#women mostly only get to be short or normal sized!!

[dingostrash]

love your tall lady work fpr F/go but I also must ask what about big men? Are there any guys who should be taller or bigger perhaps Ibkui Douji sized?

Honestly probably just the usual suspects lol

Kintoki is definitely up there with men who should be massive, like he's large but he could be larger. And Vlad, tall, thin, dreamy, y'get it. Heracles, obviously needs to be even bigger. Iskandar, king Hassan, they're all already large but what if they were even bigger hahh

[hazashiovo]

Can I ask for headcanons of Floyd with s/o Yuu who is much stronger than him, despite being very small? like 1.60 or less

Ofc ;)

Strong little one~

Floyd leech x gn! Reader

°Floyd knew you were an interesting little thing since the day he saw you.

°From your mannerism to the way you spoke,he knew you weren't the usual person he would meet.

°Therefore he made you his little mission.

°Jade is pretty much amused by his brother's curiosity,only receiving a toothy grin from the double coloured eye when he asked about it.

°Meanwhile your interactions with Floyd were awkward and slightly uncomfortable, something clicked between you two.

°One thing he loved to pick on you about was your height.

°All kinds of nick names rolled off Floyd's tongue,mostly calling you Shrimp.

°Don't ask why, this idea just popped up in his head one morning,it surprised you to.

°Now even after you started dating,he still lurks in the shadows, yeah creepy I know.

°This way he managed to see a quite interesting scene.

°Some two guys won't leave you alone when you're trying to eat in peace,like a normal student should be able to.

°And it's really starting to piss you off.

°So what do you do when this pink haired guy leans in towards you?

°Uper cut him in the jaw, sending him flying into a lunch table.

°His friend has his jaw on the floor, while Pinky is trying to recover from that fatal blow.

°And your dear Floyd? He's over there grinning from ear to ear, after all, who could have guessed such a pretty little thing like you could punch a dude twice your size to the ground.

°He is lovestruck and eager to learn everything about you.

°Good luck getting him of you now,yes you're able to kick his ass,but why would you do that? He's your sweet boyfriend after all.

°Jade loves to tease Floyd, especially that his short s/o is stronger than him,but your boyfriend does mind it one bit.

°He likes his little shrimp tough as nails ;)

.

.

I feel like floyd among other RCS boys would like their women tough. I don't make the rules y'all.

[gayhenrycreel]

#ftm is a fetish tag

disclaimer, i am a trans man

#ftm is a fetish tag. i dont know if its always been like this but it is a problem.

i can hardly find any transmascs in that tag.

there are cis women misgendering trans men as a kink, and talking about our bodies like sex dolls everywhere in that tag. its mostly cishet women using OUR tag to objectify our bodies because they are too afraid to consider that they might not be straight. it is at least half detransition kink. im very uncomfortable with cis people doing this, but if they want to i wont stop them.

but this is in OUR TAG. this is horrible. they write disgusting smut about women who are short twinks with soft tits and dripping cunts and no dysphoria at all.

they just call them trans men.

ive seen other transmascs complain about this too.

these fics are written by and for cis women. they are chasers. the way they talk about our bodies is revolting. they know nothing about trans men at all.

i know that not all trans men feel dysphoric about their bodies, but these women are still treating us like a fetish that only occurs in fiction, rather than people who have emotions and often want to have a flat chest and/or a penis.

in particular they fetishize gay trans men. all these fics are about femboys who are horrified by the concept of transitioning getting fucked by bears. the people writing this view transitioning as mutilation. its very obvious.

ive noticed that this occasionally extends to fetishizing cis men with gynecomastia. its clear they want to fuck women but think lesbians are disgusting, so they call the women in their fics men, but misgender them throughout the text.

i hardly see any representation for trans men who even want to transition. newsflash: a lot of us do want to transition. many of us have already had surgery.

if you genuinely do want to write smut with GOOD portrayal of trans men, heres some tips on what we want in our representation:

trans men who dont want to transition deserve rep too, but many of us are entirely uncomfortable with our bodies. very few of us want any attention given to the parts we are born with. a lot of pre op trans men wear a binder during sex. we're not all bottoms, and some of us wear strap ons.

when we're on testosterone, it causes vaginal atrophy, similar to menopause. it gets very dry down there and easily irritated. this means that vaginal sex can be very painful and could even damage tissues. even without T, vaginal penetration is usually no where near as fun as it is for cis women. anything being in there is awful and sometimes painful.

anal sex is a thing. its not gross. its perfectly normal. it just requires some lubricant, and for a trans man, is a lot more comfortable than vaginal sex.

shockingly, most of us do not want to be called girls.

dont misgender a trans person in a sex scene. at all. some of us like to be called good boys during sex. stop calling us girls.

some of us have had surgery. it is NOT mutilation. it is life saving. top surgery is one that we get most frequently. the results do look just like a cis mans chest. there are long thin scars under the pecs, but these fade after a few years. they may not even be visible. bottom surgery exists too.

metoidioplasty creates a micropenis out of the clitoris. it does look real. it looks like a regular micropenis. it has full sensation.

phalloplasty uses a flap of skin, usually from the forearm, and turns it into a penis. this surgery is more complex and is done in multiple stages. after it is complete, it looks like a circumcised penis. its size is dependent on the flap of skin used to make it, so it can actually be larger than average. (on r/phallo someone even got a reduction surgery because his dick was 7 inches long). the area the skin flap was taken from has pretty big scarring. it looks like the result of a severe burn. it is sometimes covered by a tatoo. there is a lot of misinformation about phalloplasty. it is a big surgery, but it is no where near as dangerous as the internet would have you believe. after it has fully healed it does look real, and a genital nerve is usually hooked up to the penis. it can take a while to heal (years), but after a few months sensation begins to return as the nerves heal. the clitoris is often buried in the base of the penis, and if a genital nerve hook up is done the penis can have full sensation, including the tip. not everyone gets full sensation, and it can take years for sensation to fully return, but 93% of men who get phalloplasty are satisfied with the results. that is a lot. it is quite rare that sensation is fully lost, so yes, you can orgasm after phalloplasty. one thing to note is that a phalloplasty penis cant get hard on its own. there are two types of implant for erections. one is a rod inside the penis, which can last over 20 years before needing a replacement. the rod is flexible, so can be positioned as an erection. the other implant is a internal pump that is more complicated than the rod, and needs to be replaced roughly every 15 years. it is filled with water and sits inside the penis. to get an erection, you squeeze one of the testicles, which is a pump implant, pushing the water into the penis, causing an erection.

most importantly, we are men. we can be feminine. we can be masculine. we can look exactly like cis men. dont forget that we are people, we are real. we are not some sex fantasy.

[dairy-farmer]

Bruce’s cum rag is a Tim-Era Robin kid’s beach towel. He’s also got a Red Robin plush he’s cut open and shoved a fleshlight into

oh the consequences of bruce desperatly repressing his attraction for tim so it manifests in those ways as a method to taking the edge off from the deep attraction he feels!!!! i also love the idea of bruce, when he's just beyond desperatly horny, seeking out a very niche branch of escort. the kind who dress up as capes/villains and provide the speciality service of fantasy wish fulfillment. bruce has like a handful of them memorized along with their contact info and when his attraction just gets too...bad and threatens to boil over in his life (potentially jeopardizing his relationship with tim who bruce has tried so hard not ruin but his stupid cock just won't get the message that tim was an absolutely OFF LIMITS person)...he calls one up. sometimes he calls multiple up. one to dress up in tim's old robin uniform and another in a newer red robin suit.

bruce tries not to feel guilty but he provides the suits to the sex workers. they think he's just a very eccentric client who specially commissions high quality suits but the truth is that rather than send tim's damaged suits to the incinerator like is protocol bruce...stole a few of them. he repaired them in secret and now shamefully kept them hidden away only to be taken out when he found a sex worker with just the right measurements to fill it out. they're never as muscular as bruce would like, their voices are always wrong, and sometimes they have piercings or birthmarks that make keeping up the fantasy a little hard. but it's worth it. every moment that bruce spends sinking his bare cock in hot, twitching little pussies wearing tim's suit make every little detail that isn't right fade to the background. bruce can't do this often. he fucks them too hard and as much as they enjoy it bruce being pent up means he often fucks them for hours on end just pressing his cock in as deep as it'll go and moaning about how tight and sweet his little robin is.

jacking off onto a kid sized towel with tim's likeness printed on it only did so much. then there was the red robin plushie where bruce had used a seam ripper to open the crotch and slide in a flashlight so he could hunch over it in his bathroom and stare down at blue glass eyes staring up at him with a little stitched on smile. god it was pathetic. it was every manner of pitying especially with how desperate bruce will be with the young women he hires to pretend to be his son.

one will sit on his face moaning and whining as bruce desperatly eats them out while the other softly bounces on his cock, grinding and rutting their puffy pussy against bruce's cock. other times bruce will have them lay on top of each other and wetly make out while bruce watches and fucks into their pink cunts, going back and forth between both holes while his heart raced a mile minute. bruce pays extra to have the sex be unprotected and to be allowed to cum deep inside them and normally he would NEVER. the risk of infection, the risk of pregnancy just being too much for just a few moments of a good time but...with tim. if it gets to the point where bruce has sought the escorts out again...then nothing short of being able to cum in them while fantasizing about it being tim who is weakly clenching down on his cock will be enough.

bruce is fine with that. his towel and plushy are enough most of the time. bruce does not keep a particularly close ear on the escort scene of gotham but he's a frequent enough client that a few of them send him christmas and birthday cards and direct him toward other workers when they've retired, left the scene, or have a full client list and can't squeeze him in.

the thing is that most metas live perfectly normal and average lives. very very very few of them actually try to become villains or heroes. mostly because all they have to do is turn on the news and see wonderwoman pound an alien into the pavement to realize crime might not be worth it and other times they might see the big memorial service for a fallen hero and see their family and friends crying to think it might not be worth it. and with the outpouring of metas who came out with stories about various world governments and organizations paying their parents and skirting them off to research facilities coming out- a lot more metas learned to keep their heads down and keep quiet. maybe they even learned to use their powers to help them in subtle ways like cheating on tests or making vacuuming under heavy furniture easier. that's the case with most low key metas. a few of them however...learn to use their powers in more...blatant ways.

bruce knows about a polyglot meta who is an in-house translator for a big shipping company to smoothe over negotiations in various countries. a meta with superhuman strength who owns and operates a construction business in connecticut. and...most recently, a meta with a shifting ability working as a high class escort in las vegas.

bruce heard about them through the working women he typically saw. mostly he heard about how they had friends in nevada that were very excited and rolling in major cash because a bunch of wealthy cliente were flocking to the state for a chance to hire them and if they couldn't then the other working girls had a shot at them. truly an 'i eat, everybody eats' scenario.

bruce is...curious. both just in terms of the metas capabilities and what exactly the girls meant by 'shifting' powers.

he gets his answer pretty soon. turns out the meta only needs a dna sample and they can transform into practically any person. not only that, but they can control the rate at which cells mature and die. meaning they can control the age at which they present.

it's tempting. it's so tempting it scares bruce. he has access to all kind of samples of tims dna. hair. saliva, blood. fresh AND old.

he could do it. he could make the short trip and do it. get it out of his system, finally know what it felt like to sink into tim's tight little pussy.

finally getting what he always wanted while never ruining the relationship he held so dear.

it was perfect. it was just what he needed.

(it was a trap. this would ruin him. he'd never again be able to look at tim and NOT think of the sight of him planted on his cock. the way he panted, the sound of his moans, the perfect pink flush of his cheeks does to his cunt)

this would ruin him. this would ruin him. this would absolutely destroy him.

[beanghostprincess]

I've fallen in love with trans girls usopp oh my god

Nami and Robin know she's trans they invite her to go shopping, spa days hair appointments. They accept and welcome here before usopp knows about it.

Usopp still feels a little silly asking to join them on their little outing. She doesn't want to ruin it by being the only "" boy"" when it's a girls night. If she doesn't ask Nami drags her along any way. Even before they expected her to be trans they were always comfortable around usopp. Nami more than anyone, the amount of time she's walked in on usopp showing just to ask what she wants for dinner (Luffy does it too but he does that to everyone he would start conversations while his crewmate is on the toilet) or to join the bath to relax and unwind It's normal. It's just usopp she takes her to the spa all the time. Mud bathes, facials, back massages. Nami gets a full mani pedi nothing extra just french tips, ussop just like trim and buff with a clear gloss.

When they go shopping Robin likes to find nice outfits for her to try on. She takes things from the women's section and places it in men, for her to "find". Like 'oh usopp look what I found in the men's section. Try this on it would look nice on you' and it's a flower print low cut shirt with flared sleeves and bell bottoms with a matching bandana.

They also notice when usopp is feeling insecure about her body or identity. She takes glances or full on stairs at herself in the mirror looking at every flaw or part that causes dysphoria. They try to find ways to distract her, if by clothes or going to the bathhouse is too much for her at the moment they take her to lunch or sightseeing.

After she comes out the girls welcome her and have a girls day. After they pry sanji off of her it's straight to shopping. They try on bra after, after bra, after bra. What size would you think you'd be? What size do you want to be? B? C? Nothing over DD. What color do you want? Undies tucking or non tucking? Bikini or boy shorts? How about the lace set. Sopes and body washes. Coconut and vanilla or how about hibiscus and honey? Clothes! You need some nice clothes and shoes. Heels you need one pair of heels and a nice evening gown just in case our captain puts us in a situation where we need to look nice. Her hair is cute already but it would look better if it was half up and hair down especially with this cute scrunchy that Nami found.

They come back to the ship with bags and boxes all carried by sanji. All belonging to usopp, the trip was honestly overwhelming to say the least but she enjoyed herself. She tries different looks throughout the month but she falls back on her signature brown overalls but now unclamped and worn as pants and a yellow crop top and floral pattern bandana. She also got a belly ring.

Sabaody was a nightmare. She spent two years training getting stronger for her captain, yeah getting fit was great (she loves her muscles) but growing a beard not so great. It felt like her body was betraying her but she couldn't worry about that now, not when her crew needed her in top form. After the two years she learned a lot about plants and found some are high in estrogen and can increase hormone levels. Not by a lot but enough to alleviate some dysphoria it helped a lot with her hair growth mostly. Speaking of hair she made a blade from stone so she can shave, it's better than the cheap razors you have to buy.

When meeting up again, Nami could tell she was a little self conscious about her appearance. She was going to give words of encouragement but was quickly interrupted by sanji being a little too overly affectionate to usopp. Fawning over her, missing her and admiring her soft skin, pretty eyes, her scent of eucalyptus and mint. He buried his face in her new long and luscious curls and babbled sweet nothing to her until Nami pulled him off. Most of her troubles washed away after seeing Sanji still obsessed with her even though she's not looking like her ideal self at the moment.

Buy honestly she still hates it. Sanji words of affection can only do so much. She hates getting dressed with the others, Shopping trips and spa days aren't as fun. She looks good, hot even but still a stranger to herself. She gets up earlier than most of the crew to get ready. shower and mostly shave, she hates shaving in front of the other girls. she's welcomed by Saji and heart shaped pancakes.

Usopp is tickled but still feels down. She asked him if she's feminine enough and she looks like a woman. Sanji is still in awe with her and answers yes 100 times yes. She gets a little frustrated and asks again not as a boyfriend but as a fellow trans person. Does she look feminine enough. Of course he gives the same answer but in a more serious tone and he tells her she looks like a lot of women. They have been to countless islands and met tons of people including women that are buffer and broader than her and they're still women. Luffy also chimes in agreeing with him (he also stole usopp's pancakes) saying she looks like a lady who would be on Amazon Lily. They reassure her that there's no one way of looking like a woman or being a woman but if it's dysphoria related they can call up Ivankov to fix things up for her.

Okay this is- This is so relatable, tbh. And also- Auch. It hurts.

I am so in love with the idea of transfem Usopp, too! She has been through so much,, And I love the way you portrayed her problems with dysphoria and the way the crew helps her out all the time. The experience of her asking Sanji if he thinks she's feminine, not as her boyfriend but as a fellow trans person... It's so- Ughhh. I love this. Please. It's so good. I love them so much. Thank you for this.

[dreamdragoness]

As promised, here is Royalty AU Stacy Flannigan in her true attire as the Crown Princess of the Joker Kingdom. I've also given this AU story a name: "Wildcard." On the continent where the Four Kingdoms of Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, and Spades reside, there is a secret fifth kingdom: the Jokers. Also known as the Wildcard Kingdom, the Joker Kingdom is an independent nation that in the ancient past acted as a mediator and bridge between the other four kingdoms. They believe in bringing smiles to people's faces and that happiness doesn't belong to one nation. It is also the birthplace of the Arts, with the common attire of the Jokers is of a jester/harlequin design. The Jokers love performing and are masters of their craft. The most prominent trait of the Jokers is their shadows. Upon birth, a Joker's shadow comes to life as they are infused with part of the child's soul. The shadows not only help with performances, but show the more prominent parts of the child's personality. For example, Stacy's shadow shows her more playful side when Stacy herself is trying to be serious. The shadows are both the Joker and their own person and are often the very first friend a Joker child has. The shadows are also capable of picking up stuff by manipulating the object's shadow, making it look like a ghost is holding the item. They can also get into places their Joker is unable to reach such as through a door by going underneath it. They can even separate from their Joker for a short time. However, the maximum time limit for a Joker and their shadow to be separated is approximately 72 hours. If the shadow is gone for a couple of hours, the Joker's health will begin to deteriorate. If the shadow doesn't return by three days time, the Joker and the shadow both die. It is a slow, agonizing death. Combat for the Jokers is a mixture of performance, melee, and magic. Their acrobatics makes them hard to hit and enables to get them the advantage. Because Joker magic is on a deeper level than normal magic, they can cast various spells in offensive magic, defensive magic, and support magic. The catch is the Joker has to do some sort of full-body performance such as singing and dancing like they are in a musical. That is because Combat magic must flow through the body in order to be used and just regular exercise isn't enough. Their shadows also join in the fight if the Joker is strong enough. They are able to peel themselves off the surface and increases in size and are able to dish out physical attacks, but are still attached to their Joker.

The rulers of the Joker Kingdom is the Flannigan Family. They had been the ruling family of the Jokers ever since the kingdom's founding and are considered the "Jacks of All Trades" of the Jokers. The biggest reason is that the ruler of the Jokers is bestowed the Cards of Fate. The Cards of Fate is a magical tarot deck said to have been blessed by the gods on the first Flannigan, giving them the duty to lead a mediating nation. The ruler consults the Cards of Fate regarding the future, but it takes a huge toll with each prediction. They are also the Flannigan Family's greatest weapon as the Cards amplifies their magic and enables them to cast unique spells. Not to mention they can be used like shuriken or kunai. The one who wields the Cards of Fate is recognized as the ruler of the Jokers. The title the Joker ruler receives upon their coronation depends on their preferred gender pronouns. Men are given the title "The King of Fools." Women are referred as "Harliqueen." Non-binary rulers are given a choice between Sovereign or Monarch. (Their title is still being debated on by the Joker Kingdom.)

One century, the current rulers of the Four Kingdoms wanted to conquer each other and if they can get the Jokers on their side, victory was guarantied. The Jokers, however, were mostly pacifists and when the ruler of the time refused, the Four Kingdoms began to kidnap people from the outer edges of the Joker Kingdom. Because all four sides kept grabbing people and forcing them to fight, the Joker monarch of the time used the most devastating spell in the Cards of Fate's repertoire: The Card of Madness. The Card of Madness unleashes a wave of magic that attacks whomever the caster is fighting. In this case, the Four Kingdoms. The card's power induces hallucinations of people's worst fears and warps them into something terrifying. Think of it as the town of Silent Hill if it were a magical card. The card's magic lasts 24 hours, but the psychological damage can be so great to the point where those afflicted start seeing their friends as their fears and begin killing each other, or they take the easy way out and commit suicide. Those who endure were scarred for life. The Joker Monarch was able to use the card enough that it spared the children of the kingdoms. Wanting to protect their people, the Monarch of the Jokers created a barrier of enchanted fog. If someone who isn't a Joker goes in, they'll end up at one of the other kingdoms. Almost as if the very land never existed. Many seek out the Joker Kingdom to this day, wanting to see if the lost kingdom is real or not. Artists of all sorts such as actors, comedians, and even painters long to to on a pilgrimage to the Joker Kingdom if it ever proven real again.

But the Jokers don't want to stay hidden forever and considered the barrier a prison even though they can pass through it freely. But with the chance of the descendants of the Four Corrupted Rulers being like their ancestors high, the Monarch implemented a system that happens with the coronation of a new monarch of one of the other kingdoms. A Joker is chosen by the Cards of Fate to secretly evaluate their chosen kingdom's ruler and see what kind of ruler they will turn out to be. If all Four Kingdoms have good rulers on their thrones at once, then the Jokers can come out of hiding. If not, then they remain hidden. However, Jokers can live in the other kingdoms, but they must never reveal their Joker heritage to anyone. Not even to their loved ones. Crown Princess Anastasia "Stacy" Flannigan was unexpectantly chosen as the Joker to the Kingdom of Hearts. The reason it was unexpected was because never had a Flannigan, a member of the royal family, been chosen to give the year-long secret evaluation. Since the Cards of Fate stated that Stacy was the chosen one for the Hearts Kingdom, she bids her father, the current King of Fools, and her friends good-bye and enters the Hearts' castle as a maid, unaware of the adventure she was going to endure.

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

The are two influences for the Joker Kingdom. The games "Undertale" and especially "Okage: Shadow King." The latter game was what inspired me to create the shadow thing for the Jokers. Probably expect the local wildlife to be just as zany-looking.

Royalty AU: @neonross

Wildcard AU and Stacy Flannigan: Me

[42lolita]

SOME BASIC KNOWLEDGE FOR LOLITA NEWBIES

If you are new to Lolita and want to step into this special street fashion, you need to get familiar with some basic knowledge before that. Otherwise you may do not know what other Lolitas are talking about, and can easily make jokes in Lolita fashion.

JSK: jumper skirt. Skirt with shoulder straps, sleeveless dress, vest dress all can be called JSK. Since it’s without sleeves, it usually matches with an inner blouse to wear. For some JSK design, Lolitas also only wear the JSK, without an inner blouse, which is beautiful as well. For example, the following “Dream in Cage” JSK from indie brand Alice Girl is a standard JSK design.

OP: short name for one-piece. It especially refers to a sleeved dress. There can be short sleeves OP or long sleeves OP. The following two long sleeves dresses are very good example of what an OP means.

SK: skirt. The normal match for a skirt is a top shirt. A SK may be designed with shoulder strap or without.

BNT: short name for bonnet. The western ancient women often wear decorative hats with large eaves. The bonnet is usually decorated with beautiful ribbons or flowers or other beautiful themes. It can make the full Lolita coordinate more beautiful.

KC: Katyusha. Headdress and headband that matches with a Lolita dress.

FULLSET: short name FS. It means the complete Lolita costume which usually include headdress (KC/ headband/ bonnet), wig, choker or necklace, shirt, dress, petticoat, tights, shoes, umbrella, bag, wrist cuffs, etc. The wig, umbrella, wrist cuffs and bags are not necessary for all Lolita coordinate, but the headdress, choker or necklace, JSK or OP, petticoat, tights, shoes are necessary for a Lolita fullset. Usually these components need to be the same or similar color scheme or have some designed elements echoes each other.

Choker: clavicle chain, short necklaces.

Ouji: a similar fashion with a more masculine appearance, usually worn by men, but some female Lolitas also wear Ouji, so some Ouji set has size for both female and male.

If you like Chinese Lolita indie brands, you may encounter some Chinese terms in Lolita community. The following ones are mostly mentioned among Chinese Lolitas.

小物: accessories. This usually includes accessories such as headwear, wrist cuffs, necklace, earrings, etc.

小萌款: popular style. The "little cute style" in the Lolita group is also the "pop style" in our ordinary wearing style. It refers to the large number of people who buy this Lolita dress, and the demand is very large, which is very popular with Lolitas.

再贩: Lolita dresses are usually pre-ordered. There are rarely ready to ship stocks and if miss the pre-order, you have to buy second hand ones. However, popular models (non limited) are very likely to restart the reservation after a period of time, which is called 再贩.

柄图: the print on the Lolita dress.

花嫁: bride. In Lolita, it refers to the wedding dress.

素鸡: shirring, some kind of elastic band which is used to adjust the size of the skirt, making it more comfortable wearing.

地球人: people who don't wear Lolita dresses. Because a long time ago, some people in the forum said Lolita dress is too exaggerated and called the girls who wear Lolita dress as "Martian". Lolitas began to use this word 地球人 to call ordinary people "earthman", which is now a neutral word.

山: imitations. Never buy imitations, never wear imitations to tea parties or formal parties.

穿山甲: people who wear fake Lolita dress.

知山穿山: Lolitas know it is fake Lolita dress and still buy and wear it. Never do this. When you buy a Lolita dress, please always be careful to avoid the fake ones. Plese only buy from the brands official store or trustworthy resellers, such as 42Lolita, as we promise that we only sell authentic Lolita dresses from the original designed indie brands.

切替: Japanese transliteration, similar to the meaning of splicing style, refers to the style with different patterns and different fabrics connected to form local discontinuous patterns. Generally, it refers to the Lolita dress with solid color on the upper body and printing on the lower body.

H价: Selling the secondhand Lolita dress at a higher price than the original price.

Thank you for reading this, and welcome to share your ideas with us on 42Lolita site. We do hope each girl can find and wear your desired Lolita dress, and hope Lolita dress can make you more confident and beautiful. 42Lolita provides both popular and newest released Lolita dresses from trustworthy Chinese indie brands. We also provide kinds of coupons from time to time that can be found on https://www.wethrift.com/42lolita , so please do not miss them. Let’s shop happily and save happily. 😊

Best regards,

42Lolita team

[authorautumnbanks]

Wish I Could Curse You (2)

Gojo Satoru is, for once, minding his business. It's his one day off this week - hell, this month, and he plans to spend it accordingly. So, imagine his surprise as he is ordering kikufuku from his favorite spot in Sendai when a different kind of energy floats his way.

He wants to spend his off day not thinking about curses, curse users, higher-ups, yada yada, but this energy is not something he can just ignore.

"Could I get two of your matcha," a soft melodic voice says from his right. Satoru blinks in surprise at the feel of another brushing up against him.

How the hell?

The woman does not seem to notice his dilemma. In fact, she barely spares him a glance and instead focuses on her task at hand. If her ploy is to act uninterested while wrapping her foreign energy around, well shit, he is hooked.

The energy wrapped around him is as pure as it is seductive. His body feels lighter. Slowly, he drags his eyes down the length of her body. Her white dress is short and tight. There is no hiding those curves. His cock tightens painfully in his pants. For a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

Oh dear, this could become a situation. Now Satoru is not one to brag about his dick size, unless the pretty woman with her intriguing energy asks him to, then he might brag a bit or even show her if the opportunity comes about.

Which is a problem.

One, she could be trouble. Two, how the fuck is she getting past his infinity? And three, he does not do relationships, so even if she is a good person, he still shouldn't be entertaining thoughts of those luscious thighs wrapped around his waist or her pert ass high in the air while he - ahem.

His thoughts are getting away from him. Satoru likes to think of himself as someone above such perverted thoughts. Women can be troublesome and many men have fallen because of the whims of a woman, and yet he thinks he would not mind falling for her.

"You should try the special. It's stuffed with whipped cream and zunda," he quips conversationally. Satoru would be lying if he said his eyes didn't light up behind his dark glasses at the feel of her gaze on him.

"You offering?" She snaps her attention back to the cashier, whose focus darts between the both of them with a plastered smile on their face.

Is he offering? Satoru is not sure what it is he wants from her. Scratch that. He knows what he wants, but thinking with that head will only lead to trouble. She could be someone sent to kill him, but he is not picking up on any malicious intent and it is not as though he could not take her if need be.

Fuck it.

He pulls out his wallet and orders two boxes and two drinks to go. May as well make the most of the situation. If she is gonna go after him, then it could at least wait until he has a kikufuku. They truly are a delicacy. The best kind in Sendai. "Gojo Satoru," he offers up as he cradles the goods in his arms.

The woman's soft pink lips tilt up into a ghost of a smile. "Higurashi Kagome." She tries to take a box off his hands, but he only holds on tighter as he leads them to a more secluded area. The park, luckily, isn't too far of a trek and Kagome does not seem off-put by the silence. Normally he has a ton of shit to say, nonsense mostly, but his mind cannot settle on one thing to say to her, so he keeps silent until they sit down on a bench.

"So, you're a sorcerer then?" She asks, holding out a hand. He clucks his tongue along the roof of his mouth and chooses the special to give her to try out.

Straight to the point, this one is.

"And you are not," he muses, regarding her with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Satoru looks over the top of his glasses, so she can get a peek at his eyes. To his dismay, she does not seem to care. What a shame. He is used to getting so many looks when dressed down in his civilian clothing.

"Priestess." She bites down into the kikufuku and moans with delight. Her hand presses to her face as if it is the best thing she has ever tasted.

Satoru crosses and then uncrosses his legs. A priestess, huh? Like a lightbulb, his mind jolts to attention, retrieving information he read weeks ago.

"Are you related to the Higurashis from Higurashi Shrine?" Curses wiped out the family, leaving one sole survivor. It was a terrible thing to read. Not too surprising though, as shrines get a lot of traffic from people with pent-up frustrations and anger. It is funny though how he knows of Higurashi Shrine and yet he can't remember a time when he's ever stepped foot on the property.

She hums. "Is that why you lashed out at me?"

"Lashed out?" he sputters. Since when does offering to pay for someone's food count as lashing out? He may not be into relationships, but even he knows that.

"Your energy. It was angry. Figured you were lashing out at me, so I soothe it." She bends down for her drink and wraps those lips around the straw. For a moment, Satoru forgets what they were talking about. His mind stalls out. Kagome raises a brow at him.

"... I wasn't angry," he says, though now he is second guessing himself. Maybe he was angry, but he has never known his energy to lash out. Though if she is a priestess and her energy is purer, not cursed energy, then maybe he naturally comes off that way to her? There are too many variables for him to prove his hypothesis. "But I was curious since I've never come into contact with energy as pure as yours." Or someone who bypasses his infinity without the use of a cursed object, which she does not have. His six eyes would tell him if she did.

"He said the same thing," she replies, voice low as though she is speaking more to herself, but he hears her none the less.

Who is he? The question is poised on his tongue. Jealousy does not look good on him, he thinks, but the foreign emotion is determined to rear its ugly head. Her energy wraps itself around him again, drawing out a shudder from his lips. His cock strains against his zipper, begging to be let loose.

"Stop that," he commands, haggard and slightly dazed from the warmth of her, but not quite her, cocooning around him.

"Oh? Does it hurt?" she sounds apologetic. Her energy quickly leaves him.

"Not exactly." He stretches his legs out and sets the box in his lap. Kagome's eyes drift down to where the box of treats rests on his lap. He grits his teeth. "My cock—"

She startles, and this time both eyebrows shoot up. Foot insert mouth. He could have started that off better. Satoru licks his lips and decides to just go for it. "Your energy is making my dick hard." He shrugs. Go for casual. He thinks now that this situation is cleared up, and he's rightfully turned her off, that there will be no more of her energy caressing him.

Her energy, almost shyly, reaches out and trails along his skin. He couldn't stop the grin from snaking across his face if he wanted to.

"You're a dangerous woman, Kagome-chan," he coos, leaning towards her now. His knees touch hers. Even with his mind filled with nearly nothing but her, he still manages to scope the area in case this is, in fact, a trap. There is nothing except for the soft rustle of the leaves and the footsteps of civilians strolling past them with their heads firmly glued to the path in front of them.

Kagome snorts. "You're the one with the cursed energy, not me."

"You here to purify me, then?" He thinks he would not mind being renewed in her waters. The more rational side of him warns of dangers. He's not one to lose his mind over some woman even if said woman comes in a petite, curvaceous figure with legs that go on for miles, and energy that makes him feel all warm and shit.

She considers him, leaning towards him now. "It would take a lot out of me." Kagome bites down on her bottom lip. Her fingers grip her drink. His is all but forgotten on the floor near the leg of the bench. "One session might not be enough."

His nostrils flare as he leans back to gather the other box and his drink. His mind is made up. It would be a shame if she turns on him. A tragedy, truly, but he does not want this dance to end just yet. So, Satoru balances his drink on top of the boxes with one hand and reaches for her with his other. Her skin is soft. Supple.

He wants to leave imprints in the shape of his hands on her thighs.

Without a word, he warps them to his apartment. The distance does not strain him as much as he thought it would. Warping is taxing on his body, so he tries not to do it too often and if he does, then it is not across cities.

Kagome's mouth drops as she stares at their intertwined hands and then at the change in scenery. Her surprise is genuine. Either someone sent her to kill him and did not mention how strong he is (doubtful) or she really has no idea who he is and just picked up on his cursed energy.

"We were just..." She closes her mouth and pinches her brows together. "How did you do that?"

"I'm a sorcerer, trade secret." He takes her drink from her, slides out of his shoes, and heads to the kitchen to set the goods down. The lights flicker on as he casually turns them on with his powers. Kagome trails behind him, still in apparent awe. "Is this the part where you try to kill me?" He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans against the fridge.

"You sure are obsessed with me trying to kill you." She leans forward on the island counter, unaware of the image she is blessing him with. Or maybe she knows exactly what she is doing, bending over like that with her breasts pressed together with just the barest hint of cleavage showing through the V-neck. "Do you work with curses?"

This time he startles. No way his hearing is messed up. Him? Work with curses? If she wasn't so serious, he'd laugh in her face.

"No, Kagome-chan, I do not work with the curses. I exorcise them." He walks over to her and places his hands on either side of her, caging her in. "I'm actually a teacher. Would be pretty bad if I were to steer my students in the wrong direction." He inhales. She smells so sweet. He wonders if she'd taste just as sweet.

"Then I have no reason to kill you." Kagome turns around and tilts her chin up at him. Her eyes, so dark brown, shine with mischief and a twinge of sadness.

He's an ass.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your family." He trails one hand up her arm before settling on twirling a locket of hair between his fingers.

"I don't want your pity."

But she wants something. "You want help exorcising them?"

She shakes her head. Interesting. Most people get bent on revenge, unless her powers do not work in that way. Maybe they are like Shoko's and only help with healing. Which is still an important power to have. As far as he knows, Shoko is the only that can heal sorcerers with reversed cursed energy, and if Kagome can do something similar, then it would be beneficial to bring her into jujutsu formally.

"I can exorcise them on my own." Her hands trail over his chest, toying with the buttons. He shivers. "But there is something you can do for me."

"This won't help bring them back," he warns, knowing that she could change her mind and walk out. Well, he would at least warp her back to where they met. His mind files away the nugget of information she revealed. So, her powers can hurt curses. Good to know.

"Obviously," she quips before taking his shirt in her fists and ripping the fabric. His cock jerks. A few buttons hit the floor.

Well then.

This shirt was expensive, but replaceable. This woman in front of him, though? He's not giving her up.

"But this will help for tonight."

Kami help his weak resolve. He opens his mouth to tell her, "No, we should not do this. You are still mourning the loss of your family from a tragic accident." Instead, he cups the back of her head and seals his lips over hers. Caged between him and the island counter, he cannot help the way his hips grind into her. His cock is rock hard, harder than granite in his pants. There's no way she does not feel him, not when she presses herself closer to him as if to become one.

Her lips are softer than petals. He kisses her with reckless desire and pure desperation. Her energy wraps around him once more, but this time her energy coaxes his out, playfully. Never has his cursed energy felt so... light? There is no other way to describe the way his cursed energy intertwines with her and rather than burn one another, they seem to fit together perfectly.

A yin to his yang?

One kiss has him sentimental. Has him ready to throw away his rule about relationships. With her, even if things were to go south, then the fear of creating new curses would not be an issue. There is no cursed energy within her, just pure, sensual, warm energy that fills him with such affection. He feels as though they have known one another for years.

The kiss ends too soon, and he chases her lips once more. More desperate to feel her soft lips on his. More desperate to taste her sweetness. Her tongue tries to wrestle with his in this dance, but in this fight, Satoru will always come out on top.

He is the strongest. It's a fact. He'd wager Kagome truly has no idea who he is, which makes him want to prove to her who the man Satoru is and not who the sorcerer Satoru is.

His hands, so anxious, run down the length of her body and grab a hold of her round ass cheeks. Kami, his hands can barely contain the lusciousness of her curves. And his hands are relatively big. He wants to drop down to his knees and worship her at her feet, especially to the ass his hands are groping.

She pulls back first with a blush coating her cheeks. The flush travels down her neck. As if in a trance, Satoru drops his head and bites down gently on the junction between her neck and shoulder. She moans and grips his hair. The slight tug is not enough to hurt, but it reminds him that even in this moment, he still has not dropped his infinity.

Kagome could try to kill him right now and he would be too weak to stop her, or at the very least, he would restrain her from doing any more harm to him. Her hands busy themselves with alternating between tugging on his hair or roving down his chest, leaving marks in their wake.

This isn't like him, but one night won't be so bad, he reasons with himself. His hand slides around and travels up her dress, seeking like a fiend. He thinks this is what it must feel like to be drunk. With his tongue, he soothes the pain from his bite.

Fuck, she's drenched. His body shudders as he tries to get a hold of himself. They have all night. No need to rush.

His fingers slide her panties to the side, and he dips one finger in — Satoru freezes. His shoulders tense as he pulls away. There's confusion written on Kagome's face, but he doesn't have time to explain as he pulls her to his side and waits for the intruder, Suguru, to show his face. He would recognize his energy anywhere.

"What do you want?" Satoru questions, his fingers flexing along Kagome's hip. Suguru steps into the room. At least he had the common courtesy to take his shoes off. Murderous, but polite. His smile is nothing but teeth.

"You have something of mine," Suguru replies easily, as if he isn't a wanted curse user. Satoru runs his tongue over his teeth. Surely, he isn't talking about Kagome? He chances a glance out of the corner of his eye. Kagome looks annoyed with her arms crossed under her breasts. Satoru snaps his attention back to Suguru.

"I don't belong to you." She slides out of his hold and walks towards Suguru. For his part, Suguru looks downright ecstatic to have Kagome on his side. "How'd you even get in here?"

Satoru holds his breath. His jaw ticks. Did Suguru send her his way to lure him into a trap?

"I have a key." Suguru holds the key up and then twirls it. His demeanor is nonchalant, but upon further inspection, Satoru can see how irate Suguru actually is. It's clear, Suguru isn't going to answer how he knew where Kagome was. Kagome does not seem to notice or doesn't care.

And it hits Satoru then that no, Suguru did not send Kagome after him, and she has no idea who she is dealing with.

"You two know each other?" Kagome wrinkles her nose and then shrugs. "It doesn't matter. Satoru, this was fun." She waves and heads towards the door, leaving Suguru and her box of kikufuku behind.

Satoru waits until he hears the door close to advance on his former best friend. "What are you doing with her?"

"I should be asking you that." Suguru throws the key at him. It hits infinity and remains suspended in the air. "Why she gave you the time of day is beyond me. Should have known she'd have terrible taste."

Oh, this is rich. Suguru is jealous?

"Did you have anything to do with the death of her family?"

Suguru smiles and shakes his head. "Really? That's what you want to ask me? Why would I hurt Kagome? I tried to stop the curses, but it was too late." He throws his hands up. "Stay away from her." Suguru flashes him a smile, turns, and heads out. Satoru holds out his fingers and then drops his arm. Even after all this time, he still cannot pull the trigger and get rid of Suguru.

He's still weak. Still too human to do the right thing. Satoru snatches the key out of the air and sighs. Looks like he'll be paying a visit to Higurashi Shrine in the morning. Somehow he needs to convince Kagome to see Suguru for who he is.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

So another problem I am having medically that doctors simply ignore is that some of my bone structure is shaped very weird, but because the end result looks somewhat normal or attractive overall they won't take it seriously as a sign that something is up with my chromosomes or genetics?

Like my rib cage is shaped more like B than A in this diagram I have drawn, especially from the side:

A: A normal curved rib-cage, B: clearly belled, especially out the front lower ribs

But my breasts are big enough to come up level with them even in a sport's bra, and mostly disguise it unless you actually cop a feel and realize how far into my chest area my boobs actually go. Like I have 36E breasts and no one will believe it until they feel me up or I hand them my bra because my ribs bell out under my breasts so sharply. I have had women get pissed off at me when I tell them my breast size because I look relatively flat with clothing on [at least compared to what the cleavage amount suggests or my actual cup size] and they just get angry that I 'delusionally' think my boobs are bigger.

The problem is that means I have a rib shape so weird that any support garment or binding that's supposed to go down my ribs is shaped entirely wrong for my body, but also it means I have "genetic condition" level weird bone shapes and my doctors are just ignoring it because I look "attractive enough".

And it isn't just my ribs! I am half a cm off from qualifying as having microcephaly [my mothers head is huge and my dad has a normal head, all my relatives do], I have zero nasal bridge [flat line from top of forehead to tip of nose] and a nose shaped like a child [little button baby nose never impacted by hormones, I am 36]. I have a notably long skinny neck, a really shortened torso and really long legs and arms compared to the rest of my build. My mom called me "spider monkey" growing up because I had such weirdly long limbs and the teachers had to make an exception to the touching the ends of your shorts rule, because my arms reached my knees and they acknowledged that wasn't fair.

But long legs and child -like facial features are considered attractive on a "woman"!

And the chromosome anomalies that are known to cause this only show up in MEN!

So my doctors have always refused to even check my chromosomes!

In addition to this I technically qualify as being intersexed anyway due to hormonal complications, and have many other reasons to believe I am probably a chimera, including details about my mom's pregnancy, but they won't check! Even though it would be super relevant to managing my health!

They take one look at a "woman" who has long limbs and breasts that completely disguise the shape of their ribs, and a baby's nose and a dainty neck who sounds like a child at 36, who looks NOTHING -in body shape or proportion or any of these traits- like either parent or their full blood sister and who has stacking autoimmune conditions and simply REFUSE to check my genetics!

Also my pinkies are shaped like lightning bolts and my arms stick off my elbows at funny angles. My leg bones grew in at different rates cause me to be 'knock kneed' so severely I couldn't walk without bruising until I finished growing, and I keep getting weird rare growths that aren't supposed to happen at all at my age or multiple times unless you have a genetic condition, and they still just "Don't feel it's necessary u.u" to check, like...

And over and over what they cite as their reason is that most of these conditions -usually but definitely not always- come with severe mental impairment, and I seem to be of at least average intelligence, so I can't -possibly- have these mutations, even though the diagnostic manual specifies that not everyone with these abnormalities is impaired at all. Meanwhile they treat me the way people treat obviously autistic adults who sound like children due to underdeveloped facial structures.

And it seems to me that if they are ruling out the need to even look into it by people being "of average intelligence" they are guaranteeing that all known cases will continue to only show up with severe mental impairment.

And then I can't find a bra that goes down my ribs to support big boobs that doesn't dig horribly into my ribcage, and I can't bind to look actually flat or hide the wiggle without the same issue. And everyone gets some combination of angry or surprised when they see me with my shirt off, and tells me it isn't normal.

[myvitamindjourney]

I was straight and living on the west coast temporarily and didn’t want to get into a serious relationship with a girl. It was hard to find women my age (30s) who were ok with short term, and younger girls had way too much drama. I had done some experimenting with pegging before and I’m open minded so I was like why not just hook up with guys? Figuring they thought about sex as casually as I did and a hole is a hole right??

Boy was I wrong…..

At first I was just getting head. Then only topping. Then i got curious and gave head. Loved it. Then got topped. It hurt but also felt amazing? Starting basically bottoming exclusively and was a bit of a size queen. Holding eye contact a bit longer than normal was all it would take to get me on my knees almost anywhere/anytime. The casual scene was great, but it was also exhausting…I started having a rotation of regulars. Then having favorites. Then having one favorite…then I realized one day I had a boyfriend.

He cheated on me (not surprising considering our start as anonymous fuck buddies), and we ended things. I went even deeper and started cross dressing. Found out that I loved it. Starting getting really into women’s fashion and working out doing cardio to get my body to look good in this new wardrobe I was building. Worked on my makeup. Worked on my voice. My walk. Laser on my body hair…not much contact with men, mostly focusing on myself. But started to get a lot of male attention as I spent more and more time in girl mode. Realized the only time I spent in guy mode was when it was absolutely necessary. Made an appointment with a therapist. Diagnosis: Gender dysphoria (surprise!!!). She asked how I saw myself (not unhappy as a male, but feeling my future was female). Would I consider hormones?? Once the hormones question was out in the open, it was like the air was electric. I could barely squeak out the words “yes”. I got a prescription that day. Pharmacy called me as I was driving home to tell me they were ready for pickup. I took my first dose immediately

[queerheaven]

1-100 bc why not

1. What is you middle name?

It's Margarida but I ate it

2. How old are you?

28 so old already ���😭

3. When is your birthday?

It's in April if you wanna know the day you will have to DM

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Aries

5. What is your favorite color?

Bluuue

6. What’s your lucky number?

I don't think I have one

7. Do you have any pets?

Not anymore

8. Where are you from?

Portugal

9. How tall are you?

1,56cm 🙈

10. What shoe size are you?

37/38

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

I'm afraid of counting them 😅

12. What was your last dream about?

The part I still remember was receiving a text i wasn't expecting

13. What talents do you have?

Being a disaster I guess

14. Are you psychic in any way?

No

15. Favorite song?

At the moment is Petit genie - Jungeli

16. Favorite movie?

Anything scary

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

I wouldn't know

18. Do you want children?

Depends on the day and if my nephew is being a pain on my butt

19. Do you want a church wedding?

Hell no

20. Are you religious?

No

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

Of course!

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

Mmm I don't think so?

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

Yes multiple

24. Baths or showers?

Showers

25. What color socks are you wearing?

Grey

26. Have you ever been famous?

Hell no

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

Nooo to shy for that

28. What type of music do you like?

I listen to almost anything but mostly reggaeton

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

Nopee

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

Mmmm 2?

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

Each day is different

32. How big is your house?

Normal?

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

Just coffee

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

No

35. Have you ever tried archery?

No

36. Favorite clean word?

Porra

37. Favorite swear word?

Merda

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

2 days

39. Do you have any scars?

Small ones

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Not that I'm aware of

41. Are you a good liar?

No

42. Are you a good judge of character?

Used to be I was but was proven wrong

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

Yes I can

44. Do you have a strong accent?

Nah

45. What is your favorite accent?

I don't think I have a favourite one

46. What is your personality type?

Messy

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

Suits

48. Can you curl your tongue?

Yes

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

Innie

50. Left or right handed?

Right

51. Are you scared of spiders?

No I'm not

52. Favorite food?

Chocolate

53. Favorite foreign food?

Chicken curry

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

Can be both

55. Most used phrased?

accept it that it hurts less

56. Most used word?

No

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

10 minutes tops

58. Do you have much of an ego?

I don't think I do

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

Bite

60. Do you talk to yourself?

Yes

61. Do you sing to yourself?

Yes

62. Are you a good singer?

Fuck no

63. Biggest Fear?

Prefer not to talk about that one

64. Are you a gossip?

Kinda

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

I avoid those

66. Do you like long or short hair?

Long

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

No

68. Favorite school subject?

Arts

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Both

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

No

71. What makes you nervous?

Women!!

72. Are you scared of the dark?

No

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

No in a mean way

74. Are you ticklish?

Only in one place

75. Have you ever started a rumor?

No

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

No

77. Have you ever drank underage?

Who didn't?

78. Have you ever done drugs?

No

79. Who was your first real crush?

Best friend

80. How many piercings do you have?

Only one

81. Can you roll your Rs?“

Yed

82. How fast can you type?

Fast enough

83. How fast can you run?

Very slow

84. What color is your hair?

Ugly mix

85. What color is your eyes?

Grey/Blue

86. What are you allergic to?

Way to many things to be naming them here

87. Do you keep a journal?

No

88. What do your parents do?

Give me problems

89. Do you like your age?

It's what it is

90. What makes you angry?

Rude people

91. Do you like your own name?

Yes

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

No

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

I don't know

94. What are you strengths?

Keep going

95. What are your weaknesses?

Pretend to use them against me?

96. How did you get your name?

My parents?

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

No

98. Do you have any scars?

Again?

99. Color of your bedspread?

Grey

100. Color of your room?

Blue

[moltengoldveins]

-and right now I wanna thank today’s sponsor, My Terrible Friends Billiam And Veil for yet again sponsoring this trash bag of a post.

Technoblade is in menopause and this is why he is Like ThatTM. PLEASE HEAR ME OUT.

Firstly, I gotta clarify that I’m not really talking about DSMP techno here? I’m mostly talking about fanon techno, especially ORP techno. Oh also fair warning I’m gonna discuss the menstrual cycle 👍 move on if you don’t care for such things.

Nearly every Fic I’ve read that delves into Piglin biology and culture gives them an entirely different relationship to gender and sexuality than the human/villager characters. Be it classic ABO dynamics thrown in there because it’s easy or something like the Parshendi mateforms in Brandon Sanderson’s Stormlight books, there’s usually some way for the human characters to look at Techno in all his Aceness and go “huh. Weird.” Only for him to then be Completely Normal in Piglin culture, often to comedic effect.

I love this. I am extremely partial to alien or nonhuman cultures where being ace or aro or something similar is a normal role in society, one that a large portion of the population has. So my headcanon has a few parts;

one: Piglins have a lot of kids. Honestly too many - for a mammal of their size, having on average four or five litters of six to eight kids, most of whom make it to at least young adulthood, would result in uncontrollable population growth over a very short period of time.

two: about 40% of a piglin population on average is ace, and about 80% of those are aro. This subset of the population is the ‘brutes,’ we see, and while they’re basically normal other than being a bit larger on average, they culturally tend towards combat roles because they are unattached. This helps curb that rampant population spike - if you overproduce kids, but a solid 3/7 or so don’t have kids at all, you’re not too badly off.

three: piglin all have hormonal cycles regardless of sexuality or gender. If you’re child-capable, it tends to be a bit longer, on the side of two or three months, but a bit stronger. Everyone politely ignores that every non-brute vanishes for two days every few months. Brutes have a much faster hormone cycle regardless of gender, on the order of a week or so. The brute’s ’time of the month’/‘time of the week’ manifests as an increase in energy, a need for exercise and challenge, and a spike in irritation and aggression. Some of them also get very touch starved.

four: Shut up about TMI and ‘appropriate dinner conversation’ this is important context I swear- I’m ace. Im in my twenties. I’m also getting my hormone cycle for the first time in my life bc up until now I haven’t been healthy enough to be fertile. It’s hell, obv, but I have learned a lot. Most women have a span of about four days when they’re ovulating where they’re Really Horny. Unfortunately for everyone around me, I don’t do that, so instead apparently my brain shunted it over into Bloodlust. I actively want to rip someone’s throat out with my teeth. I’m not even joking, it’s very disconcerting as a largely not-physically-violent person (emotionally is a whole other story) to squint at someone who’s bothering you and unironically think “…… their blood would taste goo- what the HELL MOLTEN?” So I’m saying that this is an accurate description of at least how some ace people handle hormone cycles. I see no reason why the pig people wouldn’t do this too.

five, the obvious conclusion to this story (but not the full conclusion): Techno Is The Way He Is because he’s a brute with a completely normal hormone cycle. He just gets Really Really Bloodthirsty about once every five days. Every OTHER Piglin on the planet understands that, and even non-brutes have a smaller shorter-term cycle that tends to synch with surrounding Brutes and makes them slightly more aggressive. They have bastion sparring days and prank wars to help channel the excess energy. But unfortunately, Techno doesn’t live with Piglins. He lives with Phil. Who doesn’t know SHIT about this. So he never realizes. And techno has to work out his own Murder Schedule without support, or the random surprise attacks/spars other brutes spring on one another to help kick adrenaline production into high gear and calm the stress.

Six, and this is the funny bit: regardless of gender, piglin go through menopause as their hormone cycles break down as they age and eventually settle out to be cycle-less. This process SHOULD only last about a year or two. Unfortunately Techno’s aging makes No Fucking Sense because lady death refuses to take him and the blood god keeps him youthful, but still lets him sorta age??? So Techno is essentially being bounced back to X age, aging forward unnaturally slowly, and then being zapped backwards again once he gets too old for comfort.this span of age is unfortunately EXACTLY THE SPAN OF TIME THAT PIGLIN GO THRU MENOPAUSE. Which manifests for brutes as flashes of MINDLESS BLOODLUST and constant aggression and a lack of social battery. All things that the blood god sees absolutely no point for, so technos requests that maybe he be allowed to live at a different age are ignored.

Tldr….. Techno is in menopause. Possibly forever. Every single piglin who hears about how he behaves figures this out in like eight minutes, tops. Every human who hears about him or meets him assumes he’s Like That because he’s some sort of warmonger, but no. He just got hit with the Period Cramp Lazer 3000 for all eternity and is trying So Hard not to murder about it.

Anyway yeah that’s my Cursed Headcanon 👍 now you all have to suffer with me.

… does anyone want to hear another Horrible Cursed Headcanon? I’m going to make a tag for these Deeply Unhinged Headcanons if I keep making them but does anyone want to know bc if not I’ll just shut up. It’s about technoblade. Actually it’s largely about Piglins in general but Techno in particular.

[cicimunson]

Roll a Natural 20

Summary: You’re hanging out with Eddie and getting high when you two decide to play a little DnD take on Dare or Dare.

Characters/Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Plus Size Reader, Steve Harrington

Warnings: It’s mostly fluff, a little bit of PG13 smut, drug use 

Word Count: 1.5k

You haven’t been this high in awhile. You normally only smoked on special occasions, but lately you’d been hanging out with Eddie more and anytime he offered you a joint you accepted. Being high made you feel more confident around him.

You sprawl out on Eddie’s bed, laughing softly to yourself.

He chuckles and flops down beside you. “You’re a mess, you know that?”

“Mhmm. A big ole dumpy mess.” You giggle.

He snorts. “What?”

“You heard me.” You laugh again.

“You’re an idiot. Nothing dumpy about you.” He mumbles.

“I’m so bored.” You sit up and sigh. “I think my high is already wearing off.”

“No refunds or exchanges.” He reminds you with a grin.

“You suck, Munson. The least you could do is keep me entertained.”

“Fine. What do you wanna do?”

You glance around his room for inspiration. “Wanna play a game?”

He snorts again. “Sure, let me get out my Parcheesi box.”

“I mean something else, smart ass.”

“What, like truth or dare?” He lifts his head to look at you.

You spy some dice on his nightstand and pick one up.

“How about this? If I roll a natural twenty, you have to give me another joint. For free.”

He sits all the way up.

“You’re so on. Roll the dice.”

You toss it on the bed. “Shit. A seven.”

He grins gleefully. “My turn. If I roll a natural twenty, you have to do my homework for an entire week.”

You roll your eyes.

Eddie throws the dice. “Damn. Thirteen.”

“Okay, if I roll a natural twenty you have to actually study for the history test.”

“Ugh.”

You roll the dice. “Fuck. Four.”

“You suck.” He teases, scooting closer to you. His thigh rests against yours and you take notice of the rough fabric of his jeans grazing against your bare skin. You were thankful you wore shorts today.

He takes the dice. “If I roll a natural twenty, you have to make fun of Steve’s hair.”

You giggle. “So you’re trying to get me killed?”

He laughs and rolls. “Fuck yeah! Twenty!”

“You’re kidding me. Steve is gonna kick my ass.”

Eddie slings an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from big bad Harrington.”

You roll your eyes. “Give me that damn dice.”

He places it in your hand.

“If I roll a natural twenty, you have to perform a Madonna song at Corroded Coffin’s next gig.”

He groans. “Oh hell no, the game’s over. Gimme that dice!" 

You hold it out away from him.

"Uh-uh, you can’t just end the game like that.” You tease.

He tries to grab your hand but you move it back. He leans in further and you lean backwards, laying on your back.

Eddie stretches out on top of you, still reaching for the dice.

Oh God.

He smirks as he easily takes the dice from your hand. His smile fades when he realizes that you’re underneath him and he’s nestled between your thighs.

“Eddie-”

“If I roll a natural twenty you have to kiss me right now.” He blurts.

What?

“It’s not your turn, dummy.” You protest.

“Don’t care.” He tosses the dice in the air. “Oh look, twenty.”

“You didn’t even look at it-”

He cuts you off with a searing kiss.

You gasp. He’s kissing me. Eddie is kissing me.

He cups your chin with his fingers and tugs gently, opening your mouth. When his tongue sweeps inside, you kiss him back. He groans and shifts between your thighs.

“Can’t believe I’m just now getting around to this.” He chuckles as he breaks the kiss.

“You’ve wanted to kiss me before now?”

“Oh, yeah.” He starts trailing lazy kisses down your neck.

Oh, that feels good.

“I, um, I didn’t think I was your type.”

You feel him frown against your skin. “Hmm?” He mumbles, still planting kisses.

“Well, the last girl you dated was kinda skinny.”

He stops and looks up at you. “What?”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that! She was really pretty.” You hurriedly say. “But I just took that to mean you like smaller women. Smaller than me, I mean. I thought that was your preferred size or whatever.”

He rolls his eyes. “I couldn’t give a single fuck what size you are, Y/N. You’re gorgeous.” He runs a hand down your side and squeezes your hip.

You blush. “That’s sweet.”

“Mhmm. Now, can I please get back to kissing you?” He sighs impatiently.

“Oh, for sure.”

He trails more kisses on your neck, pushing the neckline of your t-shirt down as he goes.

Mmm, I could let him do this all day.

“You wanna take it off?” He asks, sucking a small red spot near your collarbone.

“Hmm?”

“Your shirt. You should take it off.”

No way. If he sees my stomach it’s all over.

“Actually, don’t worry about it.” He mumbles, and scoots lower on the bed. He pushes your shirt up and kisses your belly.

You fight the urge to push him away, to cover your stomach back up. You flinch as he kisses your bare skin again and he notices.

“You okay?”

“Um, yeah. I’m good.”

He studies your face. “We can stop.”

He rolls off you and lays beside you in the bed.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t apologize. You weren’t comfortable. It’s cool.”

“It’s not you. Or anything you did. It felt really good. I’m just kind of shy about my body.”

He frowns. “I don’t see why.”

“It’s just me being insecure. Super sexy, right?” You attempt to joke.

“You’re sexy as hell. Insecure or not.”

You blush and he rolls over to look at you.

“I mean it, Y/N. I’m always staring at your tits or your thighs. Those shorts you wear, they make me feel things." 

"Eddie.” Your face is getting redder by the second.

“I’m just saying. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. I’ve got it bad, girl.”

So do I.

“Well, you haven’t noticed me staring at you either.”

He grins. “Oh trust me, I’ve noticed. That’s why I kissed you.”

“Oh. I thought I was hiding it pretty well.”

He laughs. “Y/N, you moaned in my ear the other day when I hugged you.”

“Oh my God, I did not!”

“Well, it was more like a little breathy sigh. Still, I heard it. Made my dick twitch.”

You hide your face in your hands. He pulls them away, chuckling. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me.”

“I can’t believe I fucking moaned. From a hug. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. It was hot. Made me wonder what other kinds of sounds my Y/N makes.” He winks at you.

“Your Y/N?”

“You heard me.” He kisses you.

You kiss him back happily.

Eddie shifts closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him.

“Hey, Eddie, man, you decent? I was wondering if-” Steve comes through the bedroom door and gasps when he sees the two of you sprawled out on the bed together. “Oh shit, my bad!”

You bury your face in Eddie’s chest. Oh Jesus.

“We’ll be out in a minute, Harrington.” Eddie’s chest rumbles as he laughs.

“I’m officially never leaving this room.” You tell him.

He pecks your lips. “Hey, no complaints here. Although everyone else might object. Come on, let’s go see what he wants.”

A few minutes later you both head to the living room.

“What’s up, Steve?”

“Hormones, obviously.” He teases.

“Shut up.” You sit down on the couch beside him.

“No, for real, I’m seeing this girl tonight and she mentioned she likes a band called Judas Priest? I figured you’d heard of them.”

“I got you, dude.” Eddie disappears to his room and comes back with a cassette. “Here. Play her Turbo Lover.”

Steve smiles gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

Steve and Eddie chat a bit more about music. You notice Eddie occasionally glancing at you, then tilting his head toward Steve.

Oh yeah.

“You better wash your hair before you take her out. It’s been so greasy looking lately.” You pipe up.

Steve whirls in his seat to face you. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised you aren’t working at McDonald’s. They could use the oil from your hair to cook the fries.” You continue. Eddie chuckles.

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” Steve yells and you yelp as you jump up from the couch and duck behind Eddie.

“He’s not gonna protect you!”

“Eddie, help!” You giggle and jump out of Steve’s grasp.

“You better get your girl, Munson.” Steve threatens, but laughs.

Eddie snakes his arms around you and holds you still. “Get her.”

“Traitor! Deceiver!” You accuse, giggling and trying to get free.

Steven uses his knuckles and rubs your head. “Noogie!”

“Oh, I hate you guys!”

Eddie releases you and you shove him playfully.

Steve chuckles. “Honestly though, I could go for McDonald’s right about now.”

[no-droids]

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal​

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!

A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you.  Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

The sky is so pretty.  There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky.  It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.

You should probably be running.  Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk.  It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs.  Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day.  You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow.  So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.

You know what your goal is.  Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you.  Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day.  Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob.  He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.

That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him?  At what point does it stop?  You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.

You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance.  There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now.  You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.

“Excuse me!”  It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer.  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”

She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile.  “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came.  “Osiruu is a few hours that way.  There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital.  I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction.  “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view.  I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”

So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted.  You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then.  Which path should you take?

Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her.  But then all of a sudden, you remember something.

Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo.  Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people.  Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring.  But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists.  The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.

You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be.  Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life.  You never pictured yourself as the fighting type.  When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that.  Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.

“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?”  You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile.  “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”

Your footprints will lead directly there.  He’ll find you easily.

“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile.  Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend.  “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey!  I hope we meet again.”

“Do you need any food or supplies?”  She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by.  “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II.  I’d be glad to help.”

Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady?  She seems like… you, almost.  Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs.  You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.

“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet.  “Wanna trade shoes with me?”

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible.  You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad?  Are you just an idiot with no hope?  You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes?  You’re screwed.

At least there’s food here.  Plenty.  There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business.  Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong.  There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.

It’s a lovely tune.  You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors.  Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic.  The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is.  Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.  You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.

Suddenly you see shoes—yes.  Fucking shoes, your salvation.  You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many.  Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design.  It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear.  Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.

“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up?  And another that’s the same but in men's?”

The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper.  His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.

Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder?  One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to?  That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that.  You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.

When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist.  There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss.  Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.

Alright then.  Through the forest, you suppose.  You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again.  You have a finger point, that’s all you need.  Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over.  It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.

“Last call for the seven o’clock!”  A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach.  “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”

The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it.  “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.

“Ah!”  The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors.  He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit.  “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”

“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle.  “Oh, no.  I think I lost my wallet.”

He sighs.  “Off the bus then please, miss.  Come back tomorrow if you find it.”

You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off.  “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”

The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions.  “I’m sorry?  Please—off the bus.”

“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier.  The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them.  “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”

“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste.  Everyone is polite here, it seems.  “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place.  Please get off the bus.”

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.

Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self.  Eliminate the need for a back pathing.  All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers.  You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do.  You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.

Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink.  You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left.  You want him to see the sky.

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one.  The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all.  No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together.  You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.

Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches.  Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell.  It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then.  Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.

The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide.  The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind.  You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds.  Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway.  How do you lose him?

You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated.  Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack.  There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick.  Sturdy.

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up.  Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck.  It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.

Oof, this is dangerous.  You know it even before you start.  The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.

Okay.  Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need.  You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn.  If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?

You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty.  You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again.  This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.

And it was fun.

You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot.  You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.

Water, though.  Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be.  Water is an eroder.  Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.

Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees.  You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain.  The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it.  You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can.  It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.

That means you’re… fuck.  You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?

It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water.  The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall.  You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go.  With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it.  It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found.  This… this is doable.

Okay.  If you pull this off, you’re a badass.  If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation.  This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.

You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot.  Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.

You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further.  Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself.  The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet.  It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.

“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again.  “Answer me.”

You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond.  So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak.  You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below.  “Uh.  Ahem.  Hello.  Yes?”

“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you.  “Or something on your side is too loud.  There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”

You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about.  It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again.  You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.

“Are you already on the move?”  You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.

“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before.  Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something?  Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good?  It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough.  “Ready or not.”

You huff, your tummy going warm.  Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to.  If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended.  You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult.  “But I’m… sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.

“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do?  This isn’t fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well.  Fair.

Stars, you can’t stay here.  You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk.  You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem.  Din is going to hear you no matter what.

“Um.  Can you give me a second?”  You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this.  Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.

“What?”  Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.

“I need to… mute myself.  Give me like… five minutes.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more.  That’s a long way.  You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep.  Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.

It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths.  You have a time limit now, you have to do this.

With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.

It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.

You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.

The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second.  The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.

Okay.  Okay, fucking success.  It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.

“Mando?”  You ask, slightly out of breath.  “Sorry about that, I’m back.”

Okay, now which way do you go?  Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with.  As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.

After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you.  You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing.  “Hello?  Shiny?”

“Did you trade shoes with someone?”  Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.

“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile.  “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”

“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment.  “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again?  Good idea, but the execution needs work.”

Maker, he’s smart.  It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely.  Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do.  You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today.  You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.

Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of.  The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right?  Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.

You want to go to Nariss.  The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance.  Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.

“Alright.  Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit.  You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat.  “How’s the baby?  Behaving himself?”

“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right.  You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.

“You’re joking.”  No fucking way, not that little demon.

“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly.  “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times.  Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”

That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along.  He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back.  Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change?  That has to be it, right?

“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father.  “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”

You hear it.  The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet.  It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.

On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.

“What’s that sound?”

You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees.  Shit.  “Uh.  What sound?”

You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything.  Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it?  It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is?  Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail?  Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?

Oh well, too late now.  You quickly decide to change the subject.

“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make.  “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good.  Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm.  Doubt it,”  immediately comes his low response.  Fucking immediately.

“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.

“Are you having fun?”  Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction.  You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth.  Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask.  Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have?  Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.

“I am,” you say warmly.  “Be… be better if you were here, though.”

“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.

You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing.  “Psh.  Nice try.”

“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.

“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes.  He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.

And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours.  He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—

“What’s your favorite food?”  (“I don’t have one.”)

“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?”  (“I don’t like food that much.”)

“What do you mean?  Everyone loves food.”  (“Not me.”)

“Alright, well um.  What’s your favorite color, then?”  (“I don’t have one, either.”)

“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.”  (“What’s your favorite color?”)

“…Brown.”  (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)

—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.

***

Day 1–6:15am:

You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be.  Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light.  Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them.  All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.

Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier.  The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.

The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing.  If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right?  You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time.  This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.

***

Day 1–7:06am:

You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road.  The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed.  You want a city.  This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines.  Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.

Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows.  As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter.  “Hey.”

“Holy shit, what?”  You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you.  You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

Ah.  So he got to the bus, then.  Okay.

“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile.  Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.

“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say.  Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult.  “Which one of these is yours then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full.  “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”

The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.

He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle.  Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.

His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.

With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh.  Oh stars, you’re tired.

You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains.  You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest.  You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you—you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.

The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental.  It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped.  Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes.  The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead.  Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough.  You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.

You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in.  It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be.  The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own.  He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop.  He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.

But that only goes so far.  You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.

There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think.  It’s hard to see.  Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders.  That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right?  Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up?  Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…

***

Day 2–12:00am:

Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Wake up.”

It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it.  You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy.  “Fuck, how’d you—”

“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.

“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more.  “Shit.  How d’you… mm.  Stay awake all the time…”

“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking.  “You need rest.  I’ll see you soon.”

No—

“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright.  Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now.  Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are.  Things still feel like a dream, somehow.

You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause.  “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up.  You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it.  “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you.  You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull.  So warm, so gentle.  If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest.  “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”

“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur.  Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect.  “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”

“Sure you did.  You in another tree?”

You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset.  “You makin’ fun of me?”  You ask him with a harumph.  Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.

“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know.  Is that displeasure or not?  It’s not immediately clear.  Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now?  Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it?  “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”

“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back.  You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright.  It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.

“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it.  “What’s sixteen times itself?”

You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that.  You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember.  Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart.  Sixteen times sixteen.  One forty-four.  No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—

You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.

“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh.  “I won’t move until you wake up.  Go to sleep.  You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”

Later, this moment will come back to you.  That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six.  You don’t even think Din would.  You would, though.  On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up.  You should know this.  And he knows you.

But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.

“You promise?”  You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.

“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless.  He doesn’t have to do this.  You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.

“Will you, um…” your expression furrows.  How do you say this?  You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out.  “I’m… not in a bed.  I’m outside.”

Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy.  You want him to stay.  Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.

You don’t need to ask.

“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt.  “Sleep, sweet girl.  I’m right here.”

***

Day 2–5:34am:

The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck.  Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.

You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time.  Wait.  Don’t panic.  Listen.

Breathing.  Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black.  He’s… asleep.

Din is asleep?  Seriously?

You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out.  You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen.  Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it.  Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much.  You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box.  It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost.  Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again.  Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.

You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator.  This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it.  He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back.  If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful.  He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this.  You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up.  But… these circumstances are their own.  You have to capitalize now, this is your chance.  You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight.  That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.

You have to find Nariss—you have to.  It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him.  Now is the time to hide.  You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.

The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then.  As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy.  “Mm?”

“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.

“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act.  “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”

“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.

“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head.  Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?

“Yeah, I…”  He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it.  “How long have you been up?”

Op.  Not good.  “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it.  “How long?”

How in Maker’s name?  This is impossible.  How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him?  Can you salvage this somehow?  “…Like ten minutes.”

“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak.  “That was smar—”

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

Oh.  Well.  Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways.  There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up.  Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over.  Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?

“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background.  It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around.  “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though.  He walked home barefoot.”

You smack your forehead.  “It was just….”

“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle.  “Alright, I’m up now.  See you when you get here.”

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh.  What the fuck was that?

No.  Nope, you’re not going to get played.  That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time.  You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore.  You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing.  He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it.  That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it.  Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept.  You’re certain of it.

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

Nariss is big.  Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected.  It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning.  Yes, this will work nicely.

As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?

Oh.  That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time.  If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.

Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion.  You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly?  Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show?  You have to stop worrying about him.  He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.

So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving.  While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation.  You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.

“Do you have some place to stay?”  He asks at one point.  So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect.  He doesn’t need to know.  “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”

This catches your attention, though.  This is relevant.  “What does that mean?”

“It’s expensive?”  He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile.  “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range.  I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks.  It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads.  We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding.  It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”

He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way.  Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes.  He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think.  Someone a little less expressive.  This guy… talks a lot.

“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.

“Sanctuary II is,” he comments.  “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke.  “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle.  You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”

“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?”  You ask.  You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn.  It’ll be the first place Din checks.

“Are you a virgin?”  He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger.  The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that!  It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts.  Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”

“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him.  Good, this is almost over.  “Um.  Yep.  That’s me.”

He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod.  “When you get to the city, just go straight through.  It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”

Okay, that’s… interesting.  You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line.  That might actually be a good move.  Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you.  Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right?  He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to.  Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him.  He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it.  Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.

The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly.  “Oh, by the way.  I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.

The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right.  You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store.  Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.

Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside.  You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms.  Oh well, you weren’t complaining.  Fancy clothes for free, score.

But now you’re here, and you have the best idea.  You don’t need to change shoes, not yet.  Why?  Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.

You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you.  It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories.  It’s an eyesore, it sticks out.  But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.

It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters.  Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.

At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left.  I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.

It’s to your advantage, he said so himself.  Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.

And there’s another upside, see.  An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now.  If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.

Let him know.  Let him know exactly where you are.  Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling.  If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide.  He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.

The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night.  It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on.  It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal.  Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

Alright, so this was the best idea ever.  This is the shit.

You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you.  You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think?  No, that must be a mistranslation, right?

You’re also in a robe.  Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here.  And… and slippers, it’s like a dream.  Do people normally wear slippers in bed?  You do.  Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase.  This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.

The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways.  You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky.  Violent and periwinkle tonight.  You wonder if he’s looking, too.

Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.

Day 3–12:00am:

“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair.  Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath.  Maker, this feels nice.

“You sound happy,” Din comments.  Astute, you feel happy.  Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here.  Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers.  You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth.  No face, though.  Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.

“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance.  You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.

“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed.  You… miss him.  This mattress would feel softer with him next to you.  He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it.  You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles.  Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.

“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Din mutters.  “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”  You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you.  “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding.  “Good one.”

You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you.  You love him.  Literally every single time, he just knows.  Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often.  Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again.  “How do you know?”

“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.

Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today?  How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes?  A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal?  You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.

“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you.  “You should be here.  I’d make you feel good.”

Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually.  Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting.  He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him.  He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around.  The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead.  You could all look at the sky together.

Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece.  “Are you in an inn?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly.  Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie.  You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?

“Hm.”

What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible?  He read you that deeply from one single word?  You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”  You blurt without thinking.

“Doing what?”  He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.

“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?”  You don’t even know what to believe anymore.  How do you beat this?  If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out.  His perception is unbelievable.

After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm.  “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.”  It sounds like he’s smiling.

“I…”  your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”

Din lets out a deep sigh.  He’s right, that was bad, even for you.  “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits.  You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step.  “I’m nowhere near the city yet.  You have time to sleep.”

Your expression furrows and you frown.  “Why are you helping me?”

“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?”  He tosses back, and you huff.

“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.

“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.”  His voice is gruff.  You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing.  “You should give yourself more credit.  I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss.  It’s… not good for me.”

The honesty creeping in makes you go soft.  It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through.  “Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”  His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.

You say it before you lose the nerve.  “I might just turn around and walk back.”

His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache.  You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are.  People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself.  For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.

“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it.  You feel so… known, somehow.  Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his.  He makes you feel loved with it.  “Never wants to run.”

You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.

But again.  You don’t have to say anything, he already knows.  “Give me your coordinates.”

Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip.  Oh, stars.  You hate that you do genuinely consider it.  He could be here, and very soon.  With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably.  He could take a shower.  Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one.  You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.

Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together.  You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you.  Let him come.  You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.

It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.

“Are you eating the purple fruit?”  You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement.  You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him.  Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone.  You like to think you’re both better that way.  Balanced.

“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.

“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”  Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.

“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you.  It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it?  This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting.  Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around.  The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.

“You’re alone, right?”  You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit.  He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.

“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts.  His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…

This has a very small chance of success, you already know.  “…Do you want to—”

“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you.  “We can’t.”

Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless.  Should you push it?  You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?

“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip.  It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach.  “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.

“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?

“What are you gonna do?”  You whisper to him devilishly.  Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down.  Stars, your heart is already pounding.  You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason.  He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire.  “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me.  Or you could find me before I’m finished.  Come make me stop.”

Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to.  The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.

You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels.  You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.

“Do you want to listen?”  You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond.  Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing.  “I’ll talk.”

Still, nothing from him.  Dead silence through the comm.  You’re starting to understand.  For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice.  He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.

You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.

“Hm.  If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu.  You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.

Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece.  “No, don’t even think—”

“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen.  “Take pictures.”

He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement.  When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy.  “…You wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now.  “Oh shit, does this holocall?  Or is it a video option?”

“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him.  “Pick up.”

Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear.  “What if I don’t?”

You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious.  He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you?  Really?

“You sure?”  You ask softly, raising an eyebrow.  “You’d get to see me, where I am.  What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”

The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop.  You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all.  Did he decline the transmission request?  No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before.  Why can’t you see him?

“Why can’t I see you?”  You ask.  You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.

“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath.  “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”

Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist?  Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?

“Nobody can see me but you?”  You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows.  You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible.  “Can you see… this?”  You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.

“Where are you?”  Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.

You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more.  “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”

“Why?”  Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier.  “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.”  You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed.  “Can you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet.  Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that.  How do you know he’s telling you the truth?

“What am I doing?”  You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.

“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden.  Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end.  Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.

“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight.  Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.

“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit.  “Where?”

“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera.  Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.

“Where in Nariss?”  Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.

“I don’t know,” you say again.  Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors.  You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop.  “But the window is open.  And there are lots of people outside.”

“Can they see you?”  Din immediately challenges.  Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that.  You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.

“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him.  It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay.  Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently.  It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth.  “Does it matter?  I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”

“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?

Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”

“Give me your coordinates—”

“Are you giving up?”  You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following.  You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.

The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator.  Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.

You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself.  Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea.  No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well.  You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place.  Is he just that aroused by you?  Or is there something more?

“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again.  Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.

His deep, shaky breath is so telling.  Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back.  You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible.  You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.

You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do.  It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.

“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—

“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell.  He’ll be able to see it, you think.  The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside.  It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip.  He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something?  You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless.  It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you.  You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.  You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you.  Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples.  “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious.  “You think—y-you think—”

“What?”  You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious.  Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops.  It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?”   He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet.  “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there?  You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering.  He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now.  “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh.  That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart.  He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you.  Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word.  “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly.  Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down.  “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid.  Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days.  I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss.  You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it.  You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his.  He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey.  “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not?  What have you got to lose?  Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways.  What’s the worst he can do?  Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here.  “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days.  You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you.  You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table.  It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

[fortheloveofwonderland]

90 Days | S.R (Part 7/12)

Not my gif

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - a night at the Jareau-LaMontagne house is just what you and Spencer need to bring some normality to your lives.

A/N - this is somewhat of a filler chapter but I like the dynamic of Spencer and the reader around other people so I decided to leave it in.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - angst with a happy ending, smut in a later chapter.

Content Warnings - mentions of scars, mostly just more sickening fluff, making out, sexual frustration.

Word Count - 2.7k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Check out my other new series Shelter From the Storm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Seven

Day Twelve

JJ had gotten called away on a case in Seattle the day after she and Spencer had met for lunch but had gotten back late last night and assured him they were still on for dinner.

You were nervous at the prospect of meeting Spencer’s best friend. You wanted JJ and Will to like you, because what happened if they didn’t? Would that mean whatever this was between you and Spencer would be over?

“I don’t know what to wear.” you whined looking in your closet wearing only Spencer’s large robe over your underwear.

He was already dressed in slacks, a shirt and a cardigan and was sitting on the end of the bed.

“We’re only going to JJ’s.” He laughed. “Just pick anything. You look incredible no matter what you wear.” 

You tried to not blush at his comment but you couldn’t help yourself.

But then you huffed and threw yourself on the bed.

“I can’t do it. You pick something.”

“You want me to pick out your outfit?” He frowned. 

“Yes. I can’t do it.” you repeated.

��You know if it were up to me you’d wear nothing but your kimono.” He laughed as he pushed himself off the bed and made his way to the closet. “And also, women’s fashion is not in my realm of expertise.”

He looked through your clothes feeling weirdly as though he was prying. You owned a lot of oversized clothing, mostly everything had long sleeves. He had assumed why this was the first night you’d shared a bed and he saw you in short sleeves for the first time.

You had scars up and down your arms, varying in size and shape. He didn’t have the heart to ask you about them, he just hoped one day you would feel as though you could confide in him.

He spent several minutes going through your clothes before he pulled out a few hangers and turned back to you.

You sat up on the bed now and looked at his choices.

“How about these?” he shrugged, unsure if the outfit he had picked out was anything you would want to wear but he liked the look of it and he liked the idea of seeing it on you.

He’d chosen a simple pair of black jeans, quite possibly the pair you were wearing the first night you met. He remembered how great you looked in those jeans. He had also chosen a long sleeved blue blouse with a high neck and frilly sleeves. It was a floral pattern and he thought it would look beautiful on you.

You came over and inspected the outfit choice. Spencer wasn’t sure what you made of it as your facial expression was unreadable.

“I love it.” You took the hangers from him. “It’s perfect. Casual yet smart. Cute but not sexy. Good job Doctor Reid.” you beamed before running off to the bathroom to change.

He felt good about himself. And he loved that he could look at you all night knowing he’d picked out that outfit.

***

You got a cab to Cleveland Park where JJ and Will lived. As you walked up the front path you felt the nerves fluttering in your stomach. 

Spencer sensed this and held your hand.

“It’s going to be fine. They’re going to love you.” He kissed your cheek as you came to a stop at the door. 

“I hope so.” you turned so you could gently kiss his lips before Spencer knocked on the door.

“Henry, get your brother, company’s here!” you heard a male southern voice from inside the house. 

A few seconds later the door opened and a chiselled man with dark eyes, dirty blonde hair and stubble growth on his face appeared.

“Spencer, good to see you.” Will stepped forward and embraced Spencer and to your surprise Spencer embraced him back.

It was nice to see he allowed others close to him, although you were a little disappointed the physical contact wasn’t saved just for you.

The embrace ended and Will stepped back to look at you. He had friendly eyes. They made you feel at ease. 

“And you must be Y/N. I’m Will LaMontagne, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he reached his hand out and you shook it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” you smiled. “I brought some alcohol free wine. I have no idea what it will taste like, but it didn’t feel polite to show up empty handed.”

Will took the bottle from you with a smile.

“That was really nice of you, thank you. Please come in. Jennifer is in the kitchen.” 

You all stepped in the house and Will closed the door behind you. He led you through to the kitchen where you were met with the beautiful aromas of chicken, garlic and spices.

“Spencer, Y/N!” JJ smiled brightly as you entered the kitchen. She brushed down her apron and came around the counter. 

She hugged Spencer tightly and then to your surprise she then hugged you.

“It’s so nice to meet you! Spencer has told me so much about you.” JJ stepped back and she was smiling a million dollar smile at you.

You suddenly felt a little self conscious. JJ was incredibly beautiful, with long blonde hair and stunning blue eyes. She was tall and slim and with an enchanting smile. 

“He’s told me all about you as well. You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” JJ looked a little modest. She motioned for the boys to come over. “Come and say hello boys.”

“Hi uncle Spencer!” Henry ran over and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s waist.

“Hey Henry! How are you doing?”

“I’m good thank you uncle Spencer.”

“Have you been practising the magic trick I taught you?”

“Of course!” Henry beamed. 

“I want to hug uncle Spencer!” the younger boy, Michael, tugged at his brother’s arm.

“Hi Michael.” Spencer bent down and scooped the smaller boy up in his arms. “I’ve missed you guys.”

Both boys looked just like their mother with their blonde locks and blue eyes. 

“This is my friend Y/N.” Spencer motioned to you as he set Michael back down on the floor.

“Hi Y/N.” Henry waved a little shyly at you.

Michael looked up at you with large eyes.

“You’re pretty.” he smiled up at you.

“Aw thank you.” you smiled back. “You’re very handsome yourself.”

“I like her mommy.” Michael told JJ.

“Why don’t you two go upstairs and play.” JJ kissed both of her son’s on the head. 

The boys nodded and Henry took his little brother’s hand and led him out of the room.

“Can I get anyone a drink?” Will asked you after the boys were gone.

“I guess I’ll give that alcohol free wine a go.” You shrugged.

“Water for me please.” Spencer added. 

“You guys go and sit down, I’ll bring the drinks through.” Will told the three of you.

“Dinner shouldn’t be too long.” JJ told you as you both followed her through to the living room.

JJ motioned Spencer and you to the couch and she took the armchair.

Soon after Will joined you with a tray of drinks, non-alcoholic wine for you, JJ and himself and water for Spencer. 

Will handed out the drinks and sat on the arm of the chair JJ was occupying. 

JJ was the first to brave a sip of the wine and couldn’t help but pull a face. 

“Wow, that’s…interesting.” She laughed.

You and Will took sips of yours too and your facial expressions were similar to JJ’s.

“Oh god.” you grimaced. “That’s...yeah. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what else to bring.”

“It’s ok.” Will laughed. “Maybe we’ll all switch to water for dinner.” 

“Sorry guys.” Spencer looked sadly into his drink. 

You instinctively took hold of his hand.

“You don’t need to apologise.” you whispered to him.

JJ and Will exchanged a glance and a smile at the sight of you comforting their friend. 

“We don’t mind Spence, a night off the wine can’t hurt.” JJ agreed.

You kept hold of Spencer’s hand because you sensed it was comforting him.

“So, you work for the BAU with Spencer?” you said to JJ wanting to try and learn about Spencer’s best friend. 

“Yeah I do. It’s great, I love my job. It’s hard at times being away from Will and the boys but it’s a great job.” 

“And what do you do Will?” you asked, realising you didn’t actually know anything about him, Spencer had only told you about JJ.

“I’m a detective with DC Metropolitan.”

“I assume by the accent you aren’t from DC?”

Will laughed. 

“No ma’am I’m a southern boy from New Orleans. I met JJ and Spencer and their team on a case...how long ago was it now?” He looked at JJ but it was Spencer who answered.

“Twelve years, two months, three weeks and six days.”

“Well,” JJ laughed. “Happy twelve year, two month, three week and six day anniversary.” She squeezed Will’s leg. 

You laughed and squeezed Spencer's hand.

“Spence says you're a freelance writer?” JJ asked you now. “What sort of things do you write?”

“A bit of everything, that’s the great thing about it. I love it, every day is different. I get to work from home and as long as the jobs come in frequently enough, which they seem to, I make enough money to get by.” 

“Working from home sounds nice.” JJ mused. 

“Working for the BAU sounds fascinating.” you laughed. “I’ve written a few crime pieces. I have an odd fascination with serial killers. What you guys do is captivating.”

“I can speak to our boss Emily and see if I can bring you in for a tour. She won’t mind I’m sure.”

“Oh wow, that would be amazing.” you nodded but then looked at Spencer to make sure that would be ok with him.

He gave you a small nod. 

Just then a timer went off in the kitchen and JJ excused herself to dish up dinner. 

You, Spencer and Will chatted between yourselves until JJ let you know dinner was on the table and Will led you through to the dining room. 

Before you entered, Spencer pulled you to one side and when he’d checked that Will or JJ couldn’t see you, he kissed you softly on the lips.

You smiled at him before pulling him through to the dining room. 

***

“And then his music stopped and Spence’s voice came through the speakers. What did you say, Spence?” JJ laughed.

“It was along the lines of we interrupt your regularly scheduled musical selection with an important announcement: never wage a practical joke war against an MIT graduate, because we have a history of going nuclear. Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the dulcet sounds of me screaming in your ear. And then it was just me screaming in his ear.” Spencer laughed recounting his prank on Morgan from years previous.

“And then Morgan’s phone rang and he thought it was Garcia but it was just Spence screaming some more.” JJ added and all four of you laughed together.

“Wow, remind me never to try and prank you.” you nudged Spencer in the arm. 

“Morgan had it coming.” Spencer smirked. 

“It sounds like you guys have a lot of fun with each other.” you sipped her water.

“After what we see, it’s good to make each other laugh.” JJ agreed.

“That dinner was amazing, thank you so much JJ.” 

“Thank you and you’re welcome.” JJ stood up and started gathering the plates.

“Please, let me help.” you pushed your chair back and stood too.

“Don’t be silly, you’re our guest.”

“I insist, please.” 

Just as JJ was about to concede, her phone beeped with an incoming message. She fished it from her pocket and read the message. 

Spencer could tell by the look on her face what it was.

“You’ve got a case.” Spencer said a little sadly.

“Yeah.” JJ sighed. “Florida. I’m going to have to go, I’m sorry.” She put the plates back down.

Will and Spencer stood now too. 

“Boys,” Will called upstairs. “Mommy’s got to go to work.” 

The boys came running down stairs soon after to say goodbye to their mom.

“Can we stay and help you clear up?” Spencer asked Will.

“Nah don’t worry about it, I’ll be ok. Thanks anyway.” 

You all said your goodbyes and thanked JJ and Will for their hospitality. Henry and Michael gave Spencer a hug and you beamed when they hugged you too.

You all agreed to get together soon and you and Spencer left the house to await your cab.

“I had a great time tonight.” you leaned into Spencer in the back of the cab, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It was nice, normal.” Spencer wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “JJ loves you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. She told me when you were in the bathroom. She thinks you’re great. And she thinks I’m a lucky man. She isn’t wrong.” 

“You are, aren't you?” you giggled.

You pulled up at your apartment fairly soon after, paid and headed upstairs.

Spencer collapsed on the couch undoing his cardigan and the top buttons on his shirt. 

You hung your coat up and turned to look at him. His eyes were heavy with sleep and he looked so delicious in the low light of the room.

He looked up at you with a sleepy smile and he patted his lap for you to come and sit.

You swallowed feeling a little nervous at the prospect but slowly headed over to him. 

You perched on his knee hoping you weren’t too heavy. 

Spencer’s hand worked its way to your hair and entwined with the locks. 

“Goddammit Y/N,” his voice was low and breathy. “I am completely and utterly enamoured with you.” He cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer so your lips could meet. 

You melted into his lips. The kiss heated up quickly and Spencer moved you so you were straddling his lap. Both of his hands got lost in your hair and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The kiss was sexually charged, you both felt it. You nibbled Spencer’s lower lip and he moaned into your mouth.

“Jesus Y/N.” He panted. His hand trailed from your hair, down your back and came to a stop on your ass. 

You ran your fingers down his neck and onto the exposed skin on the top of his chest and inside his shirt. 

“Spencer,” you panted. “If this goes much further I’m not going to be able to stop.” 

“Me either.” He rested his forehead against yours. “But I can’t stop thinking about this. About you, in that way. I know this isn’t smart but I find it so hard to be smart around you.”

You sat back and sighed.

“Clearly there’s a lot of...tension here. Maybe we just need to get this out of our system? But maybe if we do it once we won’t be able to stop.” 

“I don’t know.” Spencer stroked your cheek. “I really don’t know. Maybe we just draw the line at making out. I don’t know. This situation is just so weird and new to me.”

“Me too.” you agreed. “I’ve never found myself so sexually frustrated over someone before.”

Spencer blushed at your words. 

“Me either.” He agreed. 

“Maybe we have to take all sexual activities off the table. Hand holding is fine but I think we probably need to stop kissing.” you said reluctantly. 

“Or alternatively,” Spencer ran his fingers up your spine. “We just have sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

You laughed and kissed his forehead before getting up off his lap. 

“Seventy eight days Spence. I think we owe it to your recovery to wait.” 

He knew you were right but seventy eight days seemed like a lifetime away. 

“Once this is all over Y/N.” He stood up and held her face in his hands. “Once I’m better...I’m never leaving your side. Not even for a second. I’m in this. Like really in this. This is about so much more than you helping me through my addiction.”

“I know Spence.” you kissed his cheek. “And you better believe I’m not going anywhere. I’m bound to you.”

With that, you retired to the bedroom. 

You slept on his chest as usual and Spencer held you tight.

Seventy eight days couldn’t be over soon enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[aikoiya]

WHAT DO YOU FIND AESTHETICALLY PLEASING? DO YOU HAVE AN IDEAL TYPE?

IN GENERAL

Physically fit.

Clearly defined sex. I don't wanna look at someone & be confused about their sex.

REALISTIC PROPORTIONALITY!! I hate it when nsfw artists make characters’ “parts” so… exaggerated!! Ugh! It's stupid & ugly!

I just generally prefer more natural hair colors.

Though, silver or white or gray are good too.

However, bright unnatural colors like pink or green or purple are acceptable when it's just a small portion of the character's hair. Like framing the face or the ends are dipped. That can be cool-looking.

I love bright, expressive eyes.

Extra credit if their pupils.

I do like animal features if it’s done right. Things like slitted pupils, pronounced canines, claws. Stuff like that.

Tattoos & piercings are cool too, but NOT TOO MUCH!!! I mean… unless it’s a Maoi from Moana sort of situation. But, for the most part, keep it low-key.

Like, I prefer no face tattoos.

And those nose rings like they give to bulls just… don't do it for me.

War paint is also cool depending on the situation.

Style is key in everything! Just in-general!

Hats are cool! I love hats!

MEN

Height

Just taller than me. So, 5”4’+.

Especially 6+.

But I still like myself a short king, I just prefer them taller is all.

Physique

Clearly masculine!

I like them anywhere between twunk & chad. So, anything between TP Link & HW Ganondorf.

Chad preferred, but twunk is also nice.

Not a fan of twinks or traps or femboys. Immediate turn off.

Fit & muscular.

Plump, but tight ass.

Hair

So long as his hair-cut ain’t atrocious.

But if we’re talking preferences, then I do like long hair.

Doesn’t need to be heavily stylized. Just needs to look good.

Not too terribly much body hair. Not looking like a stinkin’ gorilla. Unless it’s, like, freaking SSJ4 or a werewolf or something, because those have a legitimate reason.

Facial Hair

Love facial hair.

Even full beards look good to me.

But even if a dude doesn’t have a beard, I also like mutton chops.

My only requirement is it being well-groomed & clean-looking.

Also enjoy a somewhat hairy chest & a treasure trail.

Fashion

For the most part, no make-up.

Especially no lipstick or mascara!

As for eyeliner & eyeshadow… it depends on the situation. Like, if the character is Ancient Egyptian, then a bit of eyeliner & shadow is okay because that was something that was fairly normal.

Masculine clothing.

I'd actually like to see more experimentation with mens’ fashion. And I mean in a way that still manages to portray masculinity.

WOMEN

Physique

Hourglass or pear-shaped figures.

Not necessarily thin. I actually really liked Hinata's figure from Naruto Shippuden.

Subtly muscled, but still feminine.

But this is mostly in a “I wish that were me” sort of way.

C to D cup breasts are nice in an aesthetically pleasing, physically flattering sort of way. But nothing larger. I hate it when artists basically glue watermelons to women’s chests. (I actually have fairly decent-sized breasts myself & I really like them. They make me feel pretty.)

Hair

Pixie cuts are cute.

And I like long hair too.

Generally not a fan of guy-cuts on girls.

Fashion

Little make-up. Just eyeshadow, lipstick, & mascara with maybe some eyeliner on occasion. Unless it’s a special occasion, at which point, get extravagant! Just try to keep it stylish, is all.

Slightly full lips can be nice, but if their lips are too full, I don't like it at all. Looks too much like a whore.

I just generally prefer more natural beauty. Artificiality is… well, it just doesn’t look good to me.

Generally speaking, clothes shouldn’t be too revealing. I like clothes that are modest while still managing to be flattering & stylish.

Like, if you’re gonna put a woman in a slutty getup, then remember to also put a guy in a slutty getup too. At least be equal with your fetishizing fanservice. Straight girls & gay dudes gotta eat too, ya know!

Hats! Especially the old styles of hats that were so cute & pretty & had flowers or bows or feathers! Why did we stop wearing those, ladies??? Top hats, cloches, fedoras, sunhats, pillboxes! What happened to those??

Also, not being afraid to wear festive or goofy attire. Holidays are an occasion, ya’ll! Don’t be afraid to get a bit obnoxious! Don’t be so dang boring! Being festive is good for the soul & it makes me feel good!

When wearing armor, make it practical!! There’s very little excuse for having your tits hanging out because that just means that there’s a spot undefended! The battlefield isn't the place to be showing off your figure, dumbass!! Cover ‘em up!!

Fandom Meme II

WHAT DO YOU FIND AESTHETICALLY PLEASING? DO YOU HAVE AN IDEAL TYPE?

Apparently, yes. I only describe the preferred, ideal physical traits / aesthetic, though. If I explained the personality aspects as well, this would get quite a bit too long.

IN GENERAL

slender

harmonious & delicately chiselled facial features - such as prominent cheekbones, and a nice jawline angle

big, beautiful and expressive eyes, with a slightly cat-like shape

straight, well cared for teeth - especially without a frontal tooth gap (big turn off)

not too much body hair

MEN

Height

min. 1,85m - it’s nice when they are very tall

Physique

well-proportioned (i.e. long legs, broad shoulders, slim midsection)

athletic built (not too bulky, but clearly visible muscles are always good)

Hair

long !!! (there are just few exceptions)

dark, or silver / platinum blonde … not ginger, though

straight, or wavy

As for facial hair …

A bit of a complicated matter, I’m afraid, as I am fairly ambivalent about it now, as opposed to the “definitely not” from before.

It is still more of an exception, though.

A full beard is definitely out of the question - absolutely not my cuppa.

But I have found that a small chin beard / goatee can be fine, given it doesn’t cover much of the face.

Same goes for a moustache - at least when it comes to a Victorian / Edwardian style handlebar moustache, to be precise, which is a very neat and sophisticated look, if done right.

What I find really important, though, is that if the man has such a beard, it definitely has to be very well-groomed - but that goes for hair in general!

Examples:

WOMEN

hourglass figure (flat belly, minuscule waist, wide hips, round bottocks)

full lips

Hair

medium to long

dark, red (with the ladies I like it a lot), and, in some cases, blonde

Examples:

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This is a continuation of the meme I posted before, so tags are pretty much the same:

@mikeilo & @aikoiya