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k-evans-reads · 1 year

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In Living Color

Chapter 8

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,256

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: Sexual content. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI! We block minors!

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

June 14th, 2021

Nat rubbed her eyes with a yawn as she listened to the phone ring, hoping she wouldn’t wake him before he had planned on getting up for the evening’s night shoots. As the call continued to ring she contemplated hanging up and just texting him instead, but Chris answered. “Happy day after your birthday,” she laughed, smiling widely as he chuckled, his voice raspy with sleep. “Feel old yet?”

“Based on how sore I’ve been all week, I think I’ve felt old for a while now,” he groaned, making Nat laugh a little, although she knew it was the truth. He’d been hard at work the past few weeks, busy with stunt sequences she couldn’t even picture in her mind based on the vague descriptions he’d shared. “Turning forty is just the nail in the coffin.”

She tutted, telling him, “Well you don’t look a day over thirty-nine.”

He scoffed, his voice unconvincing as he replied, “Thanks, that really makes me feel a lot better, Nat.”

“How was your birthday?”

“It was fine, just was on set all day. I got to talk to Ma and my sisters and my nephews and niece sang to me which was fuckin’ cute,” he informed her, but then paused as he yawned. “Then I also got this really incredible drawing of Buzz Lightyear with Dodger in place of Sox.”

She smirked, having been waiting for his reaction to that gift in particular. “Oh did you?” She asked, her voice plain.

“Yeah, this really talented artist I know made it for me,” he played along. “I think she might know that I love handmade gifts, and this is my favorite gift I’ve gotten in a long time.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the praise, wanting nothing more than to be there with him, especially on his special week. “I’m really glad you liked it,” she told him quietly.

Chris’ voice was anything but teasing when he interjected, “I like you a lot more.”

Nat sighed, the longing only intensifying the more he spoke and shared what he’d been feeling. “...I wish it wasn’t another month until I see you,” she murmured, unable to stop imagining that day in July when he finally arrived back in California to see her.

“Me too, Nat,” he whispered back, the rasp in his voice sending a chill down her spine. “So what are you doing today?”

“Just going to work. I’m meeting with some of the animators and they’re going to show me some of the chunks of Lightyear that’s done,” she shrugged to herself before she yawned quietly, the early hour something she wasn’t used to lately. “I’ll send you some videos.”

“You better!” He laughed, and it did nothing to quell the emotions she felt. “I was wondering if you were going in early… normally you’re still asleep now.”

But Nat shook her head, more to herself than to anyone, as she unplugged her phone from the charger and moved to lay on her back again. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d just call you instead,” she informed him.

“I’m glad you did. I’m still in bed too,” he mumbled, then paused while Nat stayed quiet and didn’t make any noise of acknowledgement. “...You okay, Nattie?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she explained, then bit her lip before she decided to just go for it, not being able to hold back her emotions any longer. “It’s just that it’s cold in bed and I’m alone and I’m not getting touched by you and I miss your kisses, and I miss you.”

She could hear his sharp intake of breath and a muffled sound as the blankets moved around him, then Chris told her with a low voice, “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now than have my hands on you.”

She all but shivered then, her voice unsteady as her longing turned into desire. “That makes two of us,” she replied.

“I wish I was in bed next to you right now, Nattie,” he told her, his voice clear as she switched the call to speaker, putting the phone down on the bed next to her “I wish I could hold you tight and kiss every inch of you.”

“Chris…”

He was quiet, and the only sound that filled the room were Nat’s deep pants until he finally asked, “...Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Nattie, I want you to touch yourself for me,” he instructed, his voice dangerously low as Nat’s fingers moved instinctively. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of you.”

She nearly whimpered at a twist of her finger, unable to focus on anything except the sound of his voice and the touch of her hand. “I wish you were the one touching me,” she admitted with a whine.

He chuckled, and Nat could nearly picture the devilish smirk on his face when he told her, “That makes two of us.”

Her head flew back against the pillow, jaw dropping as she let out a moan then said, “I can’t wait until you’re back.”

“I want to be with you right fuckin’ now,” he muttered, pausing as he shifted on the other end of the call, then told her, “I want to be the one touchin’ you, Nattie.”

She couldn’t catch her breath for a few moments, feeling something build inside her. “You will be,” she whimpered as she slipped another finger inside of herself.

“I wanna be kissin’ you and suckin’ on your neck that had you moaning that last night,” he rambled, voice sending waves of electricity through Nat and spurring her on. “I want my fingers to be the ones inside you. I wanna grab that pretty ass of yours, Nattie.”

“Chris,” she moaned, unable to stop the nearly incoherent sounds from pouring out of her.

He groaned on the other end of the call, silent until he ground out, “You like thinking of me touchin’ you, Nattie?”

“God, yes,” she replied, wishing so badly that she could touch him, picturing the tattooed chest in her mind, with the chain dangling between his pecs as his hands moved over and in her.

A low, dangerous chuckle spilled from his lips before he admitted, “I can’t wait until I get to have my hands all over you. I’m going to need to take my time with you when I get back.”

She whimpered as she hit that spot inside of her, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before she instructed, “You better.”

“God, your moans are so pretty, Nat. I’m goin’ crazy thinking of you laying in bed touchin’ yourself for me,” he moaned himself, his voice sounding strained as he panted. “Fuck, Nattie, I want you so bad.”

“I just,” she moaned, unable to catch her breath. “I need, oh!”

“I know you’re close, Nattie. Keep touchin’ yourself for me,” he all-but ordered, Nat following his instructions without hesitation as her fingers moved, pushing her closer and closer to the edge until she hit her peak. “I can’t wait until those are my fingers inside you makin’ you moan like this. Can’t fuckin’ wait to memorize the way you look coming apart for me.”

But Nat couldn’t even respond for a moment as she layed in bed panting, her lungs trying to catch her breath while she felt her body relaxing into the sheets as she came down from her high. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, just relishing in the feelings washing over her body until Chris’ low voice asked from the other end of the line, “Feelin’ good, Nattie?”

“That was a good way to wake up,” she couldn’t help but laugh, running a hand through her sweat-soaked curls.

He huffed, letting out a small sigh as he stretched. Nat ached again to be next to him, to feel his muscles behind her as he agreed, “You’re telling me.”

“Chris?” She asked, voice small. She paused until he hummed, then told him, “I really miss you.”

Chris let out another laugh, voice dripping with sarcasm as he said, “I could tell.”

“That’s not what I meant, asshole,” she rolled her eyes, listening fondly at his laughter. “I mean that I really just… miss you.”

“I miss you too, Nattie. I really do,” he assured her, his tone serious this time.

She listened to his breathing, almost able to pretend he was there next to her if she closed her eyes. “Only one more month,” she said, more to herself than anything.

“One more month.”

Chris listened to what Joe was telling him before the director stepped back up to the monitor, watching through the last scene again. The directors motioned for the actors to take fifteen while they got ready to rerun the last take, so Chris gladly took the chance to sit down.

It’d been a long few weeks away from home – away from everyone except for Scott – and while he was having fun on his first big project since he left Marvel, he was still finding it hard to get back into the rhythm of shooting after traveling so much, and after his unexpected break in 2020.

With a quiet thanks to Scott as his brother – and assistant, as much as Scott hated the title – handed him a water bottle, he listened as Scott quietly told him, “Hey Chris, Nat texted me and said she’s trying to get a hold of you.”

“Okay, I’ll call her,” he nodded, a little confused at what was up. Nat always respected when he was working, careful to not text more than once or twice without a reply when he was on set. But to go through Scott made him worried, although he did remind himself that it was likely just something funny or lighthearted… or Nat thinking about earlier. “Do you have my phone?”

Scott nodded, digging into his pocket and pulling out Chris’ old iPhone. “Yeah here you go,” he paused, handing the phone to Chris. He was quiet as Chris turned on the screen, taking in the several missed calls and notifications from her. “She left you a voicemail too.”

He thanked Scott and got up, heading off the set to near where the trailers were. He quickly dialed her number, thankful when she answered and told her, “Hi Nattie.”

“Hey I’m sorry to bug you while you’re working, I’m just so upset,” she explained, pausing and leading Chris to worry even more. “I went to the gym and my car got stolen.”

He honestly couldn’t have even dreamed of that being the subject of her displeasure, instead imagining a shitty work day or some stupid argument with her sisters. But he realized there was no way Nat could even get by for a week with no car, especially with her schedule. To get a rideshare onto the Pixar Campus would be challenging enough, and for someone like Nat, it’d be a cause of anxiety. But his fears didn’t stop there, instead he was uncomfortable with the knowledge that someone hurt her, even indirectly, and took something from her. She took so much pride in that car, loving it so much, and it was something he always associated with her – that orange SUV was literally the love of her life. “What?!”

“My car got stolen,” she repeated, sniffling before she cursed to herself. “I was at the gym and when I came out there was broken glass on the ground and my car was gone.”

“Nat, are you okay?” He asked, louder than he intended.

He didn’t even realize Scott had made his way over until he felt a tap on his shoulder, and he spun around to look at his worried face as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nat’s car got stolen,” he told Scott quietly, then stared in front of him and repeated, “Are you okay, Nat? Where are you now?”

“I’m at home. I’m okay, I’m just really frustrated,” she admitted, groaning out in annoyance.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, quiet as he thought for a moment. “Did you already report it to the police?” He asked her, his voice lower.

“Yeah I called them and they came to the gym and filed a report,” she explained, then let out a bitter laugh. “As sad as I am about my car, I’m almost more annoyed I left my purse in the car because I had to go get my spare key from Mark so driving in rush hour traffic to his house probably made me more annoyed than anything.”

But Chris felt his heart all but stop at her brief expansion of the story, realizing one key detail from it. “Your purse was in the car?” He asked her slowly.

“I had left it but-”

“Nat, you need to go to my house,” he rushed out, motioning for Scott to hand him his phone.

“What? Why?”

He let out a short breath, then explained, “If they have your purse they have your keys, driver’s license, and your work ID and everything.”

“I know but they can’t get onto campus because my work badge has my picture,” she informed him, her voice a little frustrated. “And they don’t know where I live.”

“Yes they do, it’s on your license and car registration,” he reminded her. He was terrified at the thought of Nat in that apartment, alone with an already questionable door, while some assholes had not only her address, but her keys as well. It was asking for trouble and he couldn’t let her mess with her own safety like this. “Nattie, this is really bad.”

But Nat was nothing if not stubborn and independent, and it showed when she replied, “I’m sure they ditched my purse and just wanted the car.”

“But you don’t know that,” he tried to reason, already searching for security camera companies on Scott’s phone, trying to get someone to go to her apartment. “Nattie, I really want you to go stay at my house.”

She sighed in frustration, telling him, “Chris, I’m sure it’s fine. I doubt they even found my keys with how messy my purse is.”

“Look, Nat, I’m not trying to freak you out but I’m really worried about someone having the keys to your apartment. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he admitted, closing his eyes as he imagined the worst possible outcome. “Please go spend the night at my house, just for tonight. I need to know that you’re safe.”

Nat was quiet for a few moments, enough that he almost thought she was finally getting it – getting how fucking terrified this made him – until she quietly protested, “I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

“Nattie… please? For me?” He nearly whispered, jaw clenched.

He focused on every tiny noise from her end of the call, the short huff of breath and sigh before she finally agreed, “...Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m texting you the code right now,” he told her, pulling the phone away and sending her the code to his garage and gate. “And Nat, I’m going to have someone come and change your locks and put up some security cameras at your apartment. I’ll have Scott set it up and let you know when they’re coming.”

“You really don’t need to do that, Chris,” she murmured, voice small.

“Trust me, there’s no way I’ll sleep if I don’t,” he confessed, a short laugh almost escaping him before he heard something behind him near the set, then Scott tapped his shoulder and motioned that it was time to resume filming again. “Hey, I’ve got to get back to set, but promise me you’ll leave right now and text me when you get to my house.”

He could hear her phone buzz as the text arrived, along with another right after it. “I’m grabbing my backpack right now and I’ll call Mark or Jamie to give me a ride,” she told him, her voice slightly muffled as she moved around her apartment.

“Okay, I’ve got to go back to set but I’ll call you as soon as I’m done,” he murmured, waving his hand as a PA started motioning him over. “And will you text Scott when you get to my place?”

“I promise I will,” she assured him, sounding a little less frustrated and upset… finally.

They both shared their goodbye’s before Chris clicked the red button on the phone and let out a long sigh to try to relieve the tension that he’d been holding in his body. A hand came up to scratch at his beard while Scott put a hand on his shoulder as he commented, “That didn’t sound good.”

“It’s not. Nat’s keys and everything were in her purse that she left in the car,” he told his brother, shaking his head as they made their way back on set and he handed Scott his phone. “Scott, I found a security camera company here, can you call them and have them go install cameras at Nat’s place? And then also call somewhere and get someone to go change her locks? I think you already have my wallet so you can use my card.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Scott promised, already tapping away at his phone. “And I’ll let you know when she texts me.”

Chris nodded, mind racing as he told him, “Let me know as soon as you can.”

Chris glanced over at the director who was waving him over incessantly now, and he patted Scott’s shoulder to silently say thank you before jogging back over to the camera. He got into position, but while they adjusted the lighting, he couldn’t help but find his mind wandering. He’d known Nat since February and had found that in that time, she’d slipped into his life so effortlessly, ever since that first day he’d seen her crashing into the glass door of that Pixar conference room.

But this was a wake up call for him. He knew he liked Nat, but for the first time he recognized just how deep he’d fallen in for her without even realizing it. The thought of anything even remotely happening to her was almost too much to bear. Thinking of Nat being upset about her car, let alone the thought that something bad happening to her made him sick to his stomach and longing to jump on a plane right then and there to go back to her. He couldn’t stand the thought of not having her and that was something he was finally starting to realize.

He’d known for a long time that he was interested in her. Nat had intrigued him with her humor, talent, and confidence, but the more he’d gotten to know her, the more he’d found things that he loved about her. She was so sensitive and touched by everything. She was down to earth and didn’t take herself too seriously. But she was vulnerable and a straight shooter, she wasn’t afraid of emotions and didn’t mind sharing them and that was something he hadn’t experienced in the same way. She seemed to calm him and ground him in a way he wasn’t used to, he simply just loved talking to her and being with her and the longer he was away, the more he recognized just how absolutely head over heels he was for her.

But it wasn’t an infatuation, or just some fling. He wasn’t interested in her for a good time or just for her looks, or even just someone to fill his time with as he’d done before. He truly just liked her and there was something about this that just felt… different. And once that next scene finished and Scott hurried over to tell him that Nat had texted and was at his house, he finally could breathe a little easier.

Chris was thankful for the distraction of filming to get his mind off of his worries but still was calling Nat the moment the filming for the entire evening was over. He gave her the rundown of when all the people were coming to get her new locks and install the security cameras but made her promise to spend another night in his house since everything wouldn’t be installed until the following evening and he swore just hearing that one soft, “Thank you for taking care of me, Chris,” and he wanted nothing more in that moment to just hold her in his arms and protect her from all the things of the world that Nat was too caught up in her beautiful artistic outlook of the life to see.

That feeling lingered in his heart as he went to his trailer, taking a warm long shower after filming and getting changed before he and Scott headed back to the hotel. His schedule was so mixed up with all these night shoots and he was getting ready to pull all the curtains to block out the sunrise when his phone started ringing. Assuming that it would be Nat, he quickly grabbed the phone and answered without even looking at the screen first.

“Hello, is this Chris?”

Chris frowned for a moment, his brain frantically trying to figure out who’s voice it was but came up with no answer and instead just replied, “Yes it is.”

“Hi Chris, this is Eric Marton, Nat’s dad. We met for just a minute a while ago when I was in California visiting Nattie,” the voice on the other end filled him in before supplying, “She gave me your number.”

Just the mention of Nat made a smile cross his lips and he instantly relaxed while moving around the room to toss a sweatshirt from the bed over to a nearby chair, “Yeah, I remember. It’s nice to talk to you again, Eric.”

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling you but I wanted to call to thank you.”

“Thank me?” His nose scrunched up at the thought, not having a clue what Nat’s father would want to thank him for.

He heard Eric clear his throat before the explanation came,“Nat told me about everything that happened with her car and that you had her go stay at your house and got all her locks changed.”

“I just couldn’t sleep knowing that someone had the keys to her apartment,” Chris simply stated, knowing that it was the truth. He put the phone on speaker and tossed it on the bed while he started peeling down his jeans to get ready for bed and went on telling Eric that, “Nat seemed to think that they just wanted the car but I was just so worried. I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

“I know you didn’t, and I just had to call to say thank you,” his voice was soft and full of emotion, so much like Nat’s when her feelings were at the forefront. “I hope it doesn’t make me sound like too much of a crazy overprotective father calling about his 33 year old daughter, but I just love her so much and I worry about her.”

Chris just laughed softly while climbing into bed, grabbing the phone and holding it with one hand while the other came behind his head as he propped himself up against the pillows. He knew what it was like to be worried about the people he loved, especially his family, and he knew that with Nat’s mother having been gone for almost her entire life, it was natural Eric would feel a little more protective and worried about his girls. But Chris found it anything but odd, instead finding it so endearing and loving the fact Nat had people in her life who loved her so deeply and told Eric, “I don’t think it sounds crazy at all. I’m so close with my family so I get being worried about them.”

“I know that Nat can take care of herself, she’s certainly not helpless by any means,” Eric stopped to laugh, making Chris chuckle as well from knowing just how true that was. “But it’s nice to know that she has someone else looking out for her and taking care of her,”

“Well Eric, I couldn’t agree with you more in the fact that Nat can take care of herself, but I don’t want her to always have to,” he knew how much he meant it. He didn’t want Nat to have to do everything alone and he wanted to do what he could to protect and care for her. “Besides, my Ma would be the first to say that I’m a bit of a control freak and anxious to a fault, so I couldn’t relax until I knew she was somewhere safe.”

Chris smiled as Eric laughed at those words, knowing so badly that it just felt… right. And as they hung up and Chris went through the motions of getting ready for bed, he remembered how strange this stage of relationships used to feel, the awkward not-quite-dating yet stage before the we’re-doing-this one, but with Nat it all felt new and exciting. He didn’t dread returning to Los Angeles next month like he typically did, all because of her, his Nattie. He couldn’t wait to see her again, to hold her in his arms, and he couldn’t help but look at the clock as he laid in bed, counting down the hours in his mind until they were back together as he fell asleep.

A/N: Genuinely.... we love them. And if you don't believe us, we wrote 62.5k words for them by the end of November. 🌯 is currently typing this on 11/30/2022, and we just cannot stop! We hope you love this, future-readers! Can't wait to read all your thoughts :)

ALSO We’re going to start posting updates TWICE A WEEK! So now every Monday and Thursday there will be an update!

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transboykirito · 1 year

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some short rambling kirisuna with trans girl kirito my beloved

Asuna tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. They’d been laying in bed for hours now, and she was pretty sure that neither she nor Kazuto had slept for so much as five minutes. She couldn’t be sure what was keeping him up, but she knew what was keeping her awake, and it made her want to cry conflicted tears.

She was a lesbian.

It was a recent realisation, but it was one that hit her like a bolt of lightning.

She’d considered it for months now, going back and forth with her friends and with her own reflection in the mirror. She’d done her research, she’d read every article she could find. Everything brought her to the same conclusion.

She loved Kazuto, she really did. If there was such a thing as soulmates, he was hers. It was like their minds and bodies were designed just to fit together, to be each other’s perfect matching halves.

But she couldn’t deny that the idea of calling somebody her husband felt… wrong. It felt like something she was supposed to do, something that was the simple, natural progression of things. She’d married a nice man, settled down and now she was his wife. That was what was expected of her.

They’d been married for six months now, and she’d be lying if she didn’t say that, on one or two occasions, she’d re-imagined their wedding day, where she might find a bride waiting for her at the alter instead of a groom.

The guilt ate her alive. She loved her husband, her soul loved his soul, but she knew deep down there would always be something deeply unsatisfactory about her life unless she was honest with him, like there was a piece of herself that she'd never have a chance to truly discover or grow. She would spend years wondering what could have been, who she could have been if she'd given herself the chance.

Kazuto had been open about his own feelings towards Eugeo and a handful of boys and men he’d known throughout his life. Hell, it was one of those conversations that had prompted Asuna to follow up on the silent, conflicting feelings she’d felt for years. She knew he would forgive her if she asked to break things off. He would understand.

…Right?

She’d been trying to have the conversation for days now. She’d found her conclusion within herself, all she had to do was voice it. She knew she couldn’t keep trying to hide this away.

She’d reached her breaking point the night before, when she’d fallen asleep to a blissful dream of their wedding day. Except… the one dancing with her wasn’t Kazuto, but a strangely familiar, faceless woman. She’d held Asuna so securely as they danced that Asuna felt like she’d known her for her entire life, and she’d woken up in tears.

She wanted to find that woman, find that moment.

Kazuto deserved that moment of his own, too.

“Asuna…” Kazuto’s voice whispered in the dark, “Are you still awake?”

“Yes,” she rolled over to look at him, her eyes widening when she saw his face. Was he… crying?

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, already sensing her concerns growing, “I… I need to talk to you about something. I think you might already know.”

She panicked. She had noticed something was off about him for a few weeks, but she’d been so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she told herself she was imagining things. God, how much had she missed?

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Asuna reached out her hand to hold his own under the blanket, tracing her thumb in circles over the back of his hand. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to soothe him or herself.

Kazuto took a deep breath, “Listen. I’ve been thinking about a lot.”

So have I, Asuna thought to herself, a little sarcastically.

“I didn’t realise how hard this would be to say,” Kazuto said, a laugh almost dancing on the edge of his voice, “You… you know how I’ve been playing GGO a lot more, lately?”

Asuna could recall the hours he’d lost to that game in just the past month - really, it had to be unhealthy. But Kazuto had seemed happy each time he woke from his dive, and Asuna couldn’t complain about that. If anything, she was just happy he was finally enjoying games other than ALO.

“Of course I noticed, did something happen in the game? Is Shino-non okay?”

Then Asuna’s thoughts turned sour. She didn’t play GGO nearly as often as Kazuto or Shino did, guns just weren’t really her style, so she didn’t truthfully pay much attention to what happened in the game. Kazuto knew that, Shino knew that. Had they been using GGO as a place to secretly meet up and…

She must have been easy to read - honestly, between herself and Kazuto, they could read each other as easily as a book, it came with the territory of being so familiar to one another - because Kazuto immediately screwed his face up.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, I promise, it has nothing to do with Shino,” he assured her, noticeably avoiding looking her in the eye.

Whatever it was, it was serious. She’d never seen him this frustrated just trying to talk to her. Yes, there were moments when they’d had petty arguments or been frustrated with one another, but he looked completely angry with himself as he seemingly battled with his tongue to form the words.

“There’s something I need to say, too…” Asuna’s voice was small, nervous. If Kazuto had something serious to say, they might as well both get things off their chests at once.

Kazuto gave her a look, somewhere between terrified and sympathetic, and smiled a forced smile.

“We’ll say it on three, okay?”

Asuna swallowed. Kazuto took a shaking breath.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

“I’m a lesbian.”

“I think I’m a woman.”

Then there was silence.

They both tried to process what they’d just heard, and for a moment Asuna wondered if she’d simply made up what Kazuto had just said. This had to be a dream, right?

Then there was laughter.

“Really?” Kazuto asked, because Kazuto was truly the one person in the world who would be able to make Asuna laugh when she felt like sobbing.

She nodded a little, “I’ve been trying to tell you for a few weeks, I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“Oh, same here,” Kazuto breathed a sigh of relief, “Do you still want to be together? I mean, I know this probably takes some time to get used to, and I don’t really know where I want to go from here or what I want to do now, and I haven’t picked out a new name really, but-”

“I want to be with you forever.” Asuna interrupted, “That’s why I was so afraid to tell you. I knew I had to tell you eventually, but I couldn’t bare the thought of having to lose the person I love so much. I guess I should have known that wouldn’t happen.”

“Guess you’re still stuck with me after all,” Kazuto joked, then she smiled and pulled Asuna into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. Asuna gently kissed her shoulder over the fabric of the t-shirt she’d worn to bed, humming to herself contentedly.

So, Kazuto really was her soulmate after all. They’d be each other’s happily ever after, their dream for the rest of their lives, it would just take a little work to get there - and how exciting it was that she got to be by her side for all of it, right from the very beginning.

“What should I call you now?” Asuna asked.

Kazuto rolled over to lay on her back, and Asuna rolled on top of her. They’d slept like this so many times, it really was a wonder they still insisted on having a king-sized bed. Asuna’s half was usually wasted space.

“Kazuto, I think. For now, anyway. I wanted to find something else, but…”

“But?”

“I’m so used to the way you say my name, it feels weird when I try to find anything else. I liked Kazuko, or maybe Kazuha, but I think I’m overthinking it.”

“Kazuko,” Asuna repeated the name a few times, smiling, “I like it, it’s pretty! I think you should be allowed to overthink this, it’s a big decision.”

She blushed, “It sounds pretty when you say it.”

“Kazuko?” Asuna looked up at her, blushing just as much as she was, “I like saying it too, Kazuko. I’ll keep saying it while you get used to it, if you want me to?”

“Of course,” Kazuko grinned, “Just… not in front of the others just yet. I haven’t had the guts to tell anybody else yet.”

“Of course, I won’t say anything until you want me to, Kazuko,” Asuna felt a pair of arms wrapped securely around her middle and she relaxed, breathing in deeply. She felt so, so safe with her.

“Can I ask… when did you realise? That you were a lesbian, I mean,” Kazuko asked, deftly tracing patterns on Asuna’s side with her fingertip.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Asuna admitted shyly, “I think I finally made my mind up about it around three weeks ago now. How about you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Kazuko laughed again, “Around three weeks ago, when I had this dream about us getting married, but… we were both brides. I can’t believe I was so stupid, I should have just told you right away, we could have both avoided feeling so crappy the last few weeks.”

“I’ve been dreaming about the same thing,” Asuna said, then she yawned, “I love you, Kazuko. I’m glad we can tell each other anything.”

She swore she actually felt her heart skip a beat, and she giggled to herself. She had the cutest wife in the world.

A wife.

She had a wife.

Sure, things were going to take time to get used to, but she had the most incredible woman in the world by her side. They’d make it through anything together.

“We can talk about this more in the morning,” Kazuko mumbled, kissing Asuna again as she started to fall asleep, “Thank you for trusting me to tell me anything.”

So, just like they had so many nights before, and just like they were going to continue to do for the rest of their lives, Asuna and Kazuko fell asleep in each other’s arms, and Asuna remembered for the millionth time that the woman she was lying with truly was her soulmate, in every sense of the word.

And when she finally fell asleep that night, she found herself reliving the same dream she’d had a precious few times now - a dream she was certain would one day come true. An eternally familiar woman, her beloved Kazuko, holding her so securely as they danced, like she’d known her their entire lives.

Someday, she knew they would.

#mine*#kirisuna #trans!kirito #i've been thinking a lot about those stories where couples get straight married then one comes out as trans and the other comes out as gay #like... if that isn't proof soulmates exist idk what else could convince me you know?#its 1am and i just kinda rambled into a google doc for *checks document hisrory* 31 minutes #because i just have this need to write things idk #queer kirisuna really does have my heart i love them #queer kirisuna #< giving them a tag i post about it a lot #mine*fics #mine*tumblroneshots

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hopemakesstuff · 1 year

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Over My Head - Chapter 1 (rewritten)

So, as some of you may know, today marks the 11th anniversary for the Japanese release of Fire Emblem Awakening. I also fairly recently reached a funny little milestone of over 666 kudos on the very first fic I ever posted to Ao3 — an Awakening AU called “Over My Head,” in which Robin is a giant. :P

I’ve unfortunately never actually gotten around to finishing OMH, but it remains my longest fic posted thus far, and it’s always held a special place in my heart for a number of reasons.

BUT

Today I thought I’d share a rewritten version of the first chapter that I did a few months ago (that I also plan on replacing the original chapter 1 with over on Ao3)

“Chrom, we have to do something.”

“Well, what do you propose we do?”

“I… I don’t know. But we can’t just leave her there like that… right?”

He sighed. Lissa was right.

The blue-haired prince turned his attention back toward the individual his sister had been referring to. Of all the things they could’ve found in the middle of this field, this certainly wasn’t something he ever expected. Until now, he didn’t even believe that such things existed outside of fairytales.

A giant. There was an honest-to-gods giant woman lying unconscious a couple yards ahead of them.

She had long white hair tied into loose pigtails, and she wore a long black cloak decorated with purple and gold markings. The designs vaguely reminded him of the garb typically worn by Plegian mages, but that was hardly the most prominent feature on his mind at the moment.

Although the woman was currently laying on her side, Chrom guessed that she must’ve been a good fifty or sixty feet tall. Aside from that major detail, she looked entirely human. Chrom would dare say she even looked… Honestly, she looked rather beautiful.

The Ylissean prince didn’t think he’d ever felt so conflicted before. While he agreed with Lissa’s assertion, he also feared for her safety. He didn’t want to put his sister in any unnecessary danger, and even though the woman seemed to be asleep, there was no telling what she might do if they woke her up. Hell, she could even easily hurt them by accident while she was sleeping.

“I think it might be best if we wait for Frederick to—” Chrom started, turning to look down at Lissa. Only to find that she was already bounding off closer to the sleeping giant. “Lissa, wait! Don’t—” Another heavy sigh slipped past his lips before he followed after her.

Closing the distance only served to make their vast difference in size even more obvious. Each steady breath the woman took was like a gentle breeze. Occasionally, fingers almost as long as Chrom was tall twitched the faintest bit.

However, they both stopped dead in their tracks as the giant began to stir.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing that her irises were a stormy gray. Her gaze seemed… unfocused. Groggy, like she wasn’t fully awake yet.

She let out what probably would’ve been a soft groan, had she not been so unfathomably tall. While far from deafening, it certainly wasn’t quiet either.

Almost instinctively, Chrom’s hand found its way to Falchion’s hilt. He spared Lissa a quick glance before returning his full attention to the woman.

“Get behind me.” His words were soft yet stern, trying not to show any fear.

For once, he didn’t have to tell her twice. Even though they both knew that there was very little he could actually do, Lissa would’ve been lying if she said she didn’t feel at least a tiny bit safer with Chrom standing between her and this massive stranger.

The woman sat up slowly. It was almost like seeing a fallen tree spring back to life. Her palms left noticeable divots in the ground as she used them for support.

She then moved to rub the sleep from her eyes as she looked around the immediate vicinity. Given her size, it wasn’t hard to notice when grogginess shifted into confusion.

Her eyes eventually landed on Chrom and Lissa. Confusion quickly paired up with surprise.

They all just stared at each other for what felt like hours. None of them dared to move. The two siblings scarcely even wanted to breathe.

Until the giant decided to break the stillness. One massive hand started to hover closer to them. It almost seemed cautious. Hesitant, even.

But as soon as her fingertips brushed against his shoulder, Chrom couldn’t stand idle any longer.

Fearing that she was about to grab him—or worse—he drew Falchion from its scabbard in the blink of an eye, slashing out in front of him. Lissa whimpered and snapped her eyes shut.

The blade met flesh, although the wound left behind might as well have been a simple paper cut by comparison. Even so, the woman flinched and yanked her hand back.

She almost seemed entranced as she watched a thin trail of blood form on each finger, eventually dripping down onto the ground.

A few seconds passed before she looked back down at Chrom and Lissa.

“I… I’m sorry. I just… I wasn’t sure if you were actually real,” she murmured. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Her words sounded so sincere that Chrom was almost immediately hit with a wave of guilt. They also made him realize just how gentle her touch had actually been.

“N-No! Not at all!” he stammered, lowering his sword. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to apologize either,” she insisted. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that.”

Her actions made plenty of sense, though, the more Chrom thought about it. She’d been just as shocked to see them as they had been to see her. He probably would’ve done the exact same thing if he’d woken up to a pair of tiny people staring at him.

“Let me introduce myself at least,” he said, opting to change the subject. “My name is Chrom, and this is my sister, Lissa.”

The young blonde gave a somewhat awkward wave before she tentatively stepped out from behind her brother. Much like Chrom, Lissa found herself feeling quite a bit braver after hearing the woman speak such kind, considerate words.

“Do you have—er, that is, what’s your name?” Chrom asked.

“My… My name? My name is… um. Robin?” the woman replied, although Chrom was surprised by how uncertain she sounded. She then took a moment to look around the area again before she continued. “It’s nice to meet both of you, but… Where am I? And… Why are you so small? N-No offense.”

Gods, she’s just full of surprises isn’t she? Chrom thought. “Well, my sister and I found you here in this field. We’re just a couple miles south of Southtown, in the halidom of Ylisse,” he explained to her.

“And we’re not small,” Lissa added. “I mean, I guess we are compared to you, but you’re the one who’s a giant!”

Chrom couldn’t help but wince at his sister’s blunt choice of words. Luckily, Robin didn’t seem upset by the phrasing; just confused.

She looked around a third time, really taking in the landscape. It was only then that she noticed how everything was proportioned much more for someone of Chrom and Lissa’s stature.

“Um… mmm…” she stuttered, almost struggling to find her words. “I don’t… I don’t think I’m supposed to be like this?”

“Wait, Robin, are you saying you used to be normal-sized?” Lissa clarified.

“I… I’m not sure,” the white-haired woman admitted.

“Wh—How can you not be sure?” Chrom asked. He didn’t sound mad or annoyed, just… shocked, more than anything.

“My memories are. Um. A bit hazy,” she explained. “Or… Maybe more than ‘a bit.’”

With deliberate slowness, Robin started reaching up to put her hand to her forehead, as if she was getting a headache. Only to pause when she realized she was about to use her injured hand, which was still bleeding. She promptly switched to use her other one instead.

Chrom made a mental note of the strange design branded on the back of it; purple markings that resembled six eyes interwoven together.

Meanwhile, Lissa took a few steps forward. “I… I could heal that for you. If you want?” She used her staff to point at the cut across the giant’s fingertips.

“Oh. Yes, please. I would appreciate that a lot,” Robin replied. “Should I… Do you want me to put my hand closer to you, or would you rather move closer to me?”

“Um. Well. I guess I can come closer?” the young blonde said. “Just, er. Try to keep your hand still, alright?”

Robin nodded. “Alright.”

With that confirmation given, Lissa walked all the way up to the giant’s waiting hand.

Chrom couldn’t help but feel apprehensive as he watched Lissa close the distance at a tentative pace. He wasn’t about to raise any objections, especially since it was his fault Robin had gotten injured in the first place, but that wouldn’t change how protective he could be of his little sister.

Once she was close enough, Lissa knelt down and held her staff out in front of her, keeping it right above Robin’s fingers.

From there, the cleric quietly recited a healing incantation. The jewel on the end of the staff gradually started to glow a dull blue in response to her words, growing brighter and brighter the longer she spoke.

After a few seconds, the cuts began to glow as well.

Robin looked rather enamored as she watched Lissa work, awestruck by how quickly her skin was healing itself.

Although… Lissa herself was somewhat confused. By the time she was done, all that remained was a scar, but… with such a small cut—well, small for someone Robin’s size—she would’ve expected it to heal completely, with no trace left behind.

Maybe it only matters that the wound is still pretty big for us? Lissa thought.

Spurred on by that confusion, the cleric absentmindedly reached out and ran a hand along the scar.

No matter how hard Robin tried to keep still, she couldn’t stop her own hand from reflexively twitching in response to such a delicate touch. The sudden movement startled Lissa quite a bit, but not enough to make her pull away. If anything, she couldn’t help but marvel at how surreal it felt. Her entire hand barely even covered the tip of Robin’s finger.

“Is… Is everything alright?” Robin asked after a few seconds passed.

A part of her almost didn’t want to speak up, fearing that she would ruin the moment. At that point, she probably felt the exact same way as Lissa; equally mesmerized by the sensation of the other girl’s much smaller hand resting against her skin.

“Oh! Yeah, sorry!” Lissa quickly stood up after that, taking a few steps back so she didn’t have to crane her neck as much. “I got a little distracted there,” she admitted somewhat sheepishly.

A subtle smile graced Robin’s lips in response. “That’s okay. I did, too.”

Meanwhile, once his sister wasn’t standing quite so close to Robin anymore, Chrom let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Seeing the look on Robin’s face just then almost made him feel foolish for even worrying in the first place.

“So… I’m assuming you don’t know how you ended up here?” he eventually wondered.

Robin shook her head. “No, I don’t—I’m sorry.”

Chrom almost wanted to object and tell her she didn’t need to apologize again, but he ultimately decided against it.

“Maybe we can help you figure it out,” Lissa offered. “And help you figure out how to get back to normal, too!”

Robin looked more than a little surprised. “R-Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Of course! Us Shepherds always help people in need. Right, Chrom?”

Chrom winced a bit. “Lissa, I’m not sure if we can help,” he said somewhat softly. Not quite a whisper, but not a normal volume either. “She can’t exactly travel with us to the capital without causing a panic.”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do? Just leave her alone in this field?” Lissa countered. “She doesn’t even remember how she got here!”

“I know, but…”

Chrom heaved his third heavy sigh of the day as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lissa was right. Again.

No matter how conflicted he felt about this whole situation, his conscience would never allow him to abandon this woman.

…Even if helping her seemed nearly impossible.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded. Turning to look at Robin, he raised his voice enough for her to hear him. “We… We’ll have to figure things out as we go, but Lissa and I will do everything we can to help you.”

Frederick is going to kill us.

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to see more, here’s a link to chapter 2! Just keep in mind that the writing style will be quite a bit different for the rest of the story, though, since all the other chapters are about 5 to 6 years old. 😅

#my writing #fire emblem #fire emblem awakening #g/t #robin #chrom #chrobin #fe chrom #fe robin #over my head #fe13

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d0ntw0rrybehappy · 11 months

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journallllll 5/21

now that i’m moving out it’s gonna be harder to see my mom cause i’m further away and she’s gonna be sooo sad. i worry about my mom bc inside she is the world’s most lovable sweetest well-meaning person but she has less self-awareness/emotional control than most people so people judge her rly hard. i always want to be like guys just roll your eyes and let it go and let her know she is loved, she just has some weird kind of like, specific mom dementia/brain glitch, and deep down you KNOW this so lay off. there are so few people my mom lets in or will actually listen to. she was this kid runaway who built a life for herself in the art world copping designer clothes and flying to paree like a fucking pirate and then she had me instead of getting married and i’m one of the like MAYBE 3 people she actually likes. lol. nails & teeth metaphor “you’re the only one she’ll listen to” or “you’re the only one who can talk to her.” i miss her friend jaime who was an indubitably brilliant depressive semitic russian translator who never once judged my mom and they had this kind of relationship where they’d lie feet-to-head on a couch and just chat chat chat. she was my favorite of my mom’s friends. she died from cancer and self-neglect basically. bullshit. shauna’s friend alex reminded me of her the last night and i was like ugh i miss jaime. i wish my mom still had jaime!!! what am i gonna do? i have to have my own life but i have to protect my mom. stupid WASPs be like “you can’t take on your moms problems” shut the fuck up WASP you don’t know shit. other kids be rolling their moms around in wheel chairs and don’t complain you piece of individualist propaganda. nails & teeth metaphor the ignominious but resolute fighter (the progeny) lol.

so anyway this isn’t a post about my mom this is a post about henry cuz then i remembered henry lives on the west side like my mom. henry whom i’ve been on two dates with and have a major crush on. not a normal crush, a “oh you’re about to buy a horse son” level crush. and i imagined when i come to the west side, henry joining me for dinner on the days i visit my mom. not because that sounded like oh so much fun to him but because it was a way for us to spend time together. there are ppl who are married who do that kind of stuff for each other. it made me want to cry bc that would mean so much to me. this is fantasy henry not real henry but probably he would. i’ve only been on two dates with him and everyone is like avaaaaa don’t have too many expectations and like I KNOW i know i’m in it like ?? what’s the phrase? in it like jarvin? lol. besides if he dumped me i would DESERVE IT!!! i got fuckin’ KARMA to pay baby i broke more than a couple hearts the past couple years THIS IS WHAT THEY FELT LIKE?!? THEY FELT LIKE THIS?!?!?? wow FUCK

um but yeah obviously i would survive and if we break up it’s cause we’re not a match and there’s nothing *wrong* with me, duh, duhhhhh, totally notttttt a completely unhinged and slightly unhygienic individual, plus now i know what to look for - kind!!! stable!!! people!!! people i have a lot in common with!!! smart!!! part of the same world as me!!! people with a vision, a goal, passions!!! who take care of themselves!!! okay there’s gotta be lots of guys like that. so if it’s not henry FINE. but guyssssss guys i could actually see a future with him wtf was i doing before??? wowww i played so many games without realizing.

anyway so we’ve only been on 2 dates so far but i am fully smitten with him (with spells of crushing doubt) and if one more person tells me to play it cool and not have expectations i WILL bite bc bitch I KNOW can you give me SOME OTHER KIND OF ADVICE PLS i have obviously not TOLD him any of this so stop putting more pressure on me to act or feel a certain way trust me I GET IT. and i think it’s dumb this is the advice given to women anyway.

also i’m going to europe probably for an entire month and as long as i don’t lose my job i’m gonna have a fucking amazing summer. losing job doesn’t seem that plausible, however, terrifying thought, bc i’m on my own now and need the moolah. and was a little uneven the past few months but that’s just a learning lesson ig. plus there’s always more jobs. right??? right. *sailor moon handhold sparkle fx*

ok thanks for being witnesses to my online diary my friends anxietyposting on here actually kind of helps, really excited for the future, it’s amazing that i’m getting these opportunities and the reason i’m so anxious is bc i care and i have something to lose. !

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holisticsoulhealer · 7 months

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Remember - A Spiritual Story

Remembering is a wonderful gift of learning or relearning who we are at a soul level.

I am definitely here to remember.

I am opening a sharing that is one of my all-time favorites. If I’ve told it before, it’s that good, so you may not mind hearing it again………

I had studied massage in Santa Barbara, California, at a really sweet spiritual massage school. Then I found my life path steered me to live in the UK with two young children, and I studied a whole bunch more. I took classes, worked a full time job, and raised those two little people single handedly (with lots of help from my beloved mum).

One of the greatest classes I took while living in the UK was Reiki.

My Reiki Master was an orange haired, single mum, terrible flavorless cooking vegan. She was an extraordinary instructor, with a massive, hands-on, experiential design. I loved her classes, taking all the Reiki levels with her, to complete as a Reiki Master in my own right. She always opened the classes to other students and nobody ever showed up. It was just her and me.

By the third level of Reiki we visited a past life of mine in some detail. I was local royalty, in English lands, with a king who was cruel, demanding and without compassion. I recognized him as my first husband in this life ( not much improvement either.) This was a huge learning curve in remembrance. It led me to understand why I had stepped into this relationship and how I had needed to step out, to complete the whole story, and close the circle of healing forevermore. In that same lifetime there was a beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed son. He was 17 and died in a jousting incident. He never really wanted to joust. He was gentle and more of a lover than a fighter.

I was prevented from going to him by the king, who held his arm across me, while our son died in a field, simply steps away from me. I wasn’t allowed to go to him, comfort and hold him, or tell him how much I loved him. It was a deeply felt, heartbreaking reality, and I wept for 3 days solid. I was told by guidance and by my Reiki Master that I would meet him again in this lifetime and we would complete the circle of loss and love. I would meet him in America, where I was headed to marry my second husband and restart life, with my children being reunited into a closer distance with their father.

I moved and opened a healing center with a female partner, who had less honorable intentions than it seemed. I lasted with her for 9 months. During that time, I had very few clients, because she felt she needed them all, and wasn’t good at sharing. On a weekend when she was away with her young family, a client of hers rang as he’d tweaked his back, while playing tennis. The young man came in to see me at the healing center. He was blonde, blue eyed and 19 years old. I knew him immediately and he looked at me, with an odd look of recognition on his sweet face.

He lay on the table face down, while I worked on the spine that had locked up. I got clear pictures of him as the son I’d lost on that field of jousting centuries ago. While I worked, I silently wept, as I swept loving arms around him. I was completing the circle of not being able to go to him in his last breaths. It was astonishing. I felt so much love and compassion for him.

He came to me a few more times, and on our last session, he asked if he could lay on his side, and simply relax. He and I had spoken at our prior session about the fact that we knew each other. I had shared what had happened in my Reiki class in the UK.

The only childhood toy he hadn’t been able to let go of, was a castle and two knights in armor, with an older woman, that represented his mother. In this life, his own mother was in an institution, locked up as a serious schizophrenic.

I was guided to wrap him in blankets, holding him, rocking him and soothing his whole being. I again wept silent tears, while he openly wailed. He remembered me too. Both of us remembered the love between us, thus completing the circle. It was a glorious healing between mother and son.

As always, please share this post with anyone that you feel can benefit from it! Please like us on your social media channels and subscribe to our mailing list if you haven't already done so! We are mailing out a monthly newsletter and a recap each week of our blog posts and interesting tidbits! This is how you can stay informed with what is new in the world of The Holistic Soul Healer!!

Love & Blessings,

Ruth

Get personal with your Angels!! Connect with me and see what they have to say!!

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thistleandthorn-rpg · 2 years

Photo

IC INFORMATION:

Name: Blaine Anderson

Designation (Dom, Switch, sub): Submissive

Age: 25 B

irthdate (click here for list): July 7th, 1997

Faceclaim: Darren Criss

Orientation: Primarily Homosexual

Kinks: Bondage, orgasm denial, body worship, wax play, and more

Anti-Kinks: Incest, blood/gore, vomit/urine/feces, extreme pain, etc

Key Points:

Loyal (sometimes to a fault) and incredibly caring.

Musically talented

Charming, always finds something nice to say

Despite multiple past traumas, still trying to look on the bright side and find the good in the world.

BIO

Blaine's been through a lot in his quarter of a century on Earth. To sum up; a homophobic attack at a school dance as a teenager that hospitalized him, being abducted while at the institute by a man desperate to find a claim before he turned 30 resulting in a broken arm, on top of various traumas from school punishments and even fellow students at certain points. But there's always good things that go with the bad; like getting claimed by Sam Evans, who is a literal Prince Charming and treated Blaine with kindness and respect and their love for each other was unmatched. It was a dream come true. And then another dream came true when Blaine was offered the chance to Audition for a new Broadway Show thanks to his brother Cooper recommending him. Blaine landed the role, a leading role even! But it required him to move to New York, and for a while he and Sam tried to make long distance work. Until it didn't. After a few months, it was becoming clean that the distance was not just physical miles, but it was becoming an emotional distance as well. Being apart from each other was difficult, and when Sam suggested ending their claim Blaine really shouldn't have been surprised. It took a few days and another long, exhausting conversation, but eventually Blaine accepted that it wasn't fair to Sam to continue wearing his collar. At that point he had no idea when he would be returning, or even if he would be, because the show had done really well and got an extended run on the Broadway stage as well as a north american tour scheduled right after. So the papers were signed, the claim dissolved, and Blaine thanked his lucky stars that his agent recommended using "Anderson" for his stage name to protect his partners from nosy fans and stalkers. He didn't think he could have handled it if he'd had to see "Blaine Evans" on all the posters and playbills after that.

Months later, after the tour ended and his contract was up, Blaine moved back to his parents' house to wallow in his singledom and decompress after an intense schedule packed with shows, rehearsals, and events. He spent a few weeks there laying low, going to the bars he knew Broadway fans weren't likely to be and occasionally hooking up with strangers just to try and feel something other than emptiness. But of course, Mama Anderson didn't raise her son to wallow in self pity until his 30th birthday. It was, in fact, on his 25th birthday she took him down to the registry and made him change his last name back to Anderson. She also presented him with a letter of enrollment from Stonewall Prep, as she had gone ahead and re-registered him and told him he had until the end of the month to get back to school. Sometimes tough love from your Mama is what it takes to put things in perspective.

Blaine is understandably nervous about starting from scratch, he is now back at square one with zero points, no claim, and he's probably going to have to retake all of his classes. But this time he's determined to do it right, and not let his Broadway career stand in the way of a claim.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What are your feelings about the mark you have received?

I've always been a submissive, so there's no surprise there. It fits me well.

How do your feelings on the system compare to your parents’ feelings on it?

My parents raised me to think critically, and while there are absolutely many systemic and societal issues I do think overall it works as a whole. My parents would like to see some changes made, as would I, particularly in regards to slavery.

Where do you see yourself after you graduate?

I'm not sure anymore, I used to think I wanted to be on Broadway after graduation, but I've done that now. I guess it depends on where I end up in terms of a claim.

How do you feel about authority?

Rules are there for a reason, usually to keep everyone safe. I don't have a problem with it.

#dom sub rp #dom sub roleplay #dom sub rpg #smut rpg #adult rp group #blaine anderson #student bio #student bio taken

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no-droids · 3 years

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Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

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

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

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

Day 5–11:13am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extravagant, magnificent are both words. Floral is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s here… isn’t he?

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

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

This… this is a taunt.

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

“You okay, Nerida?”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naydee smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something catches your eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

—Bong—

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

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

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

One o’clock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes you a second.

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

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

“Ma—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Commotion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crib—he forgot the crib—

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

You raise your voice. “Din?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, well. You could just about fucking cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

***

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

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #smut #reader insert #fanfic #star wars #rough day #no-droids

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Mine Again - Harry Styles

a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.

Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.

Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.

However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.

You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.

How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?

The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.

After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.

There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.

He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.

“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.

“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!

His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.

He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.

You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.

“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.

“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”

“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”

“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.

Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.

“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.

You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.

Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.

“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.

“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.

Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.

“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.

“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.

The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.

“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.

“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.

“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.

“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”

“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”

“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.

“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”

“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.

“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.

“Yeah, we had a great time together.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”

“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.

“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.

No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”

“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”

You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.

“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”

You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.

“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”

“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.

“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.

It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.

This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.

A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…

Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.

And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.

When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.

“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.

A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.

In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.

A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.

“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.

“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”

“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”

“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.

He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.

Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”

“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”

“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.

“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x famous!reader #harry styles exlovers to lovers #harry styles blurb

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psychewithwings · 3 years

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Pt. 1 A Visitor... Once Again Kirishima x Goddess!reader

hello hello, this is my contribution to this months bnharem collab! The theme was ‘mythology and lore’ and hit very close to my ancient greek loving soul. We have so many wonderful writers and artists that have worked hard so pls check out the rest of the collab here!!!

I’ve been rather ill and so I’ll be breaking it up into parts, part 2 will be out as soon as I am feeling more myself (which will hopefully be next week). Please enjoy a story about 2 of my favourite characters. Kirishima Eijirou, as his hero self (tho with a demi-god twist) and reader! as Kalypso, the goddess, daughter of Atlas, the titan who holds up the sky. Her curse is that she is forced to live alone on an island and fall in love with any visitor who falls to her shores. Once she falls for them, she is forced to ask if they would like to stay and she may grant them immortality if they say yes, and if not? They may leave. They have no way of leaving the island until she falls in love. She is a kind and wonderful character and I have a lot of love for her, (perhaps I relate to her a bit too much) so it is an honor to tell a new version of her story.

This is set in present day even tho Kalypso is an ancient greek figure, Kirishima is about 25-28 here? Pro hero Kiri!

TW: a small sex scene in the beginning, little bit of dirty talk, penetration

———————————————————————

“Fuck, thats it baby, feel it going all the way inside? Feels good right?” You moan into his neck, “s-so good.” He starts to thrust in and out slowly. Your nails dig into the muscles of his back… his… names and faces are unimportant blurs as he continues to thrust inside. Each drag of his cock hits each sweet spot and taps against your cervix. “Fuck~ you feel so fucking good darling, so-fucking-good, perfect, fucking perfect… yeah that's it clamp down on my cock, massage it with that perfect pussy.” His hand slips between your sweat soaked bodies and rubs quick circles over your clit. “Gonna cum for me baby? I can feel it, you’re about to gush~” You cry into his neck, soft tears of ecstasy hitting his skin. You’re close, so very close-

“Hello? Hey!!! Is anyone home?? Hello?”

You open your eyes and the man above you, the cock inside you, all falls away. It had all been a dream… a delicious, wonderful dream. A dream that had been ruined by an incurable racket. You stare groggily at the ceiling. The ache in your core of having been so close to cumming now boils into a rage. “Hello?!?! Is someone here? Hello??” Your brow crinkled in confusion as to who the rasping voice belonged to. You check to see if you had somehow managed to flip the tv on but the screen was dark. “Does anyone live here?” It dawned on you then… It’s a visitor.

You check the clock that blinks 5:37AM. You groan into a pillow and kick your legs in an attempt to relieve the ache. Your bare thighs are covered in your arousal, which has turned into your frustration. You stay lying still in hopes that he will go away, leave you alone, never return. “HELLO????!?!” But he had to stop screaming and it didn’t seem like he was going to until he came into contact with someone… You knew the nature of the curse well enough at this point but you would try to rebel as long as you could…

You flip the covers off of your body and slowly walk to grab a robe to cover yourself with. You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror while you finish tying the robe. “We got this,” you point to yourself, “no falling in love this time, no falling in love no matter what, ever again, you hear me?” You nod back to yourself. “Pinkie swear.” You touch pinkies with the mirror and laugh coldly. “No more foolish love,” you sarcastically remark before opening the french doors and stepping onto the balcony.

You stare down at the man who had been shouting for so long and your heart drops. He’s beautiful, red hair hanging in his face, still wet with the sea. His body must have been designed by the muses and chiseled by delicate hands. It’s clear even through his clothes. Son of Ares? Or even Zeus perhaps? He is interesting, never had you seen a demigod with such clear physical strength and kind eyes. The combination was rare. He gives you a grin which then fades to surprise. “Oh- I am so sorry, my manners,” he laughs nervously before slowly kneeling on the ground. “Great Goddess, I humble myself now in front of your grace and all encapsulating beauty…” You roll your eyes hoping he will take the hint and shut up. It wasn’t any different from the men before him… It was the same shit as always, though you were disappointed, this one seemed different upon first glance. “...your magnificence is profound, you are both elegant and ethereal in your just standing there-” you cut him off before he can continue the asinine speech. “Ya done?” you ask bluntly.

His eyes grow wide and he softly utters a “what?” You roll your eyes and lean on the gold railing. “Dude, it’s 5am, you’re yelling and ranting, can ya just get to the point?” He remains on his knees in a bow. His pitch varies with confusion as he speaks. “My ship, uhh I crashed it on your shore, and I was hoping that you could umm, maybe assist me in getting home? I-” he hangs his head for a moment, perhaps in exhaustion before continuing. “I have no GPS, no compass, not even a map… if I could do it without bothering you, I would, nothing you for help isn’t very manly... but please Goddess, please help me get home.” You sigh, century after century of the same request has really weakened your patience, though he had asked nicer than most. “You’re stuck here for the foreseeable future,” you smile slightly. You wait for the look of annoyance, frustration, fear… but it never comes. In fact he gives a slight half smile as he stands. “Well, nothing we can do?” he asks. “‘Fraid not,” you sigh. He starts to say something else but he winces. “Are you okay?” you ask, genuine concern bleeding through the nonchalant tone you had been practicing the past milenia. He nods and grabs hold of his side. “I got a little beat up, but don’t worry goddess, ‘tis but a flesh wound,” he tips his head down. As he raises his head he looks deathly pale. “Hey sit down okay?” you call down to him, but it’s too late. His eyes roll back and he collapses. “Shit-” you mutter to yourself as you run down to him.

He lays there in a crumpled heap, his breathing shallow. “Wish you’d said you were hurt first dummy,” you grumble before assessing the situation. You need to get him to the herbs and the back porch. This wouldn't be easy, he’s big, huge really. But he collapsed on his side which makes things easier. You hook an arm around one of his and the other around a leg. It takes a lot and it's a staring but you manage to lift him on your shoulders. If your father can hold up the sky, you can surely carry this brick house of a man back to the bed on the porch.

You step into the house while fireman carrying him to the screened-in porch to lay him down on the daybed. You place him carefully in the soft, green covers and he whines softly. “You’re gonna be just fine,” you reassure gently. Your back porch was reserved for growing herbs, arts and crafts, summer sleep, and it occasionally became a makeshift infirmary when visitors came to you injured and in need of patching up. It happened once every few centuries…

You grabbed some fabric scissors and cut away his shirt to reveal what had been ailing him. You hoped for a broken rib, those were easy to heal with a careful dose of leaf from the widows bone flower and some angel root. But what lay beneath was worse than imagined. A deep gash in his side had tried to close over and heal but it’s irritated, angry. The wound is oozing a sickly yellow pus and iridescent ichor. The skin around it is red with infection. This is one of the worst you’d been brought with. You touch his head, it’s hot and sticky with sweat. This wasn’t good. “Wait here, okay?” You grab a clump of angel root and take it back inside to the kitchen, setting it in a pot of water to boil. You grab a cloth and wet it under the sink in cold water.

You place it on his forehead and sit on the bed beside him. His face was relaxed and he was even more beautiful now. You brush the hair from his eyes and smile down at him, there was something familiar about him… like you’d met before. Though no one could return to Ogygia.

You lean down to where you can speak over his heart in a language that cannot be written or replicated... But the meaning of the words would go something like:

You are healing

You are youthful and strong

Your heart knows how to heal because it is made of love

Pure love can heal anything

You are healing now

You repeat this chant until you hear his breath deepen and watch the cut sooth. It’s a small enchantment but it has done its job. Sure, you’re no Circe, or her brethren, but you’re an enchantress all the same.

You rush back inside and grab the angel root, that's now wet and flexible from being submerged in water. You lay it across his wound before wrapping it carefully. “There now, wait here and I’m going to get you some nectar to drink,” He doesn't respond but his face is relaxed, less anguished, less in pain. You sigh in relief, hopefully that will be enough to close the wound in a day or so, else he will need to be stitched up.

You return with a small bottle of nectar and a dropper to feed him with. You coax his jaw to relax with your hand before dropping the nectar slowly onto his tongue. “You heroes are an awful lot of trouble… you know that?” You continue to feed him slowly so he won’t choke. You sigh in relief as the colour returns back to his face. He’s so beautiful he’s almost glowing, you start to reach for him, to brush the hair from his eyes but you stop yourself and turn away. “No, no love this time, remember?” you say to your reflection in the glass of the windows.

His eyes flutter open with long slow blinks. You watch as they focus on you. He blinks again. “Elyssium,” he breathes and you can’t help but chuckle. “No, Ogygia,” you correct gently. “I’m Eijirou,” he smiles. You laugh again. “No no, this island, where you are is called Ogygia, you aren’t dead,” you assure. He blinks up at you still and you curse the gods for creating him to be so breathtaking. “And what are you called?” he asks. He attempts to sit up but finds it difficult. You place your hand on his head, it’s warm and you can feel his brow relax against your palm. “You’re much better now, but just take your time…” His hands touch his torso and then move to his head. “You healed me?” You nod, “I’ll have to sew this one the rest of the way, it was quite deep.” He circles his hand around your arm, his thumb stroking soft circles. “Thank you, goddess,” he murmurs. You pull away, his touch sending lightning down into your fingertips. You don't remember the last time you had a visitor on this island of yours… but none of the previous visitors seemed to matter anymore, even though each one had stolen your heart some way or another. But no- no love, not this time, not now, not again… It hurt, but you suppressed the feelings of desire and brushed your hands down the front of your robe. “It’s nothing, but for the love of the lethe, stop calling me goddess. Kalypso is fine, just Kalypso.”

He grabs your hand as you turn to leave, “thank you... Kalypso, thank you for saving my life.” In all the years you had been saddled with this curse, it was rare for the visitor to say your name... and none of them, had said your name quite like that.

You pull your hand from his grasp and make sure not to look back, even though you want to. “You’re welcome,” you answer simply, “I’ll uhh- get you some water.”

to be added to the taglist

#kirishima #bnha #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #kiri #eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnharem #bnharem collab #august collab

189 notes · View notes

spideyhexx · 3 years

Text

the cookout; b.b. + s. l.

pairing; bucky barnes + sylvie laufeydottir + female!reader

a/n: umm thank @vineridden for talking to me about this and our shared love of Sylvie and Bucky. I couldn't help myself. Pls reblog/comment/give feedback!

masterlist

summary: Sylvie picks up on you and Bucky thirsting over each other and decides to do something about it...and perhaps involve herself.

NSFW 18+ Minors DNI please!!!

WARNINGS: mom's best friend!sylvie. college aged reader and bucky. dirty talk. threesome. grinding. spitting. soft dom!sylvie. some sub!bucky. some dom!reader. oral (female receiving). fingering. unprotected sex. facial. handjob. spanking. kind of edging. some voyeurism. use of the word "whore"

word count: 4.3k (oops)

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Sizzling grills, water splashing, and the loud chatter erupts from your backyard.

Well, more specifically, your parent’s backyard. It’s not uncommon for them to throw huge cookouts, but this one was big. It’s an anniversary, welcome home, birthday, all the major events tied into one.

You didn’t mind these parties, but part of you wished you could just skip it and stay locked away in your room all day.

It was all good and fun, but the amount of people your parent’s would invite could become quite overwhelming.

One of the only good parts was Bucky. You hadn’t seen him in a couple months, due to the two of you attending different colleges, but that never stopped your frequent texts.

He lived in the house next door, your whole lives spent just a few paces away.

Getting through these parties together almost felt like a tradition. But this time, there was something different in the air.

You did not expect to be hit with a wave of awe as you watched Bucky greet your parents. He was always handsome and perhaps not physically seeing him for a bit made him look better, but shit was he gorgeous. His tight t-shirt was hiding nothing, making the muscles he worked hard on strain more prominently.

And you internally rolled your eyes at his swim trunks that had a cat pattern on them. Seems as though he still loved silly designs.

Your breath catches when he spots you, a grin spreading across his face as he jogs over.

“Flower! God, I’ve missed you,” Bucky says, pulling you right in for a hug. You want to tell him you missed hearing that nickname, but decide against it.

“Missed you too, Buck! Are you ready for a long night?” Bucky smirks at your statement.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you clarify and Bucky still has the smirk on his face. His hands have not left your waist and you wonder if he could tell how much of an effect it has on you.

“I know, just teasin’. Did you hear Sylvie is coming?”

There’s the other good part about these cookouts. Sylvie, a friend of your mom’s.

It was only recently you started to develop a crush on her. With her witty comebacks and smooth accent, it was hard not to.

You might’ve drunkenly admitted your crush on her to Bucky during a late night phone call and he has not forgotten. I

t was easy for you to confess this crush, but somehow not the one you had begun to develop on Bucky himself. You felt a little ashamed that you have been developing feelings for your mother’s best friend, but nothing would ever happen, right?

Bucky tilts his head and pinches your waist.

“You’re already gettin’ lost in your thoughts thinkin’ about her!”

“Oh stop, you think she’s hot too,” you tease, your voice a tinge too loud and Bucky shushes you, putting a finger on your lips.

He did think she was hot.

Bucky revealed his crush on Sylvie as well when you first talked to him about it.

Since then, the two of you joked about it pretty often, but now was your first time seeing her since you’ve acknowledged the little (maybe big) crush.

“Hey Bucky!” One of your cousin’s calls out to him and he looks back at them, before turning to you.

“I’ll see you in the pool?” He questions and you nod, watching as he runs off to talk to more people.

He trips in his flip flops and you burst out laughing, not being able to contain it. Bucky whips his head to look at you and flips you off.

You take one last look at how good his back looks in his shirt before migrating to the lounge chairs, hoping there’s a free one.

That is when you spot Sylvie, laid back in one of the chairs, a drink in her hand.

You take a deep breath before approaching the seat next to her. She smiles widely when she notices you.

“Gonna give me a hug, flower?”

Sylvie beamed, placing her drink down to pull you in for a hug.

Flower.

You could not decide if it sounded better coming from Sylvie or Bucky. Relishing in Sylvie’s hug, you have to stop yourself from pouting when she pulls away just a bit too soon.

“How’re your studies going? I know you were practically jumping to get away from here?” She asks, settling back into her chair.

“School’s good, it feels nice to be around so many new people but, I’ve missed being home if I’m being honest,” you say and she nods in understanding.

“I know I’ve missed seeing you around, flower.”

A heat rushes across your face and you’re happy it’s hot enough outside to keep a facade up. You turn your head away from her, fearing you would end up lost in her eyes.

What you did not expect was for your eyes to lock onto the sight of Bucky taking his shirt off. It’s as though he meant to take it off in slow motion as he carefully lifts it over his head and throws it onto a chair. He puts one foot in the pool and retracts it.

You can vaguely hear him yelling about it being cold.

Bucky sits at the edge of the pool, letting his legs get used to the temperature.

He runs a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already is. Sylvie clears her throat and you turn to her.

“He is an attractive man, isn’t he?”

Her question catches you off guard for a moment, but nonetheless, you answer.

“Yeah, he is.”

A slight weight falls off your chest at admitting it, but how could you not?

Sylvie smirks, “Don’t look now, but he’s checking you out.”

You go to look anyway and sure enough, he’s gazing at you. Bucky turns his attention to a bowl of chips once he notices you caught him.

“You two are so adorable,” Sylvie says.

“Are we?”

She scoffs and leans in closer to you, almost whispering.

“Very much. You’re taking turns checking each other out.”

You laugh and look back at Bucky, who’s decided to lay back in a chair, his legs spread just enough for you to squeeze your thighs together.

“You should go over to him and sit on his lap,” Sylvie mused, chuckling at your shocked expression.

“What?! No, no I can’t do that Sylvie!”

“Why not? He was looking at your bum and now he’s rubbing his thigh, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to take a seat.” You ponder her words for a moment.

Yes, sitting on Bucky’s lap sounded like a great idea, but you were a tad nervous.

“And I could tell you want him, honey. Do you know what eye fucking in? That’s what you’re doing.”

The fact that Sylvie could see so clearly through your lust filled eyes also managed to send sparks around your body.

“If he rejects you, you can sit in my lap. Now go, flower!”

Well, you couldn’t say no to that. Standing up, you adjust your swimsuit, then walk over to Bucky.

You run through what you should say once you’re by him, but you can’t decide on what would be best.

Too many thoughts are running through your head. Sylvie offering her lap. Her words about sitting in Bucky’s lap and the way his hands look even better against his thighs as you get closer.

“y/n,” he addresses.

“Can I..um, can I sit with you?”

Bucky raises his brow for a moment, but nods and pats a spot on the chair next to him.

“No, I mean, on you. On your lap,” you say and Bucky’s heart skips a beat.

“Sure you can, flower” he says cooly and he immediately wraps his arms around your waist as you settle against his chest, on his lap.

His hands feel warm against your skin, yet send a shiver up your spine. You allow yourself to lay your head on his shoulder, shifting around in his arms to get more comfortable.

“Careful,” Bucky mumbles, clearing his throat. It doesn’t take long to realize you shouldn’t squirm too much.

But you want to. You catch Sylvie’s eye and she smiles at you, raising her drink and then sipping from it.

“Did you have a good talk with her?” Bucky asks.

“Mmhm. She told me to sit here,” you confess, wanting to know his reaction.

He’s quiet for a moment before replying “Mischievous, huh?”

“Like always, but didn’t expect her to...help with this...I suppose.”

“I’m happy she did,” Bucky says, pressing a short kiss on your cheek.

You sit with Bucky for a bit, zoning out and trying to memorize the feeling of his hands splayed across your stomach.

How when he speaks, you can feel his breath hit the side of your face and his voice drops to a lower volume when he only wants to speak to you.

Being so caught up in your thoughts once more, you can’t help but squirm a bit, his arms tightening around you.

“You’re gonna cause a problem,” Bucky tells you, a slight smile playing on his lips. You push back against him and he contains a groan.

“Seems as though I already caused a problem.”

He chuckles and sighs deeply as you wiggle against him, reveling in how hard he’s gotten from your movements.

“We should go inside,” he mutters and you turn slightly to look at him.

“And do what?”

You feign innocence, but the smirk on your face tells Bucky you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Do I have to say it?”

You nod at him excitedly and he gently pushes your head to the side so he could lean his lips against your ear.

“I want to go inside so you could properly touch my cock, since you’ve had so much fun the past twenty minutes grinding against it.”

His words send a shudder through your body and you take one last glance at him before standing up. Bucky follows suit, placing a hand on your hip and keeping you close to his body to perhaps hide his rather big hard problem.

You lead him through the house to your bedroom. You don’t notice how fast you’re walking until Bucky pulls at your wrist and gently pushes you against the wall in the hallway.

“Slow down, flower,” he starts, bringing your hands up to his shoulders. He dips his head down to nudge your nose against his.

“Are you sure?”

You nod and Bucky, with a tinge of hesitance, presses his lips on yours. At first, the kiss is simple.

Bucky’s fingers rub against your sides gingerly and he’s taking his time to feel your mouth on his for the first time. You pull away first, your lips lingering on his own.

You catch your breath, not even realizing how fast your heart was beating. So many feelings are rushing through you, but the main urge coursing around is the one to smash his lips back onto you.

One of your hands drifts up to the back of his head to encourage his mouth back onto yours in a searing kiss.

His actions are a little more desperate as he nips at your top lip and presses his body closer to you. The strain in his swimsuit is undeniable and you whimper as you feel him pushing himself against your thigh. Bucky grunts and you trail your lips to his jaw.

Someone clears their throat and you and Bucky jump apart. Sylvie stands a couple feet away leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and a playful smirk decorating her face.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she teases, gesturing for the two of you to continue. You look at Bucky and he’s already got his eyes back on you.

“I’m fine with it...if you are too,” he mutters, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

“It’s okay,” you reply, kissing him once more.

Heat pools in your belly knowing that Sylvie is watching you make out with Bucky.

“Tug at his hair, flower,” she murmurs and without hesitation you pull at Bucky’s hair, a soft noise escaping his mouth at the sensation.

“Little harder this time.”

You follow her instructions again, tugging hard, causing Bucky to buck his hips against you.

“See? He liked that,” Sylvie comments.

“Why don’t we go to y/n’s room? For more privacy.”

The fact that there’s a party right outside has completely glossed over your mind.

The strong desire to have this moment with not just Bucky, but Sylvie as well was enough to lead Bucky into your room, Sylvie following behind. She closes the door and locks it. She takes a seat in your desk chair.

“Continue...with what you were doing.” Her voice, firm yet soft must’ve been turning both you and Bucky on.

His cock looked like it was suffering from his shorts, while you could feel how soaked you’ve gotten since you first sat on Bucky’s lap.

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and patted his thigh.

You straddle him, gasping at the feeling of his hard cock right by where you needed him. Bucky kissed your neck, sucking softly around to find what spots made you weak.

“I bet she likes it right under her ear, Barnes.”

He quickly moved his lips to the spot and sure enough, it made you whimper. You shift in his lap, slightly grinding against him.

His hands fall to your ass, rubbing the skin and pushing you forward to continue grinding.

“Now, flower, look at his lips. What do they look like?”

Sylvie asked and Bucky pulled his head from your neck. You hold his jaw in your hand and gaze across his lips.

“Wet. Redder than usual.”

Sylvie hums as a response.

“Do you think those lips would feel good on your clit?”

You gasp at her words and Bucky smirks.

“I know they would,” Bucky remarks and Sylvie tsks at him.

“I’m not talking to you, Barnes. Be quiet.”

That wipes the smirk off of his face, but does not stop you from smiling.

“They would feel good.”

You answer, and Sylvie hums again.

“You wanna make them more wet? Spit on his lips. Don’t open your mouth, Barnes. You don’t deserve her spit in your mouth right now.”

Bucky groans and you swallow hard, suddenly a little nervous.

Sylvie seems to sense this and you feel her presence behind you. Her hands slide up your arms to your shoulders and she leans her lips close to your ear.

“It’s okay, flower. You’re already doing so good. I know you want to see Buck become a mess, so do it when you’re ready.”

Her praise really does things for you. You grip Bucky’s jaw tighter, his eyes blown out as he looks up at you.

You gather saliva in your mouth and spit directly onto his lips. He has a hard time keeping them closed, but he does it.

“Smear it against his lips now,” Sylvie says, still standing behind you. Using your thumb, you rub your spit onto his lips. Bucky takes a deep breath, probably trying to control himself.

“Do it again.”

You go through the motions once more, but as you smear the wetness across Bucky’s lips, he can’t help himself anymore. He takes your thumb into his mouth and sucks on it lightly.

You pull your thumb away from him and he whimpers.

“He didn’t listen. What are you going to do about it flower? Slap him? That would be sexy.”

“He would like it though, so not a punishment,” you say and Sylvie smiles.

“Hm you’re learning, honey.”

Sylvie places a kiss on your shoulder, the first time her lips have touched your skin so far.

“He does want to cum. He’s pressing so hard against me.”

Sylvie nods, “then we’ll edge him. He needs to put those pretty lips on you first anyways, right Barnes?”

“Yeah, right,” he stumbles out after clearing his throat.

“Switch spots and take the swimsuit off, flower” Sylvie commands.

You hop off of Bucky’s lap, slowly slipping off the bathing suit. You felt the stares of Bucky and Sylvie bore into your body, but Sylvie’s soft smile made you feel more comfortable.

You sit at the edge of the bed. Sylvie leans close so she could whisper only to you.

“Tell him to kneel,” she says. Your brow raises at her and she nods. Looking back at Bucky, you spread your legs, noticing how a blush is coating his cheeks.

“Kneel,” you say, not as confident as you would have hoped, but it still affects Bucky.

You could almost see how it made his cock twitch. Bucky drops to his knees, moving in between your legs.

“No touching,” Sylvie tells him and continues “only use your mouth. Make her cum.”

You rest one hand on Bucky’s head, close to tugging at it again when he immediately places his lips on your cunt. His tongue rolls through your folds as if he’s testing what feels good.

“Pull on his hair, flower. Use his mouth to get off.”

Bucky moans against you as you tug at his hair, pushing his face closer to your pussy. His tongue flicks at your entrance, his nose bumping against your clit. You slowly start to move your hips, using his face, just how Sylvie told you.

“That’s it, flower. Fuck he’s really into your cunt,” Sylvie says, sitting next to you on the bed. She was right, even though you were moving against Bucky’s mouth, he was devouring you.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking harshly, moaning whenever you gasped out his name.

“She’s close, Barnes.” Sylvie did not need to say it, but hearing it made you moan louder.

“That’s a bit too loud, honey,” she mumbles before turning your head and crashing her lips onto yours in a messy kiss.

The kiss combined with Bucky’s mouth sent you over the edge, your body exploding in pleasure. Sylvie pulls away and runs her thumb over your lip.

“Such a good girl. That felt good?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Sylvie smiles, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then the other. She trails wet kisses back to your lips and licks into your mouth.

“Am I going to get something now?”

You pull away from the kiss to look at Bucky, still on his knees, his cock still frustratingly hard.

“Don’t give us an attitude, Barnes. You’ll get your turn when we feel like it. Go sit on the chair,” Sylvie motions to the desk chair and Bucky begrudgingly takes a seat.

Even though he looks a little annoyed, he’s truly loving this. Loving that you were finally getting to do things with Sylvie...loving that he was making you feel good...and now...loving to watch.

“Can he touch himself?”

You ask, as if reading his mind.

“Your choice, flower.”

“Beg for it, Bucky.” Sylvie is surprised at your tone, but she smirks, looking expectantly at him.

“Let me touch myself, please. ‘M achin.”

His voice breaks a little and you can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not, but it does send a jolt of pleasure throughout your body.

“Go ahead.”

“But don’t cum,” Sylvie warns and she rids herself of her shorts and underwear. Bucky follows suit, taking his trunks off and grasping his cock in his hand.

“Do you want to touch me, honey?”

You nod and she points to the ground. Settling between her legs, your lips ghost over her clit. You look up at her.

“Spit on my cunt,” she says.

Bucky groans behind you and you have an urge to look at him.

You let your spit dribble onto her pussy, maintaining eye contact with her. It’s just now that you remember how insane this was, how bad it may be, but it’s felt so good.

Using your fingers, you spread the wetness on her cunt, smiling to yourself at the little noises she’s trying to keep hushed.

You prod one finger at her entrance, then slowly ease it in, locking your lips onto her clit. You suck lightly at first, trying to build up her release.

“You see how good she is at this, Barnes? Bet you want her lips on your cock, hm?”

You can’t see exactly how he responds, but you do catch a hurried curse under his breath and a wet slick of him stroking his cock.

You add another finger, Sylvie’s thighs squeeze against your head.

You curl them in sync with the sucking on her clit until she’s moaning your name and riding out her high. She bends down to kiss you, groaning at the taste of herself.

“Please let me fuck her,” Bucky whines and you both turn to look at him. He’s completely naked and flushed, his cock resting against his abdomen.

“Seems like he learned his manners,” Sylvie whispers to you, making you giggle.

“How do you want her, Barnes?”

Bucky contemplates, then stands up. He helps you up from the ground.

“Want her from behind,” he says, a low rasp in his voice.

“Do you want that, flower?”

You smile and jump on the bed, positioning yourself on your hands and knees.

You wiggle your ass a bit at him and Sylvie playfully smacks it, causing you to laugh.

“Still can’t cum until we say so,” Sylvie reminds him and then turns to you, “but you could cum whenever you want, honey.”

With that, Sylvie sits back at the desk chair to watch.

Bucky holds his cock by the base and rubs the tip up and down your cunt.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, coating his dick in your wetness. You whine as he keeps teasing the tip at his entrance.

A few more strokes and Bucky pushes into you.

You both moan and Sylvie shushes the two of you.

“Please do remember there is a party going on,” she says and Bucky takes a moment to control himself.

The way you clench around him as he pushes himself into the hilt was enough to send him over the edge. But he held that back, focused on making you cum as quickly as possible.

He grips your hips as he steadily pulls out, then glides back in, creating a smooth rhythm. The sound of skin slapping and your short gasps fills the room.

“Spank her a little, Barnes. Not too hard though.”

Bucky does so, softly hitting your cheek and almost doubling over at how much you squeeze him when he does it again.

“Fuck, flower,” he grunts, picking up his pace.

You grip at the sheets beneath you and lower one hand to toy with your clit, still sensitive from when Bucky made you cum earlier.

“Talk dirty to her, I think she likes it,” Sylvie comments as Bucky leans down and swats your hand away to replace it with his own.

He rubs even faster circles on your clit.

“Can you feel how deep I am inside you? Bet you’ve been dreaming about this cock for a while yeah? Just like how you’ve dreamt of Sylvie.”

You whine at that, embarrassment threatening to flood in, but that’s quickly taken away when you hear Sylvie say “That’s cute, honey. I hope you dream of me more after this.”

Bucky pounds into you mercilessly, his fingers never letting up until you cry out his name a bit too loud.

He doesn’t seem to care and fucks you through your second orgasm, watching as you try to catch your breath.

“Help her to her knees, Buck.”

Bucky pulls out of you and you let out a small hiss at the emptiness. You’re tired, but you move quickly anyway, resting on your knees on the ground. Bucky’s cock was dripping with you and the little bit of precum that managed to escape.

Sylvie stands beside him, sliding her hand down his chest, then gripping his cock. Bucky throws his head back in a groan.

“Look at her, Barnes. She’s a little whore, isn’t she?”

Bucky moans, both at Sylvie’s words and the look you’re giving him.

“I think she wants your cum…” Sylvie trails off and looks at you.

It’s crazy how you feel like you know what she wants you to do...without her even saying it. You put your hands on Bucky’s thighs, feeling him tremble slightly.

Soon your mouth is open and you stick your tongue out, pleasantly waiting for him.

Sylvie jerks him off faster. What pushes him over the edge is your hand drifting up from his thigh to cup his balls.

His cum spills out of him, most of it landing on your tongue, but some onto your cheek as well.

“That’s a lot of cum for her, Barnes. Think she likes it?”

Bucky’s eyes struggle to stay open as he’s riding out his high, but he manages to watch as you swallow what was in your mouth. You wipe the rest of his cum off with your fingers and put them in your mouth, sucking them clean.

“Shit,” Bucky groans and you giggle.

You stand up and reach for your blanket, all of a sudden feeling a little cold completely naked. Bucky joins you on the bed.

“You didn’t really get to fuck anyone,” Bucky directs at Sylvie and she shrugs.

“We can’t spend too much time here. Besides, you both did well, I need to give you a reward next time.”

“Next time?”

You ask and she nods, smiling, leaning in close to you, her lips mere centimeters away.

“Of course, if that’s something you, or both of you want,” she mutters.

Sylvie is about to walk out of the door when Bucky says “I know flower here will definitely want more, you don’t even know how many times she’s told me about wanting to kiss you.”

“Bucky!”

You slap his arm and he cackles, laying back against your bed. Sylvie laughs too and sends you a wink before retreating.

Bucky’s gazing at you when you turn to him.

“What the fuck happened,” he jokes and you shake your head, snuggling onto his chest.

“Dreams came true?”

283 notes · View notes

kwonhoshi0 · 3 years

Text

𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 | h.c

navigation | requests : open | 5th february 2021

pairing : midoriya, bakugou, todoroki x gn!reader [separate]

genre : angst to fluff

warnings : season 3 spoilers, violence, eating, drinks

themes : heartbreak, idiocy, violence

: since the training camp you had been a target for the league of villains you fought hard to get your classmate back and that made you an instant target since you showed how powerful you can be but that also means no one can know about your relationship with [ - ], if they did that would be mean he’s also a target and the thought of that terrified you, so it’s for the best.. right.

> quirk : telekinesis | eleven stranger things |

[ midoriya ]

> it was no secret that you’re powerful

> deku trained with you a lot so he knew what you were capable of

> he was the one who truly let you embrace your quirk praising you

> he always told you he’s proud of you afterwards

> so when you told him you couldn’t be with him anymore he was devastated

-> scenario

> you had been thinking about the threat of the lov and how much they wanted to get rid of you, it’s a matter of time before people catch you going to cafes and on dates with the green haired boy, since you were getting more publicity each time a villain attacked it was difficult sneaking around

> breaking up with deku never once crossed your mind, only for his safety, he was already a target but they don’t know he’s all mights successor so you’re still a lot more targeted but if the lov found out you’re dating? you could only imagine the worst

> you knocked on his door, he opened it with a smile on his face as usual ‘hey baby’ he pulled you into a hug, noticing you trying not to hug him back he looked at your face ‘hey is something wrong?’

> you were trying so hard to keep a straight face, to make this hurt as much as possible so he wouldn’t come back, you knew if he tried to get you back you wouldn’t be able to resist

> ‘izuku..’ you paused breathing in, ‘we can’t be together anymore’ he looked at you for a couple seconds before breaking out in a laugh, ‘ very funny, don’t say things like that!, we need to finish that series we were watching..wait-’

> your face hadn’t changed, the only different being the small beads forming under your eyes, ‘you’re being serious?’ he said with a shaky voice, his eyes were slightly shiny tears threatening to form, his entire face fell

> ‘i’m sorry’ was all you said before you attempted to leave only being stopped by his hand ‘midoriya let go-’

> ‘not until you tell me why, y/n we’re so happy, you were happy yesterday and now you’re saying you don’t want this anymore? what happened, you told me you loved me, was that a lie’

> you tried so so hard not to sob yelling how much you love him right there but you already started crying

> ‘y-you’re crying, why would you be crying if you don’t care about me, if you didn’t care you would’ve left minutes ago so why’

> ‘izuku i couldn’t keep putting you in fucking danger it’s driving me insane, we can’t go out to eat without worrying someone will recognise us and hunt you down, i need you to be safe and this is the only way’ you pulled your arm away from him wiping away the tears on your cheeks

> he pulled you back towards him his nose touching yours, you didn’t push him away, he took his thumb swiping it across your cheek wiping it of the fresh tears

> ‘then we’ll deal with it together, not apart’

[ bakugou ]

> he knew how you felt because everytime aizawa mentioned being targeted he couldn’t help but notice you not looking at him or glancing at him as much

> you comforted him after each nightmare or any doubts he had after he got kidnapped

> whispering to him while he layed in your arms ‘bakugou you are the strongest person i know, you can’t blame yourself for anything, nobody blames you, they never have’

> you were his comfort, his teddybear

-> scenario

> the last few days you had been distant from him which didn’t make him worry much since you’re both busy sometimes and you both understood that

> but when you refused to look at him and gave him short answers after class he got worried

> ‘y/n, what the fuck is happening’ you couldn’t look him in the eyes

> you put on your best straight face and said ‘bakugou we can’t be together’

> there was silence for a couple seconds

> ‘teddy bear..’

> it hurt, it hurt so bad seeing him upset over you, you couldn’t even comfort him, so you left

> you sat with the dekusquad afraid of running into him and sobbing

> after you left he stood there for a couple seconds, he wiped away a couple tears forming as all the memories of you flashed through his head in a second, he held the necklace you got together, a promise necklace

> he sat at his normal table not talking to anyone only glancing at you, you weren’t talking to anyone either, not even touching the food in front of you

> after a couple minutes you got up and grabbed your bag after the many protests from todoroki and midoriya telling you to eat

> mina saw you getting up ‘hey bakugou is y/n okay?’ he only ignored her watching as you hurried off to what seemed to be the girls bathrooms, mina followed after you. he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t worried

> ‘y/n?.. wait are you okay, come out of the toilets’ she watched as you slowly came out with puffy under eyes and teary eyes ‘oh my god y/n what happened’, you explained everything, how you broke up with him because of how dangerous it was being with him, how he would be safer without you

> ‘y/n i’ve never seen bakugou happier then when he’s with you, if things are meant to be with you two then things will work out, i promise’

> you both walked back to class only to see him and a couple students already there, you weren’t planning on going back to lesson saying you’re injured but you knew aizawa would’ve sent you to recovery girl only for there be nothing to recover from

> you sat in your seat trying your hardest not to cry or move or even glance at him

> he watched you every couple seconds, eyes softening when he noticed a tear drop from your eyes watching as you quickly wiped them away sitting up straight

> he knew you love him but he doesn’t know why you left him

> a couple days past and he couldn’t help but notice how puffy your eyes looked

> he missed you, a lot and his nightmares had increased in the last 3 days

> you did everything to avoid him

> but finally you had to talk to eachother because aizawa paired you up, you asked aizawa if you could swap ‘y/n you and bakugou are great training partners, plus he doesn’t hurt you enough to send you to recovery girl like he does others’

> you sighed walking to your designated training area

> you didn’t want to hurt him more than you have emotionally this past week so you barely tried

> ‘you’re not trying’ he states, you looked up at him regretting it instantly seeing his eyebags and crimson eyes, not twinkling as they usually do

> ‘sorry’ you said quickly getting ready to dodge again

> ‘for what’... ‘huh?’.. ‘what are you sorry for’ he said searching your eyes for an answer

> ‘everything’.. ‘y/n that’s not a fucking answer’ frustrated he walked over to you pulling out a necklace that hid under his shirt

> ‘we got these as a fucking promise, a promise we would always be here, are you even wearing yours’ his hand reached over to your neck, his eyes lit up for a second when he realised you were still wearing it

> ‘i know you still love me, so why the fuck-’

> ‘bakugou you’re in constant fucking danger because of me, we can’t do anything together without having to worry, i want you to find someone that you can be in a normal relationship with, not someone who can’t even go outside with you without fearing the worst’ you let a couple tears slip out wiping them away as fast a they came

> ‘don’t be fucking stupid come here’ he pulled you towards him engulfing you in his scent which you missed greatly, ‘dumbass, we make these fuckin decisions together, which means you have to deal with me, we aren’t breaking up over some stupid villains alright’

> you held him tighter than you have before

> he made sure that for now you order take out rather than going out to eat and when you do go outside you made sure to wear masks and go with some of your classmates

> he does all of this because he loves you that much and he cares that much

[ todoroki ]

> you pined over eachother for months before todoroki had the courage to talk to you

> the conversations always flowed really well and there was no awkward pauses thinking of what to say

> you fit with eachother like a puzzle piece

> since you’re the first person he’s felt this way about you had to, show him affection and how it w o r k s?

> like when you hug him he doesn’t understand why people like hugging until you do it, he feels warm and safe in your arms and he now understands why he sees people hugging a lot

> when you first kissed it was like sparks and fireworks were going off around you, you didn’t plan on kissing him then but you had just hugged him so he was close and you looked up at him as he looked down at you smiling a little, with that you closed the space between you pressing your lips to his

> your relationship since then has been a comfortable and safe relationship for you both, that was until the training camp incident when you realised how much danger you were really putting todoroki in

> aizawa was talking to you in the staff room about the safety precautions you had to take and how you have to be careful with your relationship with todoroki

> a part of you was hoping he’d say you have to break up for safety reasons but he knows you don’t want that, even if it was for the best

> todoroki is going to be an amazing hero who will save thousands of lives and you could be the undoing of that future

> so you had to do it

-> scenario

> ‘hey love, what are we doing outside’ you were stood outside the dorms, you wanted to tell him here just so no one would interrupt

> ‘i uhm..’ this is a lot harder than you thought

> you looked at your feet refusing to look into his eyes knowing you’d breakdown

> ‘todoroki i can’t do this.. anymore’

> ‘can’t do what?’ when you didn’t look at him again he realised

> ‘what.. what happened baby we were normal yesterday did i do something wrong?’ you ignored him shifting your feet a little

> ‘do you not love me anymore’ it broke your heart that he thought that, you’re doing this because you love him not because you don’t .. but you had to say this to get him away

> ‘i..no i don’t’

> refusing to look at his face you ran back in tears falling down your cheeks as you ignored your friends asking if you’re okay and shut yourself in your room

> no more laying on his chest while you talk about random things at 3am, no more feeding him soba and no more holding hands running in the rain

> it was all too good to be true and now it’s over

> the next couple weeks you wanted to see him, check how he was doing but you couldn’t so you stuck to quick glances, sometimes you met his eyes in the process cursing at yourself

> your friends noticed you were off, ochako midoriya and iida asked why you weren’t hanging out with them

> you didn’t want to cause todoroki more pain so you hung out with the bakusquad so todoroki could stick with his friends without it being awkward

> you’re already friends with some of the bakusquad but you just didn’t hang out with them as much

> ‘y/n why do you look so.. lifeless’ denki asked you, you would usually be happy to talk to people and be playful but recently you had just stared at your food and soba only to be reminded of him

> ‘i don’t know’ you lied, your friends were worried about you

> todoroki was good at hiding things, he was a lot happier with you smiling while with you and around you but now he doesn’t have you

> a part of you thought he was over it already but you knew that was just you overthinking it

> ‘you know what, we should have a class movie night !, mopey you’re coming’ you looked at mina for a second before realising you’re who she’s talking to

> ‘mopey’ you raised a brow, ‘yeah you haven’t been yourself lately we want the old y/n back!! ..you haven’t even gamed with us’ kirishima spoke up making you smile sadly

> and then you realised todoroki probably won’t be at the movie night since he only went because of you ‘okay, ill go’

> that night you sat inbetween denki and bakugou scrolling through your phone while the dekubakusquad picked a movie

> ‘hey dumbass, why’d you look so fuckin dead’

> ‘not sure’.... ‘that’s bullshit’ he responded staring at his own phone

> ‘mhm’ was all you could say before the movie started

> as you looked up you realised todoroki was sitting in front of you

> how were you going to get through this..

> the movie begun and you quickly realised it was one of your favourite movies, it was the movie that you and todoroki had your first kiss watching

> clearing your head of these thoughts you carried on watching

> half an hour later it got to the part where the guy finally kisses his crush and you felt tears in your eyes, holding them back as you remembered todoroki kissing you during this scene

> you felt someone move from in front of you, your eyes widening as todoroki took your arm pulling you up close to him

> ‘what are you-’

> ‘y/n i chose this movie because i wanted to be able to do this again’ he cupped your cheeks smashing his lips to yours, you couldn’t pull away this is all you wanted and missed

> as you both pulled away he said ‘i know you don’t love me but i want to help you learn to love me again and i prom-’ you cut him off as you felt guilt bubble up inside of you remembering what you said

> ‘i lied.. i said that i didn’t love you because i needed you to leave, i broke up with you because of the target, i can’t have someone finding out about us and using you and hurting you as a way to get to me i would be taking away your chance at becoming a great hero, i can’t do that it’s selfish’

> he looked at you as the sides of his lips curled up in a small smile

> ‘a part of me should be mad at you for breaking up with me because of hero stuff but i understand, i’m relieved you love me, i love you and you love me that’s why we’re going to be careful and make this work’

A/N :

pain only pain, why do i do this

taglist : @blazedbakugou @todoroki-shoto-is-life @luluwiie

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ravennm84 · 4 years

Text

Serafina

Part 2 Part 3

Based on @unmaskedagain post “Marinette’s Haunted Doll” this is my take on the story and the kind of things Serafina would have done to get even. There’ll be three parts, and will hopefully be posted through the week. Blood, gore, and character death ahead. You have been warned.

She was seven years old when her Grandma Gina’s sister, Ramona, passed away. Marinette couldn’t remember ever meeting her. Her dad said that she was a very private person and didn’t get out much. Since she had never married or had any children, all of her relatives were asked to come over to the house and divide the property before the rest was sold and equally divided.

While her parents had been in the kitchen, looking over some family cook books, Marinette had wandered around the old house until she came to a small room. It was full of spiderwebs and old toys, which greatly interested her. She spent a long time looking through the boxes and shelves until she found a locked chest in the closet. Remembering the key she had seen in a dresser drawer, she retrieved it to see if it worked. It was hard to turn, but she heard the click and was able to open the lid. Inside was a box with an envelope laying on top of it. Curious she opened the envelope and read the note as best as she could.

“If I’m dead, Serafina killed me.”

Tilting her head in curiosity, Marinette set the letter aside and opened the box. Inside was an old looking porcelain doll. It was covered in spiderwebs, the dress was old and ripped, she was missing a shoe, and the hat looked like it was stained with red paint.

“Are you Serafina?” She asked the doll before carefully lifting it out of the box. “I don’t think you’re bad, you just look lonely. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you!” Giving the doll a gentle hug, the little girl got to her feet and left the room and letter behind. Finding her parents, she asked if it was okay to take the doll home so she could take care of her.

Tom remembered seeing that doll when he was a kid and had always thought it was creepy, but if his little girl saw the good in it, he would trust her. And since none of the other relatives wanted anything to do with the doll, it came home with them.

Once home, the little girl raced up to her room with the doll and immediately got to work. She threw away the old dress, hat, and shoe before cleaning away all the dirt with a washcloth and carefully combing out the knotted hair. Then Marinette got to work on making Serafina a brand new outfit with new shoes and a hat. It took a few days, but she was really happy with what she came up with: a pink Victorian dress with rose and pearl accents, a wide brimmed hat with maroon feathers, and maroon slippers that tied with ribbons around the ankles.

Proud of what she had made, Marinette held the doll up high as she twirled around her room. She had been interested in fashion and clothes for months now, and making the pretty outfit for Serafina was a lot of fun. If anything, it proved to her that fashion design was what she wanted to do.

“I hope you like your new clothes, Serafina. You make the perfect little model, so I hope you don’t mind if I make more clothes for you later on. I promise to only make you clothes that will make you feel pretty.” Giving the doll a kiss, Marinette placed her next to her computer before skipping down stairs for dinner.

~oOo~

Serafina had not been expecting this when the young girl, Marinette, had opened her box. It had been decades since anyone had shown her any kindness. For so many years, she had been passed from person to person, shoved into boxes and hidden from sight or attempted to be sold off. Serafina had had no choice but to punish many of her past owners, and she had not been lax with their punishments.

But she didn’t feel the need to do that with Marinette, this girl was different. She wasn’t afraid of her. She didn’t scorn her and hide her away where no one could see her. No, this girl was kind and made Serafina feel loved; something she hadn’t felt in nearly a hundred years. Staying with Marinette, she knew that she would be happy. So, no one needed to die here.

And she was.

The porcelain doll smiled quietly on Marinette’s desk as the years passed, and felt more for this girl than she could remember with anyone else. She felt beautiful whenever Marinette used her to experiment with a new outfit before she would make a full sized outfit for herself. She had fun when the girl would sing and dance around the room, sometimes even picking her up so she could dance with her. She felt entertained when she would play movies on her computer, one time watching a movie about a haunted doll like herself; they didn’t watch much before she turned it off, but Serafina thought it was funny. Scratching people and leaving notes wasn’t scary, she had done much scarier things than that.

As Marinette grew into a teen, Serafina felt proud as she grew from a shy girl into a fearless superhero. Her owner had a lot of love and light to give, so it made sense to her that she became Ladybug. She also felt scared for the girl, not wanting to lose her to Hawkmoth, but silently promised her that if she was ever hurt, the people who hurt her would pay her back in blood.

Serafina was also aware of the tiny god that gave Marinette her power, just as Tikki was aware of her. No doubt, the god could sense the darkness that dwelled in her porcelain body, but realized that she cared for the girl and would not harm her. So the little god wisely said nothing, she would hate it if Marinette suddenly feared her.

After all, the three of them were happy and at peace.

Until the day Marinette came storming into her room, complaining about a girl named Lila. From what she could hear, this girl was a liar and was using her friends. Knowing how much her human cared for other people, that didn’t sit well with how it would affect her. Then she didn’t hear anything about the girl for months. But when she was mentioned again, it quickly got worse from there.

Serafina heard about the threats, the lies, almost being akumatized, her crush Adrien telling her to take the high road, all of it. She watched as one by one, her friends turned against her. Bullying her while accusing her of being a bully until only three of her classmates remained. She knew that the teacher and principal were useless and even accused Marinette of being a problem, especially after the expulsion. Serafina had nearly enacted her revenge that day, but held back when she was reinstated the next day.

Nathaniel, Rose, and Juleka were the only people left that believed her or even bothered to try and help in her class. There was also Kagami and Luka, Juleka’s brother. Serafina would admit, that boy was sharper than most. When he first saw her, his blue eyes studied her intently for a long moment until Marinette spoke up.

“That’s Serafina, she’s been passed down through my family for a long time. She was in really bad condition when I got her and took a lot of work to get her fixed up, but it was worth it. She was my first ever model and I’ve never felt lonely since she’s been around.”

Luka looked back over at the doll and gave her a smile. “I can tell, I’d bet no one gave her the proper love or attention until she came to you. And I think, if she could talk, she would say that you kept her from feeling lonely too, and all she wants is for you to be happy.”

Serafina liked that boy, a lot more than she had liked Adrien when he had come to play video games. The boy genuinely seemed to care for Marinette. And even though he could somehow sense that she was more than just a doll, he didn’t spill her secret. Yes, she approved of this one.

And then, less than a week after she returned to school, came the worst day. They were taking pictures at the school and Marinette had worked so hard on a new dress; it was pale purple cotton with teacup sleeves, a tulip skirt and pink lace at the hem. It was so sweet and looked like she was going to a spring tea party. Then half way through the day, she came into her room crying. Her makeup was smeared, there were bruises and scratch marks on her arms, another bruise on her cheek, her hair was a mess and covered in dark blue paint. The same paint that covered almost half of the dress. Tikki was doing her best to comfort the girl as she showered. Marinette was unable to save her dress and ended up throwing it away before she cried herself to sleep on her bed.

Serafina was angry, the kind of anger she hadn’t felt since Ramona had attempted to burn her in the fireplace… and that hadn’t gone well for her. Tikki flew over to face her. “I know what you’re thinking and I can’t condone you falling into old habits and killing her entire class. Despite how much they’ve hurt her, it would still break her heart if they all suddenly died.”

The doll actually considered that for a moment before picturing some very specific people. Lila, the liar that was trying to take away/destroy the person she cared about. Alya, the best friend that betrayed her, acted like a hypocrite, and took joy in hurting her. Adrien, the boy that not only broke his promise to help her as a civilian, but continually harassed her as a pseudo-hero. And finally, Hawkmoth, the person that was constantly putting her in danger. Everyone else that had harmed her would be punished, paying back the harm they had done to Marinette in blood, but those four would pay with their lives.

Tikki shook her head. “As angry as I am with Adrien, you can’t kill him. Marinette still has feelings for him and if he dies, she might never get over him. I can’t stop you from punishing them, but please try not to kill them. You know that she has a big heart and it would hurt her to lose any of them, so please keep that in mind.”

Serafina would have argued, but the little god was right. Killing around Marinette would only upset her. So she would do her best to punish them without killing them… although, accidents do happen.

~oOo~

It was easy enough to sneak herself into Marinette’s bag the next day of school. It was even easier to select her first victims. One of her classmates, Kim, stole her backpack and dumped out all of her stuff, including her. The boy laughed about Marinette bringing a doll to school as he ran up the stairs to keep it away from her. It took little effort to make the boy trip, in full view of everyone that had been watching, and fall backwards down the steps.

Serafina had landed at the top landing with a perfect view of the boy’s tumble, and it was oh so satisfying. She could see his knee bent in the wrong direction, a bone in his arm protruding from the skin, and blood dripping from the cuts and open wounds. But the sound was even better, all the cracking and popping of bone before he began crying like a little girl, begging for his mom. Ah, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed those sounds.

When the principal came out to see what was happening, she hid her presence and let the principal trip over her and fall as well. He even landed on Kim, causing more injuries to both of them. She held back a laugh as the grown man wailed and cried until the paramedics arrived. Loading the two into the ambulance while one of the teachers called the Board of Governors. A representative, M. Rupere, quickly came to take over the principal’s duties while he was gone, and was surprised when a bunch of students tried to blame Marinette for the incident.

“And how is it her fault?” He asked the students that surrounded him. “Did you see her push or trip M. Le Chien or M. Damocles down the stairs?

“Marinette brought in a doll and Kim was distracted by it when he was going up the stairs, that’s how he tripped and fell,” Lila told him with tears in her eyes. “Then M. Damocles tripped over the doll and fell down the stairs too. It’s just like how she pushed me down the stairs last week and I hurt my knee. I think she’s actually trying to hurt people.”

The man looked at Lila for a moment before looking to the top of the stairs, but there was no doll there. Then he looked back at Lila with a stern glare. “Young lady, if you had been pushed down the stairs last week, you would have been severely injured just like your friend or M. Damocles. And whether or not it was Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s doll that caused the incident or not, does not mean that she is at fault for the accident. To the principal’s office, right now. I think we should have a discussion as to why you are trying to blame another student for something she did not do.”

Totally shocked, the girl looked around to her followers for some support, but they were now looking at her with uncertainty. They had just seen two people fall down the stairs and receive severe injuries, so how was Lila walking around just fine without a scratch on her? Huffing in annoyance, Lila stomped her way to the office while the class stared after her, most of them noticing the lack of limp to her walk.

Serafina was pleased with how this was turning out, she had already punished two of the people that had betrayed Marinette and had begun sewing seeds of doubt with the liar. At the moment, she was hiding in the classroom, observing everyone so she could figure out the best way to punish them. She noticed Rose, Juleka, and Nathaniel sitting close to the girl and doing their best to comfort her. She also noticed Nino, a boy she had seen a couple of times over the years, casting looks back at Marinette.

During the first break, the boy cautiously approached her, clutching his hat in his hands. “Hey dudette, listen… I, um, wanted to say I was sorry,” he said, having a hard time looking her in the eye. “After Kim fell, what that Governor dude said about Lila not being hurt, and the fact that I’ve known you forever. I felt so stupid. You would never push someone down the stairs or cheat or steal from someone like that. And I tried looking up Jagged’s discography to see if there was any mention of a song about Lila, and there was literally nothing. I tried telling Alya, but she didn’t want to listen and-”

Nino was interrupted by Marinette giving him a hug. Serafina smiled at that. The boy had thought for himself and admitted that he was wrong. He apologized and Marinette was willing to offer him forgiveness. She supposed that Nino could also be exempt from punishment, so long as he never betrayed the girl again.

Half way through the second lesson, Lila had returned to the class with two weeks worth of detention and had a meeting scheduled with herself, M. Rupere, and her mother at the end of the week. Serafina decided to let the girl’s empire fall before going in to completely destroy her.

During lunch, when all the students had left. Serafina got to work on punishing Mme. Bustier. She started by slamming the door shut, it made the woman jump and look around the room, but there was no one there. Then the giggling started, causing her to look around the room again. This time, she walked up the steps to see if anyone was hiding in the room, but she was completely alone. When she turned back to her desk, the papers she had been grading were torn to pieces. A bit panicked, Bustier tried to run out of the room, but the door was locked. As she struggled with the door, she heard the scraping of chalk and froze for a moment before looking at the board. Large words were scrawled in block letters: LIAR, ENABLER, MEAN, CRUEL, and the most frightening of all, YOU WILL PAY.

Bustier’s hands were shaking as she erased the words from the board, not understanding what was happening. Only taking a breath when the door opened and her students began to file in. Serafina quietly laughed at the teacher’s fear, she was another person that she would take her time in punishing. Payback for failing to help Marinette. For now, it was time to take out her biggest supporter.

Again, it was much easier than it should have been to sneak herself in Alya’s backpack and go home with her. When the girl found her she sneered. “The klutz must have put you in my bag by mistake.” Then she smiled cruelly at her. “I think I’ll give you to Etta and Ella to play with before giving you back to Maribrat, maybe tell them that you need a makeover and give them some permanent markers too.”

Turning to take the doll out to her sisters, she stubbed her toe on her desk chair hard enough that she felt a crack and dropped back on her butt while hissing in pain. When she was finally able to think past the pain, she realized that she had dropped the doll and didn't see it on the floor. After wrapping her foot, she looked all over her room but couldn’t find it anywhere.

That night, things got… more than scary. Alya was absolutely terrified.

First, her computer turned on, on its own, and started printing off papers saying “YOU KNOW THE TRUTH”. She turned the computer off, only for it to turn back on after she’d climbed into bed and the browser pulled up past searches; specifically, the searches that proved that Lila had been lying. She had found that out after Lila had disappeared from school for months, but had kept to herself so she wouldn’t lose her credibility on her blog or have to admit to Marinette that she’d been right. Turning it off again, she’d decided to sleep on the couch when her phone suddenly let out a hiss and burst into flames.

Letting out a shriek, Alya rushed to her door, and had just barely opened it when it slammed shut on her fingers, causing her to scream as she struggled to pull her hand free. She could hear her parents and Nora shouting on the other side of the door, trying to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Her head got fuzzy and she suddenly felt cold, she realized that she was going into shock. Her parents’ shouts became garbled background noise and Alya heard the sound of tiny feet running around the room. She tried reaching the light switch so she could see, but it was out of reach.

From the light outside her window, she could barely make out the movement of a small shadow, moving from one part of the room to another. Coming closer and closer to her with every sweep. Alya began tugging harder on the doorknob and her hand. She needed to get out. Something was in the room with her. She could almost feel the darkness creeping closer. It wanted to hurt her!

What happened next, Serafina couldn’t have planned better if she’d tried. Alya jerked back her trapped arm and the doorknob at the same time Nora threw her shoulder into the door as hard as she could. Sending the teenagers flying into her bedside table and her head hitting the corner with an audible *crack*. The doll smiled silently in the corner of the room as the paramedics were called and listened to her parents cries for their horrid daughter to wake up. They called time of death at 2:03am.

~oOo~

It was a bit more of a chore for Serafina to get back to the school, but it was still manageable as her mother had to inform the school of her daughter’s death and pick up her things. The woman had also noticed the information that had been brought up on Alya’s computer and thought that she had been up late chasing a lead. And as the lead had to do with the disturbing behavior of one of her daughter’s classmates, she thought it best to show the acting principal the information before taking her leave.

Making her way back to the classroom, she saw that the news had spread already. Nino seemed to be hit the hardest, as it was his girlfriend, but he would get over it. Kim was still out of class, and likely would be for a few more days. Tikki saw the doll when she was peeking out of the purse and gave her a disapproving glare, but there was nothing she could do. And in Serafina’s defense, she had only intended on maiming the failed journalist, her death had been an “accident”.

When class let out for lunch, Serafina got back to work tormenting Mme. Bustier. Today, the door slammed and locked shut a few minutes after the last student left. The woman shrieked and was struggling to open the door when the giggling started again. Bustier started screaming for it to “go away” but the giggling continued. Turning back to the door, books began flying at her from all over the room, hitting her chest, back, arms since they were shielding her head.

Then the door opened to show a panicked looking M. Rupere. “I heard screaming, are you alright?” The red haired teacher looked extremely frazzled; her hair was a mess, eyes wide and dilated, and her hands were shaking.

“The books,” she said in a trembling voice. “There was giggling, the door wouldn’t open, and the books attacked me. And this was the second time!”

His eyebrows rose to his hairline as he stared at the woman. “Did you see who was throwing the books at you?”

Bustier shook her head in a frantic manner. “There was no one, the books just started flying at me after the giggling.”

Giving her a slow nod, Rupere gently motioned her to step out of the room ahead of him. “How about you take the rest of the day to recover? Some rest will do you some good.”

To his relief, Mme. Bustier agreed and collected her purse before leaving the school. Looking around the room, he was confused to see all the books in place on the shelves. Curious, he went to examine her desk and saw essay papers… covered in red ink with large “F’s” on every one of them. Reading the paper on top, all he saw were a few grammar mistakes, nothing that should have resulted in a failing grade. A bit unsettled, Rupere called the Board to schedule a psychological exam for the teacher. Serafina watched the man with satisfaction, at the rate she was going with that terrible teacher, she wouldn’t be around much longer.

Her next victims were Max and Alix during science class. She switched a couple of labels on the tubs on their desk before hiding in the room to enjoy the show. Half-way through class, Max poured a large amount of reactive chemical into the mix while it was warming over a burner, and the glass exploded. The two screamed and cursed in pain as Max tried wiping the liquid away from his face, only succeeding in getting more in his eyes. Alix tried wiping it away with a cloth, not noticing in time that the fabric was also soaked in the chemicals that now covered her entire face.

Serafina was impressed with how quickly Mme. Mendeleiev reacted to the incident. Doaning on gloves in an instant and leading the two students to the chemical wash station. Both students looked to have chemical burns on their faces, arms and necks. She could already see the burns covering a large amount of their exposed skin. While the class was distracted, Serafina switched the labels back so it would appear that the two had not been doing as instructed.

When school let out, the doll hid away in Mylene’s bag and ended up going on a date with the girl and Ivan. They commented on the bad luck their class seemed to be having and wondered out loud at what the cause might have been.

Mylene was hesitant to speak as the two ate their ice cream. “Do you think… maybe it’s karma coming back on our class?”

“Why do you think that?” Ivan asked her, seeming genuinely curious. Deciding that their conversation might lead to something more, Serafina waited and listened.

“It’s just… ever since Kim fell down the stairs, it’s got me thinking. Lila says that Marinette pushed her but the only injury she says she got was a bad knee, and she’s been walking around fine since then. And then she tried blaming Marinette for Kim and M. Damocles, when Kim shouldn’t have been running up the stairs and M. Damocles tripped at the top of the stairs when she was still down in the courtyard.”

“You’re right, now that I think about it. Lila lied to that new principal and she did it really easy.” Ivan nodded slowly, his brow creased as he pulled out his phone. “I wonder if she lied about anything else.” Mylene watched over his shoulder as he looked up the story about saving Jagged Stone’s kitten from an airplane. There was nothing, the only article that came up about a pet was his crocodile, Fang. The story said that he had hatched the reptile himself seventeen years earlier and any other pet wouldn’t be as rock’n’roll as Fang. “I don’t think Jagged ever had a cat, this article says that he’s only had Fang for longer than we’ve been around.”

Mylene pulled out her phone and called Rose, putting the call on speaker when she answered.

“Hi Mylene, did you hear anything about Max and Alix? Are they going to be okay?” The girl asked as soon as she picked up.

“Ivan and I haven’t heard anything about them yet, but we have a question for you, Rose, and it’s something only you would be able to answer.”

There was a slight pause on the line. “Go ahead.”

“Do you still chat with Prince Ali?”

“Sure I do! We video chat every Saturday and I send him videos of our performances with Kitty Section. Why do you ask?”

“Ivan and I were wondering… Has he ever mentioned Lila to you?”

There was another pause, although they could hear a hushed conversation in the background. “So, you guys figured out the truth about Lila?” When they didn’t respond right away, Rose continued. “I found out a few weeks after Lila says she came back from Achu. I mentioned Lila to Ali and asked him about the charities they had been working on together, but he’d never heard of her. And Ali is only working on charities involving children, nothing with the environment. When Juleka and I tried asking Lila about it, she got really mean and threatened us if we told anyone. I would have been akumatized if Marinette hadn’t been there to calm me down.”

Ivan and Mylene were horrified, not only had Lila been lying to them, but she had threatened Rose, Juleka, and probably Marinette too. “What should we do?”

“First, you should apologize to Marinette for how you’ve been treating her and let her know that you know the truth.” They heard Juleka over the phone. “Lila has been more terrible to her than anyone else and she keeps getting in Lila’s way to protect us and Nathaniel since we know the truth about her.”

“Who all knows?” Ivan asked, feeling a bit sick to his stomach. Sure, he and Mylene hadn’t really hurt her or done anything, but they hadn’t stood up for her either and they were supposed to be her friend.

“Us, Luka, Kagami, Nathaniel figured it out when she said she could introduce him to Stan Lee, Nino figured it out yesterday, and Adrien’s apparently known from the start but didn’t say anything because he doesn’t think her lies are hurting anybody.”

Both of them could hear the acid in Juleka’s voice when she mentioned Adrien, and they couldn’t argue with her. They knew he had led a sheltered life, but how could he claim that ‘lies don’t hurt anybody’ after sitting back and watching Lila and her friends torment and bully Marinette?

Mylene hadn’t even realized that she had asked that question out loud until Rose answered them. “He told us that it was Marinette’s own fault for antagonizing Lila, and ‘If she just took the high road like I told her, then Lila would leave her alone’. It took everything I had not to slap him.”

Coming from Rose, that really was saying something.

Serafina was then taken on a shopping trip to an arts supplies store, a card shop, and a stop at an ATM before going to Marinette’s family’s bakery. She smiled quietly and with great respect to the couple as they apologized to her girl, gave her cards, an entire bolt of soft purple cotton the same color that her ruined dress had been, a new sketchbook, and money to pay her back for some of the things that Marinette had given them over the past year. They even asked her to provide them with proper receipts, and admitted that they knew the amount they had given her wasn’t enough to cover everything. But they promised to pay her back before asking for anything else, as well as pay in advance for any future items or baked goods.

The little doll would have cried right along with Marinette if she could. These two had proven themselves to her and would avoid punishment, just as Nino had.

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#marinette dupain cheng #Marinette deserves better #alya salt #lila karma #lila salt #lila gets exposed #bustier salt #class salt #class redemption #adrien salt

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