#so i might get hung up on the colors and take longer to post it

[gifti3]

good news i finished my grim drawing

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[itsjustaoreofan]

" I like a tall women with a nice big ass".

Yuji had a type. There was no doubt about it . So when he learned about the second year with everything a boy his age could ask for he had to shot his shoot. I mean who wouldn't? The way your clothing hung tightly to your body. How you always smirked when he looked your direction. Don't get me started on training! He would always lose if you were near.

Sukuna would laugh at Yuji calling him "Pathetic" or a " Simp" . You had a smile that would light up any bad mood. You were funny but didn't take anything bullshit from people. And who his knees weakened as you flirted with him. Your voice smooth like the night sky leaning over him . Who could blame him. You we're perfect from the way your eyes shimmered to your toes curling as he pounds you greedly in a empty class.

"Y-yuji slow down". You tired to speak but anytime he went back in it felt as if your guts were being rearranged. God he was big to big if you ask me . Your brain was becoming fuzzy you were gonna cum again. He was over stimulating you , you could break at any moment. His warm body presses up against you has you both sweat and moan with only one thing on your minds. Pleasure~

I-i'm sorry Y/N ahh~ f-fuck I'm close just a little longer . Can you hold on for me ? Please~ . Good grief how could you say no to that face. He might have a monster cock but he was a flustered mess. His face almost the same color has his hair. You could tell he needed more. As the pre-cum oozed and dripped on the desk , you felt something different build up inside you. Did you have to pee? Nah, before you could even warn you Yuji a clear substance squirted out of your body. ....You had squirted for the first time .

Yuji's lustful eyes closed as came all over your body. You couldn't help but lick some up . Just that sight made Yuji hard again. " Come on baby let's do it again a wanna see you squirt pleaseeeeeeee . I didn't even know you could do that". He says laying kisses on your neck . It's safe to say you weren't done just yet!

YES YUJI IS AGED UP! first time writing smut kinda scared to post . Heheh

[joequiinn]

Cirice | E.M. x Death!OC blurb

Eddie wakes up in the Upside Down, undead and trapped. A Reaper of Death begins to take a particular interest in the undead man who doesn’t belong...

[ for context: ramblings pt one | ramblings pt two ]

I make absolutely no promises that this will go anywhere because I am the slowest and most forgetful writer on the planet, but I thought maybe I would just post a lil blurb experimentally? Get some thoughts since I'm not very good at editing my own work? Also uuuh Death is an OC now instead of a reader insert because it became too complicated to write once I realized the scope of my ideas soooo... (@ali-r3n in case you were interested 👀)

Word Count: 1.2k

Can't you see that you're lost? Can't you see that you're lost without me?

Waking from the dead in the Upside Down was not on Eddie’s 1986 bingo card. Hell, if someone had suggested the concept of the Upside Down to him only a week ago, he would have looked at them like they were crazy. Places like this weren’t real. Shit like this didn’t happen. Especially not to Eddie Munson.

But this was very fucking real, and it did happen to Eddie Munson.

Eddie willingly ran into danger, into the arms of death for the sake of Hawkins, a town that never gave him anything, a town that came to hate his guts. This sacrifice was Eddie’s final act to save his friends, to save Hawkins. To save the damn world.

So, why the hell was he… alive?

Was he alive? Despite the obvious smattering of bites and lacerations that adorned his body, Eddie felt no pain, no lingering aches. It sure felt like his chest was rising and falling with breath, like he still had blood pumping through his veins. And yet… something felt very, very wrong. An unsettled air hung around Eddie, his mind wrapped up in an unidentifiable sense of dread. Something wasn’t right.

The Upside Down hadn’t been quite so frightening when he had friends by his side. But now, it felt colder, harsher, cavernous and empty. Every direction Eddie looked seemed like an endless dark, hissing and whispering with the promise of something evil. The Upside Down felt less like a sad replica of Hawkins and felt more like a dark, endless void.

Vulnerability washed over Eddie like a chill. As he took in his ominous surroundings, he felt like a small, lost boy, a child abandoned in a sick and dangerous world, helpless to find his way.

From where he was, presumably, left to rot by the demobats, Eddie carefully looked all around himself, afraid that he might see something terrible. Or worse, something terrible might see him. The Upside Down was void of any activity, any commotion, any life. It was haunting to see it oh so quiet.

Eddie looked down at himself, at his ripped up and tattered clothes. He could see his skin beneath the fabric absolutely littered with deep cuts, damaged and sure to scar terribly. He wondered how bad his face looked in comparison. Again, it struck Eddie as odd and deeply unsettling that he felt no pain. As he studied his hands, he realized just how ashen and washed out he looked - nearly the same color as the dead bodies he’d seen in shitty horror movies. An uncomfortable pang hit in his chest at that realization.

But he was breathing, he was still alive. He had to be, considering that he was consciously sitting here at this very moment. He had to be, right?

And yet, something within Eddie knew that he was no longer what he used to be.

-.-. .. .-. .. -.-. . -.-. .. .-. .. -.-. . -.-. .. .-. .. -.-. . -.-. .. .-. .. -.-. .

This place should not have existed. This pocket between worlds - this disruption to the cycle of life and death - went against all logic, even the flimsy logic of the afterlife. This tattered, disgusting, offensive mockery of the living world was strange and unbelievable - all creatures of the dead despised this place, were appalled by it.

But despite all that, Death was drawn like a moth to a flame.

This false world and its impossible wonders called to her as if in yearning; its sadness and misery spoke to her cravings. If she had a soul, it would feel a longing for this pathetic world.

Time passed differently for psychopomps. As beings beyond life and death, time was never relevant to their eternal existence. Psychopomps led the fallen to the afterlife, they hunted the living, they killed purely for the fun of it - what place did the passage of time have in any of that?

There were many Deaths of the same name, the same title. Perhaps they followed different paths, perhaps they had varying focuses, but the constant still remained - they were all Death. Of course, one might encounter variation - some referred to themselves as Reapers, others as Banshees, maybe Bone-Men, or even the Devil. But many had always been simply Death.

The particular psychopomp drawn to the world between worlds never referred to herself as anything other than Death. She never thought much on her existence, how she came into being, what her purpose was. She didn’t remember anything prior to this existence. She didn’t know if there was anything to remember. There were all sorts of legends scattered about the underworld and the afterlife, tales told by demons and reapers alike - there was a widely held, but not so far proven, belief that they were all something before becoming Death, but no one knew what exactly that something was.

Once this Lady of Death began exploring the impossible pocket between worlds, she found herself pondering her existence a little more often. Considering that this strange place shouldn’t have existed in the first place, it made her wonder what other paradoxical things could happen, what other unfeasible things could be true. Death wasn’t the only one drawn to this place, of course, as a variety of other harbingers of death also began to visit this uncanny mimicry of the living world. However, she did find it to be a remarkably good place to think, something that she didn’t exactly get many opportunities for - no, as a reaper, there was little time to pause and be left alone with one's own thoughts.

Death found herself often visiting this Undead World, as she took to calling it, taking the opportunities to contemplate the cycles of life and death, of infinite life and infinite death. And once she began to visit the Undead World, Death found it to be utterly fascinating.

First came the boy. A tormented child, trapped in the throes of unknown dangers, suffering day and night at the hands of demons beyond his greatest nightmares. Unfortunately, he got out.

Next came the girl, not quite a woman, undergoing absolute agony upon her arrival to the Undead World. Death hadn’t seen her in quite some time, so who’s to say whether she lived or died.

Perhaps that was why Death kept returning - between its many stretches of quiet, the Undead World would momentarily come back to life with utter chaos and woe before quieting down yet again.

Those moments of chaos, however, were mouthwatering.

Recently, the latest bit of excitement to come to the Undead World was absolutely fascinating - a whole party of mortals entered the world willingly, found their way into this place that had no right to exist. When that happened, it was almost as if the Undead World sent out a signal, calling out to Death to announce the latest arrivals. She wasn’t the only demonic creature to pay the world a visit, desperate to see the torment that would unfold.

And yes, it was glorious, the violence, the mortal foolishness and determination. Of course, curiosity came when it appeared that the mortals defeated the creatures that dwelled in the Undead World.

What did mortals want with a forsaken world like this? Why come willingly, why fight the native creatures of this disgusting place? The lives of mortals were an amusement to behold; humans were full of surprises, and Death relished in it.

She shouldn’t have cared why the humans came, shouldn’t have even paused to consider the circumstances. But the curiosity was overwhelming, her need to know almost consuming, so vastly out of character for her.

And then, she found her potential answer in a body left behind, a body that appeared dead, but wasn’t quite so...

[duskyashe]

NaNoWriMo Day #5

[masterlist]

Today's prompt is a bit different, instead of Danny Phantom × Batman/DC, it's a Star Wars one! Prompt found here

Also, sorry about that false post, I hit the wrong button by accident...

============‹«⟨★·•·★·•·★⟩»›============

There were rumors one would hear, sitting at the bar of a Tatooine cantina, of a Mando hiding out in the Wastes, protecting a foundling from the Imps (or the Hutts, depending on the version). You won't find him wearing armor, you won't find him in a blaster fight, you won't even find him taking up a bounty. Some might contest that he isn't a Mando at all, but those who know more about Mandalorian culture than just their battle prowess and ruthlessness know better. Ben Kenobi of the Wastes may have exchanged his armor for white tunics and brown protective cloaks, he may have hung up his blasters, but he clung to the one core tenant of Mandalorian culture that every Mando worth their armor sticks to. Children are the Future. This is the Way.

============‹«⟨★·•·★·•·★⟩»›============

It started slow. For a few years, the rumors passed around were just rehashing the old, by now familiar story: Imps (or Hutt goons) would run into Ben in the market (or a cantina), a heavily pointed conversation followed (or not, sometimes a fight broke out before words were spoken), and once the dust settled, Ben was the only one standing. But then one day, someone came looking for Ben specifically. It was a Togruta Mando wearing blue and orange armor with a short black cape edged in gold over one shoulder. They'd asked only for knowledge of how long Ben Kenobi had been on Tatooine, and nodded at the given answer, almost as if it had been expected. They asked a bartender to tell Ben that Snips and Rex were looking for him and could be found just outside the settlement's borders. After confirming the bartender would pass along the message, the Mando left without a backwards glance and no mention of how long they'd wait. When the bartender next saw Ben, they passed the info along, getting mildly worried when they saw how affected he was by the names. Ben thanked them, though, so they shrugged it off and went about their day. It was out of their hands, after all.

From that point on, though, Ben started getting visitors, other Mandalorians, generally clad in some mix of blues and oranges, but eventually more color mixes started showing up, too. There were Mandos in black and green, Mandos in browns, some in eye searing shades of yellow, a few with red stripes on primarily blue armor, the list went on. Some followed Ben out into the Wastes in their ships, others came and went, returning every so often with riches beyond the stars. Occasionally one or two would show up with a child or young teen in tow and settle down for a few months before heading back into the black. Sometimes they'd return with an older teen or a young adult with weary eyes and too many scars.

After a few months of this, something else happened. A couple desperate souls had seen Ben interact with a few of the more well known freedom runners while in town and decided to risk it. Two weeks later, a Mando in cheerful yellow and earthy green passed a grandmother an encrypted note that read, "Your brothers walk the skies." It was the first time since the grandmother's early childhood that she shed a tear. So word got out, and more slaves slowly started running to the Wastes. No one ever heard from them again, but every time someone took the risk and ran, two weeks later, a Mando known to interact with Ben would pass one of the grandmothers a note reading the same thing. "Your brother/sister walks the stars."

By the time Ben Kenobi had been a resident on Tatooine for nearly twenty years, the majority of the desert planet was Free, with only a few slaver strongholds left, though they weren't expected to last much longer. A lone hut on the outskirts of the Wastes was now the central hub of a bustling Mandalorian enclave, with force sensitive young being taught alongside their force null companions. And still, the word spread. If you're looking to slip your leash, run to Tatooine's Wastes. Ben Kenobi will set you Free.

============‹«⟨★·•·★·•·★⟩»›============

Ben wasn't sure how it happened, exactly. He never planned to become a freedom runner, nor did he expect to start an entire settlement full of Mandalorians and Jedi alike. He quite meant to live the life of a desert hermit, watching Luke from afar and paying for his sins and shortcomings. Somehow, that wasn't what happened.

"Ben! There's some droids here to meet you, they say they have an urgent message they need to give you! Want me to send them in?" Luke called from outside Ben's office.

Ben sighed. "Go ahead, Luke, now get back to your studies already! You can't exactly become a bounty hunter if you're falling behind in your marksmanship course, now can you," he admonished.

Luke opened the door, and Ben was struck yet again by how much the boy looked like his parents. His father's hair, eyes, and nose, his mother's height, smile, and heart. "Will do, and don't forget! You promised to teach me the next set of Soresu after lunch!" And off he went. Ben smiled. Ahhh, the wonders of youth.

A chirp and trill brought Ben back to the present as a cold weight settled in his stomach. In rolled an astromech, a familiar astromech, followed by an equally familiar protocol droid.

"Dear heavens, are you sure we're in the right place, Artoo? Oh, I would so hate to have come to the wrong place, that would simply be the most horrible—"

Ben stood up and cleared his throat. Both droids came to a stop just in front of his desk. "Hello there."

Artoo let out a greeting and extended his holoprojector. The recording that greeted him made his heart drop.

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."

============‹«⟨★·•·★·•·★⟩»›============

Daaaaang this did not want to be written! I swear, every time I went to work on it, my brain would blank and I'd be left staring at a blank screen (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)⁠・⁠・⁠・ not to mention my false post earlier (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) oh well, I still managed something halfway decent today, so I'm not too upset, y'know? (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

I might not be able to write out a full ficlet for day 6, my day is kinda packed, but I'll try my best! (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠) If nothing else, I'll post some rambles about a story idea or prompt ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ y'know, something simple.

Y'all are seriously too kind, I love y'all so much o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o have a good day/night/morning!

[mel-0n-earth]

BG3 February Writing Challenge: Day 1

Day 1 (SFW, except one or two sentences are NSFW): What was Tav doing when they were abducted?

Link to the original prompt list

[Using this as an opportunity to plot out some backstory for a nonbinary Tav for the Kar'niss fic I'm brainstorming. Enjoy :) ]

Sunshine gleamed blinding over the pristine blocks of limestone lining the Upper City’s manicured streets like so many rows of straight, white teeth. The sun hung white hot from the cloudless blue sky, pouring radiant rays of heat onto the city below. The only shade to be found consisted of bleak shadows clinging to over-trimmed trees, all frighteningly identical to one another. The very air smelled sharply of soap and freshly juiced lemons.

Kai couldn’t stand it. The brightness, the sterile perfection of it all. It was difficult to believe that anyone actually lived here amidst the immaculate aisles of townhouses and fountains spouting pearly blue water. They’d seen at least two picturesque flocks of white doves since they crossed the bridge, yet the whole district was utterly spotless. It seemed even the birds saved their shit for the Lower City.  

Besides, all the sunshine hurt Kai’s eyes. That was one of the shit parts of having a deadbeat drow for a mother. At least dear old dad had the good sense to be humor, or Kai would be burnt to a crisp in this sun. They could practically feel their sclera cooking like eggs inside their skull. How much longer were they going to stand around out here?

“Getting impatient, Rahim,” Kai drawled, fingers tapping their bicep.

Their partner didn’t move an inch, or so much as spare them a glance. He’d been sitting like a statue on that bench for what must have been over an hour now, solid as a gargoyle, and perhaps just as frightening, with that craggy scar of his raking a diagonal across his tanned face, black hair pulled back into a bun and beard trimmed short. Even his dark eyes hadn’t moved from whatever distant spot they’d been studying since they got here. Kai might have thought him under a holding spell, if it weren’t for the glaring sparkle of sunlight catching his earring every time he moved even the slightest bit.

“Rahim?”

“We just got here, Kai,” he said in his usual cool tone. “What’s got you all twitchy?”  

Kai rolled their shoulders—a nervous habit. “Nothing. Just don’t like it here. Too damn clean.”

“There’s a nice thorny rosebush ‘round the corner if you want to squat for a piss. Hells, I’ll take a whole shit in it if you’ll hold still for five damned minutes. You’re drawing attention to yourself.”

Kai frowned at a saccharine house across the street, its latticed windows framed by painted window boxes stuffed with yellow tulips. “Your guy should’ve been here by now.”

“We’ve got time. Last thing we want is a rushed job.”

“Maybe, but why I haven’t seen a single Fist since we hit this street.”

“This is Upper City, Kai. Most Fists are posted in our neck of the woods.”

Kai nudged Rahims calf with their boot. Finally, he turned to face them, his brown eyes melted to amber honey in the sunshine. The color was made all the more striking by the kohl lining his lids. It gave Kai pause. No one should look that beautiful, especially smarmy rakes like him.

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd?” Kai asked, fingers digging into their arm.

Rahim’s lips quirked up, softening the hard edges of his sea-worn face. Kai steeled themself against the devilish look he only wore when he was busy reading them like a book. “What, you nervous? Looking for some reassurance?”

A breeze drifted by, and Kai caught a hint of the familiar saltwater scent that clung to his skin. Fuck, he even smelled good. Damned pirate bastard.

They looked quickly away. “I don’t trust this new guy, is all. Never worked with him before.”

Rahim turned his attention back to the distance. “Plan’s all his. If we want our cut, we better play along.”

“Yeah? Would love to hear about this plan of his.”

A muscle twitched in Rahim’s jaw, then he smiled. “All in due time. Just trust me on this one, love. Have I done you wrong before?”

Kai tilted their head back. The white hair over their neck was damp with sweat, and the shaved side of their head felt ready to blister under the sun. “No,” they conceded. “Just…got a weird feeling. Can’t quite shake it. Like something isn’t right.”

Rahim rested one rugged hand at the small of Kai’s back, fingers slipping beneath their shirt to brush the sensitive skin there. “Easy there. Should be a quick one, in and out. When it’s done, we can have some time to ourselves, eh?”

Kai shifted, but said nothing.

Rahim breathed a laugh. “See, nothing but cheek, until I talk sex, then you melt like butter.”  

“I might actually melt if we have to stand here any longer. It’s hot as the Hells out here.”

Rahim’s eyes darted to the other side of the street. Something flickered in his eyes that Kai couldn’t recognize, jaw tensing. “Hells indeed, speak of the devil…”

Kai followed his gaze across the street, only for their eyes to be immediately assaulted by yet more gleaming light. It was a dragonborn. A fucking copper one, light dancing off his scales in a a blinding dazzle. A headache started to prick at Kai’s skull.

“You’re kidding me,” they muttered to Rahim. But the damned handsome pirate didn’t say a word. He simply followed the dragonborn’s approach from beneath darkened brows, heel tapping against the foot of the bench.

The dragonborn regarded them both with acid-green eyes and a flick of their scaly tail before approaching the bench, hand outstretched. “Rahim,” he hissed in a voice that was unmistakably lizard-like.

Rahim clasped the proffered hand. “Cadmus. You’re late.”

The lizard—Cadmus, apparently, flashed him a toothy grin. “Apologies. Our decoy required a few finishing touches.”

Kai lifted a brow. “Decoy?”

Cadmus’s passed his gaze over them, eyes narrowing. “A drow?”

“Only half.”

His reptilian mouth approximated a frown. “Male or female?”

“If you’re wondering whether to call me a bitch or a bastard, either is fine with me.”

“I need to know for your uniform,” he intoned.

Kai gave them a bewildered look. “What uniform?”

Cadmus cast a glance at Rahim. “You didn’t brief them?”

Rahim gave a noncommittal tilt of his head. “Thought I’d let you do the honors.”

The dragonborn swiveled his head to check that no one was listening, even though the street was nearly empty, then gestured for them to follow. Rahim rose from his bench without question. Kai frowned, but made no argument as Cadmus led them to a nearby alleyway. At least they were in the shade now.

“The two of you will be retrieving an heirloom from the Jannath manor,” Cadmus explained. “My sources tell me the family just fired and replaced half their staff after the Lady’s lover disappeared. A perfect opportunity to pose as new hires.” He angled his chin at Rahim. “The Hells hath no fury like a lover scorned, no?”

Rahim’s lips thinned. “You think either of us will pass as servants?” His dark eyes slid to Kai’s—pale purple, like most surface drow. The color of lavender, he’d told them one night, sharing a pillow while his cock softened inside them. Like the sea at sunset.  

“So long as you’re dressed the part, no one will notice a thing.” Cadmus insisted. “But the uniforms…” he looked back to Kai. “Males wear pants, and females wear skirts. Which would you prefer.”

Kai rolled their eyes. “Pants, obviously. You think I want to do a heist in a skirt?”

Cadmus inclined his head, then reached clawed hands into the pack slung over his shoulder and produced a set of clothing—nothing exquisite, but far finer than anything Kai had ever worn. They resisted the urge to reach out and touch the supple material.

“Who’s this decoy you were mentioning then?” Kai asked.

“Not who,” Cadmus corrected. “What. See, we’ll be stealing this.” He spared another quick glance around, then opened his bag so Kai could see.

Kai frowned. “A necklace?”

“Not just any necklace. This one is gnome-made.” He pointed a single talon to each detail as he named it. “Rubies set in gold and silver, with a dewdrop diamond at the apex. See the flowering detail? It was popular a few hundred years ago, and just came back into fashion. Should fetch a handsome price.”

Kai leaned in, squinting at the sparkling stones where they lay limp in his pack. “So this is a fake? Could’ve fooled me.”

The dragonborn’s maw split into a toothy smile. “That’s the idea.”

“So, how are we going to do this? Rahim?”

Rahim blinked, as if waking from a dream, then rubbed a hand over his thigh. “Ah, right. It’s just going to be you and me. You’ll watch the door while I run in. Once I grab the necklace, we make a break for it.”

Kai gave him a skeptical look. “What’s the catch?”

Rahim’s mouth pressed into a flat line.

“The catch,” Cadmus cut in, “is that the Jannaths have the jewelry box alarmed. The moment Rahim opens it, they’ll notify the guards. Hence the false necklace. Once Rahim has the real one in hand, he’ll lay low while you draw the guards away with the fake.”

“And what happens when I get caught with the fake?”

“The gems are made of glass,” Cadmus said. “They should break quite easily, and there’s no law preventing you from carrying a false reproduction.”

Kai chewed their lip. They were a good liar, but it would be a hard sell. Still, Cadmus was right—even the fake necklace looked like it would be worth a fortune. If they pulled this off, Kai might never have to sleep on a street again. Hells, they might be able to afford to sleep in a room with a door that locked. They could finally spend the night with Rahim without having to worry about someone walking in on them, or watching through a crack in the wall.

Kai turned to Rahim, who had remained uncharacteristically silent. “Well, what do you think?”

His eyes flickered to theirs before falling to the limestone brick beneath their feet—those damned pretty eyes. “I don’t know, Cadmus,” he said slowly. “Hearing you say it just now, there are a lot of cracks…”

The dragonborn gave him a sharp look. “Fastidious words for a man of so many debts.”

Kai pursed their lips. Rahim had never mentioned debts. They liked to gamble over cards every now and then, but he never had much to put down.

Still, if he owed someone a large sum, it would only spell trouble further down the road. Better to nip it in the bud now, for both their sakes. After all, he’d gotten Kai out of plenty of rough patches. It was their turn to return the favor.

“So,” Cadmus said, “Are you ready to begin?

Kadmus heaved a sigh, then met his acid-green eyes unflinching. “Yep. Let’s make it happen.”

***

The servant’s uniform turned out to be more comfortable than Kai expected. The undershirt was made of linen dyed a dark shade of indigo, the vest and pants fitted but breathable. Cadmus had guessed their measurements rather well. Rahim’s, on the other hand, seemed to fit too tightly. He wouldn’t stop pulling at his sleeves and collar, even well after Cadmus left them to make their way to the manor. When they were about a block out, Kai finally gave in to the urge to slap his hand away.

“Stop that, will you? People will think you have lice or something.”

His expression went taut, eyes fixed straight ahead to the busy street before them, chock full of well-dressed nobles and carefully maintained walkways. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just not used to wearing this sort of thing.”

“Well, get used to it. You’re good at blending in. Just…try to look like you’re really good at pretending you love to wipe someone else’s ass for a living.”

Normally, that would have at least cracked a smile, but Rahim merely clenched his jaw a little tighter.

“What’s up with you?”

Finally, he turned to look at them, and something in his expression caught Kai off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Why didn’t you tell me you had gambling debts?”

His expression turned to stone. “What, were you going to offer to pay them off for me? With what coin?”

Kai bristled at that. “Fine then, don’t tell me.”

Rahim regarded them for a moment, then sighed. “Look, just got a bit reckless with my money is all. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“So long as we get paid, right?”

His throat bobbed. “You don’t have to do this on my behalf, you know. Could still bow out if you wanted.”

Kai thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Could. Don’t see why I would. If things go south, just drop the damned jewelry and run. We’ll ditch Camdus and find someone to fence the fake. Or we’ll find work elsewhere. Either way, I’ll make sure your debt is paid.”  

Rahim turned his attention back to the path forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as they walked the final stretch to the Jannath’s manor. He didn’t say another word until they’d rounded their way to the back of the building where the servant’s entrance was located.

“You’ve got the decoy?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

In lieu of an answer, Kai pulled open their pants pocket so he could see the false rubies glint in the sunlight.

He heaved a sigh and nodded. “Alright then. Listen, I don’t care what Cadmus said: They don’t have to catch you for this to work, alright? Just lead them away. I’ll clear out fast as I can, promise.”

Kai’s mouth ticked up in a smile, and they leaned in to press a quick kiss on his lips. “You worry too much.”

Rahim regarded them with a burning stare, then tilted his head down to capture their mouth in another kiss, this one longer and more sensual, his tongue pressed warm against the seam of their lips. When he pulled back, Kai followed, almost tempted by the notion of abandoning this entire scheme and finding a shed to rut in instead. Almost.

“Bye then, love,” he hummed against their ear. “See you on the other side.”

He turned to slip inside the manor, never once looking back.

***

Kai’s boots collided hard with the pavement, like sparks rattling the grill of a stove. Sweat poured down their brow, and they could feel themselves sweating through the thin fabric of their shirt. The uniform’s vest had long been abandoned, dropped in the middle of the street as a bread crumb for the Fists to follow as they pursued them through the city. They’d taken the bait, and managed to track Kai all the way to the harbor before finally meeting them at a dead end.  

Really, Kai had let them catch up. Despite Rahim’s assurance that they didn’t need to get caught for the plan to work, they just couldn’t resist a chance to rub it in the Fists’ face that the goons had no grounds for an arrest. While Kai sprinted through the streets of the Gate, they’d pictured themselves smashing those glass rubies, proving that for once, they were the picture of innocence.  

But of course, something had to go wrong.

See, Kai had the whole thing planned out. They would run to the end of the dead end street, look up with pretend horror at the unsurpassable wall blocking their way, then slowly turn to the guards in pursuit, hands thrust in the air as if they’d just played their last card, only to pull one more from their sleeve when they least expected it.

“I didn’t steal anything, I swear!” Kai said, voice trembling with mock fear.

“Tyr’s bleeding arse you did,” one burly guard spat back. “Empty your pockets and we’ll see.”

It was only then that Kai let a sly smile spread across their face as they pulled the necklace from their pocket and dangled it in the air between them, giving it a quick jingle for good measure. “Is this what you were looking for? Well, too bad. It’s just a fake. See?” The necklace fell with a clatter to the stones. Kai lifted their leg, and delivered a decisive strike to one of the overly large rubies with the hard heel of their boot, the force of it enough to shatter glass.

Except it didn’t shatter.

When they lifted their heel, the necklace remained intact.

Confused, Kai lifted their leg again, ready to strike another blow at the trinket, but then they felt the Weave slither like a serpent around them, and their body came to a standstill.

“That’s enough of that,” came a familiar, lizard-like voice.

Kai couldn’t move a single limb. They didn’t even have the wherewithal to grimace past the spell’s hold as Cadmus appeared from amidst the throng of guards. They could only watch as the dragonborn fixed them with a smile that bore disgusting resemblance to the cat who got the canary, toothy and predatory. With a delicate hand, he reached down to retrieve the necklace from beneath their foot, taking a moment to study it in the sunlight before turning back to the guards.

“Well, I must commend the Flaming Fists for a job well done,” he crooned, the words dripping like poison from his scaly lips. “It seems you’ve caught the thief after all. I’m sure Lady Jannath will be pleased to see such a fine heirloom returned to her after being parted for so long.”

Kai felt their heart seize in their chest. What did that mean, “for so long?” They’d only just stolen it today.

Cadmus passed the necklace to one of the guards, who regarded it with a skeptical look.

“Everything should be in order,” Cadmus insisted. “Note the initials near the clasp? They belong to that of Lady Jannath’s great grandmother, the original owner.”

A few of the guards exchanged glances. “It certainly does appear to match her description.”

“I imagine the family will have no trouble confirming the provenance,” he continued. “After all, it is a rather unique item. The thief must have been quite the fool, to think they’d be able to sell such a recognizable piece. Even the most reckless fence wouldn’t dare take it on.”

Kai felt anger boil over in their chest. The pieces were falling into place. Of course something like that wouldn’t be easy to unload. And if the necklace was stolen “so long” ago…This wasn’t a heist—it was a setup.

It all made sense now—why Cadmus had approached a couple of lowlife thieves for an Upper City job, the need for a decoy, why Rahim had been ready to jump out of his own skin all day while claiming it was an “easy” job.

Rahim.

Kai could see him then—that edged look in his eye when he looked at them, the way he’d frozen up at the mention of a debt, how he’d offered them a way out at the last minute, the way he’d kissed them goodbye. He knew. All this time, he’d been planning to sell them out, and Kai was so busy staring at those pretty eyes, they hadn’t even seen it…

 All those nights, they’d spent together, all that sweet talk about lavender eyes, all the times he’d called them “love,” as if that word ever meant a fucking thing to him. It was all a baldfaced lie.

Kai wanted to scream, to tear their way through the circle of guards with their bare hands and come out bloody on the other side, to stalk Rahim to whatever dark hole he’d crawled into and demand an explanation, then rip his tongue out through his ass when it inevitably fell flat.

And to think, Kai had almost convinced themselves that bastard actually cared about them, fuck, loved them even. Shows what they knew.

Kai felt something hot fall over their cheek. At first, they thought it was the start of another spell. Then their vision started to blur, and they realized they were in fact crying. Having no control over their muscles, the tears simply came until they were streaming down their face. Gods, they must have looked pathetic.

Then, as if the day couldn’t have gotten any worse, a scream resounded from the next street over. Kai only just managed to slide their eyes up to witness the strange, hulking almagamation of flesh and sinew screaming through the sky before it brushed one of its slimy tentacles across their tear-streamed face.

They couldn’t even suck in a frightened breath before the ground fell away, and the world went black.  

[pbandjesse]

And with that. We have concluded wedding day three. Where I was the hostess with the mostess and talked for about. 8 hours straight. It was a beautiful day.

I went to be pretty soon after I finally got my post up last night. We struggled getting it to upload but soon enough it worked out. And we were able to rest.

I did spend a little time fussing and feeling hurty. But mostly I was tangled up with James. We keep changing "Married married married!!!" And it's very silly. But we got to sleep and it was not bad sleep at all.

I woke up when James did but I dozed longer. They were up and dressed and heading over to get out car. We were hoping to beat the marathon and avoid that hassle. But we would not be so lucky.

First issue was all the scooters James found weren't working correctly. So they had to basically run to our place. I was trying to get washed and dressed and was a little upset and just asked Jess and James and Dante to please ask each other questions and not me as a middle man. I put my phone down and got a shower. And that made me feel a lot better.

I got dressed and felt amazing. Like I loved my wedding look. But it was for sure "a look". I absolutely love this dress and will for sure wear it again. I may dye it or look for another color on eBay because I love how it fits and it has pockets. I felt great all day.

But then James couldn't get back to me. I feared that when I heard a cop outside yelling at a car because the runners were coming through.

So I packed duo everything I thought we wouldn't need when we go to DC tomorrow. All our wedding clothes and anything I thought might be dirty. And I headed down to find James.

I had to walk a little while. Back to where my old apartment is. But we found each other. And then we booked it to the car.

We thankfully only got mildly thrown off course by the marathon. James was worried about our severe lack of gas but we would make it work. And we got to the grocery store pretty easily all things considered.

James was very anxious and stressed. But I really wasn't. I was able to feel so much more. Present today. Like yesterday and Thursday I was very much present in the sense that I was there in the moment and my brain wasn't wandering anywhere. But today I felt my emotions more. And I felt. Just so happy. Like we did it. It was stupid expensive. But it went off so perfectly? Like there were only like two things that weren't exactly perfect. And that is okay! No one noticed or cared. Everyone just felt happy.

And that's how I felt. So I tried to calm James down by speaking frankly to that. I'm not stressed. And I think it helped.

We did our quick grocery run. And then we were off to the park. And that was totally fine getting there.

We got to our pavilion and very quickly started unloading and I really was so thrilled with how things would come together but it would really take some time.

Jess and Dante pulled up right after us basically. I had gotten the table cloths down. And they jumped in to helping. There were balloons to be blown and poms to be made and things to be hung. And it would take a while.

Eventually Matt would come. Jess and James went back to our apartment because we needed a few things and they made a few thermoses of coffee to share. And while they were gone I hung all my hammocks and that was such a good call. They were super popular all day. Matt even got to go in a hammock for the first time.

The day was long. Slowly people would trickle in. Callie was supposed to bring us tape to stick up the poms but she ended up getting lost. And so Matt helped me work out some string and then Dante and Evan helped hang them up. And as we were finishing that James's aunt and uncle and my parents were all coming in! It took us almost two hours to set up, with some breaks, but it all came together.

And I really had a blast. It was much much calmer today. But I was super chatty. I tried to talk to as many people as I could. I missed some. But I thoroughly enjoyed every talk I did have.

But the best was catching up with Joanna. It would be throughout the day. But for the first half she mostly hung out with her boyfriend and my parents. My dad was being a social butterfly and it was just so nice to see.

I did hang out in the hammocks for a bit. Both with and without James. I had a veggie dog. I had a donut. I had chips. And really I just had a great day.

James would play Frisbee and someone pulled out a mandolin and a guitar and I had brought the karaoke mic (that I pretended to be a comic on throughout the day) so they all were in the field singing. Eventually dad asked to be pushed out there and he sang with our friends and I honestly could cry it was so sweet.

I would spend so much of today just. Being happy. Jess was also talking to people and I was very proud of her. She really was such a huge support and I am so thankful for her. I hope she had fun today but I know it was a lot to be social for three days. So she would tap out at 2. Completely understandable. I was sad she was going but I wanted her to go home and be safe and rested before she goes to the renfair tomorrow. I hope she has the best time.

After she left I was sort of just. Talking to everyone. Throughout the day we would have people come and go and new people arrive. More food came and lots of hugs and photos and laughing.

There were even kids there and the games we brought were a huge hit. Apparently Cate, Charlotte's roommate, loved our mini chair stacking game so much James let her keep it. I hope she cherishes this gift of very small chairs.

I really enjoyed meeting Paul's parents. Who gave me huge hugs. And we're so sweet. And Estelle from the bmi and her husband came and brought a big gift! I wonder what it is. We actually got a whole bunch of gifts today. And that was just. Really amazing. I didn't expect it honestly. I thought people would just get things from our registry but we are going to have things to open when we get home on Tuesday.

I ended up having a super long conversation with Joanna. And I honestly wish it lasted longer. We could have gone for hours. I tried not to just talk about me. But I had so much I wanted her to know. We also just ended up talking about stuff like cults and memories of church and how her church experience was different and the times I came to her church and was like 'calvary is bad but this is. A cult' but honestly looking back it was just different and weird to me as an indoctrinated child.

But we couldn't stop talking. Eventually her boyfriend Greg joined us. And then Paul's fiancee Sam. And I was. A lot. Like I always am. If you let me I will just talk and talk. If you respond positively I will put on a performance essentially. And I explained that too. That I mirror, that this Jesse, the big personality is not an act, but it is a performance. This is performer Jesse. This is the most authentic me, the me I am when I'm alone, but I have to pull her out. And it's exhausting. It is a lot to keep this up. And it's something I do only when I really feel comfortable. But the performance can change depending on the crown. You know?

And that's why I have two best friends who did not like me at first. Who I didn't like. Because my performance can be a lot for quieter personalities and I don't enjoy change when I can't control it (or at least understand it) and so it caused issues. But they realized I wasn't to much, and I realized they weren't to bad. And I found the other parts of me in them.

And for real. If James and Greg didn't pull us apart I would of stood talking to Joanna for hours. Talking to her was like coming home. I am so lucky to have her back. I truly hope we can foster our friendship again.

Joanna and Greg left. And I ended up talking to Sam about wedding stuff more. They are in the thick of planning. And I really hope they talk to us because I very much want to help however I can because I have done so much research. And would love for it to be useful still.

But James was like. We have to go! It's getting late. James and the guys had cleaned everything up while me and Joanna were talking. And it was time to go.

We had to get everything in the house. And pack our bags to come back to the hotel.

This was difficult. I was very very tired. And hungry honestly. James did a great job giving away all the food. But I wanted something.

Dante helped us get things in the house. Talked about wedding gifts. And then James made me quesadilla. I ate that whole I opened some mail and they put things in the correct rooms, to be delt with later.

We packed our totebags (because our backpacks were in the hotel still) and headed out.

The walk was hard only because my feet hurt. But James carried both our bags and we got here pretty easy.

But when we got to our room I still couldn't find my wallet and I was pretty upset. Like I was sure it was in my backpack. But it was not. And so James decided to go back home to look while I tried not to be super upset.

Jess distracted me with all the videos she took. And I made my first wedding related TikTok. All about Thursday. And that literally took so much time. James would find my wallet and get me a drink and a snack and get back here and I still wasn't done editing it. The new edited on TikTok sucks. I hope it get easier to edit the length of the clips but we will see going forward.

Now though it is late. I am dehydrated and exhausted. I still need a shower. But I am just so happy.

Me and James sat and opened a bunch of cards and people were so kind. Matt gave us two free frosty coupons. And Diaz gave us a baseball card. Love our friends.

Tomorrow we are going to DC. To stay in another hotel. And go to a bunch of museums. I am so excited.

Thank you to everyone who wished us well and I love you all. Goodnight! Stay safe!!

[kaimukiwahine]

A long ramble post while I go Pokemon Go-ing

I remember hearing somewhere how you draw is a reflection of yourself. Guess my way is very thin lines, neutral colors, have a billion layers/folders/draft layers, scratchy? I don't know what can be said.

Can only say that I, no matter how much shenanigans and bullsheitery I spout out on the daily, am very much timid and shy. Try to not stand out too much but still want to get along and be noticed. Don't want to tread on anyone. Always needing a safety net because I have no self-confidence.

Friends, especially some new ones I just met from the Militsioner community, say my style is wholesome and comforting. And I'm really happy to hear that because it is the opposite of what's happening "upstairs". I know sometimes or all the time I fall back on darker things but I try to counterbalance it out.

(diving into more dark topics, opt out if you're not in the proper headspace)

Never shy away from saying I have been in a bad headspace multiple times. Can date way back to my senior year in high school and picked up after my first semester in college. But it was just small push and pulls. Though I'm more reflective now because it's hard to believe same time three years ago, it was the start of a constant struggle on wanting to be alive.

Not gonna dive much into it here, feel free to ask if you want, but I didn't receive any help or support for a long time. In other people's views, it wasn't an issue but had so much happening. Thesis, school, work (and searching for post school work), and now my home environment felt unsafe due to a single person who does not respect me nor my family, heck even our neighborhood.

Police calls were made, and brushed off. I reached out to friends, received the generic answers and responses. One just straight up left me after taking me to our campus health crisis counselors. Parents and family, I'm being overreactive and need to stop. Psychologist/psychiatrist, nothing they could do and I wasted my time waiting and hoping for them to do something.

Even my doctor just added more fuel to the inferno. Met them a day after my birthday and was told to hurry up and do the birds and bees. My body is not getting younger and I'm a ticking time bomb before I can no longer reproduce. Continued to press why I wanted to not alive which I had no answer. To give me a response that I wanted to cripple myself for attention and for people to become my servants.

Can't begin to count how many times I thought of chugging bleach or any chemicals we had in my lab. Every thought that ran through my head when I held a knife. The belts hung on our bathroom door could be made into something and it's so easy to lock the door. This went on everyday for almost two years. And all I was given was bottle of anti-anxiety pills, a cup of "just grow up and deal with it", and a deep spiraling mind that just wants everything to stop.

But, gladly it is all in the past. The person is no longer here. I don't have that doctor anymore (she might have been fired because what she did was not an isolated thing). And I am in a slightly better headspace but I am still grappling with things as this whole thing ended at the start of 2023.

Started this long ramble with art and how it reflects the person. Art was all I had to keep me grounded. Had my To the Moon comic and thankfully the TWH AU blog came around just four-five days prior as I planned to stop on my birthday.

I could have drawn the dark things in my head but I wanted to be happy and make others happy too. So I'm happy that people are happy when they see what I draw even when I am not fully happy just yet.

tl;dr: I draw. I cry. I thought of and almost not-alived. But I am slowly building back up.

Hoping to get a shiny ultra beast :pray:

[princessdreamie]

DBH part 10

Character references: C: Chance, Fa: Fabian (one of C’s friends & an actor from Na’s favorite show), Na: Naomi (K & J's daughter), Br: Chatty/Bratty (N's & Ct's Daughter, but bratty fits her way better if you ask me lol), Mel: Melody (Fa's girlfriend), Mi: Mindy (one of Na's friends), Lv: Levi (C's childhood friend & one of the Stanton Grand kids)

'Today no one really stood in Focus of the story so i didn't have a need to color their names'

The group decided to go home. Fa asked Mel if she was alright, worrying that she might have even less self-esteem. He was astonished as she just burst out laughing. If it hadn't have been for the girls and Na's honesty forwards her cousin she probably wouldn't have such a good time.

But unlike Mel, who was having a good time overall, C was peeved. C asked Cl to drive Mi to her home, much to the wild child's displeasure. After dropping her off, C was not sure if he wanted to inform any of the girl's parents, knowing that it would just end in chaos. So he asked Na if she wanted to tell her parents or rather stay around her 'boring' cousin (talking about himself).She chose to stay with him a little while longer. She started to get along with Se since they started to watch the same show.

The next day at N's company

N still was tired from the day before. She was worried about her daughter after not finding her in her room. They wouldn't allow her out after Br met with C. Somehow Ct caught wind of it and grounded her for a week. The teenager didn't take the punishment well. The reason why she was punished? E called her parents after he hung up on his son prior. That's why the 3 of them agreed to keep C and Br separated for a while so things can cool off with these 2.But that didn't stick and she got even more in trouble.

Then some more work stuff yada yada.*Again, I was never a fan of the business nonsense in the novel and I won't make an exception here either. Not like the original made any sense itfp. Just pretend it is something you think would make sense. Or not. After all, they never really made sense in the original. Nor would most of them ever be mentioned again*

After N finished up, all she did was talk with Ct on her phone.Some filler nonsense like they usually do.

At the airport

Bu was standing next to a stranger while he was glaring at his parents. Ct told him that he was himself to blame, while N nudged her husband to tone it down a bit. Br was there as well and gave her brother one last hug before their departure. Br's house arrest was lifted for the day to see her brother off, so he could go to that program St recommended. None of them were happy but they had no choice.

Not long after there were sightings of the Stanton boy leaving the country on a plane. Some comments flew around, saying that they should celebrate and stuff. Ct & N took the top searches down within an hour so not much harm was done for their family.

C and S still found those posts and were mixed with their opinions. S was sad for her friend/cousin but she knew that she shouldn't meddle with things that aren't about herself or her kids.

C just got a feeling of relief. No more nonsense from his step-cousin and much less trauma for the kids in Na's school. Although Lo was still present in class, he hardly had any control over their past victims.

Evening in the Ferguson home

E & S were getting ready for a night out for their anniversary. E had planned a casual dinner and after that movie in a newly opened cinema. S wanted something simple and not anything too flashy, unlike E usually would have wanted. But before they left, C and his 2 little sibs handed them the presents C prepared days before. E was pleasantly surprised that his son remembered his favorite wine. And S loved the bag they gave her. After the 2 finally left, the 3 leaned back and relaxed while watching some movies on their own.

Se & Ll fell asleep/turned off for the night very soon and were snoozing away. C put both on the sofa for them to sleep for the night. As he was about to rest as well, he got a message on his chat. Looking at the name he smiled.

'Can't wait to finally see you tomorrow.' He started to write back.

'Me too, Sandra.'

[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

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

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

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

Day 5–11:13am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s here… isn’t he?

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

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

This… this is a taunt.  

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

“You okay, Nerida?”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something catches your eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

—Bong—

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

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

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

One o’clock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes you a second.

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

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

“Ma—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Commotion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crib—he forgot the crib—

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

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

***

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

[thepenultimateword]

i know you just posted it, but part 2 of My Mistake?

Here’s a sandwich 🥪

*Monch* Thank you! 😊

Part One

CW: Medical supplies and drugs (sort of, their medical)

Villain swiped the packages of loose medical supplies to the van floor and settled Hero across the backseat.

The red and blue vigilante thrashed their head from side to side, sobs reduced to pathetic whimpers. Tears had a hard time escaping the confines of their mask, and growing wet spots darkened the fabric around their eyes a deeper shade of red and blue like a brightly colored raccon.

"Do you happen to be allergic to nitrous oxide?" Villain asked slowly.

Hero stared at them blankly from under half-lowered lids, still whimpering and hissing their breaths. Was anything even reaching at them at this point?

"Laughing gas?" they clarified anyway.

Their eyes cleared just a little. "I-I'm not..."

"Good. I'm going to give you a little, for the pain and the stress." Hero might have protested, but if they did, Villain didn't hear it. They were already in motion, sifting through medical supplies, ripping open packages, and hooking an oxygen mask to a nitrous oxide canister. Leaning back over Hero's wet, bloodshot eyes and barely contained agony, they realized something. "I'm going to have to remove your mask."

Villain caught the smallest of nods. Hero must be in so much pain. The thought made their hands tremble a little as they worked their thumbs beneath the chin of the mask and carefully folded it away. A shock of stubborn half-flattened curls poofed out to the sides as they were freed.

Villian wanted to throw up.

“Geez, Hero, how old are you? Like 20?” They wanted to sound lighthearted, but it struck despairing instead. It was also weird using that name for a stranger, but Villain wasn’t sure what else to call them.

Of course, Hero's only response was the muffled breathing through the oxygen mask. And Villain hadn't really been looking for an answer. In fact, they'd rather not have one. As they slammed the van door shut and moved around to the front seat, they decided, for their own sake, that Hero must only look young for their age. After all, there were age restrictions to hero debuts now. The courts had made sure of that due to complaints of endangering children and endangering civilians by putting them in charge. The rules were strict: you must be at least 25.

They hit a bump and more medical supplies--bandaids, gauze, suturing needles wrapped in plastic, etc--tumbled off the dash and skidded out from under seats.

“W-why do you have all this stuff?” Hero slurred with some difficulty. One hand hung off the seat, clenching and unclenching like a habit they couldn't stop.

"Because I used to be a doctor. Professionally."

What was the use in hiding it? It wasn't like the world didn't already know. Crazy Dr. [civilian name], turned to evil after an incident at an orphanage, malpractice on a hero, stripped of their honors. They shook the thoughts away just in time to swerve a left turn through a red light. The echoes of sick feelings lingered a little longer, but they ignored them. Now was not the time.

Villain swallowed the bitterness and continued. "Now I just get stuff from suppliers and do what I can for the people here in the back allies."

“Are you going to help me?”

It sounded so pathetic. So hopeful.

“No. No, I don’t know anything about burns. I’m taking you straight to your agency. They have a hospital for you heroes, right?”

“Mmhm.”

“Good. They'll take care of you. You'll be back out there in no time." It strained in their mouth, but hopefully, Hero was too drugged up to notice.

They turned the van up a gravel side street, and the gates of the agency slowly appeared over the ridge of the slope. Villain sped up.

They reached the black iron bars in a couple minutes. Villain thrust the car into park before they'd even come to a full stop, the gears grinding concerningly and the whole vehicle giving a sick jerk.

They kicked open the driver's door and dashed to the backseat, the door thunking a little too loud as they slid it back. They were about to gather the hero in their arms when they saw their mask discarded on the ground.

Villain snatched it up and tugged it snugly back in place. "There. Never happened. Got that?"

Hero nodded woozily. It was possible they hadn't even registered what Villan said.

"You don't need to mention anything other than that I tortured you and brought you here as a sick joke, ok?" Villain repeated, scooping Hero off the seat.

They weren't sure what the agency would do if they knew Hero's identity had been compromised, maybe nothing, but Villain wasn't taking chances. It wasn't like they recognized the kid anyway. It would be a waste if the agency let them go because of that.

It would be a waste if they never fought again because of what you've done.

Villain ignored the thought and pressed the buzzer on the gates.

"Hey!" they shouted, putting on their best sadistic villain voice at the click of someone picking up over the receiver. "I have your precious Hero here! Thought you might want them back. They're a little more banged up than when I found them, but still good, right? A toy is still a toy no matter how you break it."

"We have a security team on its way," a cold voice boomed from the speaker. "You have ten seconds to set them down and retreat or you will be terminated on sight. If you try to take them, you will be pursued."

Villain threw out a scoff before following the voice's directions, retreating into their van, and driving to the lip of the hill. They paused just before Hero was out of sight, assuring that the group of security heroes really did take them inside before sailing away at top speed from a few well-aimed bullets.

A wash of relief rushed over them. Hero would be ok. They would never see them again. At least not anytime soon. Once Hero recovered and the feelings of revenge had properly settled in, they might meet again on the battlefield, but it would be different then. Villain would know better than to strike so severely, and Hero wouldn't be so innocent anymore. They'd fight properly.

Or so Villain thought until four months later when Hero showed up on their doorstep with a box of assorted cookies and a limp.

Part Three

[chinaaesthetic]

Chinese New Year! 新年快乐!

*please note that the information below isn’t celebrated by everyone in the same way. Some customs are more common in northern China rather than southern China and vice-versa.

How to wish someone a Happy Chinese New Year:

1. 新年快乐！Xīnnián kuàilè! - Happy New Year! (This can be used one the first day of the lunar calendar as well as the Gregorian calendar).

2. 新春快乐！Xīnchūn kuàilè! - Happy Spring Festival!

3. 新年好！Xīnnián hǎo! - Hello! (This is how you greet people during Chinese New Year).

When greeting or wishing someone a Happy Chinese New Year, many Chinese people wish their family and friends things like: “I hope you have a happy and healthy family,” “I hope you get a job promotion,” “I hope you have good fortune and pockets overflowing with gold.” Here are some examples:

4. 恭喜发财！Gōngxǐ fācái! - Wish you a successful and prosperous year! (This saying is known well because of this Chinese New Year song you can watch here).

5. 阖家幸福! Hé jiā xìngfú - Wish you a happy family!

6. 事业有成! Shìyè yǒu chéng - Hope you have a successful career!

You can watch this YouTube video or read this article to learn more about how to wish someone a Happy Chinese New Year!

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What is Chinese New Year?

Chinese New Year, also known as lunar new year or the spring festival, celebrates the first day of the new year on the lunar calendar. In 2021, this holiday falls on Friday, February 12!  This holiday is the most important holiday to those who celebrate this - its importance can be comparable to how Americans celebrate Christmas.

People have been celebrating Chinese New Year for about 3,500 - 3,900 years. It’s exact origins are unknown, but this tradition is believed to have started in the Shang Dynasty (1600-1049 BC) when people would make sacrifices to the gods and their ancestors towards the end of a year. However, the tradition was recorded and official during the Han Dynasty (202 BC - 220 AD) when Emperor Wu began using the lunar calendar. He chose to follow this calendar because it would let him know when second new moon after the winter solstice was.

Now, many Southeast Asian countries and people besides the Chinese celebrate Chinese New Year such as: Koreans, Vietnamese, Tibetans, etc. However, it is common to not see Japan celebrate Chinese New Year.

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Why do I keep hearing about the Year of the Ox/Cow?

Just like in western culture, there are zodiacs in eastern culture that the Chinese follow. There are 12 zodiacs, and these zodiacs follow a cycle of 12 years. Each new year represents one of the zodiacs. 

In order, they are: Rat/mouse, Ox/cow, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Sheep, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, and Pig.

2021 is year of the Ox/Cow - 2020 was year of the Rat/Mouse - 2019 was Year of the Pig... and so on. 

Because each zodiac has its own characteristics, they define a year. Chinese zodiac scholars have said in 2021, Year of the Ox, will be a flip-around positive change. They believe this year will be lucky and that it will be a good time to focus on love and relationships. People who are born in years of the Ox are known to have a lot of endurance, be calm and confident, but are also stubborn.

Just like in western culture, these zodiacs are believed to affect personality, fortune, etc, and instead of getting your zodiac by your birth month, you get your zodiac by your birth year. If you are interested in your Chinese zodiac, you can type in your birthday on this calculator and read about it.

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What happens during Chinese New Year and how long do you celebrate it for? Lantern Festival?

On average, Chinese New Year is celebrated for about 15-16 days (from about New Year’s eve to the first full moon). Preparations start seven days before New Years because stores and restaurants close and people travel to be with their families. Most students are also on their big break during this time - they get off from school around the beginning of january and go back after Chinese New Year. It should also be noted that Northern China and Southern China celebrate the new year differently.

During the preparation period, people go shopping for food and decorations. They also clean the house very well. If living in a different city than one’s family, many people will travel back to their hometown to celebrate with family.

During the New Year’s Eve period, the house is decorated with New Year’s decorations, and there is a reunion dinner with family at the host’s house. Out of all the dinners you have during the year, it is incredibly important you don’t miss this dinner, which is why there are so many issues with travelling during this time. At this dinner, you eat many lucky foods such as dumplings and fish. Also during this time, the older generations will give younger generations something called 红包, which translates to “red envelope.” These envelopes are filled with money and are only given on very special occasions such as new years and weddings. Friends give these to each other, but it is not common at all for a younger generation to give one to an older generation person. There is a custom where families stay up late to “watch over the new year,” which is called 守岁. Late at night, people also like to go to temples to hear the first bells of the new year ring because they believe it will drive away bad luck.

On Chinese New Year’s Day, fireworks go off, families cook and eat large meals together, sacrifices are made to ancestors, etc. (Fireworks are especially important because they believe it will make your business more successful.) One popular tradition you might know of is the dancing lion/dragon parades where people wear a dragon costume and parade through the city. Dragons are very representative of Chinese culture and are thought to bring luck to a community. Lions are a symbol of protection.

For about a week after the first day, most people go visit family and friends. A lot of times people will visit the other side of their family. For example, someone will spend most of the time with their mother’s side of the family during the new year, then during this week, they will go visit relatives of the father’s side.

After that week, most people go back to work. This is around day 8-10. Businesses, restaurants, and stores reopen, and many people leave their hometown to go back to jobs in the city.

Day 15, the final day of Chinese New Year, is the Lantern Festival. On this day, the first full moon of the new year happens. To celebrate, people will light more fireworks, revisit family, eat sweet dumplings (called tangyuan), and participate in the Lantern Festival. People release lit lanterns into the sky to honor dead ancestors. This is called 元宵节.

You can read more here.

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What foods are eaten during Chinese New Year, and what do they represent?

During Chinese New Year, many special foods are eaten, and these are foods that are considered to be lucky and to bring fortune into the new year.

1. Dumplings - represent wealth. Dumplings take hours to make and involve family help. They’ve been eaten for at least 1,800 years and are especially popular in northern China. It is said that the more dumplings you eat during the new year, the more money you will make.

2. Fish - represents prosperity and success. The word “fish” in Chinese sounds like the word “surplus” in Chinese.

3. Glutinous Rice Cake/Nian gao - represents success in your work (more money, better position). 

4. Spring rolls - represent wealth. They get their name because they are most often eaten during the Spring Festival which is CNY. This dish is more popular in eastern and southern China.

5. Oranges, tangerines - represents luck and fortune. This is originally a Cantonese custom, but many people grace their tables with citrus fruits. The word for “tangerine” sounds similar to the word for “good fortune” in Chinese.

6. Longevity noodles - represents longevity. These noodles are longer than usual to represent a person’s long and happy life. This is more commonly eaten in northern China. *It should be noted that these are mostly eaten on birthdays but can be eaten during the NY as well.

7. Sweet rice balls/tang yuan - togetherness in family. This food is eaten during the Lantern Festival, the last day of Chinese New Year. The shape and pronunciation is associated with closeness of the family.

8. Snacks - represent a sweet and pleasant life. Any sweet snack like dried fruit, candy, tanghulu is eaten during this time.

When it comes to food during Chinese New Year, there are superstitions about how foods should be prepared and what makes them lucky. You can read more about them here as well as here.

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What kinds of decorations are put up in houses during the new year? What do the colors represent?

1. Spring/door couplets - These couplets originated in the Shu era. As seen in the picture below, you post these on doors in couples - in Chinese culture, even numbers are seen as good luck. On many of these couplets are written wishes or poems for the new year. Each couplet should have the same rhythm and the same number of words.

2. Paper cutting - Translated as “window flower,” these intricate, red paper cutting pieces are placed on windows and often represent the zodiac of the new year or other symbolic animals such as fish, dragons, and phoenixes.

3. Upside down characters/Fortune - Many Chinese people during the new year hang up positive characters such as Fu, which means happiness and good fortune. It is written in calligraphy on a red piece of paper and then put upside down on doors and windows. It is hung upside down because the people want the good fortune to fall down onto them.

4. Red lanterns - These lanterns push away bad luck and are seen during both the Spring and Autumn Festival. They can be hung on trees, outside houses, etc. There are also many styles - they can come in many shapes and have symbols written on them.

5. Kumquat trees - As said before, citruses represent good luck and fortune. People place kumquats and citrus fruits on their tables or decorate their homes with small kumquat trees.

You can read more about decorations here as well as here.

Common colors seen during Chinese New Year are red and gold, but green can also be found.

The color red is not only dominate during Chinese New Year, but it is also very representative of Chinese culture as well. Red signifies fire, good fortune, and happiness. It is representative of good luck, keeps the holiday very joyous, and scares away bad spirits.

Gold or yellow is considered to be a very beautiful color. Gold symbolizes wealth, riches, and prosperity.

Green represents money, harmony, and growth. 

Though these are the most common colors, it should be noted that a color combination of green and red is considered to be tacky in Chinese culture. 

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What do people wear during Chinese New Year?

On the first day, it is traditional to wear new clothes and new accessories as it symbolizes new beginnings. However, there are people who like to wear sentimental accessories to respect and remember their ancestors.

Some people like to wear traditional Qipao/Cheongsam, Tang Suits, and Hanfu, but many people stick to western clothes like skirts, dresses, and pants. There is also a tradition of wearing lucky, red underwear for New Years.

Tang suits are the most popular to wear during the New Year, Qipao is also popular, but it is often too cold to wear during the winter months. Many people are starting to wear Hanfu again to celebrate the new year, but it isn’t widely accepted yet to wear during the new year.

During the new year, people wear a lot of red and gold. It is important to NOT wear mostly white and/or black. These symbolize death, and white is worn at funerals. Anything that is bright, bold, and upbeat should be fine to wear, but you should go for something that is red.

*If you want to wear something that is traditional Chinese for New Years, please make sure you know about cultural appropriation and know how to wear these properly.

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As there is so much information about Chinese New Year, I cannot possibly tell you all about it in one post. It is truly something that you must experience in your lifetime. It is very beautiful, fun, and there are so many things to do and celebrate. I ask you that you please research this more and look at all the beautiful pictures of food, lanterns, fireworks, etc. 

Please stay safe and 新年快乐！

[sparklingchan]

Ruby Eyes|| Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Changbin

Word count : 7.3k+ 

Warnings : Mention of an accident, cuss words, divorce, a single kiss.

Genre : Romance, Soulmate AU, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers.

Description: Seo Changbin has done everything in his capacity to remove and replace you, yet fate seems to have different plans for the both of you.

A/N : Hello everyone ahhh I know it’s been so long y’all. So many things have been going on including exams and internships and I just didn’t have the patience to write :(( This one shot was written as a part of a collab event by wonderful, dear Ro! 

I hope y’all like it!

"So, how's it being back, y/n?"

Your dad looks older now than he did the last time you saw him - probably two years ago, when you were leaving the country.

You missed him, really. You missed his warmth and his wisdom and how he was a sharp contrast to your mother, more calm and composed. Sometimes you wonder how your mother had even managed to get your custody after their divorce.

"Okay, I guess." You lie.

You didn't want your father to know how your feelings are all over the place, ranging from sadness to anger and longingness.

It's a weird thing to be experiencing such a cocktail of emotions when you'd convinced yourself these feelings had disappeared the day you left the old neighborhood, seven years ago. You had not felt any attachment towards the new neighborhood that you and your mother then went on to live for the next two years before you moved abroad for your studies. Yet you feel nostalgic now, as your father drives you through your old old neighborhood.

"How's mom?" He asks, taking a left to a road all too familiar to you, "Is she still going to therapy?"

You nod, "She's getting better, I think. The new country seems to have changed her. The therapy is helping too. She has many friends there now. "

At first when you were offered a job at one of the biggest publishing companies in the world, you were ecstatic. But everything soon died down when you found out you were posted at a branch in the country you'd left behind. It was your mother who'd convinced you to take it.

"I know you don't like being back, y/n." Your dad smiles sadly when he pulls over infront of your old house.The house that contains years of secrets, tears, lies and whispered confessions in front of the mirror stands in front of you, as grand and pretty as ever. It looks different but similar enough to make you tear up a tad bit.

"But I'm glad you're here. I really am." He says, "I renovated the house a little when you told me you were moving back. I hope it's okay."

You smile at the old man, wrapping your arms around him, "Thanks, dad. I missed you. I'm glad you're here, too."

He pecks your forehead, "I missed you, too, love."

Moving in doesn't take a lot of time since your dad had already set up everything. You just had to get some of your stuff and you were ready to kick start your stay.

That evening, your father leaves after making you promise to call him if anything happens at all and when the front door closes, you find yourself in the company of your old room.

You lie on your bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as you hum an old tune to yourself. And without meaning to, you find yourself thinking about him; The man you hadn't seen or talked to for a whole seven years. The man who'd tried his best to stay in touch with you yet gave up when you didn't reciprocate the same.

A horrific realization then dawns on you,

He'd obviously replaced you now.

The familiar clouds of grief loom over you, threatening to engulf you any moment now.

No. Not now, please.

Getting up from your bed immediately, you shake your head as you make your way to the mirror- the mirror that had encountered more honest tears and smiles and words than any human ever had. You stare at your reflection as tears escapes your eyes, the bright red iris of your right eye staring back at you when you rub your tears off.

You shiver.

"Shit, I forgot to wear the contacts."

Quickly grabbing your lenses from your bag, you put them on, concealing the scary blood red color of your right eye. You take two long strides across the room and pulling your favorite black hoodie over your head, you walk out of the door.

By the time you manage to leave the house, it's already 10:30 in the evening. A quiet calmness has fallen over the town, as the shops and restaurants near the market square slowly start closing up. Your feet are as if on autopilot, taking you to that one place you know would still be open; Yang's Café.

And rightly so, the smell of freshly brewed coffee reaches your nostrils when you walk through their main door, past the group of chatty teenagers waiting outside. This place hasn't changed much, you realize, the brown and golden hues of the place and the vintage coffee cups collection in the far corner of the Cafe are still the same. The only difference is that you're no longer here with your best friend right after school, you are here all alone on an evening too quiet for your liking.

"Y/n? Is that you?"

When you turn around to face the owner of the voice, you are stunned.

"Jeongin?"

Jeongin's family has owned this Cafe for three generations now, from his great-grandparents, his grandparents, his parents and soon enough it'll pass down to him. As a kid, you remember often playing with Jeongin at the park and teaming up with him during quiz competition. He was always sweet and always smiley.

But the handsome young man that stands in front of you doesn't resemble the Jeongin you once used to know, not even a little bit.

"What..what happened to you!" You exclaim, taking his face in your hands, "Where are the braces! And the specs and wow, would you look at the blue hair!"

Jeongin can only let out a few giggles as you continue squishing his face and complaining how big he's grown in only over seven years.

The customers give you weird stares but only the heavens above know how genuinely happy you are to see Jeongin, albeit the fact you almost couldn't recognize him there for a second.

"What have you done to my child?" You mutter when you've finally calmed down and Jeongin takes you to your seat.

"I have a mother, y/n, thank you very much," he laughs, taking a seat opposite to yours, loosening the Barista apron around his torso, "And I missed you too."

You attempt to pinch his cheeks but he is quick to dodge.

"So how have you been?" He asks through giggly breaths.

You sigh, "I'm good... I feel weird being back here, honestly but I think I'll get used to it soon. What about you?"

"I've been good. Graduated a few months back, now I'm working here full time." He ushers over a waiter, "What would you like, y/n?"

You don't even think for a second while responding, "An iced Americano, please."

The waiter notes your order and walks away before Jeongin pinches your arm teasingly.

"Ouch. What?"

"Old habits die hard, huh? You always used to drink an iced coffee whenever we hung out here. I am glad to see nothing much has changed," Jeongin laughs, "You and Changbin, too!"

That one name sends your entire mind into a frenzy. Changbin. Seo Changbin. The love of your life. The man who you wouldn't even go to school without, the man who had saved you from a terrible accident, also the man who probably no longer even remembers you.

And you realise, despite everything, your heart yearns for him, still- for you wouldn't be in so much pain at the mention of his name otherwise.

Jeongin seems to have noticed your discomfort because he immediately changes the topic, "Anyway, you have to try our new chocolate cake. It's heavenly, I'm telling you."

Your reason to leave the neighborhood wasn't a secret, really. It was public knowledge that your mother had blamed Changbin for the fatal accident you almost had.

You're grateful for what Jeongin does, and try your best to engage in conversations about the neighborhood and old gossip you'd missed out on. Yet all you want to do is drive out of the damn Cafe and find changbin.

"Y/n?"

Or maybe, Changbin will find you.

Behind Jeongin, you see the blurry image of a man that had once caused you great misery yet you had never felt as happy as when you were with him.

"Hi..hi, Changbin." You stammer as you see the said man walk towards your table.

The seven years have as if done some magic on him, because the Changbin that walks towards you in no way resembles your high school best friend.

With thick buff arms, new ear piercings and silver jewelry gracing his wrists and fingers, you have a hard time actually accepting the fact that Seo Changbin is really there, in front of you.

"Been long, huh?" He grins, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and somewhere in the depths of your conscience, you realize it might have been your fault. You'd done everything in your capacity to break apart from this friendship, ignoring his calls, changing your number, even going as far as blocking him on all social media.

So, did you really expect him to welcome you back with open arms when you had caused him so much pain?

Jeongin brings an extra chair for Changbin to sit on and soon, the three of you are talking, maybe not like the old, happy days but it's still better than nothing. Changbin looks at you everytime you throw your head back and laugh, your eyes squeezing shut as his heart clenches in his chest.

You are really back home.

"So what have you been doing? I told you guys about me." Jeongin says, stealing a bite off of Changbin's cheesecake.

"Oh..you know," Changbin giggles, the tip of his ears turning a light pink shade.

You raise your eye brows in confusion.

"Been busy with the wedding and all."

Your heart drops. "Wedding? W-whose wedding?" You try to laugh it off but it's very evident from the way you're gripping your glass of iced Americano that it has affected you. A lot more than you actually thought.

"I'm getting married, y/n," Changbin smiles, "I'm so glad you could be around for the wedding."

*

Your grief stricken self has not gotten up from the bed since last night and you're thankful to Jeongin for finally checking up on you or else you would have gone deeper into the spiral hole of despair.

"Are you really going to be like this, y/n?"

You hate being miserable on the very second day of your stay. You hate depending on Jeongin. But you can barely move without bursting out into tears,so it seems as though there's no better idea than have someone take care of you at the moment.

"I'm sorry, Jeongin. " You manage to speak when he places a bag full of snacks and drinks on the dining table, "And thanks."

Jeongin chuckles, "Don't thank me, just yet. Guess who wants to meet up with you?"

Your eyes widen for a split second as you sit up on the couch, "Who?!"

No, he wouldn't, would he?

"It's not the person you think, y/n. Calm down." He laughs, "It's Bang Chan. Your senior, you remember?"

Oh, yes, the infamous Bang Chan. Shy smiles, dimples, curly hair, angelic eyes. Yeah, you remember the school's heartthrob. Very clearly.

"I was talking to him this morning and he said he'd be very glad to catch up with you again." Jeongin settles beside you, "It's not a date, y/n. He's an old friend. It wouldn't hurt, would it? You can't possibly sit here all day long crying about him."

You open your mouth to argue, but only air slips out and you realise you don't have anything to defend your miserable state with. You knew this was coming; when you cut off all ties with Seo Changbin, you knew this was coming.

Jeongin is right; you need to go out and meet new people.

You roll your eyes before pinching Jeongin's cheeks, "Fine. Give him my number."

He responds by pulling your cheeks as well.

*

The first day of work is weirdly gut wrenching.

You hadn't expected yourself to be this nervous but here you are, muttering under your breath as you make way towards the office.

"You'll be okay, y/n," you breathe in, "You've worked hard for this." And breathe out.

A few more minutes of self pep talking and you see all your hard work and expectations go down the drain as you feel a few droplets of rain fall onto your head. You look up and the dark, heavy clouds greet you.

Bloody brilliant.

You see the office goers around you jog quickly to the nearest shelter but you're short on luck today as your gaze falls on your watch and you realize you don't have enough time to wait for the rain to pass.

So you grab your office bag, cover your head with that and make a run for it.

The sole of your high heel shoes dig into your feet and a throbbing pain shoots through your body, as you wince. Note to yourself - never wear heels to office again.

You also secretly pray to the gods that your contact lens don't get washed off. Turning up at your new office on the first day with a blood red iris doesn't feel too fun, really.

"Do you need a lift?"

You had been so busy running to your office that you don't notice when a black car drives toward you and the driver rolls down the window, offering you a smile.

Seo Changbin.

Your heart skips a few beats.

"Y/n, do you need a lift?"

You blink back to reality when he clicks his fingers in front of you, "I-I mean if that's okay with you."

Changbin smiles, pointing to the passenger's seat, "Come on in."

When you're comfortably seated in his car, using his spare towel to wipe off the water from your face and hair, his questions start-

"So.." He steps on the break when the traffic light turns red, "How have you been?"

You look at the digital clock displayed on the cars' LED, and sigh. You're late to work and you're stuck in traffic with the one man you'd rather not be stuck in traffic with. Brilliant.

"Good." Your eyes are focused on the cars outside the window, "You?"

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again, "Fine."

Fine? Just Fine? Shouldn't he be over the clouds, now that the wedding is finally around the corner?

"Okay.."

"Actually, I meant to ask you earlier, y/n." He turns to you, a gentle smile playing at his lips, "I am throwing a party this weekend. I'd love it if you could come by. And I could introduce you to her."

You sink back into your seat, biting your lip, wondering if you want to ever know who her is. Your peace of mind is more important than meeting your ex crush's fiance, right? And if you do end up going to the party, whom would you hang out with? It's not like you know any of his rich friends and cousins and there's no way you'd hang out with Changbin and the said fiance.

You are about to respectfully reject the invitation when a sudden, seemingly good idea pops into your head.

Bang Chan.

You nod, shrugging, "Okay. I'll be there."

You clasp your hands together as he continues driving and you look out the window, unable to suppress the bubbling excitement.

"Great, then." He replies, suspiciously.

*

The evening of the party finally arrives, much to your dismay, you find yourself seated next to Chan. He's just the same as the guy in your memory; a gentleman.

"You look pretty, y/n." He had greeted you as he held the car door open for you, "I'm glad we could meet up."

His words turn your cheeks into a darker shade of red but your heart doesn't beat quite as furiously as you'd expect it to.

Muttering a small thank you, you seat comfortably in the car while Chan drives towards Changbin's family's old Farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. You've been there before - during summer holidays, he would take you there with his family. That place was only filled with happy memories of sunshine, swimming pools, watermelon juice and bonfires.

You swallow the grief that comes along with these memories.

"Are we here already?" Chan pulls over in a familiar driveway not even ten minutes later, jogging up to your door and clicking it open, like the gentleman he is.

"Yeah, we're here." Chan smiles, "Very less traffic tonight."

You guys walk through the huge metallic gate, making your way through the main door of the house.

"Uh..." People are crowded mostly around the front door and in the front yard, so you and Chan have to push and squeeze your way into the Farmhouse. You hate the feeling of sweaty bodies pressing against you (or holding Chan's hand for stability) but desperate situations call for desperate measures.

"I hate it here." You mutter when you later find yourself by the pool side, swirling the drink that you don't even plan on drinking and looking at all the flushed faces having the time of their lives.

Thankfully, Chan happens to be on the same boat as you.

"I'm sorry I dragged you here, Chan. We could have just gone for a movie."

Chan giggles, "Hey, it's alright. I don't mind, I'm glad I could spend some time with you after so many years."

His eyes shine and dimples deepen.

You whisper, "Yeah, me too."

Chan is a handsome man, good at all kinds of sport, good at arts, very smart and intelligent yet there's a part of you that knows you'd never be able to reciprocate his flirtatious words. It's sad, really, but that's just how life is.

"Wow, those two seem to be having the time of their lives." Chan chuckles, pointing at someone behind you.

It's quite dark outside, the only source of light being a few decorative fairylights hung at random places haphazardly.

Hiding behind a huge, tall bush, you see a couple, kissing each other like it were the last day on the planet.

The guy's hands roam all over the woman's body and the woman is so loud that even you could hear her sighs and moans. When she pulls away to catch her breath for a second, Chan asks you, "You know her?"

"Nope. I don't know either of them."

You look away; what kind of creep looks at a happy couple like that? (Not a creep, just a lonely and touch starved person)

"Should we check out the dinner table?" Chan suggests and you agree with a nod, "I hope there's no crowd there."

As expected, there actually isn't a crowd there - there's only Changbin, sitting and nibbling on a pizza slice while scrolling through the phone.

The moment your eyes land on him, your feet as if stop on their own and your heart bangs furiously against your chest.

He's breathtakingly gorgeous.

By the time you debate in your head whether or not you want to sit there and fill your stomach, Chan has already made his way to Changbin.

"Hey, Bin!" He greets him with a smile.

Changbin looks at Chan with an unamused smile, the same one from your high school days, when these two were named the biggest rivals on campus. You wonder if somewhere deep in his heart, Changbin had still not let go of that rivalry.

"Hey, Changbin." You manage to whisper before sitting beside Chan.

He looks almost angry.

"You should have the pizza. It's good." He mutters, turning to pass you a slice of pizza on a plate, "Help yourself, Chan."

Yup, there it is. The Seo Changbin that would kill to be on top. You feel worse about dragging Chan here now when neither of you were having a good time.

"Thanks, mate. " Chan replies.

Your ears ring with the sound of approaching footsteps, and when a pretty girl comes walking in and takes Changbin in her arms, your heart stings. Like a fresh wound.

"Y/n.." Chan whispers to you as you watch the two collide in a loving embrace, Changbin smiling at her and running his fingers through her hair.

Your heart hurts at how happy and content he looks.

You could have had that, a part of you thinks, if you weren't such a coward, it would have been you instead of her.

"Y/n," Chan calls you again.

"What?" Your tone is harsher than you intended, "What happened?"

You think Chan is about to give you the whole it-is-time-to-move-on talk but he doesn't, instead he points at the girl and whispers,

"It's her. The girl we saw earlier."

The rest of the night is blurry to you, all conversations, all gazes, all thoughts just feel ....like an awkward dream.

"We have to tell Changbin."

You're sitting at Yang's Cafe at 1 am the same night, watching Jeongin's brother guide his staff to clean the place up.

"I agree." Chan says, biting the inside of his cheeks.

While you, on the other hand, are completely zoned out, staring at the glass of water placed in front of you and watching the droplets on its surface race each other.

"Y/n, what do you think?" Jeongin asks when you don't take part in their discussions.

You sigh, "I don't know. I really don't. As much as it troubles me that Changbin is being cheated on, I don't want to get involved in their personal relationship. "

"Let's not tell anyone for now, then. But someday in the future, before that goddamn wedding, we have to tell him. He deserves to know." Chan agrees.

You purse your lips and close your eyes.

Chan is right.

Changbin deserves to know the truth.

*

"So, how's it being back in town, y/n?"

"It feels good. Weird, but good." You smile at your old teacher, "How have you been, Miss Oh?"

Your teacher adds sugar to the cup of tea in her hands and then looks at you, smiling - the same old smile, except with more wrinkles now, "I've been good. I'm retiring next year so I'm glad I could see you before that, huh?"

You nod your head, "I'm glad too. The school hasn't changed much, unlike what I had expected."

Other than the addition of some new labs and libraries, and the change in color of the walls, everything was still the same. No place in this old school building feels foreign to you.

"Ugh, these administration people I tell you, y/n, they're cheap idiots. They won't spend a single penny on infrastructure unless it's absolutely necessary." She complains as you giggle in response,

"They've always been like that."

Miss Oh gulps some tea from her cup, "Anyway, y/n, I have a class now. I would have loved to stay and chat, really, but I'm afraid that might get me in to trouble."

"No issues, Miss Oh. Go ahead. I'll just roam around the school a little more though, if that's okay."

After Miss Oh leaves, you step out of her cabin and walk the familiar corridors, reminiscent of the memories you have here. Studying a few minutes before tests, bunking classes, running to class when you're late, hanging out with your friends- these corridors have seen you grow in love, in friendship, in life. There's absolutely nothing that could ever replace these memories.

Mindlessly, you wander around the third floor, walking toward the end of the corridor before stopping in front of an old door, way too familiar to not try and push open.

While a part of you tells you it might not be a good idea to go into that room again, there's also a part of you that thinks it's a bloody brilliant idea.

Pushing the door open, you walk into the old dusty room, sighing in relief when you see a particular set of letters still carved on the wall.

CB and YN were here.

You finally let your tears run free, as you crouch down to touch the letters.

Your heart aches at how much you miss Changbin being an important part of your life and how much you miss being his top priority. And your heart aches for Changbin, who is so in love with his fiancé and has no idea he's being cheated on.

You almost want to leave this town and go back to your mother, away from this terrible mess. Yet you don't find it in yourself to act on those thoughts.

Maybe, it is your fear of abandoning him once again that stops you. Or, maybe it is simply the unconditional love you harbor for him.

* Surprisingly, Yang's Cafe is near empty that afternoon.

"Did something happen, y/n? You look really worried." Changbin has his arms crossed over his chest, looking at you with a tense frown.

"Um..it's kind of complicated." You sigh. For a second, you see the genuine concern and innocence on his face, and you wonder if it is worth telling him the truth at all because it would kill you to see him lose his smile but then, his engagement band shines on his ring finger and your stomach turns unpleasantly.

He has to know. From you. In person.

"Changbin, that day at your party...I saw something. " You whisper, "Something I shouldn't have. I should have turned a blind eye really but I can't. My conscience won't allow it. I'm sorry, Bin."

"Y/n, it's okay, just tell me," he reaches over and wraps his fingers around yours, soft and gentle, "You're scaring me."

"Changbin, your fiance is cheating on you. I-I saw her kissing another man that night. Chan saw it too." You feel sick even having to say this to him, "I think you should confront her."

He sucks in a deep breathe, his face completely void of any emotions as he extracts his hands from yours.

"I know." Is all he says.

His eyes drill into yours, as if accusing you of a crime. He looks angry. Just how he looked the day you brought Chan to his party.

"Why are you still marrying her then?" You question.

He sits up straight, "Y/n, I wish I could explain. But I can't. I'm sorry. And please, stay out of this, okay?"

"Why? Why should I stay out of it?" Your voice threatens to break, "I cannot watch my best friend marry a woman who's not loyal. You deserve better than this, Bin."

A sarcastic chuckle leaves Changbin's lips as he taps his foot against the floor, "Let me correct you, y/n. You were my best friend. Seven years ago. You're not anymore."

Your heart shatters.

A part of you knows you deserve this after ghosting him for seven long years. You were the center of each other's world at one point of time.How could you have been so selfish to ever think that your absence and lack of communication wouldn't hurt him?

"Changbin, I'm sorry for everything I did okay. B-but I never stopped thinking or worrying about you. Even for one second. And I still do."

Changbin pushes his chair back and stands up while you stay frozen in your seat.

"It doesn't seem like that though. "

"What do you even mean!"

"Chan. I mean Chan, y/n." He grabs his phone and purse, "Goodbye, y/n. I hope Chan turns out to be a better friend than I ever did." With that, the love of your life walks out of Yang's Cafe.

And for once, he doesn't even look back.

* "Y/n, don't let go of my hand!"

Changbin is panting heavily, his voice shaking with fear as he desperately tries to hold onto you.

He should have known it would be a bad idea to play badminton near the infamous cliff in your town yet when you had showed him your innocent smile and pleading eyes that day, he just couldn't say no.

Your sweaty hands clutch his, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Your free hand grabs the rough surface of the rocky cliff to keep yourself from falling.

You want to cry; but you're too traumatized to even let out more than a few terrified grunts. "Y/n," he yells, "I'm going to try and pull you up one more time, okay?."

You don't even remember how you had ended up in this situation; one second you were happily giggling, playing badminton with Changbin and in the next second, you found yourself hanging by the cliff, praying for your dear life.

With all the energy he has left, he tries to pull you up onto the surface.

"Y/n, you have to free the other hand. Let go of that rock." He pants.

You shake your head vigorously, you know you would not survive if you let go of the rock, you'd fall thousands of feet below into absolute nothingness.

"Y/n, please listen to me." Changbin pleads, now crying, "Please. I'll catch you, I promise. I'll not let you die. Just..please."

Changbin sounds like he's about to give up and in all honesty, you couldn't blame him really. Everytime your eyes fall on what's beneath you, a part of you loses hope.

"Please, come on, y/n," he's still pulling at your free hand, while his right hand awaits desperately to grab the other hand. A mixture or sweat and tears grace his face, making him shine under the bright afternoon sun. Your heart aches at the mere thought of never seeing him again- your friend, your childhood crush, your partner in everything.

Well, here goes nothing then.

You suck in a deep breath and let go the Rock, immediately reaching for Changbin. He is quick to grab both of your arms and in one swift movement, he pulls you up onto the surface.

You fall onto his chest, "Y-you saved me."

Changbin let's out a sob mixed with a relieved giggle, pulling you into his arms.

Your eyes feel heavy, as darkness slowly begins to engulf your vision.

"Oh God, I am so sorry this happened, y/n. It's all my fault." He cries, rubbing your back softly, "I'm so sorry. I thought I was going to lose you, oh God. Fuck!"

You want to tell him that it was never his fault, and that you wouldn't even be alive if not for him but your body betrays you and your body goes limp against his.

*

"I'm not leaving this neighborhood."

Your hands rest angrily on your waist as your mom frantically walks from your closet to where the suitcase is spread open on your bed, shifting all your clothes. She dumps them inside the suitcase, not bothering to fold them even.

"You will do as I say! That Seo Changbin tried to push you off of a cliff and heaven knows what he might do next!" Your mom yells back.

You sit at the edge of your bed, trying to keep yourself calm, "Mom, I told you it was an accident. I fell because I was going after the shuttlecock and didn't notice the cliff. Moreover, why would my best friend want try to kill me!"

Your mom let's out a sarcastic laugh, closing the suitcase roughly. She looks at you with eyes full of contempt and a part of you knows that there's no point in trying to convince her. Her mind is already made. Yet you refuse to go down without a fight.

"You're just sixteen, sweetie. You don't know anything about the cruel world, " your mother sighs, "Rich people are not friends with anyone. Changbin may be nice to you but he only sees you as a pathetic poor girl."

"Mom, we're not even poor!"

"Yes, I know. But those filthy rich businessmen consider everyone below their economic status poor. His family probably doesn't like him being friends with you which is why they asked him to get rid of you."

You think of Mrs. Seo's face in your head, always smiling and always welcoming. You remember Changbin's sister and how she'd promised to let you borrow her dress for this year's winter prom. And you think about Changbin- his face, his smile, his passion for music and his protectiveness towards you. Why would these people ever want to hurt you?

"Mom, you're being ridiculous right now! Do you even hear yourself!" You stand up from the bed, now beyond frustrated.

She walks upto you and grabs your arm tightly, nails digging into your skin as you whimper slightly. "You will listen to me. I am your mother and you will listen to me. " she growls, "Pack the rest of your stuff. We're leaving tomorrow."

When she finally walks out your bedroom, your first instinct is to dress yourself in your black hoodie and track pants, and quietly slip out of the back window of your room.

The cold air nips at your skin, goosebumps slowly appearing on your arms and legs but you're too preoccupied to pay too much heed to it.

You reach Changbin's house and like always, walk up to the backyard and climb upto his room through the emergency staircase.

When Changbin hears knocks on his window, he quickly removes his headphones, "y/n?"

He walks upto the window and let's you in, his heart more at peace now than it's ever been the entire day. The guilt from the accident you had earlier was clawing at his conscience.

His room is mostly dark except for his table lamp. You notice the lyrics notebook lying on the table, open with some scribbles and random phrases on the pages.

"How are you feeling?"

You sit at the edge of his bed, cross legged while he kneels on the floor to get to your level. His hands find yours naturally.

"Fine," you swallow the tears that have been accumulating since you left the house, "Changbin, I- we're leaving tomorrow."

Changbin is taken aback; his heart shattering into billions of pieces at your words.

"Leaving? What do you mean Leaving?" his voice trembles.

You lick your dry lips and tell him everything your mom had told you earlier. When his face twists bitterly, a part of you wishes you'd held your tongue yet a bigger part of you wants Changbin to know the truth now; you didn't want him sending you off with lies in his mind and the fear of him finding out some years later just killed you inside.

"I'm so sorry, Changbin. Mom's just not been okay after the divorce." Your voice breaks when Changbin refuses to look at you, "I know she's speaking bullshit. But there's absolutely nothing I can do to change her mind, I've tried I swear. I'm sorry, Changbin."

When Changbin finally does look at you, even in the dim lit room, you see the tears glistening on his face, mirroring the ones that roll down your cheeks. "Why are you sorry, y/n? I don't blame your mom." He mutters, "It was partly my fault. I should have taken more care, I-"

You cup his cheek, "Shh. Bin, are we really going to spend my last night here crying and blaming ourselves? We might never see each other again."

The words sink deep into his soul, and he nods. He wills his tears back in as he grabs your hand tighter.

"Okay. What do you wanna do?"

You smile a little, "You're not gonna like it though. "

"Stargazing it is then." He giggles a little as the both of you make your way to balcony attached to his room.

It is quiet outside, unlike the noise in your head and you feel the calmness spreading to you when you look up at the stars.

Changbin brings a picnic mat from inside and spreads it out on the floor, along with two pillows and a blanket.

"We'll stay in touch, yeah? If you ever need anything, I'll be right here." He reassures you, lying beside you, hands behind his head.

You smile yet you cannot bring yourself to promise him the same because you know your mother would do everything in her power to push the two of you apart, even to the point of physically hurting Changbin. You would never want that so you'd rather distance yourself and let Changbin forget about you. And maybe, just maybe fate would be a little nicer to you and decide to bring you into his life again. Many years later.

He presses a soft kiss to your head, "You'll always be my best friend, y/n. I don't care how far we are."

It takes everything in your being to not repeat the words.

*

"Changbin, come on we're getting you to the hospital this instant, okay?" Mrs. Seo is furious next morning, running from room to room, looking through the list of doctors she'd saved just in case of emergency.

When she looks at her son, sitting on the sofa with one of his eye irises turning a glowing red, she is reassured that this is an emergency.

"How did this even happen, mom? I swear I didn't try to do anything funny with my eye." He murmurs, scared, "It feels so itchy, gosh!"

Mrs.Seo looks at him with concern just when the doctor picks the call, "Oh, hello Dr.Lee! Thank god you picked up!"

After his mom walks out of his room, Changbin quickly types you a text,

Binnie: Hey. Did you leave already?

Y/nnie: No not yet. We've stopped at the doctor's.

Changbin's eyes widen in alarm.

Binnie: What why?

You look at your face in the decorative mirror at the doctor's waiting room, one of your irises burning into a bright shade of ruby.

Y/nnie: Mom's running a cold.

You close the messenger app before he even replies, deciding to change your number and deleting all your old contacts as soon as you move into your new house. And as much as it hurt you, this one text turned out to be the last time Changbin and you ever talked.

*

It has been raining all day, which means you were stuck in your goddamn house with nothing to do but cry about Changbin and your lost friendship and your broken heart.

After you manage to get some food into your body during dinner time, you crawl back to your room and look into the mirror as you comb your hair and moisturize your skin.

(Self care is important, y'all)

Your red iris stares back at you, taunting your mistakes and calling you a coward.

If only you had still tried to keep in touch with him, if only that stupid accident wouldn't have happened in the first place, if only.

Suddenly, a knock on your balcony door makes you jump in your place.

Shit. Is it a burglar?

You grab the closest thing that could be classified as a weapon - which happens to be an umbrella.

The knocking continues.

"Y/n, it's Changbin." He yells, "Can I please talk to you?"

You freeze in your spot.

Why in the world is he here? Does he have anything worse to say? Is he here to invite you to his wedding? But why would he sneak in through the balcony when he can easily ring the main door bell.

"Y/n, are you in there?"

You quickly walk upto the door and slide it open, revealing Changbin, completely drenched in the rain. His wet hair stuck to his face and "Shit. What the- God, come inside!"

He obeys and tiptoes inside your room, a guilty expression plastered on his face.

You guide him directly to the bathroom and offer him a towel.

"What are you even doing here, Bin?" You lean against the door frame, hands crossed over your chest.

He is drying his hair with the towel when he looks up at you as if to answer your question but he stops. His mouth hangs open as his eyes remain glued to your face.

And that's when you realize why he looks so surprised.

"Shit- fuck." You turn around immediately, "my lenses," you mutter to yourself.

But before you can even walk upto your dressing table, Changbin has caught your wrist and spun you around, pulling you closer to his body.

"Your eye." He let's out a shaky breath.

"Yes, I know. Please don't freak out. It's always been like this after -"

"After the accident." He finishes your sentence, "I know."

Your mouth runs dry as his face draws in closer, "What do you mean you know? What do you know?"

He let's go of your wrist and takes a step back, turning around so that his back faces you.

And when he turns to look at you again, you swear you could have passed out there and then.

"Y-you have it too." You whisper, weak in the knees, "You have a red iris too."

Changbin gives you a small smile, "Yes, y/n."

"But why? What does this mean?" You say, "Is it a symptom of some chronic illness?"

"It's a soul mark."

"What's a soul mark?"

"It's a mark that exists on the bodies of soulmates."

You feel a pang in your chest; like someone was squeezing your heart out of your chest.

"Right," You fall back onto the bed, dazed with the sudden piece of information, "And how do you know all this?"

Changbin kneels down in front of you, hands finding yours. He looks more relaxed than he did since the first day you come back to town.

It almost feels like you had been given back your old friend.

"I've been doing my research, y/n. After you left, this is all I've been doing." He says, "This is also the reason why I had gotten engaged. By that time, I had given up on finding a soulmate. So I just settled for whatever I got. I didn't even feel bad when I found out my fiance was not in love with me. For the world, we might look like a happy couple, but truly, it was just a marriage of convenience for our parents' business."

You bite your lips wondering how to respond to these words. He'd laid bare his heart in front of you, something you never thought he'd do ever again.

"What now?" You say, tired.

He intertwines your fingers, "Also, I'm sorry for yesterday. I shouldn't have said all that."

You nod, "It's alright. I know you didn't mean it. And for the record, I and Chan have nothing going on."

"And for the record, I also broke off my engagement."

Your eyes widen as a gasp leaves your lips, "What? Why?"

"Because when I told my parents that I do not love my fiancé, and that I have only ever loved you, they said my happiness was more important than their business."

When you don't reply to his words, he looks worried, "Hey, you don't have to feel burdened to like me back and all okay? Literally, if you want me to leave you alone, I will. I understand-"

You pull him by the nape and place the softest, gentlest, most sincere kiss on his lips.

"I feel the same way, dumbass." You sigh as you pull him into your arms.

He muzzles his face in the crook of your neck, playing with your hair from behind, "So what now?"

"Let's start with a date." You say, "Let's take it slow."

Changbin wraps his arms tighter around you, kissing your cheek, "As you wish, my love. "

[luxwritesfanfic]

400 LUX

Sherlock wants to cut things off but the reader thinks he should really think it over. Or, the one where Sherlock isn’t one for saying “I love you”, but he has always offered you a sword. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You could hear the water running in the bathroom as you slipped down the hall to make coffee, your phone in one hand pressed against your ear as Mary went on and on about all the things that you two needed to do today and the other hand held your shear kit that you barely used. It was a few days  before the wedding and things were in full swing for you as Mary’s bridesmaid and Sherlock as the best man. Mary, God bless her, was having a breakdown every other day and it was all you could do to not to set her off by picking the red velvet with buttercream over the vanilla cupcakes.

“— and we need to go by the florist today, too, and I probably should stop by and speak to the DJ... and John, he’s not worried about any of it! He’s asking for tea and biscuits as if I’m not already balancing the most important day of our lives!” Mary was talking at a mile a minute and as she continued the never ending list of tasks she had set for the two of you, you began situating all of your supplies to cut Sherlock’s hair. He had insisted you do it before the wedding, and not even your lack of experience was enough to convince him to just go to the shop with John. Sherlock’s hair was something he took very seriously so you were unsure as to why he’d even ask you to do this.

Speaking of the devil, you rounded the hallway and started for the bathroom.

“One second Mare.” She didn’t miss a beat and continued right on talking once you muted her, and you wondered if this is how John felt talking to Sherlock. Knocking on the door before walking in, you fought through the steam to find a comb on the counter.

“If we’re going to be in here at the same time, you might as well join me.” Sherlock’s head popped out from behind the shower curtain, his hair and face sudsed up and glistening from the water. The longer you realized you had actually been thinking about taking him up on his offer, the quicker you knew that you had to get back to your task at hand and get out of the line of fire. You pulled open some of the drawers and rummaged through them.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d love that.” Hoping that the steam was thick enough to hide your growing blush, you turned back to the vanity and opened the mirror cabinet. “I need you to hurry up. Mary’s having a-“

“You would, too.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and that was enough to make you roll your eyes. Luckily for you, the mirror door was hiding your face from his prying eyes. Smug and darling as always, your man was. You snuck a peek at him and realized he’d moved back from the curtain and resumed washing his hair.

“Seriously, Mary will probably have a heart attack if I don’t leave within the hour. If you love me, five minutes.” You shut the cabinet and slipped out of the room to finally return to your phone call.

“Sorry M, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Sherlock is being Sherlock.”

“Now you’re really starting to sound like John. How’s his suit fit? Does he need any adjustments? That reminds me, I should call the tailor! Be a doll and bring something to eat on the way? Love you!” With that she hung up, leaving you in the dust trying to comprehend if she actually was speaking words or Simlish.

—

“Four minutes, fourteen seconds.”

You turned back to him while you gestured for him to sit down so you could wrap the towel around his shoulders. His hair was still pretty wet so you wouldn’t have to spray it much.

“What are you talking about?”

Sherlock only smiled to himself in response, and you figured he’d just moved on from that conversation already. Combing out small sections of his hair and clipping the rest up, you asked again.

“Are you sure you want me to do this? I really don’t mind going to your usual stylist with you. I don’t want to mess you up for the wedding.”

“Y/N, I told you already, if I’ve asked you to do it it’s because I want for you to do it. It’s only just a trim. Come on with it.

So you began at that, snipping away little by little. You had cut John’s hair for him a few times right before a date but his was much easier than Sherlock’s and it grew like a weed so even if you did mess up, his date could hardly tell. You told Sherlock all about your plans with Mary for the day and he seemed to be listening intently but you could tell his mind was wandering. You knew him better than you knew yourself.

Moving to stand in between his legs to trim his face framing pieces, you asked him about his plans for the day.

“Hm,” he started, resting his fingers tips lightly on your hips in front of him, tapping away as he thought out his answer. “Mycroft insists he has words for me, despite my telling him to keep them to himself, so I suppose I’ll be seeing him at some point. John is coming here to talk wedding...” which you were almost certain really meant a case, “and I want to tell Mrs. Hudson you’ve decided to give up your flat entirely to live here.”

You had just finished trimming his hair when he had said that and luckily so because you were sure you would have chopped off a lot more than needed being caught by surprise like that. Running your fingers through his hair to be sure you didn’t miss any sections, you contemplated what exactly was happening between you. You had never really brought up completely moving in even though it was true that you practically already did. You hadn’t slept in your own bed in months because you always chose the opportunity to sleep with Sherlock. Moving in seemed like a dream but you always had it in the back of your mind that one day Sherlock would have a change of heart and change his mind on whatever the two of you were, and you didn’t want to be without if that happened.

When he realized you still hadn’t replied to his request, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at you. “Is there really that much to think about? John said you’d say yes if I made it clear I was the one asking you to. Had I not done that?”

You couldn’t help but smile, because seriously, what could you have possibly done to deserve the opportunity to love someone as... well, Sherlock, as Sherlock. He was everything everyone said he was, but he had shown you willingly that he was also so much more. You’d choose the life with him, whether it was one of a house and kids and a white picket fence or if it was one that consisted of running around London in the rain because Sherlock swore he saw something suspicious and the only viable option was to run after it. You would choose him. Every single time.

Even with all of your declarations of love, you two had never said talked about the fact that you were definitely exclusively dating which often hindered a conversation of the future. You had told him you loved him more times than you could count but he had never said it back and you were okay with that. He didn’t have to reciprocate it for it to be true. But, it did leave room for doubt that this might not always be what Sherlock chooses.

You thought of all the ways you could bring it it up and realized that straightforwardly was the only way to go. You brought your hands from his hair to hold his face and rubbed your thumbs in slow circles and he relaxed on the spot. He was putty in your hands, as much as he hated to admit it.

“I just don’t want you to feel stuck with me. It’s a big step. And if it ends up making you miserable, I just- I don’t know. I don’t want to be the one to make you miserable.” Your voice was soft as you spoke and you realized that with Sherlock’s bangs being much shorter now, you got to see more of his pretty face. Although, currently, it was contorted as he worked through trying to comprehend what you were saying to him. Blinking away at you for what seemed like forever, Sherlock cleared his throat and took your hands from his face and into his own instead.

“I’m... not sure I understand. I don’t mean to be rude at your expense but if I wanted to leave you, I would. I could rather easily. Just as easily as you could leave me. But you won’t. And I won’t... I’ve tried to show you in all the ways I know how. So would it not make sense for us to live together?”

It slowly started making sense for you and you could slap yourself for being so blind. Sherlock had let you take the lead in a lot of aspects in his life recently that you couldn’t explain what for. He urged you to pick out the next case he would work, allowed you to pick out his new microscope (Y/N, they’re the same color. Pick one. I don’t know Sherlock! I feel like this one is cool grey and this one is light grey, it makes a difference!), and now you were cutting his hair, the most important part of his appearance from his point of view. He trusted you to make the right choice every time and there really was no right choice, your choice was the right choice.

You were pulled from your thoughts as you phone began to ring with Mary’s picture posted on the screen.

“Shit, I’m so late! She’s seriously going to kill me.” Your gaze drifted from your phone to Sherlock who surprisingly patiently awaiting your answer. “Tell Mrs. Hudson as soon as John gets back from holiday that you two will start moving my stuff over. And make a little space for me in your closet, okay? I need more than just a few drawers.”

Sherlock smiled at you like you like he did when you called him brilliant and that was your highest honor to date.

You expected the usual slick remark but he simply said, “You’ll have what you want. Mary will be calling again in about 30 seconds. You should really be hailing a taxi right about now.”

And there he was, the Sherlock you wouldn’t change for the world. You wished you had time to tell him to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine but alas, duty calls. You kiss him like you mean it- because you do, and rush off to your friend’s rescue but not without stopping in the doorway.

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes. But even more importantly than that, I trust you. I’ve had the time of my life fighting dragons with you and I’d happily spend the rest of my life doing it if you’d let me. It’s nice to know that you will. I just thought you’d like to know.”

Just like that, you turn his world upside down as you rush down the stairs, leaving him speechless. He thought his story was one that would be written about him and him alone and as sure as he used to be in that, he’d come to the realization that he was just as sure that two was better than one.

“And I, you.”

[calpalirwin]

Let The Walls Break Down

Summary: Calum gets over his skepticism

Word Count: 2.7k

And away, and away we go!

__

“It’s almost impossible. Love sucks. Don’t try it. It’s a scam.”

That had been Calum’s general thoughts on relationships since the two of you called it quits. The “almost” bit was in admittance that 1.) your relationship had been amicable from start to finish, in fact the two of you were still close with each other, and 2.) he knew love worked for some people, however he didn’t view himself as one of those some.

Being close to Calum post breakup meant you had a front row seat to the man’s brief stints at romance, which was a nice way of saying “endless stream of one night stands.” The flip side was he had a front row seat to your own count of nameless men. While in the beginning, the others in your friend group joked in hushed tones that it was an act on both your parts to stir up jealousy, the longer it went on without any animosity building up between you and Calum, the more the whispers died down until they disappeared all together. Because the simple truth was that the one night stands were just about sex. After all, you and Calum had learned together that the two of you were too busy for anything more than casual sex. A lesson both of you considered well-learned until Michael got engaged and flipped everything into a new perspective.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in love,” you said after Crystal recounted all the details and you stopped squealing in excitement for her. “I mean, anyone who sees you and Michael has to believe it’s real.”

“Aw, Y/N,” Crystal blushed shyly.

You laughed, “I’m serious. You and Michael. Luke and Sierra. Ashton and Kaykay. I’m surrounded with reasons to believe love exists. The real ‘can’t imagine my life without you’ kind of love. But for me?” You waved a hand dismissively. “Pfft, nah.”

“Because you don’t believe he’s out there for you, or because you already had him and the timing was wrong?” she pressed suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. Right person, wrong time was the excuse you had given when asked when you and Calum split, because to you, it was the closest thing to the truth. “Okay…” you started slowly. “Of course I loved Cal. And I still love him now. But when we were together… We were kids who were focused on our careers. And we’re still those career-driven kids. Understanding the balance between professional life and personal life without feeling like we’re sacrificing a piece of it for another was something Cal and I will never master. We tried. I thought if I could find that balance with anyone, it would be with him. But it wasn’t. And that’s okay. I’m fulfilled in other ways.”

“But…” Crystal kept trying to press.

“But nothing,” you laughed. “I’m happy with my life the way it is, Crys. And beyond happy for you and Michael. You’re getting married!”

~~~

Across town in a celebration of their own, Calum was under similar fire. “Happy for ya, mate,” Calum said, clapping Michael on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Cal,” Michael beamed. “I think I’m still in shock from all of it.”

“I think that’s probably a natural feeling,” Ashton told him, playing the voice of reason. “It’s an exciting change that pulls things into sharper focus.”

“Yeah, like all I wanna do now is tell Sierra how much I love her,” Luke put in.

“Oh, you fuckin’ sap,” Calum laughed.

“Just because you’ve never been in love…”

“I have too!” Calum defended.

“Oh, really? Who?”

“Y/N, idiot…” Ashton told Luke with a roll of his eyes.

Luke nodded in a “Oh, yeah!” fashion, before going on, “Is she the only girl you ever loved?”

“Yep.”

“So why aren’t you still with her?”

Calum shrugged. “Timing was off. And we haven’t changed. So why would the timing have suddenly changed?” The question was rhetorical, without the slightest hint of hurt. A simple fact of life, nothing less, nothing more. A fact Calum had made peace with long before.

“So what? You’re fine with the greatest love of your life being over 2 years ago?” they questioned anyway.

He shrugged again. “Have been for a while, in case ya haven’t noticed. And no,” he raised a hand, cutting off any protest, “this isn’t a bitter, ‘oh convince me otherwise’ deal. Y/N and I are both more than happy with the lives we’re living.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I talk with her, and I trust she’s telling me the truth…”

“Alright, alright,” Ashton was willing to let the conversation rest, but he had one last question. “Is there any part of you that would want to try again with Y/N?”

A third and final shrug. “I mean, she was the only one I ever saw a future with aside from the band.”

“That has to mean something, Cal. C’mon. If there was ever a time to give love a chance, it’s now.”

~~~

While Calum’s head raced with his friends' words of encouragement, if he could call it that, yours raced with thoughts of feeling like you somehow failed in life. Sure, your career was everything you wanted it to be and more. You wouldn’t trade a single moment of your life for anything else. But now that your friends were clearly doing more than simple dating, the doubt started to trickle in. Would it be nice to share a life with someone? Absolutely. But not at the risk of your own independence. And the only person who had ever proven that you could maybe have the best of both worlds was Calum. And even that hadn’t worked. But maybe there was something to Crystal’s words about it being a case of bad timing. Maybe it was worth another try.

So that’s where you found yourself, sitting on the edge of your bed, sharing at Calum’s contact, finger hovering over the call icon, trying to figure out where and how to start again with the man. And then your phone was buzzing in your hand, and you gasped. Had you accidentally hit the call button?! No. Calum was calling you. Confused, you hit accept. “Hey, Cal. What’s up?”

“Not much. Just had a quick question for ya.”

“Well I might have a quick answer for ya.”

You heard his soft chuckle and then a brief pause as he cleared his throat, and you knew he was pushing a hand through his hair, stemming whatever nerves this “question” was creating. “You got any dinner plans for Friday?”

“No. Why?”

“There’s this new place I’ve been wanting a try, and you know how I am about eating out alone. And it’s been a minute since just the two of us hung out. So I’ll pick you up at 7?”

You gave a small laugh at the rushed excuse, wondering what he was really up to. “Sure thing, Cal.”

“Cool. Oh, and uh, dress in something nice-ish? The restaurant’s kinda uppity.”

Another small laugh. “Alright, Cal. See you Friday then.”

~~~

“It’s just dinner. It’s just Cal,” you told your reflection as you finished getting ready. “Nothing you haven’t done a million times before,” you kept trying to calm the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. While you had a pretty good idea on what this dinner really was, you didn’t want to get your hopes up that Calum was having the same change of heart that you’d been having. The man really did hate eating alone at restaurants, and if the place was as upscale as he had told you, then it made sense that he’d rather bring you along than Ashton. And he had been right about it being a good while since it was just the two of you spending time together rather than a larger group outing.

But when Calum knocked on your door rather than texting that he was in your driveway, you couldn’t stop the blush coloring your cheeks. And when you opened the door to reveal the man on the other side, dressed sharply with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand, you felt your heart skip a beat. “Oh, Cal,” you breathed. “You didn’t have to do that,” you told him, taking the flowers and moving to put them in a vase of water.

“It’s how you deserve to be treated,” he said simply with a shrug as he leaned against your doorway.

“You’re too sweet to me, Hood,” you teased lightly. “Ready?”

“After you.”

When he went as far as to get the car door for you, you had to laugh. “Okay, Hood. What gives?”

“I told you. I’m treating you the way you deserve to be treated.”

“Nah, there’s more. I can tell. C’mon. Spill it,” you pressed when he got in the driver’s seat. “Flowers. Getting the door. Dinner at a place that requires me to dress like this. You’re up to something.”

“You look stunning, by the way,” he said, reaching over to give your thigh a squeeze.

“Calum Thomas Hood.”

He sighed. “We were good, right? Like when we were together? It’s not my memory playing tricks on me?”

“You were the best boyfriend I ever had,” you answered honestly.

He nodded. “Okay. You’re not allowed to make fun of me. But since Mike got engaged, it’s gotten to me a bit. Almost like I’m missing out on something, but it’s weird because my life is already everything I want it to be. So what could I possibly be missing out on, you know?”

“Why would I make fun of you for that?”

“Because it’s a stupid ass reason to take you on a date.”

“Oh, is that what this is? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned. “Look, I guess what I’m saying is, recent events made me reevaluate things in my life. And I think I’m in a better position than I was a few years ago to be a real partner to someone. And even when I wasn’t that person, you were the only one I could see myself becoming that person for. So… if you’re up for it, I’d really like for us to try again.”

Underneath the streetlight casting him in a soft reddish hue, he turned his head slightly to look over at you, brown eyes hopeful and solemn. When the light turned green, he turned his attention back to the road, but kept stealing glances over at you, still waiting for your response.

“I guess it’s only fair to let you know that I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

The corner of his mouth curved up in a smile. “Really?”

“Really,” you said with a soft smile and a small nod of your head. “I was actually hoping this was more on the date side than the friends grabbing a bite to eat side.”

“Good, because this is definitely a date.”

“Good,” you nodded again before leaning across the center console to press a kiss to his cheek, grinning as warmth spread across his face.

~3 Years Later~

You startled awake at a phone ringing nearby, a tangled mess of limbs and bedsheets. “Mmm?” Calum rasped, voice heavy with sleep as he answered the phone, followed by a quick, “Whoa, mate, stop yelling. You did what now?” There was a small pause as whoever was on the other end of the conversation spoke in a rapid flurry that you couldn’t decipher. “You did?!” Calum clarified whatever the news was, sitting up straight in bed, your head falling from his chest to his lap.

“Ow…” you giggled, shifting to sit up against the headboard like Calum was.

“Sorry,” Calum mouthed, listening intently to whoever he was still talking to, raising a finger for you to give him a minute when you raised an eyebrow in silent question. “That’s fuckin’ great, Luke! Congrats to the both of you. Lemme know what the plans are for celebrating and give Sierra a hug from me in the meantime, yeah? Alright. Talk to ya later, mate. Bye.”

“Well?” you demanded.

“Luke and Sierra are getting married. Or he proposed anyway, and she said yes.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Yeah, I’m really happy for them. Wow… first Mike, now Luke. We really aren’t the same kids we used to be, are we?”

“I think in some respect you guys still are. You still cling to those roots of who you used to be, the things that shaped you into the people you are now. But you guys are also growing up, too. It happens, Cal.”

“Yeah, no, I just… Wow. It’s not something I really pay much attention to, us growing up, until something like this happens.”

“The last time one of your band members got engaged, you got a case of feeling like you weren’t measuring up somehow. You’re not feeling that way now, are you?”

“No. Not at all. In fact… Luke said something when Mike told us he got engaged. That he wanted to go tell Sierra how much he loved her.”

“Aw, that’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, and at the time I made fun of him for it. But… I dunno… I get it. This type of shit really shifts things into perspective.”

“I mean, yeah. Last time it resulted in both of us thinking we should try being an ‘us’ again. What’s the perspective shifting to this time? You’re not gonna go out, and buy a ring, are you?”

“No, I already have one in my sock drawer.”

You choked. “What?”

He climbed out of bed with a laugh, making his way to the dresser and rummaging around in one of the top drawers. Then, something small was soaring through the air as he tossed whatever it was onto the bed towards you. “Told ya,” he said simply, as you grabbed the small box, popping the lid to find a ring inside.

“How long have you had this?” you asked, your voice a small whisper.

“Uh… 2016 I think,” he said as he rejoined you in bed.

“So, since the first time we dated?”

“Yep.”

“Calum!”

“What?” he laughed. “I told you our entire relationship, both then and now, that you’re the only person I see a future with. Did you think I was lying?”

“No! I- I just didn’t know you went so far as to get a ring, and keep it for 5 bloody years.”

“Well, it would have been a little weird if you had it all these years, considering… ya know.”

You laughed in a mix of disbelief and shock. “You are absolutely crazy.”

“I’m not actually proposing, you know that, yeah? I mean, yes, the ring is yours. But only if you want it to be. I love the life we have together, more so than I thought I could love any other version of my life. I never feel like I’m stuck in place, or missing something when I’m with you. I’ll be just as happy if you never wear that ring, as I would if you wore it every day for the rest of your life. You, me, Duke, and music is all I’m ever gonna need in life. I’ve known it since the first time I said I love you. Even in those years we thought chasing our careers was more important, you were still the only person I’ve ever been in love with.”

“Calum…” you breathed, your lip trembling.

“Shh, if you want the whole deal of the proposal and the picture perfect wedding, I’ll give that to you gladly. That’s what the ring’s for. But if you’re content with what we have now, this will always be enough for me, and that’s a promise.”

“I don’t want a proposal only because Luke and Sierra made you extra sentimental. I don’t want to take their moment away from them either.”

“That ring has been yours far longer than any extra sentiment our friends getting engaged could stir up, but I get what you’re saying. If/when you want it, say the word.”

“Ask me again in a year,” you decided. “And I mean really ask me. The whole deal.”

“I can’t fuckin’ wait,” he murmured as his lips crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face. “I’m so in love with you. Always have been. Always will be.”

__

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[troubatrain]

cowboy like me - m. barzal

a/n: omg suddenly she remembers how to write - so this is bigger than a blurb but definitely shorter than a fic so i’m calling it a baby fic!! i really haven’t written anything i love (or have been able to finish) in weeks so this feels really good to post so i hope you guys like it!!!

tagging @texanstarslove & @hookingminor because they both read this ahead of time to tell me it’s not trash (and i appreciate it sm!!)

“...and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up, and the old men that I've swindled really did believe I was the one...”

She’s only here for her inheritance.

I heard she was dating a CEO but she got caught having an affair with his assistant.

Careful Barz, you might be next after that contract.

Mat’s gaze was held on you while he listened to his teammates and their wives gossip next to him. Mat saw you twice, maybe three times a year, only when you were forced to show your face at an Islanders event. Other than that, Mat knew no more about than Page Six did about Manhattan’s new up and coming socialite. Your family owned the team, putting a pretty penny in your pocket as long as you kept up with appearances, or at least that’s what Sydney seemed to think. You looked perfect, a silk floor length dress that Mat couldn’t imagine wasn’t made for only your body, hair pinned up perfectly while a pair of earrings hung low. Diamonds for sure. Everything about you was eloquent and expensive, and Mat had heard just about every rumor in the book about you.

Mat felt good about himself that night. He was on a point streak and having a monster season. He was wearing a suit that was tailored to absolute perfection, Mat’s dark brown locks tousled perfectly on his head. There was no reason that he couldn’t just walk up to you and finally take a moment to introduce himself to you instead of gawking at you from afar like he’d been doing since he was a rookie. He was a kid then, and you were probably dating a prince or the son of a millionaire and had no time for a dorky kid from Vancouver. Now, Mat was a man with a contract to match and hopes that you could give him the time of day at least. His gazes lingers a bit longer, watching the way your eyes rolled briefly at whatever that man was saying to you. You excuse yourself, waving your empty wine glass in your and like Mat was stalking his prey - this was the moment.

“You’re not very subtle you know,” You muse, looking over at Mat who was leaning against the bar getting a drink of his own, “And blue’s a better color on you.”

Being a bitch was second nature to you. The way scoring came to Mat or business came to your father and siblings. It was easy to be snarky, because snarky kept people at a distance. Besides, no one thought much about you that didn’t involve how many commas were in your bank account or the constant debate about whether or not you’d gotten a nose job when you were eighteen. If they wanted nothing more than a pretty face, then that’s what you’d give them.

“Noted,” Mat takes a gulp of his drink, and your eyes linger a little too long at his hand wrapped around a glass, “You want to dance?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You hum, taking a sip of your drink. Mat Barzal had a reputation that was cleaner than your own, the Islanders golden boy if you will, but you knew better than that. You knew about the revolving door in his apartment and all of the girls who got strung along in hopes they’d get to be the ones who wore that number thirteen jersey to games. Mat Barzal was no saint, and it didn’t matter how many rich men he convinced he was.

“No harm in dancing darling,” Mat husks, voice close to your ear while you desperately hoped he didn’t see the goosebumps on your arm. Mat was throwing you off your game, but it’s a welcome feeling. Darling. You liked that one, tired of the men who constantly called you babe or baby.

“One dance Barz,” You took his hand, letting him guide you to the middle of the tent that your parents had set up on the tennis court in the same home you grew up in. Your hand remained in his, your other gripping his shoulder while you swayed back and forth, “You know your teammates are staring.”

And they were. Mat turns his head, stifling a laugh at Tito’s jaw that was practically on the floor, “Let them.”

“Not afraid of the rumors?” You hum, leaning your head on Mat’s shoulder, “Or are you just like me?”

“Like you?” Mat asks, raising his eyebrows at you, grabbing your and spinning you around before he pulled you closer.

“You don’t want love, just a fancy car or two and girls falling at your feet. You’ll ride into town and leave with more damage done than the time before but you’ll always get away with it. You’ll tell all the stuck up rich people anything they want to hear to keep up appearances. A cowboy if you will,” You explain, a smile on Mat’s face telling you that maybe you nailed it on the head.

“And what if those rumors about me aren’t true?” Mat asks, lips ghosting over yours but he won’t kiss you just yet.

“And what if the ones about me aren’t true?” You quip back to avoid Mat’s question about whether or not you believed any of the shit you heard about him.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

***

And so you did. It wasn’t supposed to happen, you took Mat home that night no intentions of ever speaking to him again. He was going to leave your place and you were going to be another notch in his bedpost. Because that’s what the Mat Barzal’s of the world did. And you were right after all, Mat Barzal was a bandit, who stole the hearts of the women he saw and deleted their numbers without a second thought.

Except Mat wasn’t going to that with you, well he was, but when he woke up the next morning to see you perched in the chair by the window in your apartment, sipping a cup of tea - he didn’t want to leave. You looked so normal, your walls finally down in the comfort of your own space and suddenly Mat needed to know why you had them up so high to begin with. Mat found out quickly, it was the pressure of the people around you. Your family needed you to be perfect, but they didn’t think you’d be good enough for the family business like your brothers.

I just hope she doesn’t ruin him like Oliver.

Mat needs someone who’s going to support him.

She’s just going to hurt him and he’s going to play like shit because of it.

“Would you just stop for a second?” Mat had been chasing you three blocks from the restaurant he was having a nice dinner with you and your family at. He wasn’t supposed to hear them, but he did and you were embarrassed, “Darling-”

“Mat, stop just stop,” You sigh, finally slowing down because those stupid heels you chose to wore were killing your feet. You shiver for a second, Mat’s large hands move to

your arms to try and warm you up, “Go ahead, ask what horrible thing I did to drive my last boyfriend away… because it wasn’t my fucking fault. He was using me, just like everyone else does and-”

“I believe you,” Mat rushes out, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. It wasn’t the first time one the skeletons in either of your closets would try and tear you apart, and it probably wasn’t going to last. There was always going to be brunches with his teammates who hounded him about his girlfriend’s past or whatever rumor they were hearing. There would always be times their significant others would grab your arm in a crowd when Mat was having a conversation with another woman like he was going to hurt you. That wasn’t going away, but it also didn’t matter to him at all. All of that was before he locked it down, things were different now.

Mat went back to your place that night, taking note of the way one of his suits was pressed and in your closet for him, like he belonged there. He smiled at it, the blue suit you insisted he bought because it was the best color on him, “You’re not mad at me right?”

“Why would I be mad darling?” Mat sighs, smiling softly at his shirt that you seemed to always steal when you stayed over. You give him a look like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, “I love you, and I don’t care about the past. It’s you and me now and that’s what matters.”

Mat hadn’t said it yet, waiting for the right moment for him to drop a four letter word he never thought he’d ever use. He’d thought it plenty of times, but he was saving for when the moment felt right. Maybe he’d drop it on the trip you had planned in a few weeks, or after a nice date, but you needed to hear it from him now. He loved you, everything down to the way you snored if you had too much to drink.

“I love you too,” You nod, wiping the last tear that had fallen from your eyes, “Cowboy.”

“Call me that forever,” Mat husks, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “And ever.”