and sweet for them.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Chaptered fics;; I've really lost my stamina when it comes to planning/executing anything more complex than like, 2-3 scenes MAX. ;n; Among many other things that I just don't have experience with

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Hmm. I agree with Chel—preserving the reader's experience is The Most Important part, so I think that either means giving enough context to make the meaning clear, or incorporating the translations in a natural way... Done right, that dialogue can really up the romance and intrigue in a story!! Little things like titles and one-word interjections can be nice and add a lot of character, but like... sparingly.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

wrote for?? was probably fruits basket self-insert messiness hahahaha. first posted works were for Bleach, I think.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Ah... Either Grow, because I really love the concept behind it, or I wrote this 3 Times Silas Read to Riley + 1 Time She Read to Him story that captures some of my favorite things about them, haha. That +1 scene? My magnum opus for rilas fluff, right there.

[lubdubsworld]

Bird Bones

Chapter 1  /  Chapter 2  / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“So, did you guys think about it?” Seokjin asked casually, watching me struggle back into my shoes after getting down from the examination table. He looked a little nervous as he stared at me and I bit my lips.

“I haven’t seen Jungkook in a while. He’s gone to Seoul with Hoseok for their dance showcase.” I said hesitantly. The last few weeks had been hectic, with Hoseok preparing for the showcase and me having to tell the administration I was pregnant. Surprisingly, most of my professors were kind about it, agreeing to share notes with me personally on days when I had to miss classes. I would miss out on a few lab credits because they coincided pretty closely with my due date but that was a whole six months away and I didn’t want to worry about it right now. 

Seokjin hummed in response and waited till I was sitting down in front of him before leveling a look at me. 

“I see and ….he would have to agree too...because?” Seokjin asked pointedly, and I flinched. 

 It was a loaded question, one that made my throat dry. 

We weren’t married. There was zero reason to have his approval to put the baby up for adoption. 

With Jungkook out of town , his parents had contacted me again about the NDA. I’d told them to sort it out with their son first before approaching me again , but I knew they were getting nervous. Jungkook was making it clear that he was sticking around and it was making everyone nervous.

Including me. 

“Its not... I’m not going to say no if he says no or anything like that. It’s just ... he asked me to keep him in the loop that’s it.” I protested. 

“I’m not saying anything.” He held his hands up. “ Just ....remember who he is, yeah? He’s not.... He’s not for you.”

It was hard to forget , I thought miserably, what with everyone throwing it at my face every day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I continued to stay at Hoseok’s place while he was at the showcase. It was better than the dorm for sure and I knew that it only made people resent me more. As a professor in my college, Hoseok had a lot of perks and most of my peers thought i was enjoying them in exchange for sleeping with him.

On the weekend before he was due to come back home, Hoseok called me from his hotel room.

“How are you holding up?” He asked casually and I could hear voices in the background. I wanted to ask him about Jungkook but I didn’t.

“I’m fine. I got my check up and Seokjin oppa told me we could fix a date to meet Yoongi and Namjoon.” I said softly, settling into the comfortable couch and tugging on the phone line. 

“Hmm.... fair enough. I’ll let Jungkook know. He’s out with Sana tonight so-”

“Sana?” I felt my breath catch in surprise. 

“Oh, yeah. she tagged along....you didn’t know?” Hoseok said casually and I gulped.

“Uh...no.. I mean ...whatever...they’re....she’s his girlfriend, right...” I laughed, sounding incredibly hollow to my own ears. Hoseok would see right through it.

“Fiancee.” He said curtly.

“What?”

“She isn’t just a girlfriend. She’s his fiancee...he proposed to her last year on the Han river with a hundred grand ring.....” His tone was dry and emotionless and yet each word cut to the bone. I couldn’t fucking breathe.

“You’re....you’re trying to hurt me.” I accused hoarsely.

He growled.

“No, I’m fucking pissed that this thing , this fact that Jungkook is engaged to Sana has been true for a whole damn year and yet all of a sudden it fucking hurts you because you’re letting your emotions get the better of you... Have I not taught you anything, Dasom?” 

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down, my breathing ragged. He was right. He was absolutely right but it stung because Jungkook was.... Jungkook was so kind. So ridiculously endearing with his childlike amazement, his adorable possessiveness over me and yet somehow  so non judgmental and so eager to be a part of the baby’s life and how on earth could I not like someone who only seemed to want to care for me?? 

And he was wrong. 

I wasn’t an idiot. I had no intention of building castles in the air, dreaming of a happily ever after with someone like Jungkook. I would get through this and things would go back to the way they were. 

Just me and.... well Just me. Alone. By myself. The way it has always been.  

I took a deep shuddering breath. I wasn’t up to explaining all this to Hoseok. Not tonight when he was clearly angry. 

“I hope the showcase goes well, oppa.” I whispered, hanging up before he could respond. The phone rang a second later and I left it off the hook after disconnecting it.. 

I sat there for a long time, staring into the darkness. I had to talk to Jungkook as soon as he got back. We needed a game plan. A clear end to this thing between us. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hoseok oppa thinks we should meet Yoongi and Namjoon this weekend. “ I said casually, watching Jungkook closely as he sipped his iced tea. He stopped for a second, eyes widening before landing on mine.

It was a late Sunday afternoon and he had agreed to meet me for coffee so we could talk about the dinner. He looked just as good as ever, bright and cheerful. The showcase had gone really well according to Hoseok and Jungkook had gotten offers from a whole bunch of entertainment agencies. 

“So soon?” He asked evenly, grip tightening on the drink. 

I shrugged staring at the long smooth fingers. Somedays i tried to remember that night. I couldn’t imagine us being graceful, having sex while drunk out of our minds . Had he been gentle? Rough? What did he like in bed? I vaguely remembered the finger shaped bruises on my wrists, like someone had gripped them together. 

Staring at his hands now, I wondered how it must’ve felt, being held like that. 

I shook my head to clear it. Nothing good would come from going down that path. 

“I’m thirteen weeks along now...First trimester is over ….there's not a lot of chance to miscarry and-”

“What the fuck why would you say that?” He whisper shouted and I frowned.

“Jungkook....”

“That’s our child you’re talking about! Don’t even say that word!”

I could only stare at him. 

“It’s going to be very difficult for you if you don’t distance yourself from this baby “ I said quietly.  And me. 

Jungkook just stared at me , his eyes blazing. 

“Our baby....  Say it. It’s  our  fucking baby. It’s not just a baby or this baby. It’s ours. We made it. Its’ going to...fucking look like us, and it’s going to get our traits and ….I just don’t understand how you can be so callous about something so amazing and----it’s our baby, Dasom...” He was looking at me in disbelief and I couldn’t take it anymore. 

“No it fucking isn’t!!!” I hissed angrily, my heart beating fast, “  It’s not ours, Jungkook. It’s... it’s not something we should be celebrating..... You and I... we’re a fucking mistake. That night was a fucking mistake and this, this baby is nothing more than an unfortunate soul that’s going to have to share the consequences of our horrendous mistake that night!” I felt tears sting. 

I refused to let his words get to me. To make me feel guilty. Jungkook with his golden life, with his perfectly gorgeous fiancee and his filthy rich parents could afford to wax poetic about the joys of parenting but i couldn’t. 

I was a poor fucking orphan with a mother who had only cared about what was between her legs. I had to fight tooth and nail just to break out of the mould everyone had made for me,. 

“Dasom-”

“No, stop...Just...stop and for once get rid of those rose tinted glasses you have on, and listen to me okay?  We’re going to give the baby up for adoption....He or she is going to be raised by kind, loving parents who can provide a stable happy environment . We’re going to stop talking to each other after that. You’re going to go get married to your Fiancee ….I’m going to go and try and build a life for myself. That’s what’s in our future....Not some utopian universe where we raise this child , taking turns changing diapers and weekends at the fucking zoo!!” I finished bitterly.

“Why do we have to stop talking to each other?” He shot back defiantly and i felt my pulse pound. 

I glared at him and he just kept staring back at me.

“Don’t-” I began but he held his hand up. 

“I told you , I’m not going to do everything my parents ask me to. I’m... I’m trying to build a life for myself too alright? I’m not going to just... I’m not married yet. I’m not married yet.” He repeated and I felt a laugh of disbelief bubble up inside me.

“What the fuck does that even mean? You’re engaged-”

“I was engaged before I was fucking born. “ He snapped, running fingers through his hair in evident frustration. “ Sana and I grew up together. We just...we’ve been told that we'll be together all our lives and its all we have ever known. But that doesn’t mean its too late for us to think about other things...other options...”

“And you’re saying I’m another option? You don’t even like me JeonJungkook-” i laughed in disbelief.

“I think you’re beautiful.” He said softly and I felt my jaw come unhinged. 

What.

 What?

“ I saw you two years ago when you dropped by the practice room to meet Hobi hyung.. I thought you were beautiful then... So wildly uncaring about what others thought and I thought you looked amazing with your long hair and easy smile...I still do.” He was staring right at me and i felt heat creep up my neck. 

I shook my head. 

“I’m not listening to this nonsense.” i said sharply, reaching for my bag from the chair next to me.

“Hyung knows... Its why he’s always telling you not to trust me.... He knows how I feel about you and he doesn’t want the competition...” He sneered and I felt my hackles rise. Jungkook’s jealousy towards Hoseok was the most irrational thing in the whole world and it pissed me off so bad. 

“Now I know you really are full of shit-”

“He’s in love with you. He’s always been in love with you and you’re too caught up in your own self pity to notice that.” He grabbed my wrist when I tried to get up from the chair. “ Sit the fuck down and let me finish.”

“You’re spouting nonsense. I’m not interested in it...” I hissed back and he laughed.

“Nonsense? I’ve never hidden how I felt about you. Don’t tell me you’ve never noticed me watching you , because everyone else has. Why else do you think Sana is so threatened? She knows... She knows I’m attracted to you...Knows that I want-----” He stopped and I knew he was going to say ‘you’ 

‘ Sana knows that I want you’ . 

I stared at him in disbelief. 

But he just barreled on,  completely unbothered by how upset I was. 

“ I want to get to know you better. And fine, even if you don’t want to keep the baby, there is no fucking way I’m going to stop talking to you.... “ He finished. 

I tried to gather my sense which felt like they’d been scattered to the seven winds. 

“Really, you talk about your fiancee so flippantly....but I heard you had a cozy little honeymoon in Seoul during your showcase...what of that?” I hated myself as soon as I said it because it made sound so horribly jealous. 

Jungkook snorted.

“Let me guess, Hobi hyung told you that huh? I bet he conveniently failed to mention that she was attending a different showcase , a whole damn district away? That we only went out for dinner one night and I was back in like an hour?” 

I stared at him, thrown . I felt confused and disoriented, not sure what was happening and why.

This had gone on long enough. 

I could not let this man do this to me. I just couldn’t. 

“Your parents met me again.” i said softly, staring right at him. “ They wanted me to sign the NDA. Did you tell them this? Can you go tell them this? Go break up with your fiancee, tell your daddy you want to date the  girl you knocked up while you were drunk out of your mind. And then, once he disowns you and kicks you out of your house and you have nowhere else to go, come see me. We’ll go out on a date, yeah?” 

 I waited for him to respond but he didn’t. So I stood up. I slung my bag up on my shoulders and stared down at him. 

“I’m meeting them on Saturday. If you want to be there, you can. And regardless of whether you turn up or not...I’m going. I’m giving the baby up for adoption and I’m getting on with my life. ” I said quietly. 

I walked out of the cafe without looking back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi sat across from me, hands twisting nervously in his lap while Namjoon poured us some water from the cut class decanter on the table. Next to me, Jungkook looked subdued and upset, eyes darting between the two men on occasion. I hadn’t talked to him after my outburst at the cafe

I peered around the house, an expensive three bedroom flat located in a good neighborhood. It was decorated tastefully and I could tell that even Jungkook was reluctantly impressed by how clean and neat everything looked. I played with the hem of my blouse while Hoseok finished his phone call, not sure what to say or how to start. 

“How are you feeling, Dasom?” Namjoon asked finally, flashing me a smile with deep dimples on either cheeks. 

“I’m doing good. I’m fourteen weeks along now and the nausea has gone down.” 

Yoongi hummed.

“My sister says the first three months are the worst.” He smiled a little and I smiled back, taking in the soft curves of his face and the nervous fingers on the lap. He looked just as terrified as I felt. 

“I’m glad you guys could meet with us. We just want to say that we’re so grateful that you guys even considered us.” Namjoon said in a rush, eyes flooding with warmth as he glanced between me and Jungkook. I felt him stiffen next to me and reached out, curling my fingers around his, pulling him closer. I linked our fingers and squeezed lightly. He squeezed back. 

“We only want what’s best for the baby, right Kook?” I said softly. He looked up at me then and I felt my heart crack at the light sheen I saw there. 

“Yeah...I...I love the baby.” He whispered and I felt a lump in my throat. 

The past few weeks, I had found myself hanging out with him way too much for my liking. For some reason, Sana stopped talking to me. She would throw occasional glares at me but she stayed away. Jungkook was conspicuously respectful. Never crossing a line enough for me to kick him away. He would throw that occasional remark that implied he was interested and shrug it off when I rejected him again. 

But he also told me that he had always wanted a family first. A wife, two kids, picket fence and all that. He loved kids,  had always been the designated babysitter to his umpteen cousins. He loved babies and he wanted as many as his fututre wife would give him. And then without warning he had just stared at me.

I hadn’t trusted myself to respond to that. 

The mind games left me exhausted. I didn’t ….not like him. He was funny , sweet and intelligent. He liked talking and he liked listening. It was just hard to enjoy when I knew what he was . A chaebol heir to a fortune. He spoke of his family with a casually dismissive attitude, about how they didn’t really give a damn about who he married and that it wouldn't be a big deal if he broke up with Sana.

But I had to remind myself that he hadn’t done it. He hadn’t broken up with her. And that meant that no matter how dismissive he was, he knew that something like that wouldn’t go by without repercussions. The fantasy of Jungkook leaving his gorgeous girlfriend because he couldn’t live without me was just that, a fantasy.  

Hoseok’s voice broke me out of my reverie.

“They’re both too young to go through with this.... Its going to be painful but like Dasom says, its the baby we need to think about.” Hoseok had hung up the phone and he stared at Jungkook, his gaze softening when he saw how miserable the younger looked. 

I pulled myself together and watched Namjoon pull out a file, containing all the formalities we would have to go through. /As i heard him explain everything, his eyes clear and intelligent, his tone gentle and kind, I felt myself making my choice. Yoongi and Namjoon loved each other deeply . They leaned on each other, evident in the way they held hands every few minutes, smiling and reassuring each other. They loved each other and they could love this baby. 

They would love this baby. 

My mind was made up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You need a ride home?” Hoseok asked casually, two hours later after we had bid goodbye to Yoongi and Namjoon. 

Next to me Jungkook stiffened. 

“I’ll drive her.” He said curtly and Hoseok ignored him, still holding a hand out.

“That’s fine Oppa, Jungkook and I need to talk.” I said tiredly. We did. There was a whole lot of formalities to be done with regards to the adoption and I wanted to talk to him about the possibility of an open adoption. Just in case he was interested. 

“You can talk tomorrow. Its already past ten-” Hoseok began but Jungkook laughed, loud and jarring. 

“What you think I’ll have my way with her and knock her up? Bit too late to worry about that right?” Jungkook drawled next to me and I felt my eyes widen in shock.

“What the- Jungkook are you crazy? Apologize!!” I hissed but he glared back at Hoseok defiantly.

Hobi chuckled a bit.

“You’re really asking to get your ass kicked Kook-ah... I’d tone down the blatant disrespect if I were you....” He said , eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Maybe I will, if you stop lying to Dasom about how you really feel about her.”

I lost it entirely, turning around to shove him away.

“Jungkook what the fuck?!” I shouted but he gripped my wrists, stopping me from hitting him again. 

“Tell her hyung....tell her how you picked up a fucking engagement ring in Seoul....? How you told Seokjin hyung that you were going to propose when she graduates because, let me quote you, ‘ she’s docile and adjusting. She’ll make a nice companion’“

I froze. I turned around to stare at Hoseok and felt my heart drop at the sharp sharp look of guilt om his face.

I stopped struggling against Jungkook, sagging against him when ice cold disbelief flooded my veins. 

No. No , it couldn’t be.  

“You-what?”  I whispered. 

Hoseok stared at me. 

“ Don’t tell me you didn’t see it coming.” He said blankly. I felt bile rise up my throat. 

“Oppa-”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Hoseok snapped. 

I flinched when Jungkook’s grip tightened around me , a growl making his chest tremble. 

“Hyung , don’t-” He began angrily but Hoseok cut him off, staring at me with blazing eyes. 

“You’re always around me ..” Hoseok ground out, “ You’re literally the only person I’ve known and loved all my life.... So sue me for wanting to take responsibility for you and-”

“I’m not your responsibility.....I’m twenty years old...”

“And look how well you’re doing yeah? Knocked up with some guy’s bastard .....Just like your moth-”

I felt Jungkook move behind me and my instinct kicked in. I turned quickly gripping his arms and putting myself between them to stop him from lunging at Hoseok. 

Hoseok looked unapologetic as he stared at me. 

“If you marry me, you’ll at least be respectable.” He said softly and it was like a veil getting torn, showing him for who he really was. 

Someone who thought I was a charity case. A poor , flailing mess of a human that needed his charity to survive. 

I nodded quietly. 

“Okay. Thank you for lowering yourself enough to consider marriage with someone like me....” I said softly and he hissed.

“That’s not what I-”

“That’s exactly what you meant.” I said sharply, turning around. I couldn’t look at him anymore.

“Take me back to the dorms, yeah?” I looked at Jungkook and he nodded.

“Anything you want.” He whispered, wrapping his arms around me before throwing one last glare at Hoseok. 

Author’s note : Send me an ask about what you thought and I will love you forever <3

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 56)

Description: The Catalysts attempt to return to their lives as River Skye finally comes home.  tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @tigerbryn11

Chapter 56: Not Over

Alodia

I almost can’t believe how quickly I start to feel better once the fever breaks. The pain, which had felt like some hellish demon with teeth made of red-hot iron gnawing at my lower back, begins to recede within hours. 

“That’s how it tends to go with an infection like this once we find the right antibiotic,” the doctor tells me. “You are fortunate, though. These days, a lot of bacteria have developed resistance to antibiotics. But the infection is responding well to treatment, and all your vitals and your blood work look good. And your daughter appears as healthy as a baby horse. ...I would just like to take a quick look at how you’re healing from the birth if that’s okay.” 

I nod, turning onto my back with Jake’s help as the doctor draws the curtain around the bed. Improved as I am, I know I’m not at full strength yet, because moving still hurts. I guess I must have winced, because the doctor raises an eyebrow in concern as she pulls on a pair of gloves.

“You okay there?” 

“I think so. Guess I’m still pretty sore.” 

“That’s to be expected. You probably won’t feel one-hundred percent for another week or two at least.” 

I draw my knees up and part my thighs while the doctor pulls up a stool at the foot of the bed and lifts the blanket. I keep my attention focused on Jake’s face above me and the pressure of his hand on mine as the doctor carries out her checks. Occasionally, I let my eyes wander around to the multiple bouquets and mylar balloons that have built up over the past couple days, gifts from the Catalysts, Tahira’s team, my aunt and uncle, and Jake and Diego’s parents. 

“Everything is healing beautifully. Stitches should be dissolved by next week. You’re probably going to be feeling pretty tender for a while though.” 

“Yeah, we had the whole tearing conversation with my OB in California some time ago.” 

“Good. If you have any pressing questions regarding the birth and recovery, you can of course ask me, or one of the maternity staff. We can also forward your hospital records to your regular OBGYN.” 

“How long do you think it will be before we can go home?” Jake asks. 

She pulls the blanket back down and stands, peeling off her gloves. “Well, the fact is, we want to get her and your baby out of here ASAP to lower the chances of either of them picking up a secondary infection.” She smiles at me. “Now that the fever’s gone, we’re gonna get you off the drip and onto some oral antibiotics, and we can pretty much start the discharge process immediately.” 

“So soon?” My own question surprises me, but it’s out of my mouth before I realize it’s on the end of my tongue. 

“Believe me, it’s better we get you both out of here.” 

“I know. It’s not that I want to stay here. It’s just...thinking about how we’re going to get home...how soon we can get home…” 

“That’s all taken care of, Princess. Aleister is having Castor and Pollux deep cleaned, and he and Grace are gonna put us up for a few days until Mike gets up here from Santo Domingo. Diego and Varyyn are with Estela and Quinn, and your aunt and uncle basically paid for hotel rooms for everyone else.” 

His infodump has my head reeling a little, but there was one particular tidbit I find myself fixing on. 

“Why is Mike…?” I trail off as realization crashes down on me in an icy wave. A bit of information I had nearly forgotten in my struggle to bring my baby safely into the world while fighting a fever. Jake wasn’t worrying about me for all that time from the safety of our home in California. I don’t know the details, but I have a sinking feeling that has something to do with the reason that Mike isn’t here with us now. 

Jake folds my hand between his palms, glancing at the doctor. “Hey...do you have everything you need? I’d like a few minutes alone with my wife, if that’s okay.” 

“Of course. I’ll get the ball rolling on your discharge.” 

I wait until I’m sure she’s well clear of the room before I reach to stroke Jake’s cheek. “...I know Lundgren got his filthy hands on you. ...Fiddler told me. ...I’m guessing he got a hold of Mike, too.” 

He leans into my touch. “...And Sean and Michelle. Nabbed us all as I was bringing ‘em back from the island.” 

“I don’t know if she told me that. That conversation got swallowed up in worrying about you, and then I got sick and River started coming, and…” I swallow, running my thumb along the fuzzy ridge of his cheekbone. “...Did they hurt you? Any of you?” 

He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “Knocked us all around a little. Michelle’s the smart one, of course, so she escaped the worst. ...Mike’s in Santo Domingo having his prosthetics repaired. Lundgren ripped them out ot torture him.” 

I shudder. “Oh, god...Oh, Jake, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry…” 

I’m crying before I realize it. And as soon as I do realize, it turns into sobbing. Jake reaches down to gather me in his arms and cradle my head against his shoulder, rocking me tenderly. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s okay. He’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. In a few days, we’ll be home with our baby.” 

“I w-wanna be home,” I hiccup. “I wanna be home with River, but I’m scared of leaving everyone again. I just wanna bring them all home with us…” 

“Well, it’s a very big house. ...On the other hand, you cram us all into the same house long term, it might start to feel less big. Plus, it would mean a brutal cross-country commute for some of them.” 

I can’t help chuckling a little bit, which makes the sobs start to die down. Jake gives me a moment to get myself under control before he speaks again. 

“...How are you feeling, Princess? Really?” 

“Physically?” I pull back gently to lie down on the pillow again. “Definitely better. My head is clearer, and I don’t hurt as much. But I’m still worn out. And by the way, you’re gonna have to make due with blow jobs for awhile, because it’s gonna be a long time before you stick that thing in me again, if ever.” 

It’s his turn to laugh, and he bends to kiss me. “Princess, I will tug it for the rest of my life as long as you’re still a part of that life.” 

“I will be a part of your life as long as the universe allows,” I promise. “...But Jake, we both know this isn’t over.” 

He sighs, and I see his forehead crease before he presses it to mine. “I know. I know you’re right. But for River’s sake--and mine--will you let the others take care of that for now? I ain’t saying don’t worry, because I know that’s impossible. But River and I need you healthy. Can you stand to let yourself be looked after for a while?” 

I feel a rueful smile tug at one corner of my mouth. “Am I to assume that arguing is pointless?” 

A tapping at the open door to the birthing suite distracts Jake from answering. We both look up to find Raj and Diego hovering in the doorway, Raj with a paper bag in his hand, and Diego with his right arm in a soft blue sling. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since River was born, and I sit up a little straighter as he hesitantly steps over the threshold. 

“...Are we interrupting?” 

The baby has started fussing, and Jake eases off the edge of the bed to go pick her up. I open my arms to Diego. Just before he rushes into them, I see his face twist with anguish. And as he falls against me, his one-armed grip is surprisingly strong. 

“Goddammit, Allie,” he whispers quiveringly. “Goddammit…” 

“...Did I scare you?” 

He pulls back sharply, enough so he can look me in the face, but he keeps a grip on my shoulder. “Did you scare me?! You had me on my knees saying the Ave Maria! Do you know how long it’s been since I said the Ave Maria?!” 

There isn’t really a lot I can say to that, but I smile ruefully. “...Thanks for staying with me.” 

“What, you thought I’d bail?” 

I snort. “God, no. But I can still be grateful.” 

“...You’re really okay?” 

I nod. “I’m fine. The fever is gone, and the wound doesn’t really hurt anymore. I’m still pretty sore down there, though.” 

A smile finally starts to play cautiously around his mouth. “...Well, that part’s Jake’s problem.” 

“How about you?” I ask, gingerly touching the strap of his navy blue sling. 

“That’s nothing serious. It was dislocated, but they popped it back in. Just got to wear this for a few more days, and take it easy once we get back home. ...Raj brought food, by the way.” 

“Oh!” I pull back a little to smile at Raj. “Sorry, big guy. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” 

Raj chuckles. “We’ll blame it on the new mommy brain and leave it at that. Speaking of which…” He shoos Diego back enough that he can drag my bed table over across my lap, and sets an insulated lunch box on top. “I figured you could do with something better than hospital fruit cups and oatmeal, so I brought you a special Raj lunch. Michelle supervised its creation, and it’s full of stuff that’s supposed to be good for new moms.” 

“What is it?” 

“So glad you asked!” With a flourish, he opens the bag, and pulls out each item in turn, presenting them like a game show prize lady. “A sandwich of salmon, spinach, and poached egg on whole wheat bread with a garlic white bean spread; in case you are extra hungry, a side of gourmet trail mix made from an assortment of nuts and dried fruit; and to drink, a pineapple-orange-banana smoothie with extra protein powder, and just a few extra leaves of spinach!” 

I can’t help but be uplifted by his enthusiasm, and hold out my arms for a hug. “I must be the most spoiled new mother in the world.” 

Raj embraces me lightly over the table. “As you should be. You know in some Asian cultures, a new mother spends a whole month resting while her mother-in-law takes care of her and the baby.” 

“Oh yeah?” I look at Jake. “Think your mother would spend a month taking care of me?” 

“Honestly, I bet she would. The problem would be getting her to ease up and let you start taking care of things after the month was up.” 

“Hmm...probably best not to give her ideas then.” 

“Probably. We’ll have my folks over in few more months, when we’ve had a chance to get settled.” 

“...But…” Raj says, “in the meantime, do you think you guys will be needing any extra help? I know it’s going to be a pretty full house as it is, but Diego’s going to want to take it easy with lifting and stuff for a while, and Michelle says Mike will probably need time to recover, too. If you need a couple extra pairs of hands and someone to do the cooking, I have some downtime, and I know Lila would be happy to come along.” 

I look questioningly at Jake, who shrugs. “I don’t have anything against that. It’s a big enough house. And if Varyyn and I are gonna be the only ones at full strength for the time being, I wouldn’t say no to a couple extra pairs of hands.”

“And probably better those hands be Raj and Lila than anyone’s parents,” Diego adds. “I bet Varyyn would prefer not having to wear his disguise twenty-four-seven.” 

“Yeah. And,” Jake adds with a sigh, shifting River to rest against his shoulder, “it’s probably preferable not to involve anyone who ain’t already involved in the bigger picture. ...Like you said before, Princess, this ain’t over.” 

“But for now, we’re all safe and sound, and Allie has a lunch to eat.” Diego smiles encouragingly as he pushes the tinfoil-wrapped sandwich toward me. “Go on. Dig in.” 

Jake

I gotta admit, it does my heart good to see my wife savoring the meal Raj brought her and enjoying our friends’ company. She seems almost back to her old self as she talks and tells jokes and teases with them. Although, as I put River in her arms, I can’t help but be reminded that she’ll never be exactly like her old self again. Not now that she’s a mama. Not like I’m ever gonna be exactly like my old self again either. I’m a daddy now. That’s gonna change me forever. The thought scares me, like it has a lot over the past nine months. But just a look at that precious little face is enough to reassure me that I am never gonna regret it. 

Diego and Raj eventually leave us on our own again. After nursing and burping, River sleeps just long enough that we can fill out her birth certificate, nestled side-by-side on the bed. From there, it’s not more than an hour or two before they’re wheeling Alodia toward the hospital exit with River in her arms again while I walk at her shoulder, a baby carrier in the crook of my elbow and my arms laden with flowers and mini mylar balloons. Any staff we happen to pass on the way out smile and wave or give us their congratulations. I have a feeling that in a hospital, any chance to see a patient off happy and healthy is a cause for celebration, and that probably goes double for a new mama leaving with a baby. 

Grace is waiting in a car for us at the curb outside the hospital. One of Reggie’s old carseats is in the backseat. Grace settles the baby in the carseat while I help Alodia into the seat beside her. 

“There’s a surprise for you guys when we get to our place,” Grace informs us as I circle around the car to get in on the other side of River. 

“Nothing too strenuous, I hope,” Alodia quips. “I am not up for a party yet.” 

Grace chuckles as she starts up the car. “Oh, believe me, I realize that. No, everyone is pretty sure parties are off the table for you for the time being. ...But you do know that everyone is going to want to see you before you leave, right? You gave us a scare, and no one wants you to go before we all know you’re okay. ...Plus, everyone wants to see River.” 

“I am not opposed to visitors,” Alodia assures her. “Just...only a few at a time.” 

“Absolutely. We won’t let you get overwhelmed.” 

“River, either,” Alodia adds, stroking our sleeping daughter’s downy hair. “Poor thing is probably overwhelmed as it is, suddenly coming into all this noise and color and light.” 

“Birth is the craziest thing that ever happens to us, and none of us remember it,” I remark, letting the blade of my forefinger run gently back and forth across the soft back of River’s tiny hand. Her little fingers twitch just slightly, and the base of her pacifier rocks back and forth across her lips, but she doesn’t wake up. I don’t expect the quiet will last. 

River does sleep throughout the half hour or so it takes to drive to Aleister and Grace’s luxury Northbridge apartment. As we pull up to the curb, I realize what our surprise is. 

“Mike!” 

I must have been a little louder than I thought, because River wakes up with a cry that can only be described as irritated, but it doesn’t fully register until I have already launched myself out of the car towards Mike. He’s balancing on a walker, so I at least have the good sense not to jostle him, but I can’t hold myself back from grasping him firmly by the shoulders. He grins, carefully removing his hands from the walker one at a time to grasp me back. 

“Good to see ya, Grandpa.” 

“Shit, you too! We weren’t expecting you for another couple days! How are you feeling?” 

“Well, as you can tell,” he says, nodding at the walker, “I’m not quite ready to run a marathon yet. But my new legs are healing up nice. ...Good to see you, Goldilocks.” 

His gaze shifts over my shoulder, and I turn to look back at my wife supporting herself on Aleister’s arm while Grace bounces River in her arms. Alodia smirks at me, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“I feel like I should make a joke about you abandoning your wife and child in the car to go hang out with your buddy,” she drawls. 

I grin sheepishly as Mike carefully returns his grip to the walker. “Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.” 

I lunge and sweep her up bridal style, and I have the pleasure of feeling her arms twine around my neck. 

“Mmm, much better. However, unlike your daughter, I am actually capable of walking.” 

“But you don’t have to. Not right now, anyway.” But I do return her to her feet after capturing her mouth in a kiss. I don’t entirely take my hands off her yet, though. After her ordeal, I don’t think she’s really that much steadier than Mike right now. Her grip as she slips her arm through mine confirms my concerns. 

I’m standing between my wife and my best friend, and neither of them are fully able to stand under their own power. I’m starting to feel that much more grateful to Raj for volunteering to help us out for a while. 

I think Mike notices Alodia’s weakness, too, because his forehead creases just a little. “You all right, Goldilocks? From what I hear, you gave everyone a real scare.” 

“It was pretty scary on my end, too. But I’m fine now. How about you?” 

Mike shrugs. “Ahh, you know. A few weeks of rehab, I’ll be a six-million dollar man again. In the meantime,” he adds wryly, stroking the frame of his walker, “it’ll be hard to call Jake ‘Grandpa’ when I’m dottering around on this thing.” 

“You just called me ‘Grandpa’ two minutes ago.” 

“And I cannot tell you how hard I internally cringed. Seriously, if you could have seen my internal expression, you’d have thought I was sucking lemons.” 

I am morally obligated to reach out and swat him for that, but before I can, Alodia abruptly steps forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It’s an awkward embrace, encumbered by the walker and both of them still being weak, but it’s a sincere one, and Mike leans into it gratefully. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Alodia murmurs. 

“You too,” Mike says softly, reaching up to pat her shoulder with one hand. “But can we go inside? I wanna properly meet that baby you’ve been carrying around for the past nine months!” 

***

The Catalysts come by in shifts throughout the afternoon and evening, apparently having planned it all out beforehand. No one stays more than an hour at a time, which proves to be a good thing, since Alodia is clearly worn out by about eight in the evening. We’re set up in the guest room of the Rourke apartment, with River in a bassinet beside us, and Mike on the foldaway bed in the living room. 

Alodia nurses River and rocks her to sleep before lying down herself. At first, I curl up beside Alodia in bed. She’s asleep within minutes, but I’m not as quick. And after an hour, it’s pretty clear that I’m not on my way to dreamland any time soon. I don’t want to leave Alodia or River. I never want to leave Alodia’s side again. But I’m restless. Anxious. And eventually, the desire not to disturb what precious little sleep my wife might have before our daughter wakes her up again wins out over my irrational need to pace back and forth between them. I check the windows, making sure they’re locked, then I slip out of the room as quietly as I can, heading back out into the living room. 

I find Mike, Aleister, and Grace all seated in the living room. On the coffee table are four short, round glasses and a bottle of golden red liquid that I’m guessing is some kind of whiskey. 

“We were starting to wonder if you had also fallen asleep,” Aleister says. He gestures to the glasses. “We thought you might like to wet your baby’s head.” 

“Kind of a weird expression,” I remark. Nonetheless, I pick up the bottle and take a seat in an armchair to read the label. “Ooh, Irish Mist. Fancy.” 

“It is not every day that one becomes a father. The night Reginald was born, Diego, Varyyn, and I toasted his birth with Irish Mist.” 

I crack open the bottle, and lean forward to fill each of the four glasses about halfway. I set down the bottle and raise my glass, the others following suit. 

“To River Skye McKenzie, my beautiful angel. And to her mother, my better half, who is truly the best and bravest of us.” 

“Here, here!” Grace says. We clink glasses, and I take a long, deep drink, savoring the sweet notes of honey and spices riding atop the alcoholic burn of whiskey. I return my glass to the table empty and lean back in my chair. 

“When my sister and I both were born, my grandpa had my dad and the men of the neighborhood over to smoke cigars on the porch.” I chuckle a little. “Rebecca remembers helping our grandma in the kitchen, and seeing all the men outside smoking. She says what she remembers most about the day I was born was our dad coming in from outside to give her a hug, but she pushed him away and said, ‘No, Daddy! You stink!’” 

My story prompts the expected laughter. 

“I am afraid Irish Mist will have to do tonight,” Aleister says. “I did not think to buy cigars. Nor would I know enough to ensure I was purchasing a quality product. As I understand it, Cuban cigars are the best, but those are illegal.” 

Mike shudders. “Honestly, I think the smell of a Cuban would be enough to give me flashbacks. Lundgren used to smoke contraband Cubans.” 

“Same here,” I agree. “I mean...there was that one time…” 

“...That one time what?” 

I chuckle a little, rubbing the back of my head. “Okay, no one currently in this room was there when Zahra blew up MASADA…” 

“What’s that got to do with Cuban cigars?” 

I sigh, but in spite of myself, in spite of how literally everyone else in the room with me was in some kind of bad situation at the time, I feel a smile playing around my mouth at the memory. 

“Okay, so it’s me, Alodia, Sean, Quinn, Estela, Craig, and Zahra trying to find another way out of the complex after the gondola gets severed, and when we go through a control room, Zahra gets the idea to blow the whole thing up. We figure it’s worth the couple extra minutes, so we let her do it. And while she’s rigging the system, I find one of Lundgren’s Cubans somewhere on the floor. ...And I light it up. But only to spite the bastard.” 

“But did you enjoy it?” Mike asks. 

“Hell, yeah! The hype ain’t a lie, buddy. Not saying I’d do it again unless it were one of his personal stash, but that was a real good smoke. ...Still...it wouldn’t be right to celebrate River with Cuban cigars. Lundgren and Rourke did enough to taint her birth.” 

“Nothing has been tainted,” Grace says firmly. “She and Alodia both came through it well and healthy.”

“I ain’t losing sight of what’s important,” I assure her. “But I can’t let my guard down, either.  ...We all know this ain’t over.” 

Grace sighs. “...No, you’re right. It isn’t over. ...Which means...I should probably tell you what I learned in Ireland.”

Diego

I knew that the Catalysts wouldn’t have sat on their hands while any of their own were in danger, but I am surprised to learn just how busy they were during the time that Allie and I were in Arachnid’s claws. I’m even more surprised--and frankly unsettled--by some of the things they learned. Yvonne might be alive. Lundgren flew the same plane that killed Allie’s parents, even though the twisted wreckage of that plane is the property of the NTSB. The whole mess with Allie’s mom, that weird AI message from a program made by Allie’s mom. It all leaves us with a lot more questions than answers. 

I told the police everything I felt like I could safely tell them. I went so far as to tell them that I think Everett Rourke might be alive because that’s who our kidnappers claimed they were taking us to. I don’t know if they believed me. I don’t know if the future of the Vaanti is safe. A part of me hopes that they lose interest in the case since everyone who was abducted has been recovered safely. But I also know that none of us are really safe until Rourke is either back behind bars or dead. 

Aleister and Estela make all the travel arrangements for those of us going back to California, including my folks and Allie’s. Castor carries me, Allie, Jake, Varyyn, Mike, Raj, Lila, Rebecca, and River. For once, Jake and Mike aren’t going to be flying. Pollux is taking our families. A third plane, smaller but no less luxurious, takes Jake’s parents back to Louisiana. They’re reluctant to leave him. They don’t want to be apart from their son, or their daughter, or their granddaughter. He assures them they can come visit soon, but that their daughter-in-law needs some time to recover first. 

At the airport, Allie’s aunt and uncle hesitate to part from her on the tarmac. Allie stands with River in her arms, patiently enduring as Molly smoothes her hair and kisses her forehead, asking if she’s sure Allie doesn’t want her and Rob to wait at the airport in California to drive her home. When Allie insists she’s sure; that Molly and Rob should go ahead and get home so they can rest. Rob says they’ll make sure there are cars waiting for us to take us all back to the house in Laguna. 

My parents board the plane before I arrive at the airport. On board the plane, I nestle up with Varyyn on one of the double-width leather seats. I wind my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He kisses the top of my head. 

“Are you alright, my love?” he murmurs. 

“...I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I’m just...disappointed. I knew my parents weren’t ready to meet you. But I had hoped...I don’t know. I had hoped it wouldn’t be like this. Even if I knew it probably would be.” 

Varyyn sighs, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. “They may yet come around. Or they may not. In the end, it is up to them. All I can promise is that I will love you regardless of their decision.” 

“...I love you, too.” 

“You guys all set?” Raj’s voice makes me look up. The others are boarding behind us and finding their seats. Jake helps Allie settle in and get her seatbelt on, River still cradled in her arms. 

“Are you sure a plane is really the best way to travel with a newborn?” Lila asks. 

“When the choices are between a rental car, a train, or a private plane for a cross-country trip, a private plane is hands down the best option,” Rebecca declares. “I mean, if we were on a commercial plane, I’d think twice, since those things are basically flying petri dishes. But this plane has been deep-cleaned, unlike the train. It’s more comfortable than a car, and faster than both the car or the train.” 

“Yeah, but what about her little ears? All the pressure?” 

“The doctor says that if I nurse her during take-off and landing, that should keep her comfortable. Besides...I just want to be home.” 

Home. The word washes through me in a way that comforts me even as it makes me want to cry. Images flash through my mind of the house I share with my husband, my best friend, her husband, and his best friend--and now, my little niece and goddaughter. Watching movies in the living room with Allie. Sharing dinner around the table or out on the balcony. Cuddling with Varyyn in the hot tub in the evening, letting the warm, swirling water sap the energy from my body, and then sliding into bed beside him and drifting off to sleep in his arms. At home, I don’t have to hide. I don’t have to walk on eggshells or worry about losing anyone’s love. At home, I’m safe and free. I meet my best friend’s eyes, offering her a tired smile. 

“I’m with you, Allie. Let’s get home.” 

Raj

Nothing but the best for my friends, that’s my motto. I came to the house in Laguna Beach to make sure that my friends would have the best care while they needed it, and I waste no time in getting down to business. Alodia, Diego, and Mike need space to convalesce. But with a new baby in a huge house like this, there is a lot to be done. Jake and Varyyn can’t be expected to do everything, and that’s where I and Lila come in. 

River is constantly monitored. Whenever she cries, someone is ready to come running to change her diaper, or to bring her to Alodia for feeding. I prepare meals ahead of time that can be easily heated and served, so no one goes hungry. Lila helps me cook and keep the house clean. Alodia’s aunt and uncle attempt to send cleaning and catering services to her at one point, but they end up being politely refused. Lila and I have everything under control, and none of us want strangers poking around here. 

Alodia is occasionally moody, snapping at everyone to stop fussing over her, and she can’t wait to be free of this gilded cage and go back out into the world. This is usually followed by tearful apologies, with all of us assuring her that we don’t take it personally. She just had a baby, she’s allowed to be moody. Besides, the moment someone places River in her arms, it seems like everything is right in her world, and everything is right in our world, too. 

...Except it’s not. Not entirely. 

River is happy and healthy. Alodia is getting her strength back. Diego gets rid of the sling, and Mike starts to get around without the walker again. But underneath the surface, there is still trauma. There’s still fear. 

“They’re having nightmares,” I tell Lila one morning as we’re preparing breakfast. She pauses for a moment with a knife poised above an orange before swiftly slicing it in half. 

“Is that so surprising?” she asks. She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but concentrates on making sure the thick, white heart of the orange half in her hand is positioned properly on the cone of the juicer before she presses down and begins to twist. Bright yellow juice splashes down into the container below. 

“Well, no. But it is sad. Jake and Alodia especially should be concentrating on enjoying their new baby, not having nightmares and worrying about whether Rourke’s coming back for them.” 

Lila pulls the now-deflated orange rind off the cone of the juicer and tosses it on the countertop. Ribbons of tattered orange flesh cling to the inside of the rind. She picks up the other half. 

“...Do you ever have nightmares from Mr. Rourke?” she asks softly. 

“Of course,” I reply. “Not as much as before, but I think we all have them sometimes. After what we all went through, I think I’d be more surprised if any of us didn’t.” 

The twisting of the orange on the juicer slows just slightly. The toaster pops behind me, and I pluck four pieces of perfectly browned bread from the slots to toss onto a plate. 

“...I have nightmares, too.” 

The butter has been softening on the counter, and my knife slides easily through it. The heat from the toast softens it further, and it spreads cleanly. 

“...You want to talk about it?” 

Lila shakes her head, picking up her knife and another orange. “No. Not now. They don’t really matter anyway. They’re about things that happened in the past. I’m less scared of them than I am of what happens in the future.” 

“Do you mean Rourke’s next move?” 

“Of course that scares me. ...But more than that, I’m scared of him trying to use me against all of you again.” 

“We won’t let that happen, Lila. You’re safe with us.” 

“...But are you safe with me?” 

I pause a moment before putting down my knife. I turn to Lila, put one hand on each of her shoulders, and turn her toward me. 

“Lila...look at me. ...Has Rourke approached you at all since you’ve been with us again?” 

Her eyes widen in what looks like genuine surprise. “What? No, I...that isn’t what I meant!” 

I relax just a little. “...Okay.” I slowly take my hands away from her shoulders. “...You’d tell me if he had, wouldn’t you?” 

She nods. “Of course.” 

“Good. ...Because if he approaches you again, we can help you. We can help keep you out from under his thumb. ...We’re not gonna let him just have you back.” 

A weak smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “I believe you.” She hastily turns back to the oranges in front of her. “You should...um...finish buttering before the toast gets cold.” 

Overhead, the sharp, piercing cry of an infant rings through the air. I smile. Another morning blending into another day. It’s not perfect. We’ve got reason to worry. But for now, all is well. 

Diego

I keep my head down as I move through the halls of my high school, clutching the straps of my worn-out backpack. It’s the same shabby gray one I’ve been carrying since freshman year. I’m a junior now, and the corners near the bottom are starting to fray where the sharp corners of paper-bag covered textbooks have dug into them. 

My stomach growls. I skipped lunch again today. My parents were gone to work early again, and I didn’t leave myself enough time to make myself anything this morning. I barely had time to scarf down a banana for breakfast. I didn’t have enough cash for a cafeteria lunch, either, and besides, I preferred spending my lunch period playing on the computer in the library to sitting by myself at the end of a table filled with noisy strangers anyway. 

If I can scrape together enough change from the bottom of my pencil case, I might have enough to get a bag of chips from the vending machine before I have to go to my after school job. But for now, my hunger isn’t all that sharp, and I am heading towards English Lit, the only class I currently look forward to. 

The class is taught by Mr. Hunter. He also teaches the film-making class I want to sign up for next semester. He’s in his early fifties, and not handsome. He is tall and lanky, with gray-green eyes and a dark helmet of slicked back hair that sits atop a rectangular face. He has one of those mustaches that seemed to be popular in the 1970’s that always make a man look a little sketchy. He wears paisley shirts and slacks, and his voice reminds me of Bert from Sesame Street.

Mr. Hunter is the best teacher I’ve ever had at this school. When we studied Romeo and Juliet, he started off by giving us all a printed-off list of Shakespearean insults. When one girl tried to mumble her way through a line-reading, he shouted, “Put some feeling into it, you saucy wench!” 

Mr. Hunter is also gay, and he does not attempt to hide this. When my parents ask about my teachers and which ones I like best, I leave this fact out. If they knew, they would make me switch to another class. Mr. Hunter has a picture of himself with his boyfriend on his desk. I’ve seen it when I’ve gone up to hand in assignments. His partner is bald and ruddy-skinned. He’s not handsome, either, but he has an open, friendly smile. Sometimes, I imagine them kissing. I worry that I have a crush on Mr. Hunter. 

On the post of every classroom door is a laminated pink triangle, with a message proclaiming that this is a safe space for LGBTQ students. These triangles are mandated by the school district. Not every teacher honors them. One teacher actually tore hers down and refused to put it back up. She was fired. Last year, two girls were voted “Cutest Couple” in their senior class. I look at the triangles, prominently displayed as I walk into each classroom, and I don’t feel particularly safe. I feel safe in Mr. Hunter’s classroom. 

Inside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, two boys from the football team act out a love poem with one of them in a curly blond wig and the bottom of his shirt tucked into his collar to create a crop top. They end with a flourish, with the boy in the wig jumping into the other boy’s arms and goosing him. Everyone applauds their performance, including Mr. Hunter. 

Outside Mr. Hunter’s classroom, guys of all stripes growl “faggot” in my direction, and even the girls who are nice to me seem pitying more than anything. There’s a Pride club that meets after school two days a week, but I don’t dare join. I’m slowly realizing I can’t deny the truth anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can just announce it to the world. 

I have just enough change to buy a bag of chips after school. I put it in my backpack as I make my way toward the library where I work for a few hours each day. I see Sam Dzugan eyeing me as I pass through the main doors to the school, and feel dread so familiar that it’s almost dull. Of all the bullies at this school, Sam is the worst. He also knows where I work. If he’s bored and hungry for a power fix tonight, I’m in for a rough walk home. 

But he doesn’t follow me to work. At the library, I set to work filing back the books from the return cart. As I do, my mind wanders to the same place it always does: Alodia. 

Alodia. My ideal friend. I conjure up an image of her beside me. She would be pretty, like all the most popular girls at school. I summon a small, pale figure with blonde hair, big blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. I talk with her in my head as I wander the aisles of the library with the return cart. I can picture her cheeky smile as clearly as if she were really beside me. I have spent many years getting the details of her perfect. Early incarnations of her were dark-haired. Green-eyed. Taller. I drew pictures of her. I wrote down her description in a private notebook that I kept under my mattress. But she never felt as real as when I wrote her with golden blonde hair and sapphire eyes. 

She laughs at all my jokes as I work the rest of my shift. I forgot to eat the chips I bought, and I’m hungry enough now to start feeling dizzy. ...Alodia would invite me to dinner at her house. A huge, fancy house with a pool, where a chef would have prepared a gourmet meal. 

“Don’t worry about Sam,” she would say. “If he gives you any trouble, I’ll fight him off.” ...Because Alodia would be fierce. A fighter. Alodia was a hero. A hero who loved me unconditionally. 

Alodia was never meant to be my lover. I wasn’t looking for a lover when I first dreamed Alodia into existence, which is probably why I always imagined her as a girl. I could scarcely imagine having a lover before I had a friend. That was what Alodia was to me. A friend. A friend who would always love me. A friend who I could tell my secrets to without judgment. A friend to fight for me and protect me, who saw value in me, and needed me back. 

But my friend is a fantasy. And when I leave work and Sam corners me in the encroaching darkness, Alodia vanishes…

...I wake up with a gasp, bolting upright in the darkness of my room. Beside me, Varyyn grunts in his sleep and rolls over, the moonlight reflecting off his blue skin. I stare at his sleeping form for a moment, trying to take stock of myself. I’m shaking. My pajamas are damp with sweat. I feel cold. I feel sick and empty with fear. I don’t exactly remember what I was dreaming about, but one thought keeps echoing in my mind: Allie. I have to find Allie. 

I slip out of bed as gently as I can while I’m still trembling. I don’t want to wake Varyyn. As I slip into the hall, motion-sensitive lights plugged into the sockets near the floor illuminate my path. My dream is still hazy, but bits and pieces trickle back as I shuffle down the hall with my hand on the wall. I was alone. Allie didn’t exist. It was a timeline that I have all but forgotten, and it felt entirely too real. 

I need to find her. Or at least evidence that she still exists. The door to the nursery is slightly ajar, enough that I can see the soft glow from the lamp on the bedside table. I peek through the crack in the door and relief floods through me. Allie, bundled up in her robe and slippers, sits in the rocking chair with River in her arms, gently rocking back and forth. I exhale slowly. I should go back to bed, but I am not ready to let her out of my sight yet. I start to push open the door. She gasps a little, looking up sharply. 

“Oh, Diego!” She smiles at me, settling back into her chair. “You startled me.” 

“Sorry,” I whisper back. “...Did I wake up River?” 

“No. I just fed her, so she’ll probably be out for an hour or two.” She looks up at me as I come to settle into the armchair across from her. “...What are you doing up?” 

“...Bad dream,” I admit. “...About...about you. I had to come check on you or I was never going to get back to sleep.” 

I half-expect her to joke about me being a creeper watching her while she sleeps, but instead she sighs. “...I kinda know the feeling.” 

“Yeah. I bet you do.” 

“You wanna stay up with me for awhile?” 

“Yeah. But I feel like I should be telling you to get some sleep while you can.” 

“I probably should be sleeping,” she admits. “...But I don’t really want to let her go.” 

There’s not really much I feel like I need to say to that. I understand. I don’t think there’s anyone in this house who doesn’t empathize with that feeling in one way or another. Especially now. 

“...Diego…?” 

“Yeah, Allie?” 

For a long moment, she doesn’t say anything, though her mouth opens and closes a couple times. Then, she swallows and takes a deep breath. 

“...I love you. I love you, and I love Jake, and Raj, and all the Catalysts…” 

“We love you, too, Allie.” 

“...When you imagined me. In that other timeline. When I didn’t come to be until the Island...did you ever imagine my future?” 

I can’t help flinching. Her words feel like a cold pinprick at the top of my spine. “...Allie...I...I don’t really remember that timeline…” 

“I know. I know. But...it happened. It existed. I was once born to be what you needed. What all the Catalysts needed. ...But now...now I have River. Someone new who needs me. She needs me more than any of my Catalysts.” 

“I...I think that’s true,” I say slowly. “...We all love you, and we want you with us. But River is your child. She’s helpless and new. She needs your love and your care and your guidance to survive.” 

“...I’m scared, Diego. I’m scared by how much I love her. I’m scared by how much she needs me.” 

My earlier fear is being replaced with concern that is entirely for my friend.  “...Allie...are you okay? Is this some kind of postpartum depression?” 

“I don’t know what this is, Diego. I know that I love River more than I ever thought I could love anyone alive. I would have torn myself apart for my Catalysts without hesitation. I gave up my existence to give my Catalysts the world. ...But I can’t consider that anymore. Because River needs her mother.” 

“Oh, Allie. That’s not a bad thing. None of us want you to tear yourself apart.” 

“I know. ...But I am afraid of what happens if the world asks for it. ...If I end up at the Threshold again, or a new Raan’losti…” She looks up at me. “...Diego...I think I have to face what’s in the pool shed.” 

I feel my blood run cold. I know what’s in the pool shed. The collection of objects that were left for us in the Crystal dimension when we went to rescue Tahira. Including…

“...Are you sure?” 

She nods. “...It was left for me to find for a reason. I have to touch the Andromeda idol again.”