No, never. Missy! I will never stand with Doctor!

Hello! I’m wondering if you have any recommendations for Animal-themed TTRPGs? Specifically wild animals if possible (jungle, arctic, desert, etc). I have a lot of recommendations for domestic animals and pets! ☺️

Theme: Wild Animals

Hello friend! You are right, there are quite a lot of recommendations out there for cute pet-like animals, but I think I managed to find a nice variety of wild animals. I also have a few longer games to balance out the 1-page rpgs I found.

One Less Lobster in Maine, by Minte.

You’ve made it! You escaped! Freed from your wooden trap you find yourself on the picturesque coasts of Maine. One lobster alone facing the world, on a journey to make your way back to the sea. 

This game played with a deck of cards, lets you build your own adventure. Play on your own or with friends this is meant to be a fun lighthearted story building game that is easy to pick up and play. All you need are some cards, maybe some friends, your imagination for your very own crustacean crusade.

This game can be played solo or with a group; it’s basically an oracle that presents you with events and obstacles as your lobster makes their way to the sea.

Emu Uprising, by ashleecraft.

You play an emu trying to defeat the government with the help of your friends in this 1-page TTRPG based on The Great Emu War created for the Historically Accurate Game Jam 2023!

This is hilarious re-enactment of a real-life historical event. You roll a series of times using 2d6 to determine what happens in each round of battle. Your goal is to get more Emu points than Human points. Feel free to add your own embellishments to each moment of battle!

Rise of the Apes, by WuDeRPG.

Rise of the Apes takes the premise of the movie Rise of the Planet of the Apes and lets you play as a group of Apes escaping a laboratory on their quest to reach freedom in the woods.

This is the first game using the RISE system, which divides play into 3-act struggles over which your characters will experience evolutionary moments. I think this game has an interesting opportunity as a teaching tool because players have a chance to get familiar with one part of their character sheet before adding on new pieces. I’m interested to see whether each act could be its own game session; breaking out of the lab as the first act could certainly take up to 2 or 3 hours.

Crabpocalypse, by Z Gosck.

Great news, the apocalypse is here!

but not at the hands of zombies, aliens, or unrelenting capitalism, but rather the meaty claws of giant enemy crabs. And even better news, you’re the fucking crabs!

Become crab, as nature intended, in Crabpocalypse! A game that finally puts you in the carapace of a giant enemy crab, bringing unimaginable death and destruction upon a world that sorely deserves it!

An absolutely ridiculous game, Crabpocalypse requires that players play the entire game with their hands shaped like crab claws, lest they lose a point from their highest crabtribute. The whole game is this silly and over-the-top, right to the end - where you will fight a giant, human-allied crab!

Mortal Wombat, by JoshyLongLegs.

Captured in your infancy by some Australian scientists (unburdened by morals or ethics) you have been turned into a sapient cyborg synapsid, hell-bent on escaping the laboratory you've been kept captive in all these years! 

Joined by your own marsupial mob you've got to use your head and your butt to prove yourself the finest Wombatant and make your way to freedom! 

Another simple one-page game, Mortal Wombat embraces the cartoonish style of children’s tv shows and gives your wombats some serious chrome upgrades. There appears to be some callbacks to Honey Heist here, so if you’re familiar with that one-pager, this game will probably be pretty easy to pick up and play.

Moose Trip, by Kira Magrann.

You’re a moose living in the human occupied wilds of Montana. You’ve just eaten some of your favorite psychedelic mushrooms with your friends. The streams are cooling, the willows ripe with delicious leaves, and soft orange moss dots granite rocks amid grassy fields. You’re settling into your favorite lush sanctuary here in the wilds for a mind altering and inspiring psychedelic trip.

This game is more of a conversational experience than something with a definable goal. You take turns rolling mushroom feelings, and then ask the group around you the related question. I think this game could also be used as a mini-game inside a larger campaign, regardless of who your characters are - you don’t even really need to be a moose to play.

The Warren, by Bully Pulpit Games.

The Warren is a tabletop role-playing game about intelligent rabbits trying to make the best of a world filled with hazards, predators and, worst of all, other rabbits. It is a game about survival and community.

There are many creatures, humans included, that are bigger, stronger, meaner, or more numerous than rabbits. The seasons and the elements do not care that rabbits are only little things. Rabbits cannot hope to meet these threats head on. Only through speed, wits, and keeping a cool head can rabbits bypass the dangers of the outside world.

The Warren hails from the PbtA family of games, and pulls greatly on rabbit stories such as Watership Down and Peter Rabbit. It comes highly lauded and is known for its ability to combine the idyllic comfort of being a small creature with the tragic horror of being everyone’s favourite prey. If you want a deep game that isn’t afraid to send you to some dark places, I recommend The Warren.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

Capybara Capers, by momatoes.

Jellyfish Felonies, by Penguin King Games.

My Fish Games Post.

Familiar [Part 1]

Part 2, Part 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x immortal!reader

Word Count: 1238

You watched the world you’d always known become public knowledge. It was laughable in which the US government feeds their citizens lies, lies that the enhanced individuals are a new construct, lies that they only started to appear in the age of heroes. Enhanced individuals have always existed. They always walked among the non enhanced. The only difference is more dangers have bubbled onto the surface and now they’re trying to save face.

Steve Rogers might’ve been the world’s first superhero but he was not the first enhanced individual. He was made into one and celebrated for it. Acting as a poster boy for the US government to recruit young men with a romanticized version of war. Those who were born enhanced were often murdered, caught, or experimented on. The history of the lost to never see a glimpse of light.

You had known Steve once upon a time. Your paths crossed whenever you found yourself in New York. You heard him getting beat up in the alley next to the theater being saved by his friend, Bucky Barnes. It was a rather lackluster moment and you had no idea how important to history they both would become. He was but a boy back then, wanting to be a hero but limited by his body. 

Throughout years of torture and experiments by the government, you readily escaped and made a life for yourself. Hidden away from the government and living in isolation. At times, you would gather enough courage to leave your safe haven and explore the ever changing world around you.

Money makes the world go round and round. At least, that’s what those in control want the population to comprehend and accept. You had seen the value of money diminish and the cost of necessities increase unjustifiably. The concept itself is of greed as no person should have to justify their worth with the amount of cash in your bank. You had lived through the rise and fall of empires, the extinction of a plethora of animals and insects, and witnessed the destruction in the wake of greed for money.

As money had never been an issue for you, you’d donate religiously to charities in feeding and sheltering the homeless in various parts of the world, created multiple scholarships for students to get free-rides to their dream schools, funded research centers and other organizations. You had far too much money for just an individual.

Once you explored the world for what it had to offer, you became bored. Traveling was once exciting but the thrill dissipated. You now occupy your time reading books, mindlessly scrolling on social media, watching television, and other niche hobbies. You had so much time to do everything you’d ever wanted and search for the answers to questions that remained unanswered.

You found yourself in a decent routine to keep yourself from going insane. It might’ve been considered boring to the average person but you had done so much in your life, any downtime was welcomed with open arms and a bottle of whiskey.

“Do you think they’re here?” Hushed voices whispered in the distance. The forest creatures that usually surround your home remain quiet, not knowing what to think about the strangers walking through their forest. They had become familiar to you but were still wary of humans.

“Well-kept house in the middle of nowhere and Red Wing picking up one heat signature would suggest so.” It was another voice. A voice you knew you heard before. It was a voice from the TV. You’d realized the voice belonged to Sam Wilson, an apparent pararescue who fought with the Avengers to save the world. You didn’t know if he was considered to be an Avenger though. After the whole debacle with the Sokovia Accords, the breaking up of the Avengers, and the fight with Thanos, the question of the status of the group has been unclear.

“You’d think they know we’re here?” The voices became louder as they inched closer to her safe haven. You wanted them out. To leave you alone with your thoughts. You didn’t want strangers to mess up what you had built for yourself. They needed to leave.

You recognized the other voice as well. It belonged to an old acquaintance. He flirted with you after he saved his friend, Steve, from being beaten in an alleyway. It seemed like such a natural occurrence but hearing him now was a bit surreal. He probably wouldn’t recognize you after all he’s been through. You remember when he was falsely blamed for the bombing of the Vienna Bombing. Sloppy work for someone’s who’s identity remained hidden for so long, only whispers of the nickname Hydra had given him. Idiots. You thought bitterly. Bucky was such a kind man turned into a mindless weapon. You wished he would have lived a long and beautiful life without the violence or suffering that he so rightfully deserves.

He sighed, annoyed by the questions, “Yes. They’re probably aware of our presence. [Reader] we know you're in there. We just want to talk.” You didn’t listen. You couldn’t move. No one was supposed to know your name. You’d messed up sometime during the rise of technology, you assumed. It was easier to go under the radar before technology developed and expanded to the point where your face could be caught on camera. 

Your mind began to race as they made it to your porch and knocked gently. You couldn’t outrun a supersoldier. Your powers only consisted of immortality which you found to be rather lonely and painful. You slowly crept to the door, your arm uncontrollably shaking as you reached to open it. You were opening the door of uncertainty and allowing the outside world to enter. “What do you want?” It was the question that echoed underneath your breath.

Sam gave you a gentle simple, “I’m Sam Wilson and this is my associate Bucky Barnes.” He gestured to his companion. “We don’t mean to intrude but we have a couple of questions only you would be able to answer.” Bucky stared long and hard at your face. His eyebrows scrunching together as he tried to pinpoint why you were so familiar. “We have evidence to suggest that the soldier serum was recreated. Since you have been alive for a decent amount of time, have you heard of anything that’ll be able to help us?”

Of course you had heard of multiple instances of scientists, from all around the world, desperately searching for the answer to recreate the super soldier serum. Many had failed leaving a trail of dead bodies of unwilling victims.

“You should check with your own government.” You bluntly replied. The American government had tried to keep the experiments of their own soldiers a secret but people talk. Guilt overcomes silence. While the media caught smoke of what happened behind closed doors, drunken secrets were spilled for all to listen and you listened. “I know they tried… relentlessly.”

“You look familiar.” Bucky’s voice rang, catching the attention of both Sam and you. 

Sam gave him a questioning look before observing your reaction. It was neutral. No confusion or alarm emerged in your facial expression. You look straight into Bucky’s eyes, seeing the window of his broken soul trying to mend itself piece by piece, “I’m pretty sure we've never met.” The lie slipped so smoothly that neither of them caught it.

Masterlist

With you

Art creds: sira_Julyspring on tw Synopsis: You'll always find yourself running. Running away from the sorcerers that seem to be after your beloved, but how far can your legs take you before you get too tired? Warnings: None Tags: fluff, angst, right person not enough time Word Count: 1k

one ⋆ two ⋆ three ⋆ four ⋆ five

It all started with you hopelessly falling in love with a curse that sought to destroy your family name. How was it even possible that a mere human could fall in love with a curse? You couldn't understand it either, but something you would never understand is the way he had always spared you.

Always slaughtering your clan, left from right, but never in front of your sight. He made sure he killed every last remaining clan member until it was just you left. You couldn't understand why, until he finally made eye contact with you. The King of Curses was in love with you.

He killed your family, and yet your heart still pulsated at the man in front of you. You couldn't blame him, your families tie back into years on end. The both of you were destined to meet, but neither of you were supposed to be curses.

Betrayal ran deep in your family, however what happened years ago was nothing of the sort. Two young boys trying to make a name for themselves in the Jujutsu world. Sadly, one of them had been misdirected which had caused the current rivalry and war between the family's to worsen. Your clan will forever be known as the clan who cheated their way to the top after the massacre of the Sukuna clan. Never had you expected some of them to survive, let alone expect one of them to get their revenge.

After the death of your family you followed Sukuna around. You would've never guessed that the two of you would've gradually fallen in love. In the beginning you had told yourself this was for survival, and that being with him was the only way you can get around. You had originally planned to leave him in the dust after you've found a way out the loop, however one thing led to another and the two of you were now happily married.

Running. Running is what you two were good at. You two constantly had to pack your things and move to the next village or maybe even across seas in fear of a sorcerer showing up to execute Sukuna. Fear, the both of you lived in fear. Despite Sukuna being incredibly strong he'd rather live a peaceful life with you than continue being labeled as the King of Curses.

You didn't mind. You loved your husband and you knew the consequences of it. In all honesty part of you loved it. You loved running hand in hand away from the ones who pointed out your forbidden love. The rush of adrenaline filled the void Sukuna was constantly filling.

Your life wasn't what you pictured it to be, but you were happy. That's all that mattered.

"Y/N! Y/N? We have to go. They're here again."

"Fuck. They found us that fast?" You sighed, running upstairs to grab your go-bag, your husband following you closely.

"I'm not the King of Curses for nothing doll," He chuckled while putting a leather jacket over his long sleeve "of course they'd find us. We didn't exactly run very far."

"Yeah and who's fault is that?" You snapped, recalling the current events of your husband complaining about being woken up from his slumber which caused you two only to escape to the next village.

"Sorry sorry. Won't happen again. Ready love?" He held his hand out like he always did before you two ran. Like always you grasped onto it, and the two of you began running.

This wasn't the first time you two had ran away, nor was it the second. You and Ryo had been doing this for about ten times all in the past five years.

The pleads of the sorcerers asking you two to stop running made you and Ryo laugh. You'd never stop running. Not in a million years. You and Ryo could handle this. Anything's possible as long as you have each other.

As you were running you looked back on the first time you two had slipped passed the sorcerers.

The sunlight peaking from the small window was enough to let you scan through the room you waited in. The room seemed empty. Two small chairs aside each other along with one rounded table in the middle filled the room, the rest of the space wasn't occupied. There really wasn't a need to add more furniture. He insisted on keeping your small house simple and plain.

As the sun was rising slowly you waited a bit more. Right when the sun began to fill the room with light you started with your day. You didn't have enough money to afford an alarm clock so you figured the sun was good enough.

Just as you finished getting dressed Sukuna barged into your home. He frantically looked around for you. You had heard a few things break, but in that moment it really didn't matter.

"Y/N! There you are — Oh good! You're dressed." Sukuna roughly grabbed your hand and dragged you to the back door. "We have to run. Sorcerers, they're here."

"They're after us?" You questioned all while trying to keep up with his animalistic speed.

"No. They're after me." By now you two were far into the forest, but it wouldn't take long before the sorcerers arrived. Your heart was racing. Trying to catch your breath you leaned on a tree while Sukuna kept a look out. "Look, I don't wanna drag you further into my mess. There's a small town a few blocks over. If you keep running north you'll find it by noon." He held his hand out and dropped a bag filled with money that would be enough to get you by for a while. "Live a new life there. Sorcerers won't find you, you're just an ordinary girl now that your clans gone. Go!"

"No."

"What are you foolish!? Go before they catch us, you brat."

You fought back the aching in your foot. By now you had caught your breath and you were ready to continue running. You grabbed ahold of the accursed man in front of you and began running hand in hand. What was supposed to be an ordinary day turned out to be the start of your very odd future.

"Living a life with me would only do you harm, are you really alright with that?"

"If I wasn't I wouldn't be running with you."

"Foolish little girl."

Note: I'm excited to continue this HAHA. As always, send an ask if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series. Taglist: @sookyshima

© All works by tojisveryown on Tumblr. Do not modify or repost.

The End of It All

Vampire!Katsuki Bakugou x Witch!Reader

WC: 6k+

Warnings: Cussing

Angst - breakups and makeups

A/N: I wrote this over two years ago and just found it. If I decide to edit it I’ll post that one on my AO3, or if people ask me to post it here I can <3

~~~~~~

The idea of a calamity had never even crossed their minds until a couple of days ago. Everything seemed to be harmonious between the humans and the supernaturals, but never in a thousand years could they guess just how wrong they were. In a matter of days, war had broken loose between the few humans who knew of the other world, and the extremists of the supernatural that wanted only bloodshed. The Negotiator was notified immediately, and brought a group of friends onto the scene. It only spiraled from there.

Mina and Uraraka sobbed into one another as it dawned on them that very soon everything they loved could be eviscerated, while Kaminari and Kirishima attempted to soothe them as the night went on. Midoriya and Iida ran around searching for books that could possibly lead to a solution, but there was no manual on how to fix the destabilization between the supernatural world and the human one. Todoroki sits in a chair by him lonesome, contemplating if he should leave, while Katsuki has the same thought on the opposite side of the room as he leans against the doorframe.

“Do you think we should try (Y/N) again? She might pick up this time,” Iida flips through a tome as he speaks, eyes glancing at Midoriya.

“I don’t think we should. Last I heard from her she was going to visit the harpies, and if her phone went off during that meeting then we could be royally screwed. They could have a solution, so I think it’s better if we just have faith and-” “Have faith?! That’s your shitty advice?!” Katsuki growls from across the room, a deep scowl decorating his features. “We all know damn well that (Y/N) could have ditched us and left the world for dead! She’s a fucking witch and doesn’t give a shit what happens to the rest of us as long as it doesn’t fucking bother her!” His fangs started to grow as he spoke. During his little outburst he had walked over to the table and slammed his hands down, putting more emphasis on the cuss words than anything. “She. Doesn’t. Give. A. Shit. About. Us.”

“You shouldn’t say that about her, Bakugou. We know you have a past with her, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to forget about the rest of the world. She’s not that petty.” Iida is calm as he speaks, making sure not to make eye contact with the vampire, as it could set him off even further.

“You see her as a friend, and I see her as a lover. She’s a completely different person, I can promise you that.” A low growl had escaped Katsuki’s lips after he spoke, but his ear twitched as he sensed movement outside. Looking out the window, he saw no branches move, but a bright light shone through it.

Todoroki gets up and inspects the outside of the estate, careful to not move the curtains too much. He didn’t want any uninvited guests knowing what room they were in. As he stared outside the glass, he could see an alchemy circle burned into the grass with your figure lying in the middle of it. Your body is in a fetal position, as if trying to protect something. Upon seeing this, Todoroki bolts out of the library without saying a word and goes out into the cold night. Katsuki runs after him to see what was going on with the rest of the party in tow.

The stream of people watched as Todoroki made no hesitation to pick you up bridal style from the ground and carry you back to the house. In your hands is an old book; its sides were ripped apart and there was a lock preventing it from being opened. The bind had decorative gold inlays, but no title. As of now, Todoroki did not care for the book, but the girl he carried in his arms.

“She’s breathing,” he looked to Uraraka, “and will most likely need medical attention.” With nothing left to be said, he walks briskly into the house and finds the nearest couch. Uraraka follows him and starts to check on you and perform a series of healing spells.

Kirishima, Mina and Kaminari walk back inside and sit near the other three, but make no move towards them.

“Is there anything we can do?” Mina’s quiet voice pierces the thick coat of silence around them.

“Right now I don’t need anything, but stay put just in case there is an emergency,” Ochako’s eyesight don’t leave your figure once. The party of four sits behind nod silently and watch as she works..

Outside, Iida and Midoriya are trying to figure out what the alchemy circle means. Not everyday does someone use such powerful magic to teleport, let alone a witch who prefers not to use alchemy at all. They carefully examined the etchings in the ground, the symbols older than anything they’ve had the chance to work with. Katsuki stood a couple of feet away, also trying to figure out where the fuck (Y/N) teleported from.

“Well this symbol means ‘ancient’ and this one over here means ‘creature’, but there’s one in between…” Midoriya pulls out his notebook and starts to sketch the symbols down.

“This is definitely from a different plane of existence, but I’ve never seen it. Is this from her personal dimension?” Iida spoke.

“No, it’s not. Her sigil phrase would be ‘nisi rogatus non transient’ and her keyphrase is ‘fiducia’. Plus there aren’t enough swirls in the alchemic circle to fit her personal taste,” the blonde grumbled. His eyes fixed over the old text, but this language was way before he turned into a creature of the night.

“Did (Y/N) use alchemy way back? I haven’t seen her use it in decades,” Iida ponders out loud.

“Doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t you be fucking figuring out what this shit means?” The two nerds nod and walk quickly back into the library where they begin a whole new search. The vampire slowly approached the living area where his once lover was lying on the couch with a fairy over her form. A glow erupts from Ochako’s hands as she tries to wake you up. Again, Katsuki leans against the door frame, eyes carefully watching what was happening.

He couldn’t help but feel concerned; he never truly got over you, no matter how poorly he acted. Remembering everything you had, everything you lost and the times he wished he had spent with you only caused his cold heart to clench in pain. What if I had been there when she asked? Would things be different? Does she still care? His mind raced with a thousand different thoughts. This was, afterall, the first time he had seen you in almost a century after one of the worst breakups to ever exist. 

Long story short, he was more focused on hunting rather than your relationship, so you decided to give a dangerous alchemic spell a shot after having no one to talk sense into you. Bakugou doesn’t know what kind of spell you were trying to cast, but he does know that it caused some sort of damage to your magical force. He wasn’t there during the ritual, but showed up at your hut months after the disaster. You had looked sick, as if death’s grip was starting to drag you down into hell, and before letting him speak you told him to leave, and never come back. After hours of screaming and bickering, he left. Not once did either of you try to speak to the other, but you both knew you were in the wrong. Katsuki wasn’t there for you, but you blamed him for your dangerous actions, which was in no way his fault. 

Nothing brought him joy after that; not the hunt, not the warmth of another. Nothing. For almost a century he felt empty. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to embrace you in his arms once again. Take you away from everyone and keep you to himself, but he knew that it simply wasn’t going to happen. He knew he had fucked up and is now trying to find a way to fix it. Not in a century had he been this close to you, and it was slowly taking away his life force. For all he knows, you’re in a coma caused by the harpies and have no way to save the world - or you found a way to save the world and sacrificed yourself. Either way, someone has hell to pay.

“Bakugou!” Ochako breaks his train of thought, her eyes screaming concern. “I need ice, her ribs are broken.” Standing up straight, he swiftly walks to the kitchen and retrieves the ice, taking a plastic bag and some paper towels.

“Thank you,” the round faced girl was sweating at this point, tired from healing but knowing that she couldn’t stop anytime soon.

“Guys! We found out what (Y/N) was doing!” Midoriya races into the lounge, holding several books within his arms. “She was trying to make contact with the Great Ones!” He flipped open some of the books, showing different languages and sigils.

“Why the fuck would she do that?! Wasn’t she going to see the harpies?” No one needed to look to understand who was speaking.

“I contacted the harpies, and they said she did speak to them, but only for a short time. They didn’t have anything that could help, so she left in a hurry.” The green haired male put his books down on the nearest surface and flipped through a particular book. “They did say that she bought some mandrake liver, which is odd considering it’s very expensive and very hard to come by, but I guess if she made contact with the Great Ones it makes sense. No one has been able to talk to them in years, not after they cut themselves out of the supernatural. If (Y/N) actually talked to them, then she is the first person in a millenium to ever see or speak to them. It’s a miracle she’s even alive.”

“Yeah, they almost fucking killed me.” You start to rise from the couch, rubbing your temples as you do so. “Think I could get a glass of water, my throat is fucking killing me.”

“You’re up! And so quickly!” Izuku stared in amazement at the girl who not only escaped death, but talked to some of the oldest beings in the universe.

“Yay, lucky me.. Can I just get some fucking water? Don’t mean to be rude, but I can feel my broken ribs and my dry ass throat so a little help would be appreciated.” Dry as ever, you spoke to no one in particular as you lean back into the couch and press the ice bag into the ribs that are broken. “Could someone grab me some rat tails, lavender powder and milk from the toad? Should fix these ribs real quick…”

“On it,” Mina hops up from her seat and runs off to gather what you asked.

“How are you feeling? Besides the ribs and headache.” Ochako reaches for your hand, taking it into her own.

“Pretty good, actually. Great Ones offered some knowledge, albeit for a price.” Peeking an eye open, you gaze at your peers. 

“Did you find the answer?”

“What ‘price’?” The negotiator and the vampire spoke at the same time, both asking valid questions but concerned about different matters.

“Cool your jets, besties,” fangs bared, Katuski growled at the thought of being “besties” with a fucking nerd, “I need to heal up before I start spilling the details.” Just then, Mina runs back into the room, all three ingredients in hand along with a mortar and pestle. 

“I got the stuff! What do I do now?”

“Now, you hand it all over and watch a witch work her magic.” Your greedy hands swipe the contents of a healing elixir and begin to mash everything together. Tediously, your fingers throw components into the mortar, then pressing them together with the pestle makes a liquid in which you drink in one big gulp. The group watches as your ribs emanate a sickly light, making the room glow in a mysterious manner. After about five seconds, it stopped and you stood up to stretch.

“Much better, now how about we go into the library so we can examine this,” you wave the torn book, “and figure out how to save the world.” Moving forward, you give them no time to answer. It gave them no choice but to follow you.

“Would you at least answer my damn question?” Katsuki remains in the doorframe, unmoving from his comfy position..

“How about you move out of my fucking way, and go to the library like I said? Maybe you’ll get your answer there, huh?” You shoulder check your way out of the lounge and into the library.

After everyone takes their places in various spots around the library, you begin to speak.

“I want to apologize for being so late, after I said I was only going to the harpies. Turns out, they don’t have much more information than mine and Midoriya’s libraries combined. Right as I was about to leave, Tokoyami said there might be one more group I should go see. He pulled me into his private room and gave me the liver of a mandrake as well as a page from his personal grimoire. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but it was the alchemic way to reach the Great Ones. We talked for a short time after it about how to approach them and what would happen if they did or did not decide to help. Knowing we’re getting short on time, I did the ritual right there in his room, and low and behold I was taken to a dimension far outside our normal planes of existence. It was cold, dark and dank with a stench that rivaled the odors of giants. My senses were being attacked in the most foul of ways, but that was the least of my concerns as I was met with the eyes of not one, but three of the Greats.” You shudder at the memory. “When they spoke it was deafening. I felt like I was going mad, or at the very least I was losing all sense of control. They knew why I was there, and decided that it would be more beneficial to help me, as what is going on now also affects them.” You cast your gaze downward, whispering the next sentence. “They agreed to tell me what to do only if they were given a sacrifice-”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Bakugou roared from the other end of the room. “YOU TOLD THEM YOU WOULD SACRIFICE SOMEONE?!”

“Kacchan-”

“YOU DON’T GET TO SPEAK, DEKU. SHE IS GOING TO SACRIFICE SOMEONE! SHE DECIDED TO TRADE ONE OF US OFF FOR THE ‘GREATER GOOD’! THIS IS WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU ASK A GOOD FOR NOTHING WITCH FOR HELP! I TOLD YOU IT WAS A MISTAKE TO ASK HER FOR HELP!”

“I NEVER SAID IT WAS GONNA BE ONE OF YOU.” The commotion stops. All eyes are now on you. “I never fucking said it was going to be one of you, I didn’t even finish what I was saying…” Your eyes look down at the shaking in your hands. 

Todoroki reaches forward and takes your hands in his own, stopping the tremble that has overcome you. “Go on.”

You take a deep breath in, “Like I was saying, they asked for a sacrifice of a magical being, but one of great power so the balance in the cosmos would be right. I tried to ask them what the requirements were for ‘great power’, but I received no answer. Instead, this book,” you put it down on the table, “appeared in my hands. Next thing I knew, I was on the couch…”

“So you don’t know how to unlock the latch on the front?” The green haired boy slides the book to himself, examining it with a sense of importance.

“No, but I have a feeling I’m the only one that’s going to be able to open it.”

“Why is that?”

“I mean, I’m the first person in forever to even see one of the Greats, let alone live from an encounter with them. If I’m not able to open it, then no one can.”

“Okay, well are there any keys that you have on you now? Maybe it’s the same one as your house key or lab key?” You shrugged and pulled out a set of keys from your pocket. Immediately you noticed one that hadn’t been there previously.

“Or the one that just happened to appear…” Inserting the key, and twisting it releases the metal strap on the bind of the book. It makes a soft clicking noise as it opens. Greedily, you opened up the pages to see what they held, only to find them blank. “What the fuck?” Aggressively, you flip through the whole thing until you find one page where a plethora of information was held.

“Is that it?” Iida was peaking over your shoulder. In fact, the rest of the party had gathered around the table to see what was going on. Well, everyone except the blonde haired, red eyed vampire.

“It has to be. This is the only marked page.”

“Well, it seems to be in celestial. Can you decipher it?” You cock your eyebrow and turn to Iida.

“Is that a question?”

“Hey, less flirting, more reading,” Kaminari spoke.

“That wasn’t flirting, but not like you would know.” He jolts back at the sudden attack, feigning a hurt look. Small chuckles could be heard around the room, but they died down as everyone anticipated your analysis.

“It’s a ritual with both alchemic and abjuration magic,” your eyes continue down the page, trying to make sense of all the scribbles, “but it looks like there’s only one ingredient.”

“Let me guess, a sacrifice.” Red eyes bore deep into your figure as Katsuki spoke.

“...yeah.”

“And where the fuck are you going to find some ‘great magical being’?” His teeth are showing as he scowls once more. It may have been years since he’s seen you, but he knows what you’re thinking.

The knuckles on your hands start to turn white from the frustration that was building in your chest. You weren’t intending on telling everyone how you were going to let yourself be sacrificed in the name of Great Ones. You wanted to keep it a secret from them, but Katsuki could see right through you.

“I don’t know.”

“FUCKING LIAR!” He crosses the room with lightning speed and wraps his hands around your neck, crushing you into a nearby bookcase. Your vision is white for a split second, but returns to see a face with nothing but disgust across its features. Gasping for air, you attempt to pry his hands off of you, but it wasn’t worth trying as you knew the kind of strength Katsuki possesses. “I know what you’re planning to do! You want to kill yourself because some old ass supernaturals want you to, but I’m not gonna let that fucking happen.” He slams you into the bookcase once more after seeing your eyes start to drift off. “Do you hear me?!”

“Bakugou, get your hands off her now!” Iida, Todoroki, Kaminari, Kirishima and Midoriya run over to the scene and start to restrain Katsuki. They struggle to pull him back, but after a few seconds of letting you go, your whole body drops to the floor and your lungs start to gasp for oxygen. While you are coughing, Mina and Uraraka latch onto your sides and help you up. Now sitting down, you cough trying to catch your breath.

“What the hell were you thinking dude?! You didn’t even let (Y/N) fucking speak?!” Kirishima’s speech was a low growl, his eyes turning from the normal black color into a more yellow, dog-like eye.

“I’m not going to let her fucking die because she thinks she is self righteous. She’s not more important than any of us, and if she thinks so I’ll kill her myself.”

“How do you know that?! How do you know that she wants to sacrifice herself?! How do you know that she thinks she’s better?!” Kiri stops, waiting for an answer. When none presents itself, he continues his rant. “You don’t know what is going in her head! So stop assuming you know stuff that we don’t!”

“Kiri, stop before you make a fool of yourself.” Gently, you put your hand on the shoulder of the raging werewolf. His eyes fade into the black abyss they once were. All eyes were now on you, “Katsuki’s right. I was going to sacrifice myself…” several gasps were audible in the thick silence, “but not because I think I’m better than anyone here. We all are powerful in our own regard, but I’ve been alive for twelve hundred years. If anyone of us is going down, it’s going to be me.” Scoffing, Katsuki barges out of the room, unable to deal with the level of bullshit he just heard. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe he was powerful, or anyone else in the room (he wouldn’t say it outloud), but he couldn’t believe that you were willing to give up on yourself to save the world. Did you not see how important you are? Whether you knew it or not, he cared about you and he didn’t plan on letting you die anytime soon.

The tension built itself around the room as the still airwaves remained unchanged. Not even breathing could be heard. Standing up from the table, you put the chair back into place and made a grab for the book, but someone stopped you. 

“No,” green eyes bore into your own, “you’re not taking it. We’re locking it up. There has to be a different solution.”

“There isn’t! We’ve talked to everyone we possibly could have and no one else thought of anything! For fucks sake Midoriya, I had to talk to some ancient beings to get a hold of this spell and almost died because of it! I’m taking what’s mine!” With both hands, you yank it from his grasp.

“I said no (Y/N). We’ll find another way. There has to be another way-”

“There’s not! What is so hard to understand! The clock is ticking and it’s only a matter of time before it all turns to shit, might as well fix it now and get it over with!”

“(Y/N), just give me the grimoire. Don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be. No one here wants you to die, and we’re not going to let you! Just pass it over.” Conflicted, your white knuckles loosen on the rough leather and place it down on the table. Without looking at anyone, you make your way to a spare room and sit on a bed, thinking about what else there was to do.

Hours passed as you thought about the end of it all. There is no other way for this to end. The fucking Old Ones said that this way the only way possible, so it has to be right? We exhausted all other resources: the scripts from Alexandria, my personal collection, Izuku’s personal collection and the harpies. None of us had anything. Your foot was tapping against the floor anxiously. If I could just get the pages from the book and get back to my place then it could all be over. None of them would have to worry anymore. It’s been a couple of hours… maybe they’re asleep. If I take it now and make a run for it, I’d have at least a couple hour head start. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about someone trying to stop me…

With a gameplan in mind, you stealthily make your way out of the room, creeping around as silently as possible. Passing a few other rooms, the snores of several companions reassure your suspicion. Now was the time to strike. Trying your damnedest not to make the floor creak, you tiptoe through the house to the library. You’re assuming it’s still there, but they could’ve removed it. Too busy focusing on trying to make a sound, you didn’t realize the pair of blood red eyes that closely follow.

Upon reaching the library, your eyes land on the old leather cover that lies exactly where you last remember. Swiftly taking it from its place and reaching for its key, you took the latch off and ripped the single page from its binding. As you did so, a knocking noise was heard from the entrance, but looking at it didn’t give you an answer. Everything was where you left it, but the uneasy feeling of eyes on you causes a thought to cross your mind. Am I being followed? Shoving the spell into your pocket, you glanced around one more time to make sure no one was there. 

“O custos revelare,” voice barely above a whisper and clutching the necklace of the triple goddess, the knowledge of Katsuki’s watchful eyes on you entered your consciousness. Great, just what I needed. How the fuck am I supposed to leave now? Maybe if I trapped him somewhere that he can’t be heard, or if I place a silencing spell? No, he’ll still be able to get someone’s attention. Best shot I got is to lure him out of earshot from the others and place a trapping spell, but that requires time… Fuck! What the hell am I supposed to do?!

Quickly trying to recover from the stream of thoughts, you make your way to the attic. This should be far enough from the others. If he screams up here they shouldn’t hear him, especially with all the fabric. Now how do I get the circle in place? ...goddamnit why the hell can’t my brain think of something? Abjuration? No, that’s later. Conjuration? No. Divination? No. Evocation? No. Necromancy? What the hell, no! Transmutation is a no go as well. That leaves alchemy, enchantments and illusions. Alchemy takes too long, so that’s out of the question, and Katsuki can easily overpower my enchantments. So illusions it is.

Katsuki watches as you stumble your way up a couple flights of stairs, trying so hard not to alarm anyone of your presence. He couldn’t help but feel amused at your little act. You just look so cute acting like a rogue trying to steal their first jewels. On the other hand, he couldn’t believe that after the outburst he had and Deku’s own freakout you still were going through with your plan. Do you not care about him? Do you seriously not realize just how important you are? Of course he’s gonna stop you; the minute you stormed off he knew there was a plan being formulated.

Shattering glass littered the stairwell as the nearest window blew inward. Immediately, Katsuki checks for intruders and looks down the stairwell to see that the other windows have been broken in as well. Peering up, he doesn’t see your figure any more and begins to panic. With his enhanced speed he runs downstairs and starts to sniff out anything suspicious.

Leaving the crystals in their place to keep the illusion going as long as possible, you could care less about making much noise. Bolting up to the attic, you shut the door behind you and took out a pocket knife, working on a trap, or abjuration, spell. The intricate carvings were taking longer than you thought, and the panic of being caught was causing you to slip up.

“Shit! Fuck!” There’s no time left! Once again grabbing the necklace of the goddess, you start reciting a simple fire spell and start to burn the lines into the wood floor, being careful not to burn the house down.

“Adolebitque imperium.” A small flame danced around the floor, as if following a line of gasoline. It wasn’t even a flame, but looked like the end of a stick of incense. The small embers made their way around the room, carving out sigils and words. Trapping a vampire was tough enough, but with Katsuki’s strength and will it was going to be even worse.

Back downstairs, Katsuki stalks the main floor, careful not to alarm something that could be in the house. His nose isn’t picking up on anything out of the ordinary, but he got the feeling that it was all a ruse. Looking around more only confirms his suspicion as he noticed no other windows were broken, and when he got back to the stairs those windows were put back.

“That sneaky little-” his feet pound on the ground as he makes his way to your location. “I can’t believe she- what a little- UGH!” He fells dumb. He knows your magic, but he couldn’t even figure it out on first glance - not like he used too, that is.

Reaching the top of the stairs and closing the door, he tries the doorknob, but to no avail. 

“(Y/N) open the door.” No response. He waits a few seconds until he tries again. “I swear to fucking God (Y/N), open the goddamn door or I will break it down.” Pressing an ear to the door, he listened to double check he was in the right area. After hearing some shuffling on the other side, his fists pound against the door. “I can fucking hear you, you know!” When no response came, again, he grabbed the door knob and snapped it off like it was a candy cane. “I’m coming in so don’t fucking attack me!”

You stand by an opened window, wind softly blowing through your hair and the moonlight highlighting your face in all the right ways. If only someone had a camera, this shot could make “Time” magazine. Katsuki’s breath was taken away at the scene; you looked so serene and just as beautiful as the day he met you. Although his heart wasn’t supposed to be beating, he felt as though it might leap out of his chest and run into your arms. You turn slowly, to face him with the ripped pages gently folded between your fingers.

“Hand it over. We both know I’m not letting this happen.” He inches closer in the room, about a foot away from the carvings on the floor. You just need to provoke him further, but the look in his eyes was killing you. They weren’t like anything you’d ever seen come out of Katsuki; even in the most intimate of moments. They screamed desperation but remain firm.

“It’s the only way, and you know it.” Eye contact hasn’t broken once since he bust the door open, but it only intensified as you speak.

“I don’t fucking care if it’s the only way. You are not dying for this, for these people! We both know what kind of shit the world puts us through and you want to put your life on the line for them. For those BASTARDS!” Screaming, he moves another few inches forward, eyes pleading for you to give in. “WHAT HAS THE WORLD EVER DONE FOR YOU?! BESIDES PUT YOU DOWN AND BEAT YOU TO THE CURB?!”

“It showed me you. Didn’t it?” The question startles him. You were the calm to his storm, the yin to his yang and yet… he didn’t want to admit that the world actually did him good.

“No. I gave myself to you. I wanted to be with you. I loved you. I still love you. Can’t you see this is fucking killing me?! Can’t you see that I just want to be with you?! CAN’T YOU SEE THAT I WANT YOU BACK?! THAT I WANT TO WAKE UP TO YOU WITH ME EVERYDAY?! WHY THE FUCK CAN’T YOU-” He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes with rage, and that you had made your way across the room to him. In the middle of his rant, you placed your soft hand on his cheek, caressing his face. Instinctually, he presses his cheek further into your touch, opening his eyes to meet yours. It felt like he had just had a sip of water after a centuries-long drought; this was something he didn’t acknowledge that he needed so badly, but now that it was happening he only wanted more.

“That day that you left, I was broken. For years I was only half the person I once was, and it was because I didn’t have you. I thought that you hated me, and never wanted to see me again…” 

“I could never hate you,” he grabbed your wrist, “not after everything we’ve been through. Not after our sleepless nights of talking, the years of moving around and the fact that you’re the only person I’ve ever been myself around.” He sighs, the whole ordeal becoming emotionally taxing. Not once did he ever open himself up to anyone; not after you. It was hard enough for you to crack him, but once you two were through, he built up walls of steel. “I never stopped loving you. You are the only one for me. You’re the only person willing to put up with my bullshit and able to control my temper. Even if you are a damn witch, you’re my damn witch.”

Tears start to haze both of your visions, but you give in, letting them cascade down your cheek. Heart clenched, ready to burst, you enveloped yourself in his scent, embracing him like your life depended on it. He quickly returns the gesture and places his head in the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed like this for a moment before gently rocking back and forth. Slowly, you inch him closer to the abjuration spell.

Goddess, what have I done to deserve this? Why do I have to be the one fucking person he loves but also the one person that can save everyone from certain doom? Why am I just getting him back now, right before the end? Crying harder, you push yourself further into his chest. He didn’t take this as “out of the normal” because he thought you were still crying over him; that’s not saying you weren’t, but other thoughts were on your mind. Your body still moves closer to the circle, pulling Katsuki with you. What the fuck (Y/N). You could’ve just placed the circle and left, but no. You had to stick around and make everything 1000 times harder.

The sound of wood burning turns Katsuki’s attention to the ground, where he sees the sigils recarve themselves into the floor. He was flabbergasted, the breath knocked right out of him.

“(Y/N)...?” His voice was weak as he spoke, as if pleading for this to be a dream and not the hell he was about to go through.

“I’m so sorry. I wish there was another way but there isn’t and I just-” He releases your hug, his body going rigid as he starts to piece it together.

“You tricked me… after everything I said and did, you trapped me. You’re gonna fucking kill yourself and you trapped me here so I can’t stop you.”

“There’s no other way. The Greats said that it had to be a powerful magic user, and we both know Izuku, Iida, Todoroki and Uraraka don’t make the cut. The harpies don’t have anyone as powerful as me either and it doesn’t look like we’ll be finding anyone powerful within the next couple of days. I can end this now. The panic, the worry; it could all be over with tonight.” You step out of the circle, grabbing the instructions from your pocket and holding them to your chest.

“You decided that instead of staying with me, you’d rather die. Am I hearing this correctly? YOU WOULD RATHER NOT EXIST THAN BE WITH ME?!” He ran up to you, but the invisible barrier holds him from reaching your body.

“Don’t. Don’t make this about you. This is about more than just us and it is definitely about more than what we had forever ago. I’m fucking sorry neither of us got our acts together in time, but the balance of nature needs to be set anew. If I had known that you still loved me, that you still cared for me, then yeah, this whole situation might’ve turned out differently. But the fact that it took us almost 1000 years to get our shit together and talk to each other says a little something. Maybe we’re both too headstrong to be in a relationship. Hell, that’s how the last one ended! So don’t you dare make this about you, because there are so many other people that I love and want to look out for than just you. The world is counting on me because if I don’t do this, then the world as we know it won’t be in existence within the next few days.” You turn to the window, taking a deep breath and slowing your rapid heart rate.

As you approach the window, you mutter “revertetur in terram suam” and the forest around the house transforms into the inside of your bedroom. Once more, you took a deep breath to ease the pain of leaving everyone behind.

“Tell them I love them, and I did it for the best.” You walk over to Katsuki and rip off your triple goddess necklace, offering it to him. “I know you’re not religious, but it’s a piece of me. So you don’t forget.” Reluctantly, he reaches out and takes it, examining it with a furrowed brow.

“I would never fucking forget…” it was barely audible, but it made your heart flutter.

“I love you, Katsuki. Even if it seems like I’m betraying you, I want you to know that I hope you find someone who loves you and can crack that barrier over your heart.” Walking over to the portal, you utter one last sentence, “Please take care of yourself,” and then you’re gone.

Made To Break

Part two.

4k

Warning: noncon/dubcon sex, yandere, talk of death. No beta. Read at your own risk.

Note: never wrote something like this before. Hope it was worth wait. Let me know if you like it! Enjoy!

Time dragged on, especially without your phone. You watched the clock, not able to pay attention to anything else.

The house felt different without the god inside. Your gut had been right the first night, he had been here the whole time.

You still regretted returning Hypnos his cloak, it was the only thing keeping you warm in the drafty house. 

You debated trying to escape but you held off. Where would you even go? There was no one else who could help. Even if Hypnos was keeping you trapped, he could be the key to getting your dad back.

Also you're pretty sure Hypnos would follow you to the end of the world and then some. 

Maybe if you just play along for now, you could show him the truth later when the spell doesn't work on you and he would be forced to admit you weren't the one he was looking for. 

"Just one more day." You told yourself. 

That's what Hypnos told you, "And when time gets close to twilight, make sure you are by his side." He said, locking his cloak in place.

You agreed, "Is there anything else I could do?"

Hypnos grinned, and tapped his lip, "How about a kiss good-bye?"

You rolled your eyes at him even though you were charmed by his cheekiness and shook your head. You knew that if you responded to his flirting, it would make the letdown worse.

"Oh well, can't blame a guy for trying." Hypnos said before he vanished before your eyes. 

You had a sinking feeling of realizing that you wouldn't have been able to outrun him.

💮

It was in the middle of night during another round of tossing and turning when you realized something wasn't right. 

There was a humming under your skin, like little jolts of energies that never stop moving. 

Maybe you couldn't fall asleep due to stress or maybe you got used to Hypnos being around. He was the god of sleep, he must have played some role in helping you rest. 

You crawled out of your bed and went to the window and stared out to the backyard. Little red poppies stood out from the blanket of snow, gently swaying in the wind. 

Magic was real and Hypnos was as well, he felt human when you touched him. His grief when he talked about his lover sounded real. And he seemed hellbent making sure not to lose you.

Is it really that impossible that you were someone in a past life, a deity even? It sounded like something out of the fantasy books you read as a child.

You pressed your forehead against the cold glass, an welcomed sensation. You didn't want to admit it. Not to yourself at all. 

But something in you has changed or is changing you just don't know what yet. 

You just hope you don't lose yourself in the process.

💮

You were in line for coffee when the thought came. It was some honey glazed  pastry you just happened to notice and thought  'Hypnos would love that especially with his sweet tooth.' 

You froze, how in the world would you know that? You don't even know if the god could or want to eat. 

You rubbed your eyes, it was the lack of sleep you told yourself.

You got to the hospital at the end of dusk, a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in hand. You took a big bite, trying to finish it before getting to the elevator.

It was early but you wanted to be here, even if Hypnos couldn't help, you wanted to at least be with your dad for what time he had left. 

You slipped the coffee, grateful for the warmth. After getting in the elevator, you tabbed your foot nervously. Even the last bite of the sandwich couldn't calm your stomach. 

You almost didn't see them when you stepped out, had you not glanced to the left you would have never seen them at all.

"Mrs. Johnson?" You asked, even in your anger at your ex, you still liked their mom. She mothered everyone and she always made sure to have your favorite cookies when you visited. She turned to face you, her blonde pixie hair was unkempt. Her red and puffy eyes widened in surprise. You tossed the coffee in the trash can as you made your way over. 

"Oh my god, Y/N?" Mrs.Johnson sniffed, "Are you here to visit?" Even her voice sounded rough.

Your heart dropped, "For my dad, I don't know if they told you but he is in a coma right now." 

"Oh honey. I'm so sorry, I didn't know." She hugged you tightly, her rose perfume was a comfortable smell in the hospital. She took your hands, her tears still flowing. You tried not to roll your eyes, of course your ex wouldn't even care enough to tell their mom, the sweetest person ever.

"Why are you here?" You asked worried for the poor woman.

"Something happened to (Ex/N), they were out partying and I don't know. Their roommate thinks they hit their head and haven't woken up since. It's the oddest thing, they couldn't even find where the brain bleed was. Or any marks." She shook her head, "it doesn't feel real."

You gasped, not able to make sense of her words. "Like they just went to sleep?" You asked, feeling like you've been dropped in ice. 

She nodded, not saying anything.

"How long ago?"

"Two days or so, late during the night." She replied, she didn't notice the dread on your face. Did Hypnos use your phone? You had a feeling he was the one who took it but there was so much going on you had forgotten about it.

"Can I see them?" You asked, you need to see with your own eyes. Surely, this had to be a coincidence.

"Of course, hon." 

💮

You had fully planned on never seeing your ex again. You kept meaning to block them but You weren't ready yet because you didn't want to admit you wasted your time.

You stared down at them, at the tubes, at the heart rate monitor. And You knew (Ex/N) was paying the price for your inability to block them. 

You didn't love them, not in a way a person should love another you think. But you cared for them and wanted them to be happy. It wasn't until the cheating started, that it got bad.

Mrs. Johnson sat down in the chair and held their child's hand. Her face showed her heartbreak and every time there was twitch, there would be a hopeful look in her eyes only for it to die when nothing happened.

It was just like your father's coma.

You closed your eyes, anger boiling inside your chest. At yourself more so than Hypnos.

How could you been so stupid?

💮

You stared outside the window. It was the first clear day in weeks and the blue skies with the fat, lazy clouds seemed so more vivid than you remember. 

Your father's heart monitor beeped steady and true. You couldn't look at him, guilt and anger was warring in your chest.

You had brought in the story Hypnos weaved for you. You didn't know how much was truth or lies. You think it was a healthy mix of both and it made it so much harder to know what really happened. 

You covered your face with your hands, trying to make sure the tears didn't come out. 

How could You get out of this? You saw some of Hypnos' powers, and you knew that it was the tip of the iceberg. 

You couldn't stop thinking about the book, the warnings that you didn't see. This was a god that had once put the world to sleep, and you couldn't see a reason why he wouldn't again if he didn't get what he wanted.

it felt more cruel that he was playing games with your life, with all their lives. It would have been kinder to just kidnap you and leave everyone else out of it. 

You looked up at the clock, just a few more hours left to go. 

You really wished you brought your bat. 

💮

Twilight was beautiful, even with the city skyline. You paced around the room, waiting for a change or for him to show up. 

You almost didn't notice, too deep in your anger.  

Your father's hand twitched, and you paused, not wanting to get your hopes up. Then his head turned to the side and you rushed to him.

"Dad! Oh my god, dad." You touched his arm gently, not wanting to spook him. His eyes opened up groggily, his head turned to you. He didn't react to seeing you but you weren't worried. 

"I will be right back, I'm getting a nurse." You rushed out, giddy with relief. 

💮

He doesn't remember you.

Your own father doesn't remember you. 

You collapsed in the chair, the doctor tried to calm you down but you couldn't hear anything over the buzzing in your ears.

You knew. You just knew this was Hypnos' doing. Your hands tighten into shaky fists on your knees. 

How fucking dare he do this. You gave him a chance and this is what he does.

Without a word, you stormed out the room.

💮

 

You don't remember getting in the car or the drive home. You knew Hypnos would be waiting for you.

He wasn't going to stop, you could feel in your bones. He would do to you in every single life you live and he won't care the cost it will take.

You slammed the car door shut, not brothing to hide your presence. You stood in the cold, uncaring how bitting the wind felt against your skin. Snow was still on the ground and little red poppies peeked through, bright against the snow. 

Your breath came out in white puffs as you stared at your home. For all you knew this would be the last time you ever see it. 

You took a deep breath, gathering what strength you had left. 

It was time to face the music. To face him.

💮

You stopped in the entryway, not wanting to get closer than you had too. You could see even in the dark that the books were gone as well as the horrible eye and words. The one thing that lit the room was a single candle on the side table.

You looked at the other walls and saw pictures of you had been taken down. Fear tightened your throat and you stepped into the living room. Your eyes darted around but there was no sign of Hypnos. 

You stepped into the living room and after a moment, you walked to your bedroom.

You whimpered when you opened the door. Everything was gone. The bed, the desk, all of it. 

You took a step backward and another without looking away from your room. 

Your heart stopped when you bumped into a warm chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly and his cheek pressed to your head.

"It's time to come home, Y/N." Hypnos said, tightening his hold to the point you couldn't breathe. Or scream as you watched the world you once knew vanished.

💮

You kicked and twisted in Hypnos' arms. "Let me go." You gasped, "I can't get air, please." 

He loosened his hold but you were too busy gulping for air to care. You pushed away from and he allowed you to, unconcerned about you escaping. 

You tried to steady yourself only to stumble, Hypnos grabbed your elbow. 

"I'm sorry I forgot it takes some getting used to." Hypnos said. "You should have seen my brother the first few times. He used to get sick all the time."

"Don't touch me." You snapped, jerking away.  You've been here before, the sound of water rushed to your ears. You turned to face him, to tear him a new one but when you saw him, you were shocked into silence.

Hypnos smiled, and pointed at his head. Two white wings had appeared out from his head and in the middle of his forehead, a single red and gold eye stared back. "So tell me Y/N, what is more surprising; the wings or the eye?"

You shook your head, "What the hell, Hypnos?" Your voice cracked. "Is this what you normally look like?" At least before he looked closer to humans, just a little odd looking. This was something else.

"Hhm, not when we first met but after the... you know, I just have these sometimes." Hypnos shrugged, his golden eyes on you. 

"How could you?" You asked and Hypnos tilted his head at the question. 

You took a step forward even though all you wanted to do was run. "I know what you did to my dad, to (Ex/N). Was it all a ruse? A game to you?"

Hypnos scowled, "I really don't appreciate hearing that name." 

You stamped your foot, "Unbelievable! Is that all you have to say?" 

"Oh no, the person who hurt someone I love is now having to suffer the consequences. How sad for them." Hypnos rolled his eyes at you. You have never wanted to choke someone more.

"His mother is suffering, just like how my dad is!" You yelled, hating how helpless you felt.

You walked closer, you knew he could grab you again but you needed him to listen. But Hypnos spoke before you.

"Your father isn't in pain, if anything I fixed it. He doesn't remember you or his wife. He will live out the rest of his days without you but you know humans are so quick to replace family." 

Hypnos sighed, "I really did try to help him for your sake, Y/N. I felt sorry for him since he and I were both familiar with this kind of pain. But he already messed up once, I couldn't trust him not to try something else." 

You were silent for minutes before you spoke. "You said you would never hurt me."

"And I haven't." Hypnos replied, he almost moved closer, wanting to comfort you.

"Liar." You spat out the word. "You have done nothing but hurt me since you showed up." 

You glared at him,"You may have not touched me but you had caused so much hurt to everyone around me."

"And what makes you think I should even care about those humans?" Hypnos hissed, he grabbed your arm but you willingly went along with his tug. Words were your weapons now. You glared up at him, mere inches between you and him.

"Because I do. That should be more than enough for you." You licked your lips, "This isn't the first time we had this fight." 

His gaze sharpen, golden and hard like a predator. "No it isn't." Hypnos agreed. 

You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, to know exactly what you started to remember. Good. 

"I had held my part, Hypnos. I agreed to come, to do whatever you needed from me." You said, "in a twisted way, yeah I guess you did help my dad even if it hurt me. And you warned me."  You closed your eyes for a moment before meeting his again.

Hypnos stayed silent, his eyes watching you.

"But none of the other stuff had to happen. Mrs.Johnson was good to me, she was the closest thing I had to a mom." You whispered. 

You didn't know how but something in the humming inside of you knew Hypnos would bend to you. His biggest weakness had always been you.

You laid a hand on his chest, "Listen to me, I'm willing to stay. I want to stay." You thought it would sound like lying but it didn't. Your heart twisted because you weren't lying and you knew it. 

Was it really that easy to walk away from your human life? 

"But I can't have you hurting people just for the sake of revenge. That is not who I am and that used to be you too." You murmured.

"Things changed Y/N." Hypnos murmured back. Just like before, he covered your hand gently. 

A faint memory rises from the depths of your soul. Of Hypnos admiring your hands, always touching or holding them. You took a breath, not yet you thought to this other side of yourself, not yet.

"Then change again, Hypnos. For me." You pleaded. 

"It's not that easy." But his tone was softer, you just had to push a little more. 

"You once put the whole world asleep because you loved me. You became softer, kinder because you loved me. This is nothing to you." You keep your tone soft, not willing to break the quiet.

His eyes, all three of them, closed in defeat. "Okay...Okay Y/N. Just answer me this, do you love them?" 

"No." You said bluntly. "They were a friend once but even though you were a jerk, I felt more with you than I ever did with them."

Hypnos nodded, the third eye opened again while his golden ones stayed close. "Good." He held a palm up, and a small dark, almost black mist formed, you could faintly see your ex and Mrs. Johnson. 

The mist swirls quickly, and it changes into a soft white cloud. "It's done. They will wake up, and they will live." The cloud faded away and Hypnos dropped his hand. 

His golden eyes opened and looked at you. 

"Thank you."  You told him. You cupped his cheek and he pressed into your hand with a sigh, his eyes closing again. "Darkness' sake, I've missed you." Hypnos said. 

You leaned into him and hugged him. After a moment, he hugged back, resting his chin on your head. Neither one of you said anything for a while, just holding on each other.

"What do you remember, Y/N?" Hypnos asked, and you shrugged. "Honestly, just small bits here and there. I remembered you like honey."

Hypnos hummed, "I do. Is that all?" 

You yawned, "No, sorry, it's mostly just me going by instinct or this feeling of deja Vu." You pressed into his chest. "I'm really sorry."

Hypnos rubbed your back slowly and you felt your body relax against his. This was so much nicer than anything you ever felt before.

"Come, let me show you where we can get some rest." Hypnos spoke, something was off about his tone.  But you followed along anyway, too tired to even think.

💮

"You said anything, right?" Hypnos asked as you wandered around the cave. There wasn't much of anything. You see baskets of pomegranates, onions and other stuff in one room as Hypnos gilded you past it, his hand on your lower back. 

Books were stacked on a desk but weren't what caught your attention. There was a bed, big and piled high with blankets and pillows. It looks like what exactly a god of sleep would want. 

"Oh wow, this is the biggest bed I've ever seen." You walked toward it, "What side do you sleep on?"

You walked around the bed, keeping one eye on the god. "The middle but you can pick whatever side you want." 

"O-oh." You stopped at the realization that of course this would be the only bed. There would be no reason for him to have a guest bed.

"You didn't respond to my question, Y/N. You agreed to do whatever I needed you to do, correct?" Hypnos said calmly as he held something in his hand. A small glass bottle. 

You walked toward him, your heart racing at the almost predatory look he gave you. 

"I. I did, yes, to get my memories back." You stopped just out of his reach. "Will that thing help?" You pointed down at the bottle

"In a way." He said and you stared at him. 

"What are you not telling me, Hypnos?" You stood your ground. "I thought we were getting past this."

"You're right. It's going to hurt, just a bit. But it will help restore you." Hypnos held it up between his fingers, inside the liquid looked like water. 

"Why do I feel like you're downplaying it?" You muttered. You took the bottle and popped open the cork. 

You sniffed but it smells sweet, almost too sweet. 

"Make sure you get every last drop, Y/N." Hypnos said, his golden eyes watching your every move.

You knew he wasn't being honest about something but you will have to deal with it later. 

"Well, bottom up." You swallow every last drop. It didn't taste bad or anything at all, not even like water. 

You felt his hands on you could do anything else. He pushed toward the bed and that when it hit you. A wave of dizziness made the room spend and he laid you down.

"Oh, I don't like this." You moaned. You didn't notice until it was too late, that he had pulled off your shirt. His hands felt too warm against your skin and you tried to push him off. 

"I know, my love." Hypnos comforted, "I wouldn't do it if I didn't need to." 

"Why?" You slurred, "I thought we were…" but you couldn't continue.  The heat and the dizziness was too much for you.

"We are. We really are. But If I don't do this now, I won't get a chance until you are older and I can't risk you dying on me."

"I wouldn't have said no." You closed your eyes.

Hypnos pressed a kiss against your forehead tenderly "Yes, you would have, my love. You would want us to have more time. This way I can make sure we will have nothing but time."

His hand slided down your pants and past your underwear. He kissed you on your mouth, and pressed down against you. 

You couldn't stop the gasps you made against his mouth as he rubbed you with his fingers. The pleasure you felt was far more intense than what you were used to.

"You even respond the same as you used to." Hypnos told you. "Blood and darkness, I could watch your face all day like this." 

You hide your face in a nearby pillow out of spite and embarrassment. "Shut up." You moaned, hips arching against his touch.

Hypnos yanked the pillow away and tossed it out of your reach. He grabbed your chin to kiss you again. You met his kiss with as much force as you could. 

"I hate you." You tried to pull away but he just pulled you back into another one. You could the heat building inside you along with the humming, the always moving energy built inside of you 

And Hypnos himself consumed you,all of you and you wanted him to. Fates help you but you did. You wanted him to make you whole. 

You moaned against his lips, tears running down your face as you arched and peaked. 

You collapsed against the bed, Hypnos pressed kisses against your neck and collarbone. 

You closed your eyes, shaking with the heat. "Hypnos, what did you give me?" You sobbed. The heat nor energy still haven't died down yet. 

"Just gimme a moment, Y/N." Hypnos pulled away from the bed, and you sobbed again. 

He came back and shushed you. His hand pulled down your pants, yanking your shoes along off them. You flushed at your nudity. 

Hypnos loomed over you and he pulled you into a kiss. You buried your hands in his white curls as the kiss deepened. His knees nudged your legs apart as he broke the kiss. 

"If I have to be nude, so do you." You tugged at his cloak. Hypnos laughed, "No, later."

His fingers worked you open and you found yourself spreading your legs more.

"You're so good, so so gorgeous. Y/N, do you know how good you look like this?" Hypnos priaised. And you somehow just flushed even more. 

His fingers left you and he crawled toward you. "Kiss me." He demanded and you obeyed, the kiss you gave him was sweet and slow. He hummed against your lips and you felt him pushed inside you. 

Your head tilt back to the bed with a gasp. You shook as the moment seem to stretch out, a endless moment of being taken.

You never felt so full and damnit, you hated how good he felt against you. The soft clothes gave you goosebumps as the brush against your bare skin. You sobbed as he moved inside you leisurely, like he had all the time in world. 

"Hypnos, please." You begged. Your fingers curled against his tunic, trying to ground yourself against the feelings.

He shushed you, "I've been waiting for you for so long." 

"I'm sorry, Hypnos." You whimpered as pleasure built back inside of you. 

"Don't be." Hypnos groaned, his hips started moving quicker. "Losing you killed me, Y/N. I never thought I would have this again."

You were lost for words and just pulled him into another kiss, hoping that it will say everything for you. 

During the kiss, his hips snapped against you quickly, fingers digging into your thighs.  

"I love you Y/N. Fuu- I love you." Hypnos murmured against you. In a whisper, "I love you, Hypnos." 

He moaned and you feel the hot wetness inside you. You trembled as you followed him. 

You stared upward and the humming had become overwhelming. This was it, you thought weakly. 

You don't remember closing your eyes.

💮

Later you wake up, Hypnos sleeping next to you and holding you tightly. He looked so much younger like this. 

You could remember everything. The people, your role as an deity, Hypnos, of loving him and he loving you in return and... and your death.

You grimaced as you rubbed your chest, you could feel the sharp burning pain. Of magic that kept from dying like a normal deity.

But now you were reborn in a way.

There was strength in you too now. A sureness you didn't have an human. You blinked at Hypnos' sleeping face. The third eye was gone but you wasn't sure what it meant exactly. You both were going to have relearn one another. 

You reached up and touched one of the wings. It twitched at your touch, and you smiled, amused. 

"I missed your smile." Hypnos said, his voice rough with sleep."I think it worked, Y/N." His golden eyes studied your face. You stared back. 

Then you reached up and flicked him on the nose. "You should've been honest from the start." You said.

"Ow! And I was, it's not like it was my fault humans won't listen." Hypnos scowled at you.

"Not that. About restoring me. I understand why you wouldn't be but you need to more honest with me from now on. Especially since I know it cost you some of your powers." You said as you pulled Hypnos closer. Tears had filled up in both of yours and Hypnos' eyes.

"Thank you. For bring me back. I felt something was missing in me since I was born but you found it. You found me." You  kissed him, chaste and sweet. 

Hypnos sobbed and held on to you tightly, his face in your neck. "It worked. It really worked." 

You kissed his head, your tears matching his. The both of you weeped with joy, with sadness and relief of having each other again.

"I'm so sorry. It was my fault. I should had gotten there sooner." Hypnos said roughly. 

"It was no one fault, we didn't know." You brush his curls to smooth him. "I don't blame you."

He nodded against your neck and you held him. 

After a few minutes, he pulled away to look at you. His hands cupped your face. You cover his hands with your own, smiling.

"I still haven't told you everything." He said softly. 

"That can wait." You murmured. "We got all the time in the world." 

"We finally do, huh?" Hypnos said, and you meet him a long, slow kiss.

It was good to be home.

hi I have something for y’all called a disaster.

I wrote an Inimitable!Spiderman/Modern Star Wars AU because no one can stop me, not even myself. it is like 47 pages long. I am handing it tenderly to y’all.

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

Title: impossible scenario

Summary: Peter runs into some drunk assholes arguing, calling each other Han and Luke. He lets it roll off him until he can’t anymore and eventually finds himself for the first time on the other side of someone more chaotic than himself.

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

There was an argument happening under a fire escape. Peter knew about it because a concerned dude wearing a fuckin’ Yankees cap had flagged him down with waving arms and told him that someone needed saving, Spiderman. Some tall asshole was kidnapping a young blond dude, the guy  and his too-cool-for-him girlfriend explained. They’d heard the two scuffling.

Peter maybe stared for a beat too long at them because the gal pointed two blocks behind him and said, “That way. I think the blond guy might be drugged. He’s slurrin’ something strong.”

Peter liked her shoes. They looked like Miles’s, but blue.

“Spidey?”

Miles told Peter all the time that he wasn’t cool enough to wear Jordans. MJ and Johnny had agreed. Such sad times.

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

“Man, you’re too young to be this jaded,” she said.

Peter sighed.

“You’re the third person to say that this week,” he said. “You think I should go back to therapy?”

There was a pause.

“You know that answer, dude,” cool-gal said. “Go save the twink.”

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

 --

 Two blocks away, there was indeed a man with dark hair trying to lift a violently intoxicated twink up onto the first steps of a fire escape. Peter examined his options. There were many ways to ruin a potential kidnapper’s day. His favorite involved coke and mentos, although he’d received feedback that that was a waste of perfectly good food. Down the list was also the option to walk over and scream bloody murder so that the kidnapper shat themselves and dropped their target.

That was good, but Peter was tired and the thought of mustering up the energy to scream at a noticeable volume made his thighs turn to Jell-o.

That left snark and violence.

Today, he would not choose violence. Only for today.

He strode out of his dark temporary residence between two dumpsters directly towards the tall dude and his mark. The mark was a messy one. Bless his heart, he was unwittingly making himself the most noncompliant victim to have ever victim-ed. Every time the tall guy got him almost vertical, he gave up his corporeal form to become drunk slime and ooze back to the ground with various moaning sound effects.

It would have been funny if not for the kidnapping context.

The fact that Peter had been standing there under the beams of two separate side-building security lights and neither of those two had noticed yet was also objectively funny—or would have been, if Peter had the capacity for processing humor at the moment.

Alas. This was what he got for telling Tony that he’d evolved beyond the need for sleep. He got caffeine-pilled. And there would be no true rest until that shit wore off, exhausted as Peter’s body yearned to be.

“Kid, work with me here,” the tall guy said.

“I can’t, I’ll die,” the shorter one moaned.

“Luke.”

“I’ve done my time—thirty years in AZKA—”

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

“Why’s it always me? Why’s it always gotta be me? The hell did I do to piss off the whole galax-galaxy? HA. My bad, my bad. The whole universe?”

God, what a mood.

The tall guy dropped his grip on the smaller one and loomed over his puddle of ooze with poison in his gaze.

“People are going to die, Luke,” he said.

“So what? They’re always dyin’. Everywhere I go, people’re dyin’ and when it’s not them dyin’, you know who is?”

“Kid.”

“ME.”

“So you’re just gonna wallow there, feelin’ sorry for yourself?” the tall dude snapped.

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.  

This was not a kidnapping. This was a come-to-Jesus in the back alley of a bar. Peter was not needed here. He turned around on his heel and stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that?” someone whispered.

“Don’t mind me, pal, just your friendly neighborhood—” he started.

“Look what you did,” Tall and Handsome hissed at Ooze-Man. “Someone went and called Spiderman on us.”

Peter lifted a brow as Ooze-man ripped its chest up from the asphalt and composed itself back into a human shape with fluffy blonde hair and huge wide eyes.

“Omigod, it’s Spiderman,” the guy said. “Wait, no. Gimme a hand. No, not that one, fuck off, nevermind, I don’t need you.”

He drew himself up to standing, only leaning slightly on his buddy there and gave Peter as lopsided smile.

“Hi, there,” he said with a twang that Peter couldn’t place. “Were you lookin’ for someone, handsome?”

Ah, they had reached the time of night when all the drunks needed to tell Peter things he already knew about his ass. He loved this time.

Not to mention that this dude looked eerily like Johnny. Scarily like Johnny. So much like Johnny that Peter almost wanted to take a picture of him to send to Sue so that she could print up some lost and found posters.

“Just lookin’ at you, babe,” he said. “This guy botherin’ you?”

The tall guy blanched and then grabbed at his face in horror. Peter swallowed his laugh.

“He sure is, hon. You got time to rescue me?” Blondie crooned.

“Luke, please. Please.”

“Because I’m in real distress,” ‘Luke’ said with a pout mighty enough to fell Thor.

“You sure seem like it,” Peter said. “C’mere. I’ll walk you home. Leave that tool, he ain’t worth your breath.”

He held out an elbow like proper gentleman and was pleased at the hand that Luke laid over his heart in response.

Peter could imagine Johnny’s face in six different expression of jealous horror at a selfie taken with this look-alike. Each was beautiful in its own special way. As payment for being referred to counseling by the public, he at least deserved to receive at least two of those faces.

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

“He doesn’t,” his tall companion said.

“I sure do, where do you live? I’ll walk you,” Peter said.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry, he’s gonna escort me,” Luke said, all choked up and fanning his eyes lightly.

This tall friend grabbed him before he could escape, though, and pulled him back behind his own body.

“Listen, Spidey, this is a misunderstanding,” he drawled. “I know this idiot—he is technically my idiot— and I’m the one escorting his ass home. Thanks, though. You’re a real menace. Beat it.”

MMMMMMM.

And here Peter had been planning on being jaded and miserable this fine night. How could he now when this dude was ticking every box that made him feel alive?

“What’s your name, dollface?” Peter asked across the short distance.

“None of your business,” Tall Guy answered abruptly.

“Luke,” Luke said around him. “Are you gonna save me?”

“In just a minute,” Peter said, striding forward with a hard roll in his shoulder and deep drop in his knees.

It was amazing how Tall Guy wanted to take some steps back all of the sudden. Peter couldn’t help but let a smirk widen his face as he advanced.

“Okay, hang on now,” Tall Guy said with both palms out in front of him. “You don’t know what this is about, Spidey. You don’t want to get involved with this, trust me. He’s just bein’ dramatic. No need to get testy.”

“You sure do a lot of talkin’ for your friend there,” Peter noted through his grin.

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

Han. Han and Luke. Ned was gonna be enraptured when Peter told him about this later.

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” ‘Han’ finally snapped. “I’m not doin’ this because I want you to suffer, alright? I don’t want nothin’ to do with it either, okay? No one does. But it’s this or—”

“Or everyone else,” Luke finished for him in a strangely toneless voice.

Han sighed.

“It’s always everyone else,” Luke said.

“Not here.”

“Why’s it always everyone el—No, no, here. Why not? We’ve got fucking Spiderman in our midst, how much more surreal can this moment get? No. You listen to me, Han—”

“I’ve been listening to you all damn evening and you know what I’m hearing?”

“—I lost my life for this. I lost my home, my aunt, my uncle, my hand—”

“I’m hearing you making this about you.”

“—everything I ever knew, and I tried to make it right, didn’t I? I made the school. I gathered the kids—”

“And it’s not just about you this time, kid. It’s not about you, it’s not about me, or Leia, or Chewie or—”

“—I lost my kid and the love of my life, and I finally get a second chance at finding them and giving them the goddamn happy ending they deserve, and the next thing I know—”

“Luke, you’re the only one,” Han said.

“I WAS NEVER. THE ONLY. ONE, HAN,” Luke roared out of absolutely nowhere, sober as a saint. “I was never the only one. EVER. Ahsoka. Go find her. She’s everything that I’m not and more. She’s the real—”

“Luke.”

“Stop saying that name. I HATE that name. I would do anything for twenty goddamn seconds where I didn’t have to be him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Han said quietly. His shoulders had rounded out and become black and heavy under the weight of their shadow. Luke’s eyes, however, looked like topaz.

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

So shit had gotten real tense, real fast, so Peter about to make a decision that was gonna make Shelley so proud of him she would weep when he finally slunk back in through her office door.

He was leaving. He was turning around and taking a wee jog. Maybe turning a corner, having a little jump over a fence, up a wall, to a place as far away from this one as superhumanly possible.

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

“They need you,” Han repeated. “And I need you.”

Peter slowly looked back to see that Luke’s face had twisted sharply out of the light, towards the alley wall.

“I’m sorry that we met again like this,” Han said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s always you. You don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

“Shut up,” Luke said.

“But if you don’t do something, then it won’t be just me and you and all these random others sliding back into that cesspit we all barely crawled out of.”

“Stop.”

“You’ll never find him if things go back the way they were.”

“You—you don’t know that. There—maybe—”

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

“Luke,” Han said reaching out and putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and clenching it hard enough that Peter should see the bunched fabric, “Do you want Din to live through this shitshow a second time? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Peter shivered. The pressure at the base of his neck was building. The Spidey Sense wanted to hiss in his ears like white noise. It pinned him where he was, staring over his shoulder at those two solid shapes, one digging a hand into the flesh of the other.

His stomach turned.

Luke said something that Peter couldn’t hear. Han pulled him toward his own body by the grip he had on his shoulder. At first, Luke seemed to stagger, like he was walking on black ice. He stopped a single step away from Han’s body, still with his face angled severely away. Han said something to him.

There was a long pause, then Luke seemed to fall forward. Han caught him and crushed his head into his shoulder, lowering his own until it was almost touching Luke’s ear. They clung to each other.

Luke was crying.

The Spidey Sense started to crackle and pop in Peter’s ears.

“I gotchu, kid,” Han said in a rasp. “I gotchu. We’re gonna get through it.”

Peter blinked once and finally unlocked the muscles in his neck. He wasn’t meant to witness this. He held out a wrist and fired a line.

  --

It was weird.

It was just weird.

Something wasn’t right. And Peter couldn’t make his stomach not writhe about it.

Luke.

Han.

An offhand mention of like, characters. Character names. They were character names. Leia, Chewie.

Peter had heard of people who lived their lives honestly believing that they had been other people—fake people—in past lives, but like, damn man. Why would you put yourself in a position like that were you were moved to actual tears for some elaborate street-drama?

Maybe it had been a joke? That was the only thing he could think it could be. Maybe the universe had gazed upon his hubris at work and gone ‘ah yes, I know what this young man needs: emotional confusion at midnight on a Thursday. That’ll fix him.’

If that was the case, then yeah. Good job, universe. Good job, larpers. Y’all are equally sick.

But if not—and Peter no longer lived in a world where he could rule out any possibilities—then he had just witnessed—Dude, he’d just witnessed—

He couldn’t even think it. It was beyond him. It was so far beyond him that like he might have a real stroke taking the thought seriously.

There was only one person who could hold that kind of information unscathed.

Only one.

  --

PP: Ned. I need you to listen to me and tell me I’m not crazy.

NL: no promises but go on

PP: I think? I just saw? Luke Skywalker? And Han Solo? In an alley behind Kitty’s?????

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

PP: I can’t there’s a nerd in here and it’s vibrating at the wrong decibel. SECURITY???

MJ: yeah?

PP: I’m trying to have a breakdown. Can you remove Matchstick please?

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

NL: Peter can you name three things you can see.

PP: I am not manic. I am in touch with reality. I’m just having anxiety because I just fucking saw two people calling each other Luke and Han fighting behind Kitty’s. Like real fighting.

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

PP: Johnny I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. never leave my side

JS: 😊

MJ: wow that’s cringe. Imagine naming yourself after SW characters

NL: does kitty do a cosplay night now????

PP: idk it was wild. People thought that ‘Han’ was trying to kidnap ‘Luke’ but when I got over there, Luke started flirting with me and then shit got real and they started arguing over like him hating his name and not wanting to do something and losing everything or some shit

NL: that’s a lot. I’m sure it was nothing, though, peter.

PP: yeah it was. My SS has been going nuts ever since I left. You think they bugged me?

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

JS: after MJ has finished prelim checks, I will then search your body for you out of the kindness of my heart ❤

NL: that’s weird, the SS doesn’t usually freak out about cosplayers

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

JS: well now we have to lean in. thanks ned

JS: they were definitely real. God they were so real. You hear that Fate? You got us. They’re definitely real.

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

NL: that would be so fucking funny. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo trying to save the world from the hellscape of nyc. The rats alone would thwart them.

PP: ned I’m freaking out

NL: oh you mean you’re actually freaking out?

PP: deeply

NL: oh shit sorry. I’ll be over, have you slept yet?

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

JS: one day our love will build a bridge, peter. In the meantime I am stroking your ear comfortingly from midtown

  --

Need and MJ’s weight pinning him to a mattress brought sleep but not necessarily comfort. They both thought that this was a sick joke someone had played on him that was now destroying his psyche. They thought that the couple pointing him back towards the cosplayers had been in on the joke.

Peter would have agreed with them if it wasn’t for the Spidey Sense. Everything else lined up perfectly.

Ned sighed in the morning and told Peter to go talk to Wade.

 --

 Wade’s hallucinations were, by far, more auditory than visual, but he stayed quiet while Peter talked his ear off over the phone in his locked office. He waited until Peter had run out of words to describe the feeling of impending doom and then huffed a bit of a laugh into the receiver.

“Them Star Wars people are unreal, Pete, you know this,” he said. “Look at Ned.”

Ned was perfect.

“Take off those rosy shades, hon. Now, look again.”

Ned had perhaps memorized the entire scripts of the first three movie and 90% of the spaceship names and the jedi lineages.

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

“We all gotta do shit we don’t want do.”

Fine.

Ned’s goal in life was to go to his wedding in a stormtrooper suit.

“Keep going.”

Every Lego project they’d built together since 13 years-old had been a Star Wars-related one. When Ned had decided to move out of his parents’ place, he’d shed actual tears over MJ and Peter mutually suggesting that he sell some of his memorabilia.

“Will this delightful buffet before our very eyes, what is the likelihood of your two pals being drunk larpers in too deep to quit?” Wade asked.

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem. Although, now I gotta see this. You said they were behind Kitty’s? You think I can get a stormtrooper costume in 8 hours?”

“They’re not still gonna be there, Wade,” Peter huffed. “It’s 10 am.”

“You ain’t know that. What if Luke Skywalker’s a useless drunk, huh? You ever think of that?”

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

“He looked like Luke Skywalker,” he said. “Blond hair, blue eyes—sort of like a chipmunk that forgot its stripes.”

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

Peter hung up to Wade’s cackle. He slouched low and tapped his pen against his desk. Then against his fingers.

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

“What’s the weirdest thing you could imagine, Pete?” he asked himself.

 --

 PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

SC: like spiritually or culturally? I know I was a cult-kid for a min there but before that we were Buddhists and like, past lives are part of the package

PP: that’s cool. What do you think of people being reborn as themselves again like, 500000000 years later? From a galaxy far far away?

SC: I don’t think about those people

PP: okay well, hypothetically. Let’s say that you were going to imagine someone who embodied that whole spirit. Who would it be?

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

PP: THOR. Thank you this has been helpful ily bye

  Mr. Stark asked him over a cup of viciously black coffee why Peter was seeking out the demigod of his present nightmares.

That usually meant that he and Thor had disagreed on basic physics principles again. Peter took that also to mean that the demigod was still in the building. Possibly loose.

“He’s with Banner,” Mr. Stark said scathingly.

“Thanks, you’re amazing,” Peter said as he sailed out of the room.

 --

 Thor was sitting on Dr. Banner’s lab table, despite Dr. Banner telling him to get off no fewer than two times in the five minutes that Peter was in there, schmoozing and making pleasantries. He warmed Thor up to the home-run hit by asking him all about past lives and present lives and what the soul was on Asgard. Thor was only too happy to explain a load of nonsense that made Banner roll his eyes and poke at his muscles with a thermometer.

“So, hypothetically speaking,” Peter drawled in a very casual lean, “With the infinite galaxies and universes, etcetera, there could be one where Star Wars people exist. And so hypothetically, they could get reborn into a universe like ours.”

Thor blinked at him.

“You remember the laser swords?” Dr. Banner deadpanned.

Thor lit up.

“I suppose it’s possible,” he told Peter indulgently. “But if that was the case then it would be a long tragedy, no?”

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

“Well,” Thor said with a big, happy smile, “The series of events that unfolded in that story seemed to me to be one of triumph and tragedy. With one would come the other—that’s how these stories work, yes?”

…yes.

“So if Master Luke Skywalker and his companions arrived into our space here, then they must experience the same in order to be themselves,” Thor said, bobbing his head in pity. “Perhaps what would look like a new start for such people would result only in terror and disappointment until the same conclusion was reached.”

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

Both Thor and Banner looked at him quizzically at the same time.

“Peter?” Dr. Banner asked. “Is this coming from somewhere?”

Peter’s grin twitched so violently, it turned into a grimace that even superstrength would not let him maintain.

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

 --

 Wade was not happy to be met outside of Kitty’s in the middle of the day, especially because his stormtrooper outfit, in his words, ‘did no justice for the size of his balls.’

Peter was ignoring that. He dragged Thor past Wade’s righteous anger until he was standing on the place where the other two had stood the night before. Thor stood there gamely.

“There,” Peter said. “Any like, energy signatures?”

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

Wade scowled at him and hounded him off the spot so that he could stand there instead.

“I feel nothing,” he said, devoid of emotion.

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

The Spidey Sense smashed through all of Peter’s sense and screamed at him to get to the street.

Get to the street. Get to the street. Get to the—

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

That was the guy from the day before. He was on the opposite sidewalk smashed in with the crowd, dragging a hand through his hair and laden with a backpack and two separate totes. He was wearing a strange set of clothes—a mash of casual and formal—and seemed to be in a hurry, the type of hurry that involved pushing past folks at a half-jog and not stopping at streetlights.

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

“I see him, too,” he said. “What incredible energy, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he warned. “I’m gonna go distract. You two, on my six.”

 --

 Peter broke four traffic laws on his way around the block. He swung himself around a corner and fucked up the collar on his labcoat and counted to four before stepping out right into ‘Luke’s path.

They collided. Luke stumbled back and dropped one of his totes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter blustered. “Are you okay?”

Luke swore and dropped down without answering, collecting the odd ends of metal that had clattered out from his bag and now rolled loose over the pavement. Peter stooped to join, gathering rings and pipes of all sorts of sizes in his hands. Oncoming folks gave them a wide berth.

It took a moment for Luke to realize what Peter was doing, but when he did, his shoulders went stiff as a board.

“DON’T TOUCH THOSE,” he snapped, just as Peter made to pick up a little plastic bag with a wad of tissue inside it.

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

“Oh, Jesus. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke blustered, “Thank you. I’ll—I’ve got them. Thank you, though. It’s okay.”

He took the metal out of Peter’s hands and stuffed them back into his bag. He snatched the plastic bag before Peter could touch it and put that on top.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stood. “Thanks again.”

And just like that, he hurried off past Peter down the pavement.

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

“Negative,” Peter said, reaching into his sleeve and holding up the thin aluminum tube he’d hidden up there by the edge of his shirt-sleeve.

It was shiny and longer than he’d expect for any plumbing project. The inside appeared to be coated with some sort of heavy, non-reactive material, and half of the outside had grooved bands carved into it.

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

“Mid-century sink?” Wade asked, taking the tube.

“Nope,” Peter said.

 --

 NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

NL: where did you get that? It’s like mega accurate. Was it etsy?

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

PP: I can’t I stole it from Luke Skywalker.

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

PP: He’s Luke Skywalker. I swear on the grave of my mother

MJ: this is a problem. This is now an intervention.

PP: I will prove it. If he’s Luke Skywalker, then he will do ANYTHING to get this thing back.

NL: and if not?

PP: then I will wait two days before politely tracking down his home address and then I will return it via wall crawling

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

JS: are you sure??? Because there’s a guy in Reed’s lab right now talking to him and Sue, asking SUPER politely for access to—I shit you not—the crystals we picked up from that space trip the other day???

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

JS: I can’t I’m gonna cry I didn’t ask for this

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

JS: right. So like. Awkward. But you uh, know that hilt thing you have?

PP: …is Obi-Wan Kenobi about to beat my ass, Johnny?

 --

 There was something about putting the hilt into the palm of someone more famous than Captain America that made Peter’s knees weak.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker had flirted with him the other night.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker didn’t recognize him as Spiderman.

Nothing helped, really, especially when those big topaz eyes lifted and Peter could see that their rims were red and raw.

“Thanks,” Luke Skywalker—the embodiment of hope itself—said in a soft, defeated rasp.

Every alarm in Peter’s head said to save him. Save him from what? How? Who knew.

Ned and MJ seemed to feel the same way, if the pressure on each of his arms was anything to go by.

“Well, that’s all cleared up, then. Thank you so much for your help; it is deeply appreciated,” a stupidly pleasant gentleman with a perfectly combed beard and lovingly coifed light hair said to the room at large.

Obi-Wan Kenobi—pardon, Ben Kennedi—was far more handsome than any movie could ever dream to make him. What they’d done to him in the 1970s, Peter saw now, was a fucking crime. He watched as this beautiful human being set a warm hand on Luke Skywalker’s—pardon, Luke Naberry’s—shoulder and used it to steer him towards the Baxter Building’s front entrance.

He watched as the two of them, like true Master and Padawan, stepped out onto the landing and opted for the stairs. For one fleeting, unbelievable second, Luke looked back over his shoulder at all of them before taking the next step after his Master.

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

“So that just happened,” Sue acknowledged for everyone after the door had clicked closed and the sound of footsteps had faded off to nothing.

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

“This is single-handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Ned said.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into our kitchen,” Reed told Sue like she hadn’t been there right next to him.

“The empire is trying to establish itself under our very feet,” Sue said back a little viciously.

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

Sue and Reed looked back at the rest of them and then exchanged a look.

 --

 Peter was sad now. Depressed and laid out on his side staring back at Valeria’s huge eyes on the floor while Ned and MJ and Johnny asked Reed and Sue two hundred clarifying questions.

Peter didn’t need the specifics. He was thinking back on the conversation that he’d witnessed between Luke and Han Solo—Han Solo who was tall with dark hair and dark eyes and an accent straight out of New Jersey. Solo who had probably been charged with forcing Luke to face the facts in front of all of them because he was the one who Luke trusted most.

But it had shattered them—both of them.

The New Hope had given up everything. He was tired. His heart was torn. He was jaded just like Peter had been that same night. He’d been avoiding the tightrope that Peter had already started crossing, though, probably looking for every possible way to not have to set the first foot on that wobbly line.

He’d walked it before.

Valeria reached out with a chubby, round hand and touched the side of Peter’s face.

“Spiderman,” she said with terrifying understanding, “Someone needs help.”

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

“Baby Storm,” he whispered, “I think you’re right.”

  --

MJ thought that Peter needed to leave things alone. She pointed out that he had plenty of problems without getting involved in universe-saving. She gestured to Johnny and volunteered him for the job.

Johnny refused on account of needing to be the prettiest blond in any room. He claimed that if he wasn’t, he had to fight for dominance.

Ned was on the other end of the spectrum. He had 43 reasons why Peter should get involved with things, and 40 of them ended up in the same place which was ‘it would be cool.’

One of Ned’s better reasons, however, involved pointing out that Peter had already stolen half of a lightsaber. He was good and involved now, whether he wanted to be or not. And that was enough for Peter to decide to go on a hunt to give a formal apology.

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

They ended up going through every possible iteration of every Star Wars name they knew and then filtered out the people who’d been named by exuberant parents and then filtered out anyone who didn’t live in New York and they ended up with fat lot of still nothing.

It was like Luke Skywalker didn’t truly exist in this world.

Until MJ found his Instagram by typing in ‘guys who look weirdly like Luke Skywalker.’

She held the phone aloft in triumph and they all gathered round to gape in awe at her intelligence and research skills.

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

He had one selfie and this selfie was enough to have gotten him onto a BuzzFeed article. In it he was holding—you guessed it—coffee. Iced coffee. One in each hand.

He was shaking them, and one had been labeled with his name—hence the public connection made.

“Someone needs to tell him that coffee is not a food group,” Johnny observed.

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

Some snooping revealed that Luke was an honest to god food website editor. He was a cameraman.

Repeat. Luke Skywalker, cameraman. He filmed all the food hosts for his company’s Youtube channel. He edited videos. He more or less blended into the background of everything, while having his finger prints on damn near everything.

This was a man after Peter’s own soul. They were kindred spirits in hidden identities, content creation, and suffering under a boulder of responsibility too great to cope with.

He had to find him now.

And after they had his Instagram it wasn’t too hard. He seemed to hang out in various parts of the Bronx and Peter just so happened to know some folks out that way.

 --

 Louis told Peter that he would never speak to him again if he found, befriended, and then didn’t share Luke Skywalker (the man, the real man, I’m not fucking with you, Louis). But he also recognized a place on Luke’s instagram that he seemed to be working his way through the menu of. He sent along an address and told Peter not to forget his promises.

Angel asked why he was looking for Johnny Storm in the Bronx.

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

He took a walk on Saturday morning. A long walk. A long train ride, then a walk, then a half hour of squinting, and then, lo and behold, he found a blond guy banging his head into the center of an out door metal table across from a woman with heavy braids trailing down the sides of her neck. She was much older than him and drummed white-painted fingernails across her cheek as she thought.

Peter hid and called Ned and MJ for an ID. He peeked the phone’s camera out enough for them to see the other two and then snatched it back.

Ned was about to flip a table.

“That’s clearly Ahsoka Tano,” he said. “She—the braids, dude. Dead give-away. And she put ribbons in them, like what even is discretion?”

Peter didn’t know that person. He continued not to know this person, even as Ned dragged him through a trainwreck of Star Wars lore.

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

“She’s like a jedi, but not like a jedi, she was a jedi, but then she said ‘fuck the order’ and—”

Great. Peter was approaching.

Ned held his face in his hands. MJ told Peter to report back on his findings. Peter ended the call and inched closer, weaving through the crowd and slipping into the coffee joint to see what nonsense they were selling.

It was nonsense with lots of syrup. He could never say no to syrup.

He watched the two outside while waiting for his order. Luke gesticulated to his friend and she spoke, giving reasonable gestures back. He stopped her and dug out his phone and that little plastic baggy full of fluffy material. He answered his phone. His friend took the little bag and held it up to the light.

She frowned at it.

Luke pushed away from the table and walked away to take his call. Peter’s order was called. He grabbed it and swerved out towards the patio.

“Hello,” he said at the edge of Luke and his friend’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

Luke’s friend stared at him.

“It is,” she said. “Move along, hon, you’re ten years too young.”

Wow.

“For your friend?” Peter tried. “Could I leave my number?”

He had this lady’s attention now. She was looking him up and down, appraising. Peter tried not to flex. He stayed cool. Matt-levels of cool. He smiled winningly.

“Alright, why not?” she said, digging through her bag for a receipt and a pen. Peter beamed as he leaned down to scrawl his number down on the back. He got halfway through before he heard a step stop nearby.

“Look alive, kid,” Luke’s friend said. “Hey, Luke, this guy was just—”

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

“Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

There was a long silence.

Luke’s friend looked between them and then gave Luke a long, judgmental stare.

“You don’t have to,” Luke said. “Thanks, though. How did you find me here?”

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

“Here,” Peter said, offering his number on the receipt. “If you ever need someone to talk to who gets it.”

Luke’s friend bit her lip and looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Peter ignored her for now.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “You don’t and you won’t. But you’re very pretty.”

Nice.

“You’d be surprised,” Peter told him. “Gimme a text. I’ll leave y’all alone now. Enjoy your coffee.”

He left. But not before hearing, “but that ass, Luke.”

 --

 Ned told him that there was no way that Luke was ever going to text him and he was disappointed in Peter’s hostage-taking skills.

But he was proved wrong two hours later and, for his crimes, had to admit Peter’s brilliance publicly.

 LS: hi sorry. This is Luke. This morning when you stopped by our table, did you happen to see a little plastic bag on it?

 Why yes. The one in Peter’s pocket right now? That bag?

 PP: hi!! I did, actually. You guys aren’t very subtle 😏

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

LS: no, it’s not coke, I swear. It’s something INFINITELY more important. Did you happen to see if it had fallen on the ground?

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

PP: oh my god I’m so sorry, I think I took it with me when I accidentally took your friend’s pen.

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

LS: I’m starting to think that you want something from me. And listen, you’re a handsome guy, but I’m not available and my type isn’t kleptomaniac. What do you want for it?

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

PP: mostly about why you look like you’re a wet phonebook in a bad gutter

LS: a phonebook???? What era are you even from????

PP: I could say the same to you, sir.

LS: I

LS: wh

LS: alright touche. The point is that I’m not going to talk to you. I just need that bag back. It’s a life and death situation.

PP: what are they? They aren’t coke crystals.

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

LS: NO. This is going nowhere. What. Do. You. Want?

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

PP: then why did you ask me to rescue you?

 He held his breath.

 LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

LS: I didn’t ask you for shit. This is it. What’s your last name.

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

PP: oop, nope, sorry. That’s someone else.

LS: …so I’m calling the police, now. That’s what we’re saying?

PP: depends. Do you still need to be rescued?

 Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

 LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

 Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

 PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

PP: it’s okay, you don’t have to say shit. The main thing I wanted you to know was that I hear you. And if you need it, I’ve got you.

LS: You’re literally trying to rescue me??

PP: it’s my job

LS: IT ISN’T. How have you never been arrested? how did you find me? Did you track my phone? Is it some kind of spider thing???

PP: yes

LS: I am legally obligated to kill you with the force now

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

LS: oh my god Han is going to lose his gourd

LS: I’m sorry I just I can’t believe you of all people stole my damn hilt

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

LS: no I didn’t mean that sorry that’s a thing with me and my sister. I mean, okay. You got me. Hero of NYC.

 Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

 PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

LS: Please do, Ben’s about to have a stroke.

PP: you mean obi-wan?

LS: he’s convinced his cat ate them. There’s a staring contest happening. No one has blinked in two minutes and I don’t want to be here for the internal investigation.

PP: where do you live?

 Luke sent an address. Peter held his phone high and walked it into the living room where Ned was bitchily composing an Instagram post. He and MJ looked up at the same time.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Peter said. “Luke Skywalker and Co. live in a cemetery.”

 --

 It wasn’t a cemetery. It was a funeral home, but close enough.

Luke was waiting outside on the stoop in a cardigan about four sizes too big for him. It was there probably to protect him from the equally large ragdoll cat in his arms.

Peter smiled. Luke stared at him and then shook his head and went through the screen door. Ned gave Peter a biting look.

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

“We’re doin’ great,” Peter told him, hopping up the stairs. “Look at us, totally—”

“Insidious.”

Peter stopped and turned nervously to see through the screen door where Obi-Wan Kenobi had seized both of the cat’s cheeks. Luke continued to hold it with maximum doneness levels.

“Where have you been?” Obi-Wan asked the cat seriously.

“We have guests,” Luke said. “Take your beast.”

Obi-Wan snatched the cat out of Luke’s arms with contempt all over his face.

“You are a villain of the highest order,” he told it.

“Ben. Guests. Please evacuate. I am hosting negotiations,” Luke said.

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

Peter was not going to laugh at Obi-Wan Kenobi. That was too surreal.

“Come in,” Luke said, returning to hold open the screen. “I hope you’re not allergic. There are two of them.”

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

Peter stepped over the threshold and found himself in a room that looked like a human birdhouse. It was full of surfaces that were almost completely empty, as though an enrichment object had once lived there but had been removed as punishment. Luke waved Ned and MJ in and accepted their apologies on Peter’s behalf.

Peter ignored them to lock eyes with a creature more stunning than any he had ever encountered. It sat on the kitchen counter by a single clear jar labelled ‘Not Spice.’ It blinked grumpy green eyes.

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

They all looked behind them to see Obi-Wan peering around a doorframe with the first cat draped over his shoulders.

“Kleptomaniac,” Luke said, pointing at Peter. Peter waved.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I will distract Ahsoka.”

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

“Let’s go talk in the back,” he said. “There are no bodies, I promise.”

 --

 The funeral home had a little deck and a yard small even for this far out in Queens. It was crammed full of plants that appeared to be in a competition to bloom. Luke invited them to sit and then left to make coffee.

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

He peeked over the side of the deck down where there was a large stone set in the center of the garden.

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

Peter swore that Obi-Wan hadn’t opened that sliding door. How had—what—

Ned was at a loss for words in the face of one of his greatest heroes.

“I—uh. M-movie? I mean, sorry. It was in The Mandalorian, second season, with the—”

“Yet more television,” Obi-Wan said derisively.

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

“I thought you were bothering Ahsoka?” Luke asked, from inside. He squeezed past the man and his cat with three glass mugs in hand. He set them down on the little square table off to the side of the desk railing.

“I was, but then I got curious,” Obi-Wan said. “And I lost Junior.”

Luke stared at him.

“I’m going to lock you in the basement,” he said.

“Try, try, and try again,” Obi-Wan told him, petting his beloved cat’s head.

“Do you even know who Spiderman is, old man?”

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter had to keep a conscious watch on his jaw, lest it fall open in the face of the most handsome, clueless man on the planet. He watched as Obi-Wan, disgusted with all this ‘television’ nonsense skulked back off into the guts of the home. Luke shut the door behind him.

“So,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’re talking. Fork ‘em.”

Ah.

Fair was fair.

Peter produced the plastic bag from his pocket and handed it over. There was a shout somewhere inside followed by someone going ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Ben keeps our home ghost free. He terrifies all the wannabee haunters,” Luke said simply. “Thank you for these. I imagine it’s somewhat of a shock to learn that it’s all real.”

It was, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing Peter had encountered by far.

“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked conversationally.

Luke gave him a weird brow.

He seemed smaller than before in that enormous cardigan. Certainly smaller than the movies made him seem. His face was a little thinner too, and his lips seemed to slope into an almost permanent pout.

“About twenty years,” he said. “We were born in California, but Anakin moved us here when we were eight.”

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

“’Luke, I am your father’—yeah, that guy,” Luke said with a scoff. “Except, you know, he ain’t dead. And he’s the only one who can make Ben remember that tea isn’t a meal, so we keep him around for that and to scream back at Leia.”

Peter was already completely lost to the dynamics of this household. It wasn’t like the books and movies—Ned’s twitching for his phone to take notes was proof enough of that.

“That’s awkward,” MJ said. “So did y’all do like, collective counselling for the past life shit?”

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

“It’s not past life shit if your damn name is the same,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

It sounded like it.

Imagine growing up with your apparently-Star War-obsessed father and uncle who’d built a home and a business (presumably) around that shit, only to find out later that they’d done it because it was literally their religion.

What a trip.

“When did you find out?” Peter asked gently.

“Oh, you know. Last week,” Luke said with a bitter grin. “Quit my fulltime job. Dumped my ex. Broke my lease and now here I am. Once again. Back at this place.”

“Do you want a hug?” Ned asked into the awkward silence.

“You’re very sweet,” Luke said. “If I touch another human, I will start crying and never stop.”

Yikes.

Barely holdin’ on by a thread there, buddy? How’s the hyperawareness going?

“Why does it matter, is my question. For you, I mean,” Luke said with a suspicious squint. “You fought a goblin guy, didn’t you? With a hover board?”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

“And like, the bird dude? Didn’t you down a plane?”

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

“These things are not equivalent,” Luke said flatly. “I joined a rebel alliance. There were loads of us.”

Mmm. Perhaps so.

“God, how old are you even? You look 22.”

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

“That’s a lie,” he accused. “Tell the truth or be compelled.”

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

Luke blinked at him. He pointed at the glass sliding door which revealed Obi-Wan holding Junior the cat above his head by the kitchen sink.

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

“Do we not have the Force, here?” he asked.

Luke flinched.

“Listen,” he said abruptly, “We’re workin’ on it. This isn’t our original galaxy. The rules are all different. The only one who’s managed to make even a spark happen is Obi-Wan so far, but as soon as we find Master Yoda, it’s over. We’ll already have won.”

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

“We lost a lot of people,” he snapped. “It happens when you shift galaxies. Anyways, that’s what the stone is for.”

MJ glanced back at the stone and then leaned her forearms onto the small table.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You jedi folks all popped up over here by some cosmic accident. You don’t have the Force. Most of you don’t even remember who you are. You lost your most experienced Master, and you’re going to fight the Sith?”

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

“We don’t need the others,” he said. “We only need the Force. To fight the Sith. Yes.”

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

“So you need the thing you for sure don’t have the most,” she said.

Luke opened his mouth, but not before the window by the door snapped open and Obi-Wan leaned out to say, “We always have the Force.”

Luke covered his face in despair.

“I was listening from the kitchen window,” Obi-Wan told him lovingly.

“GO FIND CODY ALREADY,” Luke roared at him.

“I did, he’s right here,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, stroking his angry cat.

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

Star Wars had really left out the part about Luke’s explosive temper. Peter winced, but Ned laughed and the sound seemed to have a calming effect on Jedi-on-Jedi crime about to take place in the kitchen. Obi-Wan appeared pleased with this development and emboldened. He wove past Luke out onto the desk and came over, cat and all, to point down to the seeing stone in the middle of the garden.

“Others who feel the Force’s energy will be drawn to it,” he told Ned fondly. “It’s how we got Luke back home.”

“It’s not,” Luke said. “You called me.”

“And so others will also come,” Obi-Wan said with confidence. “The most important thing is that we believe in the Force. And from that, we will find guidance and power and—”

“He means Yoda,” Luke translated. “He’s been putting frogs on it as an offering, even though me, Ahsoka, and Anakin told him that this is a human’s world. A human’s world, Ben. Even if he did eat them, he’s not eating them raw.”

“Don’t be discouraged by Luke’s attitude, he is very stressed,” Obi-Wan told Ned and Ned only affectionately. “I told him not to be, you see there are four of us here already, and the Chosen One is among us.”

“Anakin told you to stop calling him that,” Luke moaned, massaging his temples.

“He was the first to be aware of our present situation,” Obi-Wan said.

“He took a hallucinogen and had a paranoid breakdown,” Luke pleaded. “Ben, please. Go inside. Think of your blood pressure.”

“Perhaps, but it was a useful breakdown, was it not?”

“I am so sorry for him, he’s getting senile,” Luke said to the rest of them.

“Your energy is different,” Obi-Wan informed Peter out of absolutely nowhere. “Are you also Force-sensitive? Were you drawn to the stone?”

Er.

No.

Sorry?

“He’s Spiderman,” Luke said, gesturing pointedly. “Remember Spiderman?”

Obi-Wan did not. Peter suspected, actually, that Obi-Wan still used phonebooks, if he used phones at all, that was.

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay, let me just lay it out,” he said. “We’re doing the best we can with what we have. You don’t have to get involved with this. We appreciate your help, but what would help us even more is if you stay out of it, alright?”

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

“Amazing. And don’t tell other people.”

Understood.

“Unless they’re Force-sensitive,” Obi-Wan said. “In which case, ask them how they feel about rocks.”

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” he said dangerously.

“No, I used to be stressed,” Obi-Wan told him. “But you and Ani are doing that for me, so I have resolved to be a free spirit. Nice to meet all of you. Have more coffee. I don’t like this one; I will have it out of the house by sundown.”

He left, and possibly for good this time. No one knew what to say in his absence.

“So,” Peter tried, desperate for something to break up the tension. “You said a few days ago that you were looking for someone?”

Luke finally stopped making growling faces towards the sliding door. He lit up like a bulb.

“I am, actually,” he said.

 --

 Luke was looking for a very particular person named ‘Din.’ He described him as ‘six feet tall and covered in armor.’ He asked if they knew of such a person.

Peter had to shove a hand against his mouth in case he made an unwanted connection between this description and Obi-Wan behavior.

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

“You have a husband?” she asked. “I would have remembered a husband in that series.”

Luke leaned his chin on his palm and gazed sideways over the city. He seemed to sigh.

“I don’t know why he isn’t connected to me in the media created here,” he said. “It’s probably because he’s always been very shy.”

Oh, aw. Peter loved that. The contrast between them was heart-warming.

“We had a son together,” Luke said. “His child. He brought him to me. One of my students, at first.”

Hang on a minute here.

Peter exchanged a glance with Ned. Ned tried very hard to pick a way to approach this sensitively. He landed on asking, “What was his name again?”

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

“He was a Mandalorian,” Luke explained. “Very, very, very shy. Like, he would rather chew off his own leg than make small talk with a stranger. I think, before I knew all this, I was still subconsciously looking for him. All my exes are the same type.”

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

“Do we look like we own a TV?” Luke deadpanned. “No. If Ben senses anything bigger than a datapad happening in this place, he’s driven to madness and breaks it.”

UH?

“He doesn’t actually break it,” Luke sighed. “He just finds a way to make it unusable—putting clothes on it, disconnecting the monitor, that kind of thing. He thinks they waste electricity.”

What a guy. Peter wanted to put him and May in a room and see what conspiracies they could spin together.

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

“Do you have a, uh, datapad, then?” he asked.

 --

 “DIN. That’s DIN. He’s got his own show. Oh my god, that’s—stay right there. Don’t move.”

Bless this man. Peter wanted to hug him so bad. They’d lost him to the staircase leading up from the second floor to the attic. Peter wondered who he was showing the tablet to.

Maybe Obi-Wan?

“I told you this already,” a voice up there said.

“LOOK AT HIM.”

“You’re killin’ me, smalls. We had this exact conversation last week. Did you forget?”

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

Anakin fucking Skywalker came down the stairs with a handful of Luke’s shirt in one hand and the tablet shoved under his other arm. He paused and frowned at the three of them in the kitchen frozen in shock, and then apparently decided that that didn’t matter. He carried on dragging Luke with him towards the kitchen counter. He dropped the tablet onto it and Peter realized that the lower half of his sleeve on that side was empty.

He watched as the guy let go of Luke and chased the not-angry cat off the counter, cursing.

“Alright, this?” he said, tapping on the tablet. “Is the link I put here.” He rapped the same finger on what Peter now saw was a whiteboard covered in rows upon rows of symbols that he’d never seen before.

“Din here? Din here. You see?” Vader told Luke with untold patience.

“I can’t read that,” Luke moaned. “You lied to me.”

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

“You’re a liar and a cad. Do it in Basic.”

“This is Basic.”

Oh, dear. All that fanfic about Luke meeting Darth Vader and having a breakdown was looking real embarrassed now, wasn’t it?

“If it’s Basic, why can’t I read it?” Luke demanded.

“Because, like I told you last night, the night before, and the night before that,” Vader said painstakingly, “It doesn’t all come back at once. It’s going to take time.”

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

Vader leaned his head back with half-lidded eyes. Luke didn’t look even remotely like his kid, even with him looking all pre-quels-like now.

“We talked about this, too, remember?” Vader asked.

Obviously not. Luke was distressed. He had eyes only for the tablet now.

“No, of course not, silly me,” Vader said. “Why are humans here?”

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

“Son, I will kill you if you continue to act like Obi-Wan,” Vader said without missing a beat.

“You can try,” Luke said offhandedly. “But only one of us has two handed grip.”

There was a long stare.

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Vader told him. “Why do we have living guests?”

He gestured back to Peter, Ned, and MJ like they were flies on a set of blinds.

“Oh, because that’s Spiderman and he stole your kyber crystals,” Luke said.

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

“This may as well happen,” he decided somehow placidly. “I’m going back upstairs. Where did your grand-master go?”

“Into the mist,” Luke said. “Can you feel Din?”

“Negative, ghostrider.”

“When the Force chooses you first out of favoritism, can you feel for Din?”

“Ah yes, can I feel for your Force-repellant life partner with all of the Force energy that I do not have? Yes, I sure can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

This felt a little hostile for Peter’s tastes. Not that it wasn’t earned. Clearly it was earned. It was just horrifying.

“Guests, you are dismissed,” Vader said in their direction. “Unless you’re drawn to the rock outside, in which case, you may stay. Otherwise, do not darken this doorstep again, or else we will leave you with the other dead in the morgue.”

“Thanks for bringing the crystals,” Luke said from behind him. “And for talking. I do feel better, actually.”

 --

 They left the funeral home. Obi-Wan was outside by the mailbox as though waiting for them. Peter wasn’t sure he had any emotional energy left to approach him with.

“Thank you for speaking to Luke,” he said as the three of them attempted to pass unnoticed. “It’s good for him to talk to others his own age.”

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

“Good night, Peter, Ned, and Michelle.”

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

 --

 Ned wasn’t sleeping for two years. He made this clear with a lot of clapping gestures and then rolled around on the floor, talking about all kinds of shit that Peter couldn’t decipher. MJ watched him and flicked her eyes up to Peter with concern on her forehead.

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

Peter wasn’t sure. The best he could think of was to just keep an eye on the situation. Maybe check in every couple of weeks?

“If you say so,” MJ said. “I think you made Ned’s life, by the way. Good job.”

 --

 Peter tried checking in every two weeks. It started because he happened to hear of a tunnel collapsing in Queens nearby the funeral home. He texted Luke to ask if he needed a save and all he got back was a ‘well, not anymore.’

After that, Peter kept a close eye on happenstances occurring around the city. There were more than he bargained for. And when he glanced at Luke’s Instagram after the first week after the tunnel collapse, he noted that two of the nails on the hand Luke held his coffee to the camera with had gone completely black.

That was worrying.

Peter was used to be the danger-prone asshole in his friendgroup. He did not like this role-reversal. MJ asked him sarcastically what the problem was.

He texted Luke again.

 PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

LS: we put a hole in one to release the pressure

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

LS: the most predictable thing ever has happened. The Vader has regained force power

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

LS: ah, no. He fucked up and raised me and Leia with Ben this time after our mom died. He had his chance to go dark and traded it for 8 consecutive hours of sleep instead.

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

LS: It’s fine we did 12 years of family therapy after the accident so we are no longer on the DSS watchlist

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

LS: aren’t you supposed to be spiderman or something? Don’t you have chaotic things to say?

PP: you know normally I do, this is literally out of character for me. but I think you also might be absorbing my chaos.

LS: that’s fair. I have that effect on people. Hey, is your buddy Ned available to chat? He knows more than I can remember about my old life. Can I borrow him?

 That sounded like a horrendous decision.

 PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

  --

Ned reported a few days later that his services were needed at the funeral home. He was leaving them all now to befriend Luke Skywalker as was his true destiny.

He came back a few hours later and reported that his services had been helpful and he was pleased to say that Darth Vader was now the official herder of ‘wans’ in the house. This included all Obi-Wans and padawans.

He seemed to be the only guy there who could like, retain information given to him for some reason. He accepted this as his lot in life and went around repeating the same things to the others ad nauseum until they finally stuck for them.

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

Ned didn’t think so. He thought the guy was pretty chill about it and had probably been doing it for a while now. He did it more for Ahsoka Tano and Luke than he did for Obi-Wan. Although that was probably because Obi-Wan appeared to be on a hunt that made all non-relevant information given to him slip off his back like water.

 --

 Another two weeks. Another text.

 PP: hey luke, I saw you drowning on the news. You okay?

LS: GOD my ex-workplace keeps calling welfare checks on our house. We’ve had more cops here then flies these last few days.

PP: ex-workplace is one way to refer to your old job. Sounds like they cared about you. What did you do?

LS: preschool teacher.

 Peter was going to lose his shit right here on this bed.

 PP: was that your calling?

LS: that was Luke Naberry’s calling. Luke Skywalker’s calling is to make the lightsaber go vrrrrrrm

PP: you honestly terrify me

LS: thanks han says the same thing. OH. HE FOUND CHEWIE.

PP: no shit??

LS: yeah I told Ned, not you. But yeah. He found him lugging boxes for a bodega. And now they both work at the same bodega. Which like, objectively, is a bad thing because Han was a UN translator.

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

LS: I know he was all respectable and shit. It was awful. I can look at him again without feeling like I’ve failed in every part of my life.

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

LS: we’re not old enough to be senators.

PP: every moment becomes more concerning than the next. You fascinate me. This is why they put you in like, all the films.

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

LS: not to you. I’m off-limits bub. I’m married.

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

PP: that’s so romantic. Hey you should watch that series. They gave him a little green yoda in it. Really cute.

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

 There was no winning here.

 --

 MJ asked him a few weeks later if he was still keeping up with the Jedi drama since the whole city had recently decided that Peter was a snack.

Obviously he hadn’t.

She told him not to worry, Ned had. She told him to talk to Ned, so he went and talked to Ned with a heatpad in one hand and a coldpack in the other.

Ned patted at him sympathetically and informed him that Luke had reunited with the Force. It was going poorly for him, mostly because the Force wasn’t used to people being in touch with it in these parts of the universe. It kept telling each of the jedi that there was a disturbance and then luring them to each other to fight to the death.

Luke described it as the Force-equivalent of an auto-immune disease.  

They’d taken to gathering in the living room of the funeral home to meditate in a circle, as though to calm the Force’s anxiety while scenting each other for protection.

It had a 40% success rate. Everyone was sleeping in locked rooms for the time being, just in case someone got compelled to do something rash.

Peter asked Ned if he’d finally lost his crown as King Chaos of NYC.

Ned patted him on the knee more firmly than before and said that he could regain his crown by introducing a calming element into the jedi household.

Peter had his pride to defend, so he asked what that element ought to be.

  --

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, the leader of all Mandalorians, was bound to have a name that looked nothing like the one they had for him. Luke nearly exploded when Peter approached him to asked him (and his taped fingers) more about who Din Djarin was outside the name.

They proceeded with caution, however. So far, Peter and Ned had discovered only dissonance between Luke’s account of his life partner (his ‘heart, stars, sun, and sand’) and the guy on the screen for the tv show. That was to be expected, given that they had met Luke now and learned of his somewhat explosive personality.

But even still, Luke’s description of Din Djarin as ‘kind, compassionate, tender, shy, emotionally stable, dependable, sweet, caring, and hunky’ seemed slightly biased.

Peter just wanted to know how tall this guy was. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Blood type. That kind of shit.

Luke said that Din had brown hair, brown eyes, Type Who Knows What blood, and was about six feet tall. He had no idea how much he weighed. He’d never had need for that information. He knew that Din was human, which was probably helpful in a galaxy far, far away. He knew that he spoke Mando’a as his first language, then Basic, then a whopping fifteen others. And he knew that Din was probably looking after their son.

Vader asked Peter over a mug of coffee (also labeled in the funeral home’s cabinet as ‘not spice.’) if Spidersenses could overcome a dearth of information. It took Peter a few moments to realize that he was sympathizing with him.

“You’re not going to find Din,” Vader told Luke. “You need to look for the kid. You’ll find the kid first, you always have.”

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

Peter decided that he didn’t want to get in between that burgeoning battle. He told Luke to text him if he remembered anything else.

  --

Wade was pissed that Peter had been meeting and ‘cavorting’ with Luke Skywalker without him. He claimed ownership of the Din Djarin mystery in order to cram himself into Luke’s good graces. But quickly, he ran into the same stumbling blocks as Peter.

Din Djarin was six feet tall with brown eyes and brown hair.

That was what they currently had to go on.

Wade would have torn out his hair if he had any, but he stopped himself and accepted the challenge. Peter watched over his shoulder as he chicken-pecked his way into a list of social security numbers held by the NYC State ID issuing department and started methodically filtering names that did not sound like ‘Din.’

He started broad with all ‘D’s and then narrowed it down further and further and further until he was left with a shitload of Daniels.

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

It helped. Wade started filtering by height, then by eye color. Then by hair, and only ended up with several hundred people.

He vibrated again, but this time, Peter couldn’t help him.

He sighed. Wade said that there had to be a better way to do this. He got up.

  --

Wade made about four thousand missing posters with the name Din Djarin on them which he recruited the whole team to plaster up around NYC. This was not a request.

Miles asked him why they were doing this for a tv character and had to be let in on the gig.

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

Angel still didn’t know how the whole jedi thing worked.

Dave hummed and haw’ed and took his time in calling bullshit. Wade asked him to look deep into his eyes and ask if he was entertaining bullshit that fine evening.

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

  --

There was no way that shit was supposed to work. There was just no way. A) because Wade had the worst ideas of all mankind and B) because Peter had the worst luck of all mankind. So the two of them together should have destroyed all the prospects of success for that job.

But instead, while they were hatching a new plot involving setting up a sham sociological study for people who responded to Star Wars names, Wade’s phone went off.

He grabbed it and opened the message and lo and behold right there was a note that read,

“I hope you are not a reporting body because this is going to sound certifiably insane, but I think I might be the guy you’re looking for?”

Wade screamed.

Peter scolded him not to get too excited too soon. They had to see the man first.

Wade texted furiously, asking for a picture and got a message back that said, “please do not dox me.”

They got no answer until Wade promised not to dox the guy.

And then they got an image of a man with brown hair and brown eyes with olive skin. His face was remarkably square. The picture wasn’t just him, though, he had in his arms a little boy with a head covered in tight ringlets. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black and he was maybe two years old.

The caption said, “apologies, my son needed to be in the picture.”

Wade cooed and entered Dad Mode to ask how old the baby was and what he liked to do and Peter lost the fathers to that small talk for a while before Wade oh-so-casually asked, “So you feel like you’re from outer space?”

“It sounds strange,” the guy on the other said wrote back, “But I do. Like every day I wake up and look in the mirror and something is wrong. I feel like I’m always forgetting something when I leave the house. I watched the tv show of the guy who’s name was on your fliers and the kid in it reminds me so much of my son. It’s eerie. They make the same sounds. He made the same sounds before we even watched that show.”

Wade whistled.

“I think this is him, Pete,” he said. “He called Baby Yoda a ‘kid’ not a yoda.”

Peter stared. He hadn’t even caught that. That was smart as hell.

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

“Get Skywalker to send you a selfie,” he said.

  --

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

LS: cannot do that. Face is intact is a baseline situation. Let me find an old one. Oh, they all have my ex in them. This is awkward.

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

LS: no I have to be cute or I’ll perish hold on

PP: are you sure you’re not Johnny Storm?

LS: yes, he’s got loads of muscles. Sent.

 Selfie acquired.

Luke looked very smiley in it. His eyes were blown out from the lighting, but it showed his sloping smile and his low, back-set dimples. Peter sent it to Wade. Wade sent it to his new friend.

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

And finally, Wade’s phone rang. He picked it up and set it on speaker so that Peter could hear.

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

“Where did you get that picture?” a low, almost smoky voice demanded on the other side.

“A friend,” Wade said sleazily. “You know him? He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

It took the dude on the other side of the line worryingly long to respond.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

“What’re you willing do to?” he asked.

They waited. Peter didn’t know what was taking this guy so long to—

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

“What’s his name then, pal?” Wade asked.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Peter clutched the back of the couch. Wade was grinning so hard, Peter could see it through his mask.

“You want him, you need to show me that you know who he is,” Wade said. “I ain’t got ‘im here, but I know where he is. Come on, big boy. Who is he?”

Peter could hear the man take in a deep, shaky breath.

“His name is Luke,” Din fucking Djarin, the Mandalorian himself, said.

  --

Din fucking Djarin’s name at the moment was Danny Jabaran. He stood six feet tall with a medium build and that baby of his in his arms.

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

The suits didn’t scare him; this man was a space warrior. The leader of the space warriors. Peter was humbled to stand in his presence, old jeans and tattoos and all.

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

“Deadpool,” Wade said, offering a hand. “And this is?”

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

Baby Yoda lifted his big liquid eyes up to Wade and blinked twice. Then he wriggled around and hid in Djarin’s neck. Djarin put a hand on his back and didn’t drop eye contact.

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

  --

Ned screamed. Michelle screamed. Peter reminded them that he had neighbors and invited Mr. Mand’alor to sit on the couch for a bit while he called Luke.

Michelle claimed the spot next to Djarin and asked Baby Yoda Grogu for his little hand. He studied her and hid again, making a prolonged sound of distress that Djarin cut off by saying, “Hey. Manners.”

This somehow made baby Grogu turn back to Michelle to stare at her offered hand.

He took it. She shook with him and then took hers away.

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.  

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

Peter left them to call Luke in his bedroom. Luke picked up on the third ring with the start of an ingrained greeting that sounded a whole lot like a customer service recording. He caught himself, though.

“I have someone I’d like you to talk to,” Peter said. “I think you might want to sit down.”

Luke’s unusual quiet on the other side made Peter grin.

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

“Alright, one moment,” Peter said, walking out into the living room. Djarin had edged far, far away from Ned, as far as he possibly could without being rude. He looked up when Peter came over and sat down on the arm next to him.

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Peter waited. Djarin lifted his head over to see the phone’s screen.

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

“Shit,” Djarin said, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “Goddamnit. Jesus.”

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”  

Baby Grogu’s face snapped toward the phone with huge eyes. He grabbed at Djarin’s collar, then his jaw and started bouncing a little in his arms.

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

“Grogu?” Luke asked. “Hey, baby, is that you, bubba?”

Grogu grabbed Djarin’s face urgently, so that he couldn’t hide his raw eyes anymore.

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

“Ah. That’s not ours. We don’t grab. We ask,” Djarin reminded as Grogu pleaded for the phone. Peter snickered and gave it to him. He just held it, staring.

“Do you wanna see him?” Peter asked. “Luke, can we maybe video chat?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke said. “Hold on. Oh god, my face. Uh, hey Din are you still near-sighted, hon?”

Djarin huffed a laugh that turned into a whole-body tremor.

“I got contacts,” he said a little hysterically.

“You got WHAT?” Luke yipped, “Okay, no. No, I gotta. Be still, this heart. Okay let me just take off the butterflies. On moment, Grogu, Daddy’s just gotta dunk his face in the damn sink.”

MJ bounced her eyebrows at Peter as he gently took the phone back from Grogu and tapped on the camera. He offered it back the kid and received a deep gaze of wonder in return. Djarin turned the screen right-side up in his hands.

Luke finally turned his camera on and revealed himself to be very swollen in the jaw with damp hair and a cut very close to the rim of his left eye.

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

“Look at you,” he said, “I’m gonna cry. Oh my god. Where’re your ears, pal?”

Grogu analyzed this reaction for 2 full seconds and then shoved the camera right into his dad’s forehead. Djarin took it from him and liberated himself so that he could see Luke who was clutching at his face, absolutely already sobbing, bless him.

He looked up to see Grogu and instead got Djarin and finally just broke right in half.

Peter swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. His eyes were starting to warm a little.

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

“I know you’re not cryin’ because of me,” he said gently.

“Where’s your helmet?” Luke sobbed, wiping viciously at his eyes. “People are watching, you harlot.”

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

“This is all my fault. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Luke,” Djarin said again, full of warmth, “You died for us.”

Luke shook harder than ever.

“There is no greater sacrifice a warrior can make,” Djarin told him. “I was honored for you to have made it for me and our son. This has always been the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

“I missed you,” Djarin said. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I was a preschool teacher in the Bronx, man, I dunno what happened,” Luke said tipping his face up to force the tears back in.

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

“I work off Laconia and Mace,” he said.

“You what?”

“We’ve been blocks apart this whole time.”

Awwwwww.

“I’m going to stab myself,” Luke moaned. “I’m going to stab myself in the arm. I was right there and I sold out for my part-time gig barely weeks ago. Oh my god. I’m going to—move, old man, I’m suffering—Wait. Din, did you find your parents?”

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

  --

Look at all these people hugging each other.

Look at them crying all over. There was a baby in there, wailing because he was so happy to be back in the arms of his other dad.

Aww. AWWWW. Peter was getting emotional again, he was going to see himself out.

“Wait. Peter.”

He looked up to find Luke holding a hand to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You really are a superhero, you know that?”

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

 --

 The city had plenty of problems as it was, yeah, more now with a bunch of jedi running around, linking up with each other and spreading memory like mushroom spores. But it didn’t feel that much different.

What it felt like now was Ned showing Grogu how to hold his hand at the seeing stone in the funeral home’s back yard to make the Force happen while Obi-Wan reported cheerfully that the cat perched on it was still not levitating.

It also felt like watching Luke freak out over text to Ned and Michelle about his ex losing their mind at him dumping them after two years to marry this random mechanic within a week of getting together.

Peter got to see this from new angles, too, one of which was the bottom of the funeral home’s attic stairs, which Anakin Skywalker liked to sit on while his grandkids—both Grogu and Han Solo and Leia Organa (pardon, Leia Naberry)’s son—came over to show him things that he was very well aware of. These were stolen from him by Auntie Ahsoka and her friends who Ned knew and Peter did not.

And there was something warming about how even these folks—people from a galaxy far, far away, occasionally needed a Spiderman.

   --

Uncalled they come to me, and told, they still won’t leave me (Din Djarin/Soulmate!Reader)

Spoilers for Chapter 9 (S2E1) of the Mandalorian

Summary: After the ambitious Toro Calican turns on you, his hired mechanic, in hopes of winning favour with the Guild, the mysterious Mandalorian saves your life. Now that you owe him a life debt, he’s stuck with you until you can save him back. It’s not so bad, having a free mechanic and babysitter for the kid, but things take a turn for the worse when both of you realise you might be catching feelings. For someone that might not even be your Soulmate.

Requested by Anon: Hello! How’re you doing? May I please request a Din x reader soulmate au? The one where you don’t see color until you touch your soulmate? It would be very difficult for Din to find his soulmate and I’ve always wanted to see how it played out. If not that’s ok! Thank you and have a wonderful day ❤️

Key: (Y/N) - your name, (h/c) - hair colour, (e/c) - eye colour Translations: vode - siblings, Ret’urcye mhi - goodbye (literally: may we meet again), mirshmure’cya - brain-kiss (Basic term, is Keldabe kiss. This is the soft one as opposed to the literal headbutt term) Asked to be tagged in this disaster: @pearlll09 Word Count: remember when i said this would be 4k? Yeah. It’s 6,478 words. What. The. Fuck.

Author’s Note: this is way longer than I intended it to be but I think u deserve it since u were the only one who saw my post begging for mando requests and actually sent one hksjlfdkj tysm!! I’m so happy I got to write a Soulmate AU for him tbh. Btw, I have it in my head that Yodito would’ve given him the ability to see green, as a familial Soulmate bond, but it wouldn’t work for this if your eyes are green so I just left it out. (Also wtf is up with the Cobb/Din shit, Cobb is clearly in a dedicated relationship with the bartender Weequay. I named them Sala :D) The title is from The Teller of Tales by Gabriela Mistral.

Read On AO3

*

“Do you wear those gloves all the time?”

The Mando gives you a look—one that you can’t read, obviously, but you get the idea that it’s drier than the desert you’re in.

Calican snorts, but you shoot him a glare and he shuts up. You’re only here because he’s paying well for your mechanical skills, enough that his request of an extra hand on his first bounty seemed reasonable. Finding out that he’s hunting Fennec Shand was...less than pleasing, but now that the Mando is onboard, you’re not quite so worried about the outcome. They’re supposed to be fearsome warriors, after all. And he was smart enough to figure out how to wait out Shand, which is what the three of you have been doing for hours.

“I’m just saying,” you continue, “between the armour and the gloves, it must be damn near impossible to find your Soulmate.”

He shrugs. Sort of. It’s kind of hard to tell, to be honest.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Calican asks, flopping back onto the sand. “Mandalorians don’t have Soulmates. They start seeing colour after their first battle; war is their only destiny.”

You roll your eyes. They’re folk tales, really, and ridiculous ones at that. Every sentient has at least one Soulmate, romantic, platonic, familial, or otherwise, and there’s no reason for Mandalorians to be any different. Still, the stories make their rounds. There are specific ones, too, like the one about the Mandalorian Jedi who made the Darksaber; he was said to see colour when he lit his weapon for the first time. Fett, too, was said to have seen a new colour with every clone that was decanted—which is mildly ridiculous.

“Maybe the Mandalorians of old,” Mando comments with a scoff. “Not many of us see battle these days.”

“Well, if you’re looking for it, I know a krayt dragon a few hundred klicks away,” you suggest lightly.

He snorts. “No thanks. I’ll take the assassin.”

“Speaking of,” you said, “you guys know I’m just a mechanic, right?”

There’s a pause. Calican nods, but the Mando is still.

“What?” he asks, displeasure in his voice.

“I mean, I’m pretty good with a blaster, but I’m gonna be useless against Fennec Shand.”

Mando whirls on Calican. “You paid a mechanic to be your back-up? Are you insane?”

He shrugs. “(Y/N) has a mean right hook.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Mando huffs. He looks over at you and you can almost feel him glaring through the visor. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m broke,” you scoff. “Same thing. Oh, hey, do you need repairs on that hunk of junk you pilot? I’ll be more thorough than that lady at the hangar.”

He hesitates. “We’ll see.”

You grin. That’s not a no.

*

“You’re a prick, did I mention that?” you hiss over your shoulder.

Calican shoves the blaster into your side. “Shut up and keep walking.”

The Mandalorian stands on the other side of the hangar, waiting for Calican to make his move. Seriously, this day could not be going any worse. After killing Shand, Toro Calican, certified dumbass, decided that kidnapping you and the Mandalorian’s—pet? Child?—passenger was the best way to go. Whatever the little weird thing that’s in your arms is, it’s pretty cute, and you’d rather he shoot you than the baby holding tightly onto your shirt. In fact, he probably will, because the kid is his ticket into the Guild—you’re just dead weight.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh, partner?” Calican asks the Mando. “Drop your blaster and raise ‘em.”

The Mandalorian puts his hands behind his head. Next to you, Calican pushes Peli forward and instructs her to cuff him. With a huff, she moves behind the Mandalorian with the intent to follow orders.

“You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican begins. You consider sighing. This sounds like the start of a villain monologue. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape. Fennec was right. Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild, it’ll make me legendary.”

In a burst of light, the Mandalorian sets off a flash grenade.

You yelp and tuck the little thing into your arms before tucking yourself over into a roll down the ramp of the ship. You fall into the sand just in front of the Mandalorian, who’s moved to fire a shot at Calican, sending him flying off the other side, smouldering.

Breathing heavily, you sit up, the child still in your arms.

“Are you okay? Is the child?”

You look up. The Mandalorian has his gloved hand held out, offering to help you up. Hesitantly, you take it and pull yourself off the ground.

“We’re both okay—I think,” you say hesitantly, holding the baby out to him. “Is he—?”

“Dead,” the Mando confirms, taking the child from you.

You frown. “Good riddance. Thank you,” you tell him hesitantly, though your tone is genuine.

“It’s nothing,” he murmurs.

He distracts himself by checking on the child, who coos up at him contentedly. You smile a little at the interaction, but put yourself back into focus.

“It’s not nothing,” you say firmly. “I owe you a life debt.”

He freezes. “What?”

“Where I come from, if someone saves your life, you owe it to them. Until I can save your life, I owe you,” you explain.

“That’s—you don’t need to do that,” he says quickly.

You cross your arms. “It’s like your Way. It’s my culture, my honour on the line. You’re stuck with me, Mando.”

“What? No. Can’t you...pay me, or something?”

“I’m broke, remember?”

“You saved the child’s life, doesn’t that count?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I rolled with him. You did the work, so, no, it doesn’t count, even though he’s your…” You hesitate, remembering the word. “...foundling.”

“You know, you’re kind of getting the better end of the deal here,” Peli pipes up, directing the thought at the Mandalorian. “A free mechanic, babysitter, and an extra blaster? That’s a bargain.”

“Uh...pre-warning, I don’t know much about child care,” you warn immediately.

He snorts. “Neither do I.” After a moment, he sighs deeply. “Fine. But we’re going to work on those blaster skills before you become a liability.”

“Fair enough.”

*

Sticking with the Mandalorian is probably the worst decision of your life.

Almost immediately after Tatooine, in need of more funds, he drags you into trouble with another group of bounty hunters and the New Republic, of all groups.

“Who is this?” someone asks, her voice sing-song as she enters the Mandalorian’s ship.

You don’t bother turning around, continuing your repairs on a hull panel. “The mechanic. Don’t touch anything.”

“You have a personal mechanic?”

A few people enter the ship, making you finally turn around. The first speaker is a Twi’lek woman and the second a Human, who squints disdainfully. From behind him, Mando pushes past their little crew—including a protocol droid and a massive Devaronian—to approach you, deciding to stand next to you rather than them, which brings you immense pleasure for some reason.

“No. (Y/N) owes me a life debt and, apparently, credits don’t cut it,” he explains shortly, sounding frustrated and exhausted.

You nudge him companionably—it’s an argument you’ve had a few times, the paying of your debt. He doesn’t want to be free of you, per se, but he doesn’t want you to be in his debt. Having that kind of power or hold over you makes him uncomfortable, you can tell, as every time it comes up he gets twitchy.

“Kinky,” the Twi’lek snickers.

You grimace. That would explain why Mando sounds like he wants to die. “Fun group. What’s the job?”

“One of theirs got caught. We’re getting him out,” he says. “And we’re using our ship.”

Our ship. Maybe it’s a slip of the tongue or maybe he’s making it clear that you’re with him, but either way, it brings a smirk to your face. The Twi’lek looks disgusted.

“Well, at least my hard work won’t be going to waste,” you huff.

“Mando,” the Twi’lek interrupts, “you haven’t introduced us.”

You can feel him rolling his eyes. “(Y/N), meet Mayfeld, Burg, Xi’an. Mayfeld is running point, the droid is flying, and the target is a New Republic transport ship.”

“Ugh. You guys better be good; I’m not getting arrested.”

“Mayfeld’s former Imperial,” Mando says before any of them can answer.

You scoff. “A stormtrooper? My shitty blaster skills would be better than his.”

“I wasn’t a stormtrooper,” Mayfeld spits, annoyed enough that he must’ve said it once already. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

All but the droid stay, scattered around the hull. Mando follows soon after the jump to hyperspace, having hovered over the droid while it set their course. He stops Burg from getting into the weapons cache right after he hops down the ladder and the two look like they want to kill each other.

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian,” the Devaronian grunts.

Mayfeld huffs. “Well, apparently, they’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say.”

“Then why are they all dead?”

They all laugh at that—Xi’an with a particularly nasal one, which is irritating beyond belief. You frown deeply, but try not to show how pissed their laughter makes you. That sort of shit isn’t to be made fun of; a dying race. It’s all too familiar these days, what with the death of Alderaan and the crater on Scarif.

When you come back into focus, Xi’an is talking in low tones.

“See, I know who you really are,” she says to the Mando.

You roll your eyes. Unlikely.

(Something in your brain goes: I do, which is stupid. You don’t know who he is, under that helmet, sure, but you’ve seen a lot of him through his actions. He’s reckless, terrifying, and a badass, but he’s also patient and...kind, in his own way. The way he treats the child is like nothing you’ve seen in another bounty hunter. It’s gentle, caring. The kid has really grown on him, you think. And the way he treats you is just straight up polite, even though you’re practically his servant in terms of a life debt. Still, he treats you like a person and doesn’t ask you to do unreasonable favours just because he saved your life. He doesn’t hold it over your head.)

And then they start goading him about the helmet.

Burg actually goes for it, which Mando beats him back for. You jump forward, but just as you do, the door to the sleeping cot flies open, revealing the child.

Instead, you rush to the child, pulling him into your arms.

“What is that?” Mayfeld asks, approaching.

“Back off,” you hiss.

He looks between you and Mando. “Wait, did you two make that?” When you scoff, he frowns. “What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mando says quickly.

Xi’an frowns. “Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of yours has made you soft.”

You snort. Soft. That isn’t a word you’d use to describe him, ever. You haven’t seen very much action since Tatooine, but you saw enough there.

Mayfeld reaches for the child and, without hesitation, you lift your blaster. The way he’s looking at the little guy makes you uneasy.

“Fuck off,” you warn instantly.

“Aw, c’mon, I just wanna hold him,” he teases.

Over the comms, the droid’s voice echoes. “Dropping out of hyperspace. Now.”

The entire ship shudders and shakes, sending everyone flying off their feet. You happen to ram into beskar, your face slamming into the metal, which makes you yelp. The baby wails in your arms as gravity makes to tug you away again. Before it can, Mando grabs your arms and holds you in place against him until the ship is steady once more.

“You okay?” he asks, helping you to your feet—again, you think miserably.

“Ugh, no,” you groan, putting a hand on the left side of your face. “That’s gonna bruise.”

Mando takes the child from you. “Sorry. We’ll deal with it after.”

You wave him off. “I’ve had worse. You worry about the job, I’ll watch the kid,” you say, taking the child back. You can’t help but smile when he coos happily.

“Right,” Mando mutters. For a moment, he watches you both, considering.

“Mando!” calls Mayfeld. “Let’s go!”

Before he goes, he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.” You nod, which seems to appease him, and watch him leave.

Petting the child’s floppy ears, you wonder if he meant that to be as comforting as it was.

*

I should’ve known, Din thinks when Qin walks out of that cell.

I definitely should’ve known, he decides, returning to the Razor Crest to find a sparking droid corpse and a shaking child in your arms.

He tosses the cuffed Twi’lek to the side and rushes to yours, stepping over Zero’s limp form. You look relatively unfazed, for someone who’s just ripped a droid’s head off with their bare hands, but the child is rather distressed. The kid squeaks at the sight of Din and, much to his surprise, lifts your hand to show him.

It’s bleeding.

“What did you do?” Din questions, crossing the hull for his medical kit.

“I...may have tried to punch the droid,” you admit hesitantly. “It didn’t work.”

He scoffs, returning to kneel in front of you with bacta patches in his hands. “No karking shit.”

Your face falls as he reaches for your hand, pulling it toward him so he can patch it up. “It was gonna hurt the kid.”

“You did good,” he murmurs. “Stupid, but good.”

It never occurred to him that you might save the child again. You’re here out of necessity, after all, because you owe him, because your honour depends on paying that debt. The child is just another being in the vicinity, but you still saved him. Again. You’re either very stupid or very kind and he can’t decide which one is more concerning.

“Maybe you should teach me a bit of hand to hand, too,” you suggest warmly, wincing at the bacta’s sting.

Din makes a noise that’s sort of a laugh. “I’ll add it to the list.”

He moves to put bacta on the bruise his beskar gave you—He feels ridiculously guilty for that; here you are, paying off a life debt to him, and he still manages to hurt you—but with a hand, you stop him.

“Don’t waste it,” you say immediately. “I’ve had worse bruises, seriously.”

He frowns. “It’s not a waste.” Before you can protest, he puts the patch on top of the bruise.

You huff. “You’re a worrier, aren’t you, Mando?”

“Apparently,” he replies dryly. He hadn’t realised it, either.

“Will you stop flirting and get us out of here!?” Qin shouts from the other side of the hull. “The New Republic will be on our asses!”

You roll your eyes. “I hate to say it, but he has a point. Where are the others?”

“Dealt with,” he says simply. “It was a double-cross.”

“Well, I figured,” you shoot back with a knowing look. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

The drop is easy enough, especially since Din knows that New Republic signal is beeping steadily from Qin’s pocket. He escapes quickly, dipping back into the Razor Crest, where you wait at the top of the ramp, the child hanging onto your boot.

“Let’s go,” he declares, the ramp shutting behind him as he enters.

“Already?” you question with a raised eyebrow. “There are a few repairs I could make out of hyperspace that might be useful.”

He waves you toward the cockpit. “Later. We need to leave.”

“Oookay.” You frown but do as he says, plucking the child from off your foot. “C’mon, little guy,” you mutter to him.

Din waves away all your questions as he starts the take-off. Finally, when the Razor Crest is a safe distance away from the space station and X-Wings appear out of hyperspace, he glances back at you.

“Holy shit!” you cry as they open fire. You look back at him with a slack jaw, which makes him smile underneath the helmet. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, but it’s enough of an answer.

“You’re a maniac, Mando,” you laugh, watching the scene through the transparisteel.

Din thinks over it, staring at you for a long moment. There’s light in your eyes—maybe it’s the reflection of the explosion, but it’s captivating.

“Din,” he says.

You look over. “Hm?”

He clears his throat, trying to shove aside nerves. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Oh. Oh,” you repeat, eyes wide. Then, you smile, more genuine than he’s ever seen from you, he thinks. “You’re crazy, Din. You know that, right?”

He laughs—and that’s the first time you’ve heard a proper one from him. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

*

When Din drops a pair of gloves in front of you, you laugh.

“You’re telling me the gloves are out of convenience?” you ask him disbelievingly.

“The more skin you cover, the less likely you are to get cut up by a vibroblade,” he replies dryly. “Put them on.”

You raise your hands in surrender and take them, slipping them over your fingers. “Surprisingly comfy.”

It occurs to you that this is...sort of a big deal. You’ve kept your hands bare for as long as you can remember, mostly because you’re a romantic and finding your Soulmate has been at the forefront of your mind for a long time. But now, you think, it’s not such a big deal. You have a debt to pay and, besides that, you’re pretty happy with how things are now.

Life isn’t exactly nice with Din and the kid, so to say, but you’re content. You love the child and he adores you. The Razor Crest feels more like home than any planet ever has. And Din is...well, he’s something. Being around him is mildly addicting and whenever he’s gone, something feels incomplete.

“Better?” you ask, lifting your gloved hands.

“Much,” he says. Then, he holds out his own hand. “C’mon, up.”

You take the hand without thought, but before you know it, he’s swinging you around and shoving you to the ground.

“Ow!” you cry. “What the hell, Din?”

He huffs. “Lesson 1: Never take anything for granted.”

“Rude.” You hit his arm meaningfully, but he just rolls his eyes; just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean you can’t tell it’s happening.

“You’ll thank me someday.”

“But not today.”

“Nope. Today, you’re gonna hate my guts.”

*

He’s dying.

It feels unreal, what with everything you’ve watched him survive so far. A newbie bounty hunter, a group of pissed off bounty hunters, lots of bounty hunters, and the New Republic but a group of stormtroopers is what gets him?

Moff Gideon is what really gets him, though. The bastard that helped destroy his people is going to destroy Din Djarin. Hearing him speak Din’s name makes you nauseous, furious, even. He gave you that name in confidence, trusted it to you, the only one of his handful of friends to even use it, and Gideon decides to declare it to Nevaroo in its entirety. It makes your blood boil, enough that you get out of the initial firefight mostly unscathed.

But Din doesn’t. And now he’s dying in your arms and you feel like you failed.

“Go with them,” he tells you, all croaky and half-assed.

“No. No, I’m not leaving you here,” you declare, carefully leaning him against the rubble.

Flames flicker all around the room and the child is crying. It’s not loud or consistent, but it’s enough to break your heart.

“You have to go,” Din says again. “You’ll die.”

You laugh ruefully. “That’s kind of the point. A life debt means I save your life or I die trying.”

A pause.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” he hisses through the pain.

“Afraid not, dumbass. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

He grasps your arm, his hands still gloved. If you’re going to die here, maybe you should ask him to take off the gloves. A part of you has wondered…

“C’mon, tell me it’s transferable—some ‘dying wish’ shit like that.”

You nod, though the action sinks uncomfortably into your chest. Leaving him here...that doesn’t sit well with you. But if he asks, then you’ll do it. “Yeah, you name it, but it’d better be a big one, something equivalent.”

The breath he lets out is one of relief. “Take care of the kid. Go find his people and return him to them. Protect him.”

“With my dying breath,” you swear, the words holding an air of ceremony.

Din grasps your arm tighter and pulls you down, your forehead meeting his helmet. You’re not sure what it means, but it must mean something because he mutters words in his own language, which you’ve never heard him do before.

“Ret’urcye mhi.”

May we meet again.

Din does what little he can in saying goodbye to you, as deeply as that cuts. You’ve grown on him, a little too much maybe, and it kills him to think that you’ll be without him now. You still can’t hit a headshot, he realises, suddenly worried for how you’ll fare.

And so he gives you what he can: a Keldabe kiss and a goodbye, instead of the action he wants to take. He wants to take off his gloves and see if he can figure out the colour of your eyes. On the other hand, though, he doesn’t want to leave you with that, of all things, to leave you seeing the red of his blood and the blue-tinged orange of the flames before any other colours.

You take the child in your arms and, with one last glance at Din, leave the room for the covert’s tunnels underground.

The child whimpers up at you.

You look down, sniffling, and pet his ears gently. “I know, little one. I’m so sorry.” You place a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Cara appears, tugging on your wrist. “C’mon,” she says gently. “We need to get out of here.”

It occurs to you, as the three of you and Greef move on, that Cara might help you with the child. For Din, obviously. She’s a good person and, frankly, she and Din seem pretty friendly. The second she saw you, she’d offered her bare hand and bemoaned the fact that her vision was still black and white, much to your amusement. It was all in good fun, but Din had looked a little uncomfortable, for reasons you didn’t know.

“(Y/N),” Cara says quietly, calling your attention back.

You shake yourself from your thoughts. “Sorry.”

She smiles sadly. “It’s okay. Just keep up.”

The small group turns a few corners before footsteps sound from behind. You immediately place the child in the bag hanging from Cara’s shoulder and draw your blaster, watching her and Greef do the same.

From the distant hall, two figures approach: IG-11 and—

“Din!” you half-cry, half-breathe out. Holstering your blaster, you meet them halfway to take more of Din’s weight from IG. “How—?”

“No living thing can see me without my helmet. IG isn’t alive,” Din says dryly.

You laugh, a partly manic sound. “Thank kark. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

The noise he makes is both amused and resigned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s the—?”

“He’s with Cara,” you say, finishing the thought before even he can, in his groggy state.

It’s safe to say that when the Armourer gives him his sigil, Din almost considers correcting the Clan of two to a Clan of three. He doesn’t, reminding himself that you’re here because of a debt and nothing else, but the thought is there.

*

The months after Nevarro are more peaceful than the first week of your time with Din. 

You finally get to pull a proper sleeping space together for yourself. Well, it’s a hammock in the hull, but it’s better than the seats in the cockpit. The child gets his own hammock, too, though it’s in the cot space with Din. He loves it, so much so that he squeals when he sees it. That’s your proudest moment, for sure.

Most days, you tend to forget that you still owe a life debt. To be honest, it just feels like the three of you are normal. Din takes bounties, you take short mechanic jobs on different planets, and the two of you trade off on child-duty. It’s pretty regular, more than what your life used to be, anyway.

Din is still training you in hand-to-hand and blasters, of course. You’re getting better with the latter, but the first is difficult. On the way to Tatooine, where there’s supposedly another Mandalorian, he decides to have another training session.

“Fists higher, do it again.”

Huffing, you wipe your wrist across your sweaty forehead. It’s easy enough to obey the order—the first part, anyway. Getting into his guard is difficult, though.

One hit, two blocks—there. You slip under his guard and make an abrupt drop to the ground, sweeping his legs out under him with a fierce movement. He goes down in a tumble of beskar, joining you on the floor. As soon as he’s down, you flip over and straddle his hips, an arm over his neck in false threat.

He barks out a laugh. “Much better.”

“I’m not entirely hopeless!” you declare joyfully before bursting into snickers.

Leaning down, you thunk your forehead against his helmet. The gesture is fond, you’ve learned, something shared between close companions—or at least you think. Din told you that it’s called a mirshmure’cya in Mando’a, that it doesn’t have an equivalent word in Basic.

(Which is technically true. Literally, it means brain-kiss, but the outsider term for it is Keldabe kiss. It can be used for close companions—vode in arms, family—but it’s also used for romantic partners, so he’s mildly horrified at the idea of explaining its cultural significance to you and having to face his feelings for someone that may or may not be his Soulmate. He hasn’t gotten up the courage to ask if he can check. Or try to do it discreetly.)

A distant beeping starts up, coming from the cockpit. It’s the approach warning, which means the training session is over.

“I’ll get the kid,” you say, climbing off Din and offering a hand.

He takes it without hesitation, dragging himself up and making a beeline for the cockpit.

Tatooine is about what you remember. That is, it’s dry, sandy, and the worst planet you’ve ever been on. Stepping out of the ship and into the hangar makes you smile, though, at the not-so-distant memory of Din saving your life. It hasn’t been that long, but it feels like it’s been years.

“Oh, hey!” says Peli, after greeting the child—which is fair, he’s adorable. “You’re still with him! Haven’t repaid that debt yet, huh?”

Your face falls. “Uh, no, not really.”

On the way to Mos Pelgo, your thoughts linger on the life debt. One of these days, you’re going to save Din’s life—then where will you be? Will he want you to leave? What will you do if you have to leave? Your old life was nowhere near as interesting as this, nor did you have anyone close to what Din and the child are to you.

The dreary grey slopes of sand only make it easier to think of the worst possible outcomes. Now you remember why you hated Tatooine so much.

You don’t even realise the speeder is approaching the small town until Din taps your arm, which is wrapped around his waist. Jumping at the touch, you loosen your grip sheepishly and glance at the child, who looks like he’s enjoying himself immensely.

After the speeder comes to a stop, you take the kid while Din enters the cantina.

When you enter yourself, you find that he’s about to shoot someone, while the Weequay behind the bar looks rather distressed.

“Perfect timing, as always,” Din remarks without a glance.

You raise your free hand. “You’re the bad luck charm, I’m just here for the ride,” you retort teasingly.

“You brought a kid to a gunfight?” his opponent asks, raising an eyebrow.

Finally, you glance over at him and see why Din looks ready to kill him. He’s in Mandalorian armour but his helmet is off—clearly, he’s not Mandalorian. “You’re wearing beskar and you’re not a Mandalorian, buddy. I think you’re in more trouble than the kid is.”

“He is,” Din gets out, a twinge of viciousness in his voice.

Before they can even reach for their blasters, though, the ground starts to shake.

You grab onto the doorway for support, eyes wide as you grip the child. Din and the Mandalorian poser move toward the door, joining you and staring out at the street outside.

The entire planet feels like it rumbles and chaos reigns outside.

Something is moving the sand—coming toward the town.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper as it goes by, shifting the sand like it’s an ocean rather than earth. It flies out of the ground, sharp teeth the only thing you see as it consumes a bantha whole.

When it’s gone, the poser huffs. “Maybe we can work something out.” He turns to you, offering a hand, which is covered by fingerless gloves. “Cobb Vanth. I’m the Marshal here.”

You take it hesitantly, glad that things are still black and white when you make contact. “(Y/N).”

He notices your hesitation and chuckles. “The Weequay in there is Sala, my Soulmate. I’ll see if they can’t whip up something for the kid; I’m sure he’s starving.”

“Very,” you say, just before he goes to leave.

When it’s just you and Din, you look over at your companion. “Krayt dragon, huh?”

“Yep,” he sighs, already sounding tired.

You laugh. “I know I said I could bring you to one when we met, but I was totally kidding.”

He looks over at you and you can feel the low-level glare behind the visor, but it only makes you snicker. “I hate you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you retort immediately.

*

You finally get to repay your debt.

It’s not what you’re thinking about when you shove Din out of the way of the krayt’s projectile venom, but it’s repaid nonetheless.

Din doesn’t think of it immediately, either, as he’s rather more concerned with the fact that you’re sent flying across the desert into a pile of debris and sharp rocks.

“(Y/N)!”

Before he can run to you, Cobb grabs his arm. “The dragon!”

To be honest, killing the dragon feels like a bonus when he pulls himself together and figures out a plan. When the great beast explodes, the Tuskens and the villagers cheer, but Din races back to the place he saw you last. He pushes aside the remains of one of those massive weapons they built to find you, laying on the ground. For a moment, panic clutches his heart, but then you groan.

“Am I dead?” you ask.

Din lets out a breath, hardly managing it, as he kneels next to you. “Dumbass.”

“Because it feels like I’m dead.”

“Dumbass,” he repeats, ripping your shirt away to find a deep cut in your side, just above your hip. “Of all the ways to pay your debt—”

You sit up, wincing. “Oh,” you say, as if you hadn’t realised it, “I guess I did that, too.”

Din’s heart is still beating a million klicks a second at how close you were to being dead, but for a second, it flips, realising that you hadn’t saved him just to pay the debt. And then, as he’s helping you off the ground and bringing you toward the others, who have bacta patches ready, his heart sinks.

Your debt is paid. You don’t have any reason to stay with him and the kid. As soon as you get back to the city, he’s going to have to watch you leave.

Shit. He didn’t think this through.

Meanwhile, you’re on the same train of thought. Does he really think you saved him for the debt? Does he want you gone that bad? It makes sense. You’re a pain in the ass, with all the training you need. But...well, you thought he might’ve—

“I’ve changed my mind,” you declare.

Din, terrified, attempts to sound neutral. “About?”

“The worst job we’ve ever taken. This is definitely it,” you huff as he helps you down onto a smoother boulder, taking patches from a Tusken.

He goes to use them, but you raise a hand.

“If you even think about getting near my wound with those nasty gloves, I’m going to skin you,” you threaten.

Frankly, Din is too shaken to even laugh. The silence lays there, stilted, as he removes his gloves and sits somewhat behind you, on another close stone. You’ve taken yours off, too, seeing as one is ripped all the way through.

He’s careful with the bacta patch and his bare hands, making sure not to touch your skin.

Now, of all moments, would be the worst time to find out that you really don’t have a reason to stay.

While he works, he thinks, briefly, that he should say something. “(Y/N),” he starts to say. “I—”

But that happens to be the moment he’s putting the bacta patch on. You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, wincing. Your hand flies out, reaching for something to ground you. Of course, because something out there has it out for you, you grab his hand, forgetting that his gloves are, for once in his life, not there.

You realise, ridiculously, that his hand is warm.

And then the world around you explodes into colour.

The faded yellow of the surrounding desert is overwhelming with how it burns into your eyes alongside the brilliant blue of the sky. The surrounding Tuskens are in browns and greys, simple things, but so, so beautiful to your new sight. You breathe out, a shaky action.

Behind you, Din comes to see the same, but his gaze is stuck on the back of your head—the (h/c) of your hair and how the light catches in it, despite it being a complete mess.

You barely have the breath to gasp, but you do, whirling around to face him.

His beskar is beyond what you’d pictured: a shining, sparkling silver that could stand out on a star. No wonder rooms fall silent at the sight of him.

Din has the same thought about your eyes. On death’s door, all he’d wanted was to know what colour they are and now he knows, but it feels so useless now. He doesn’t even know what to call them. Sure, (e/c) would work, however weakly. You are...something else. You always have been, but now it’s like he can see it, the beauty of who you are so plainly painted into your features.

Din doesn’t even have the time to be afraid of your reaction before the words are slipping out. “I don’t want you to go.”

You just stare at him for a long moment, words processing.

It...kind of freaks him out.

He jumps when you fling yourself at him, arms wrapped around his shoulders in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten. Immediately, he responds, clutching the back of your shirt like it’ll save his life.

“Thank the Force,” you breathe out, just beside where his ear is under the helmet. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Din lets out a breath of relief and tugs you closer so you’re practically sitting on his lap. It can’t be comfortable, but you don’t seem to mind. When you do finally pull away, it’s to press your forehead against his helmet. It sends a swell of affection through him again, your constant Keldabe kisses. He taught you something important to his culture, to him, and here you are, using it without thought.

“Is it too late to tell you that this is the Mandalorian equivalent of a kiss?” he murmurs, more than a little embarrassed.

You laugh softly, arms reaching to rest around his neck. “And I thought you were so cool.”

“I just blew up a krayt dragon,” he argues.

“Oh, you’re plenty badass, Din,” you tease back, “just...not smooth.”

He huffs. “I’m gonna kick your ass next training session.”

A grin comes over your face and, for a second, he can’t comprehend why that would make you smile—until he realises that he just promised a next time. You’d genuinely believed he wanted you gone and Din thought you wanted to leave, but neither of you were right. 

A whine from below catches both your attention.

The child reaches up from the ground, making grabby hands.

You laugh, a noise Din echoes quietly, and pluck him from the ground, holding him in your careful hands. “Hey, buddy. Feeling left out?”

He squeaks a confirmation, his little hands—green hands, you realise, deeply amused—reaching for Din’s helmet. Once he has a comfortable hand, he bashes his head against the helmet.

Din yelps, not out of pain, but concern, grabbing for the kid, who wobbles dizzily.

“Oh, shit—” Din says.

“Woah, woah,” you get out between wheezing laughs. “Don’t do that! His head is much harder than yours.”

The kid makes a weak huff and curls against Din’s chest stubbornly.

“I think that was an attempted kiss,” you suggest to Din.

Underneath his helmet, he grins. Petting the child’s head with a gentle finger, he looks back up at you. “It was cute.”

“Very,” you agree.

Without prompting, Din reaches for your hand again, a little hesitant. You take his gladly, running your thumb across his knuckles, which makes him shiver.

“Clan of three,” he whispers.

You lift your gaze. “Hm?”

“The Armourer, she said, ‘Clan of two’ when she gave me my sigil,” he explains. “I wanted to correct her then.”

The smile on your face is beyond words. “Clan of three has a ring to it. You’re stuck with me for good now, Din Djarin.”

He snorts and raises your hand to his helmet, touching it briefly to the metal in lieu of kissing it.

Tatooine might be the worst place in the universe, Din thinks that it doesn’t matter so much where he is. Sitting here, with you and the kid, he thinks that this might be home.

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

Arir - Rogue, Chapter 2| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (F)

Summary: After giving up, you and the Mandalorian go back to his ship, travelling out of Sorgan and back into space. It’s a long trip through hyperspace... there’s only so long you can ignore each other for. The differences between you and your hidden secret might cause clashes.. but when the time comes, will you act? Or not? 

Warnings: swearing, injury detail, mentions of death/war etc, degradation (not in a nice way), flirtation/suggestive themes and the such? Let me know if I’ve forgotten anything. 

AN: Thank you all for the love on the first chapter!! Let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!!

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Word count: 6789

Also, the planet in which we visit here is the unnamed industrial planet from Season 2, Episode 1 with the creatures that like the dark. 

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar​ @weirdowithnobeardo

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl

Mando’a Translation: Arir - To act

You swam around in hazy darkness for a while, in no rush to wake up. You were free from pain here, free from running, and from being hunted. It was… peaceful. You liked it here. 

Unfortunately, this is your life. And you don’t have such good luck. Noise began to filter through the haze in your mind, the beeping of machinery and the muffled whir of engines.

You groaned softly, your head feeling like it was full of rocks as you forced open your eyes, blinking a few times. You looked around, seeing a holding area on what appeared to be the inside of a ship.

You were seated on the floor, the cold metal seeping through your trousers and as you pulled yourself up more comfortably, you found that your hands were cuffed to a metal pipe on the wall of the ship. 

Opposite you, was a huge bank of… solid hunks of something, what looked like the bodies and faces of people and creatures stick in them. You frowned, squinting in the low light and then you realised that they were. Humans, creatures big and small, all trapped screaming in carbonite.

Brilliant.

Maybe the fact you were supposedly such a high bounty would keep you far away from being trapped in that.

Resting your head back, you stared at a spot in the corner of the room, just thinking. It took you a while, but you suddenly realised that your shoulder had been bound. It still hurt so much, but the wrappings around it kept it somewhat stable.

Interesting. The Mandalorian had wrapped your wounds before cuffing you in this holding cell of his ship.

-

It might have been hours later, but you were awoken from a light doze by boots thudding softly down the hall and then the Mandalorian was walking over, stopping in front of you, “Wake up.” He nudged your feet with his own, earning a groan from you.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to wake someone up when they’re asleep?” You glared at him, tilting your head back to look up at the impassive expression of the helmet.

He replied easily without missing a beat, “Don’t you know it’s rude to call someone heartless when you don’t even know who they are?”

You smiled slowly, dropping your eyelids to half-mast, “Uncuff me and we can get to know each other just fine, tin can.”

The eye roll was practically audible, but he knelt down, moving close to you as he reached for your wrist, “I was thinking we could keep the cuffs on.”

Maker, the way his voice dropped, that rasp coming through the modulator, his scent washed over you, smoke, metal and something else, something citrusy almost.

You swallowed, having not expected him to play back so quickly, thrown off.

He snickered, actually laughing as he undid the cuffs, snapping them back over your wrists, “You set yourself up for that one, sweetheart.” His voice betrayed the smirk that was clearly under the beskar as he pulled you to your feet. He pulled you past the carbonite chamber, round the corner and through the ship until you got to a ladder, “Go on.”

You looked up, then over your shoulder at him, “You want me to climb a ladder with my hands cuffed?” You raised your eyebrow, well aware of your own skill to be able to do so. After all, you’d been cuffed and still escaped with your wrists bound so many times, you’d lost count. Didn’t mean you couldn’t poke him a little. 

Your protest was met with a tilt of his helmet, his voice dripping in false sweetness, “I saw you run across the canopy of a tree like you were flying. I think you’ll be able to manage this, princess.” He just stood there, watching you, one hand resting on his hip.

A few seconds passed, but you turned, giving in and climbing the ladder, resting your wrists on the rung above for balance. Maybe throwing a little extra sway into your hips as you rose up into what appeared to be a cockpit. Climbing out was a little difficult, the tin can below making no effort to help you.

When you got back to your feet, you looked around. It was cosy up here, two seats, big open windows that gave you a view to the outside, the stars blinking around the ship, scattered across the never-ending blackness.

The lights inside flickered on and off, instruments making soft beeps now and then. Resting to the side, was a metal sphere, sort of hovering there gently. That must be the Child, nestled inside, sleeping safely. And on top…

Duru.

Curled up with her nose tucked under her leg, her tail swishing gently.

You made a soft noise, taking a step toward her because you had been convinced that she was gone, deep in the forest.

The Mandalorian’s voice came from behind you suddenly, “By the time I’d carried you back to the ship, she was already at my feet. Lucky I have armour. Your little friend has a hell of a set of claws on her. I can see why she likes you.”

Something warm stirred in your chest as you beheld her sleeping form. She’d come back to you, tried to defend you. It warmed you so much, that you didn’t protest as the Mandalorian tugged you to the other chair, unbinding your wrists and instead attaching each one to either arm of the chair. He then settled into the pilots’ seat, leaning back, his legs spread naturally, and his arms crossed over his stupidly broad chest.

And just looked at you.

You blinked, shifting in your seat as you gazed back at him, raising an eyebrow faintly, “What?”

Nothing. He said nothing. Just kept looking at you. It was like you could feel his eyes running over you, burning into your skin and turning you inside out.

The seconds ticked by, minutes maybe and you started to get uncomfortable. “If you’re trying to undress me with your eyes, it’s not working.”

His arms relaxed, his hands coming to rest on his thighs, “I’m trying to work it out.”

You frowned in confusion, “Work what out?”

A tilt of the head, “Why your bounty is so high. You mess with the wrong people?”

You rolled your eyes, “No. I thought you didn’t care? I was just a bounty to you?” 

He ignored you, maybe made a tiny huff, but still kept his head tilted, “Kill someone?”

 You leant back in the chair, swinging it from side to side gently, “I think we covered that base already, tin can.”

“You steal something?” 

“Only your heart.” You smiled an overly sweet smile, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Not even close.”

A thoughtful noise filtered through the modulator, “High class runaway bride from an arranged marriage?”

You stared at him, blinking once and then you burst out laughing, “Yeah, sure. I was engaged to a member of one of the Elder Houses. It was the night before my wedding and I couldn’t take it, so I ran away with all my upper class Lady-ness” You still laughed, shaking your head, “I thought you were supposed to be smart. You really think I’m of noble heritage and class?”

Mandalorian shrugged carelessly, “You’re self-righteous enough.”

“I’d rather be self-righteous than a pretentious asshole like you.”

“Did I say there was a difference?” He still faced you, assessing you. It made your skin prickle and you weren’t sure if it was entirely with discomfort.

“Did you get in with the wrong people? Make some bad friends?” Something occurred to him, something you said during your fight, “Are you a Jedi?”

Too far.

You stared at him, eyes suddenly like ice, “Stop. I’m not telling you, so stop asking.” Way too far.

“What is it? It must be something bad, I’ve seen the list that came before me, and who employed them. Only someone to do with the Jedi would pull in that much of a bounty so y-“

You cut across him, the playfulness dropping from your voice and leaving it dripping with cold fire, a stirring deep within you, a whisper of power. “Enough. I am nothing to you but your bounty, remember? Drop it.”

 Before he could even form the words, his sniping protest was cut off by Duru awakening with a chitter, springing into your lap and then climbing up around your shoulders. Seconds later, the cradle opened, and its little green inhabitant sat up with a coo, looking straight at you.

Stars above, he was adorable.

Your lips melted back into a grin as you beheld his sort of wrinkled green face, large glossy black eyes blinking at you and the most adorable floppy bat ears. You laughed a little, “well, I can see why you went rogue for him. He’s the sweetest little thing.” You tilted your head, cooing back at him, “Hi, sweetie, look at you…”

The Mandalorian spun round, pressing a button on his wrist and the sphere snapped shut suddenly, “Don’t touch him. Or look at him. Leave him alone.”

You shifted a look of disbelief at him, eyebrows raised, “What, because I might hurt him by being strapped to a chair? Well done, Mando, you got it. I’m being hunted by so many people because I take one look at wrinkly, green babies and they die.” You threw your eyes up toward the ceiling yet again, this time with a noise of incredulity. 

“Stop rolling your eyes at me.” His snarl both brought a shit-eating grin to your lips and made your toes curl. You chose to ignore the latter.

You laughed, still grinning as you leant forward as much as your bonds would allow, “Why, does it turn you on?”

You were rewarded with a growl this time and he turned his chair round to face the front of the ship, so quickly you were surprised he didn’t come full circle and face you again.

The seething silence was broken by a soft shwoomp and the cradle opened once more. The Child sat back up, looking at you with a tilted head like his father, those big bat ears lifting.

You lifted your fingers, wiggling them at him in a silent hello, earning yourself a delighted gurgle.  Sweet little thing. The wall of beskar in front of you clearly had a soft heart underneath all that armour. 

You leant back in the chair, pondering that for a little while, Duru’s tail hanging over your chest and brushing your forearm every now and then. The darkness outside the walls of the ship, the muffled hum of the engine and the occasional beeps of machinery provided a soft ambience that had your eyelids starting to droop. You hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in… forever. At least here, in the Razor Crest, there was some level of safety, enough that you could allow yourself to relax.

No!! Stop! You are in a ship, piloted by the rogue Mandalorian who is taking you back to Maker knows where for a large sum of money!

Wake. Up! 

Your head jerked up and you shook it, trying to clear the sleepy haze from it. Maybe you should ask for a medic. Your judgement seemed to be failing you rather a lot lately.

Casting your eyes around, you looked for something to talk about, anything to keep yourself awake. You landed on Grogu’s crib again. “So… you’re really just... doing this on your own?” 

Curiosity clearly got the better of him, because his voice filtered out through the helmet, that arrogant tone edging his words, “Do you see anyone else with me?”

You made a thoughtful noise, “I mean… keeping an eye out for people chasing you, taking jobs and hunting… all whilst looking after the kid at the same time… Aren’t you tired?”

“Don’t these kinds of questions come after we’ve known each other more than 6 hours?” He sounded bored, but you didn’t fail to notice the way his hand tightened on the controls.

 Clearly you were hitting a nerve. And you weren’t going to let it drop, “But going to all these planets, doing what you do… not knowing who to trust…”

“Enough. Stop talking, if you can manage that.” That word was an order, your own word thrown right back at you in a low, gritted tone.

You raised an eyebrow at him – well, the back of his head, “You’re the one that brought me up here. You could have left me shackled to the pipes downstairs and saved yourself the annoyance.” 

Mandalorian made a noise of what could have been frustration or regret at that decision, “I brought you up here so I could keep an eye on you. I don’t trust you down there.”

Now that brought a smirk to your lips, “You think I could have gotten out.” It wasn’t a question. “Afraid I’ll find your weapons and slit your throat?” 

The ship glided easily through the vast openness of stars and darkness, falling around you like you were the only people in the galaxy.

He snorted, “Please don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. The day you can do that is the day the stars implode.”

You rolled your eyes at the back of his head, resting your cheek against Duru’s tail. Dick.

Movement caught your eye and Mando turned to face you, his hands on his thighs after seemingly putting the ship on autopilot, “I thought I told you not to roll your eyes at me.”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “I thought I asked if it turned you on. You never answered.” 

You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, “And if it does?” That rasp had dropped, caressing your bones, sliding over them with a dark whisper. He had leant forward in his chair, hands sliding down his thighs and you couldn’t help but look at them, the way they spread over the amour plates. Fuck.

You shifted your eyes back up to him, willing your cheeks not to flush with the unbidden thoughts “I thought I was nothing more than a bounty to you?” You raised an eyebrow, fingers tapping on the arms of the chair. You were only his bounty… so... why this flirting?

Mandalorian laughs, as if sensing your thoughts, “Relax, I’m just playing with you.” He shrugged easily, “I brought you up here because…” He hesitated, immediately piquing your curiosity.

“Because?” 

He almost sighed a little bit, “Because you gave in. Usually, they only give in when they know they’re dead. They give in because they think I’ll let them go. But with you…” He tilted his head a little, ”I could tell it wasn’t that.”

Your eyes flickered over his helmet, debating whether or not to talk to this man. He was here on the request and money of someone who wanted you. But… it had been so long since you had someone to talk to… And your instincts weren’t screaming at you that this man was dangerous. In fact, they were oddly silent. “I gave up because… you were right. So many people have died because of me. Whether they were people that I knew, or people that were… collateral damage. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else dying for me. It makes me sick; I hate myself for it. Even if I had gotten away from you, it wouldn’t have mattered.”

Mando’s voice was almost… soft, “Why not?”

You swallowed, just knowing he must have seen it, “Because even though you gave me a choice… to give in or be dragged in dead... someone else would have come after me. Someone else who no doubt wouldn’t have given me that choice. And… I’m just tired.” You hated the way your voice broke on that last word, hated that you’d just revealed all of that to a Mandalorian of all people. But it had happened anyway. No more. No more talking.

He stayed looking at you for a long while, perhaps debating whether to say something. He just nodded very slightly, and then turned back to the controls.

 ~

The next few hours slipped past… easily. You spent some of it in silence, some if in just absent conversation, as if he wasn’t a Mandalorian and you weren’t a bounty handcuffed to a chair.

 He took you to another part of the ship when night rolled around – not that you’d know with the endless stars, but you supposed he had an internal body clock that ran a routine. It was a sort of storage room, cramped with boxes but it was warm and quiet, just the hum of the engines. Upon arrival, you’d noticed that he’d cleared a space in the corner, laid some blankets out.

You hadn’t been able to help expressing your surprise, “No wonder you have such a high success rate. This is luxury compared to what some of us bounties live in.” 

He’d shrugged again, but something about the way he held his body and his voice had sounded… bashful? “There’s not many sleeping spaces in the ship and… you’re not a murderer or a criminal so…” He shrugged, almost floundering, “As far as I know. I just… thought it might be more comfortable. Besides, I couldn’t leave you in the cockpit, who knows if you’d get that cat of yours to do something.“

“Mando. Thank you.” You had cut him off before he dug himself a deeper hole, the atmosphere becoming a little odd. He had let you lie down – then re-cuffed one of your wrists to the wall, and then went on his way.

 Sleep came quickly that night, exhaustion weighing your lips down again but not before you’d sat and pondering the last 4 hours in your head. You’d said more to him about yourself than you had anyone in… years. Weird. Best not dwell on it.

 ~

 A soft cry woke you what seemed like minutes later, echoing down from the belly of the ship. You sat up, awkwardly, one hand still attached to the wall, ears pricked and listening. It came again, a pitiful cry that you realised was the Child, who had seemingly woken up in the night. You listened for a while, waiting to hear if Mando came but he didn’t.

You couldn’t just leave the Child to cry… what if he’d had a bad nightmare?

Looking at the cuff on your wrist thoughtfully, you reached into your hair, braided back. He clearly hadn’t noticed, but you kept long pins in your hair, the pretence of keeping wisps back from your face. Really though, they were a weapon, specially crafted pins with sharp ends that would hurt an incredible amount if jammed into someone’s eye. They also came in pretty handy as lock picks and you’d used them on more than one occasion to get out of cuffs.

They were one of your most prized belongings. And they would come in perfectly handy right now.

Within seconds, you were free, padding down the hall quietly as you made your way up to the next level, following the crying.

You’d located his little compartment not long later and it opened at your touch.

Inside, bundled in soft rags and blankets, was Grogu. He was sitting up, his big bat ears hanging down and cries emanating from such a tiny body, straight to your heart.

You pouted a little, reaching in and gently picking him up, “Hey… none of that, little one. What’s wrong?” You held him against your hip, instinct taking over and you began to rock gently, your hand lifting to stroke his floppy ears.

Grogu cried still, little stubby hands curling into fists in your cloak as you rocked him. Maybe he’d had a bad dream after all?

You thought back, trying to remember when you were young, scared or upset and what your mother would sing to you. You looked down at the Child, the words coming back easily and then you began to sing, softly. At the same time, you began walking up and down in front of his compartment, adding a gentle rock still to give him a reassuring movement.

Almost at once, his cries stopped, instead turning to sniffly gasps of air and he tilted his head curiously at you, perhaps wondering what you were doing.

As if you could understand him somehow, you smiled around the lyrics of the song, just a lullaby your mother always used to coax you back to sleep.

It took you five repetitions of the song, countless steps up and down but finally, finally his little green head slumped against your chest, his breathing slowing and ears relaxing.

You let out a soft breath of relief, singing the song so quietly now, keeping up your routine just to make sure the kid stayed out.

 Unfortunately, other people didn’t seem to share that idea and footsteps came clanging down the hall, running. At once, Mando’s voice appeared before he did, “Leave him alone, whatever you are doing, put him down. You will NOT hurt him, I’ll-“ He rounded the corner, armour on and blaster raised.

“Shhhh!” You glared at him, cradling the back of the Child’s head and you hissed at the Mandalorian, “Do you want him to wake back up?! It’s taken me 20 minutes to get him to go back to sleep. If you wake him up, I will put you in the refresher until your precious armour rusts.”

He made a noise, his blaster still hovering in the air, “It’s beskar. It can’t rust. And you weren’t where I left you, your cuffs were on the floor and I couldn’t hear Grogu.”

He checked on you? Choosing to ignore that bit, you merely raised your eyebrows at him, “So you assumed… what? That I was hurting him?” You made a noise of disbelief, “Relax, tin can, it’s past midnight. I won’t turn into a child eating monster until tomorrow.” You shook your head, turning your back on him as you rocked Grogu again, walking back to the compartment.

His footsteps sounded from behind you, following you like a ghost, “You got him to sleep?”

You carefully disentangled Grogu from your cloak, placing him back inside his little nest. “Yes.” The word was clipped as you made sure he was tucked in warm and safe, shut the compartment and then turned to look at Mando, starting a little when you saw just how close he was to you and so you crossed your arms.

His helmet was tilted down to look at you and he slowly put the blaster away, “It usually takes me a lot longer to get him down.” His voice was quiet as he admitted this to you, “What was that you were singing to him? I heard you just before…”

You flicked your eyes over the visor of his helmet, wondering if you’d tell him. There was no harm in it, your mother was gone. It wouldn’t hurt her, “It’s a lullaby that my mother used to sing for me.”

He nodded a little after a second or two, “It sounded beautiful. Thank you… for seeing to him.” 

You mimicked his nod, loosening your arms to your sides, “You don’t need to worry, Mandalorian. I’m not going to hurt him. Or you. So you can stop acting like I’m a monster.” Please. It’s bad enough that I think that about myself. I don’t need another person thinking it too.

He stepped back, but his voice was soft when he next spoke, “I’m sorry. I know… It’s just instinct. You know, with the kid.” He gestured toward where Grogu now slept and his helmet lingered toward you before he turned and went back to wherever he came from, allowing you to go back to your space unattended. Clearly proving that he believed you.

It left you confused, this hot and cold behaviour, the lingering atmosphere.

-

The next day, the Mandalorian informed you that he was picking up another bounty on the way to wherever he was taking you. It wouldn’t take long, just a quick stop on a small industrial planet and then you’d be back on your way.

You merely nodded, keeping quiet today after revealing so much yesterday. 

He left you to your own devices, brining you up to the cockpit with him again, but not cuffing you this time. Like he trusted you not to kill him.

The day passed with little to no action, just travelling and idle chitchat and then you were back staring at the ceiling in your little nest before you knew it.

-

 Sleep must have taken you at some point, because when you woke up, the hum of the engines was silent. You figured you’d landed at this planet, so you got up, Duru back on your shoulders and went to look for Mando.

He wasn’t in the cockpit when you went up, but Grogu was in his cradle, so he can’t be far.

 A quick tour of the ship revealed nothing. Except that as you passed, you noticed the ramp was open, unguarded which was… odd. He wouldn’t just leave it open. You were a bounty, and he had a child that liked to explore. Maybe you’d just missed him somewhere.

You examined every inch of the ship twice more but… he just wasn’t there. All your search turned up was the weapons cabinet which he had seemingly left unlocked. It was extensive, holding many knives and daggers, blasters, grenades of different types and some things you’d never seen before. Impressive. Your bow wasn’t there, but your vibroblade was, so after a moment’s hesitation, you’d slipped it back into the sheath on your thigh.

Your footsteps seemed far too loud as you crept back toward the open ramp of the ship. Something wasn’t right.

Weapons cabinet unlocked. Grogu unguarded. Your cuffs left off and the ramp open. Had something happened to him?

Unless… unless this was a trap, and he’d done it on purpose.

Why would he be setting a trap? Where would I run to even if I did escape? He said he’d trusted me and he left me uncuffed.

A frown fell on your face as you reached the top of the ramp, staring into the empty street beyond.

There was no sign of him. No sign of anyone, actually. The street was almost pitch black, pockets of light beneath streetlamps providing the only clues to where you were. Jagged structures were silhouetted from the light, structures that look like metal, sharp edges and hard landscaping. Must be some kind of industrial planet. And where the light from lamps or buildings didn’t reach… were those red eyes glowing in the dark? Nevermind. It seemed clear.  So… do you go?

You bit your lip, fiddling with the edge of your cloak, booted foot tapping on the metal ramp. If he hadn’t done this to purposefully trap… you could escape. Wouldn’t have to face whatever was coming for you. You could back out of the decision you made back on Sorgan.

Something made you glance back, up at the ceiling where you knew Grogu’s crib sat in the cockpit. He’d be fine. He was safe in there. The ramp would probably close when you left it anyway.

You made a soft noise of annoyance at yourself, at your hesitation. Yes, you’d given up on Sorgan, but maybe you were a little hasty in that department. No matter. Time to go.

You squared your shoulders, lifting your cloak so it covered your head and Duru’s body around your shoulders and began to make your way down the ramp and into the quiet street. The air was a little chilly, smelling like oil, smoke and metal.

In the distance, you could hear rumbling, fighting almost. People came from the distance, rough looking people. Different species, some more humanoid with tails or claws, others straight up… monsters.

Okay… so maybe you should get off of this planet as soon as you could.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice the few people that were lingering about were sticking to the bubbles of light on the floor or coming from windows. If they had to cross through shadow and darkness, they ran through it quickly, really quickly.

Maybe you were right about the eyes in the dark.

A noise to your left caught your attention, a soft whine of a noise coming from a dark corner. You slowed down, something snagging at you. It sounded like… something was in pain. Something was hurt. You tilted your head, feeling Duru’s warm breath in your ear, wondering if you should help.

Another pitiful whimper rose from the darkness and had you walking over, stepping out of the light and into the shadow of the street. You looked around, blinking to get your eyes adjusted, looking for the source of the whimpers. You reached out, feeling for the edge of the building that shoulder be somewhere around here, but instead of feeling hard metal, you felt… flesh.

 Flesh?

 Yes. Warm, scaled, wet flesh. Something sticky dripped onto your hand, a low snarl coming above your head, and in your mind, you had a flash of some great, terrible creature, with those glowing red eyes, a mouthful of sharp teeth, dripping with blood-

Duru hissed, a warning yowl coming from her chest, her claws digging into your shoulder.

That decided it.

 You bolted, turning around and practically flying back into the light, toward the little bubbles of sanctuary and it occurred to you, that you probably looked as crazy as the other villagers.

Okaaay, maybe definitely NOT the best idea to leave the Razor Crest.

A shudder licked down your spine and you began to walk again, making sure to keep in the pools of light on the floor. You were at a bit of a loss. Do you go back to the ship? Or carry on going?

 Today was just full of decisions wasn’t it.

 You kept walking, aiming for the building just ahead that looked like a cantina, when a metallic thud resounded in the alley way next to you.  You kept your eyes planted firmly ahead, ignoring it. No more going into dark alleyways, especially not here.

 A familiar, raspy voice broke the silence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re wrong.”

Ah. Mando. So that’s where he was. No matter. Let him have a fight in an alleyway. He’d win anyway, obviously.

You shook your head, looking toward the cantina again but… it seemed your feet had decided to stop obeying your head. You were moving, but toward the edge of the alleyway, hiding against the corner and peering around the wall.

The Mandalorian was being pinned against a wall by a guy just as tall as him, human looking except for the long tail that rose from behind him, black and scaly and ending in a sharp looking barb that made your skin crawl.

“Liar.” The snarl was punctuated with the sound of Spikey pulling a knife from his thigh, shrill where he dragged it over the beskar- “There’s no one else around, Mandalorian so tell me. Now. Where. Is. She?” Each word was accentuated with a punch. “You’ve got her trussed up on that ship of yours? Give her to me.”

An uncomfortable feeling began to creep over you, like you knew what they were talking about. 

Mando grunted in pain again, his voice taut, “Get it through that thick skull of yours. I don’t have her.” He lifted his arm, clearly about to burn this creep.

Too slow. What was wrong with him?

The guy with the spikey tail grabbed Mando’s wrist and slammed it against the wall next to his head. “I know you have her. You had her fob in your pocket. She’s on your ship.”

 Because of you. He was getting beaten because of you. Why wasn’t he giving you up? Did he really want the money over your head that badly?  What was wrong with him? He always wins… why wasn’t he winning? You frowned, peering further around the alleyway and then it dawned on you.

Blood. Coating the armour of his knee, turning the metal slick and shiny red. It must have been bad, he looked like he could barely keep his weight on it.

 Spikey Tail laughed suddenly, leaning in close and kicking Mando’s leg, earning another gritted cry, “Oooh, you freak. You wanna keep her don’t you? Gonna turn her into a toy to keep you entertained on your travels? Must get lonely on that ship, I don’t blame you. She looked like she’d be a good little slu-“

His words were cut short, Mando’s free hand jamming into the guys throat, squeezing and choking off his air.

You saw the mistake just before the Mandalorian seemed to realise it himself. He’d left his side exposed, open to attack.

This was bad. This was really, really bad. You didn’t know why he was defending you, but he was. And because of it -

 A raspy, choked groan of pain brought you back to the present.

The guy with the spikey tail had seen the opening, jamming his knife in Mando’s side behind the armour plates, a cruel, long serrated blade. Spikey’s face lit up when he heard the noise of pain coming from the other man, and with a chilling laugh, he twisted the knife, pushing it in deeper to the hilt.  

Instinct took over and suddenly you were running down the alleyway, barely feeling Duru scramble down your body and run toward Mando. You were too busy careening straight into Spikey’s side. The force of your run and surprise allowed you to knock him back, away from Mando and land a sharp kick to his rib. You quickly sent a punch to his face, feeling a tooth knock loose before hands game up and pushed you back, toward the shadows at the edges of the alleyway.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, bitch?!” Spikey’s tail flicked in annoyance as he moved back into the light, as if the darkness burned. Or bit.

As he came forward, his bloody face split into another grin as he recognised you,  “Oh. So, he DID have you after all. I thought you’d be strung to a bed, laying all pretty and open for him to get back.” 

A noise of disgust came from your throat, “What the fuck is wrong with this planet?” You leapt for him again, a swift uppercut to his jaw, and then into his throat. “Go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of.”

Spikey Tail snarled, his head jerking forward and connecting with yours with a force that had stars bursting in your eyes. The distraction cost you a foot in your ribs and you swore you heard one of them crack. “Slut. I’m going to break you like I did your friend here and then get that bounty. Might even ask if I could keep you.”

You shook the haze from your head, trying to draw him away from the Mandalorian, “You talk way too much for being in a fight.” You lifted your fists, ignoring the screaming pain in your side, every breath you took. Feeling like shards of glass.  

A noise, almost like a snort came from the semi-conscious beskar-clad man behind you. It seemed he was thinking back to your fight on Sorgan.

You looked over your shoulder at him, raising your eyebrows but then, before you could answer, a hand was around your throat and you were thrown up against the wall. Quite literally, your feet dangled a few inches above the ground, held up by whatever freak strength Spikey Tail had.

“You fight hard. But you’re weak. I don’t know who they sent after you before, but they were incompetent. Even the famous Mandalorian couldn’t bring you in.” His hand tightened around your throat, making the already difficult task of breathing become even harder. “I never fancied myself a bounty hunter, but maybe I’ll change my mind once I get my hands on that big fat reward over your head” He leant in and the stench of rotten meat and stale alcohol washed over you, making you gag.

He laughed, and his tail came up and round him, the barb on the end dragging over your cheek and feeling like a lick of fire, “And then I’ll get my hands on you.” He looked down at you, as if he could see beneath your clothes, his eyes becoming glazed in a way that had your blood running cold, “I bet you feel so good. Imagine all of the things I could do to a little slut like you. The pretty noises you’d make for me.” His head tilted back up, coming closer to yours as he dropped his gaze to your lips.

You struggled, gasping for air as you felt your head swim, scrambling for your knife. 

Your power, use your power. Just use it, get him away, kill him, choke him. Just get him away from you and Mando- 

A blast echoed in the alleyway, and Spikey grunted in pain, slumping forward slightly. You saw your opening, finally grasping slick fingers on the hilt of your blade and you yanked it free of your thigh, swinging it up and jamming it into his neck.

He let go of you and went down instantly as you severed the arteries in his throat, spraying you with hot blood.

You collapsed to your knees, pushing his body away as you began coughing, working air into your protesting lungs. Nausea washed over you as the movement jolted your ribs, making you realise there had to be more than one broken.

You lifted your head, eyes searching and then you found him.

Slumped on the floor, head tilted to the side resting on his shoulder like it was too heavy to keep up, facing you. Movement had your gaze dropping as his hand fell to the floor, holding his blaster.

He’d shot Spikey, he’d… saved your life? Just like you’d saved his..

You stared at the Mandalorian for a moment, panting as you still tried to breathe, your knife still in your hand dripping blood. Suddenly, you let go of it and you were crawling across the floor to him, your hands knocking his out of the way and pushing against the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

Wait. What were you doing?

You blinked, looking down at your hands, then back up at his helmet. You could see your expression reflected in the visor. Your eyes were a little wide, a spray of blood on your face from the man you just killed, for the one who’s life you were trying to keep in his body. Your neck was ringed in red, the cut on your cheek bleeding slowly. 

Run. Leave him and run. 

He looked back up at you, slumped on the ground, one blood-soaked hand on his chest where you had pushed it away from his wound.  

Leave him. He’s only going to turn you in. RUN.

Your hands began to lift, but then stopped, hesitating and then returning as fresh, hot blood ran down his side. No. You couldn’t leave him here. 

Yes. You should. He doesn’t have any hope in getting up and coming after you. Find the fob, destroy it and get out of here. He means nothing to you and you mean nothing to him. You are prey and he is the hunter.

But… he’d saved you… and you had saved him. He trusted you.

You swallowed, your mind a frenzy of reasons, choices, trying to figure out what to do. Your survival instinct was screaming at you, run, run, run, but… Look at him. You could hear the jagged breaths coming through the helmet, static crackling through the modulator.

His attacker was already turning cold behind you, killed by your hand as easy as drawing a breath. You had saved the Mandalorian and now, he lay dying in front of you. If you ran, he would bleed out in a couple of hours, dumped in some back alley. His life was in your hands, literally, warm and wet and coming far too quickly.

This had to be clear on your face, in your eyes as you debated whether to safe yourself or him. Be brave or a coward. Act or run.

A soft noise crackled through his helmet, and you looked back up at him, but he said nothing. No sniping comments about being a coward, no pleas to save his life. Nothing. Silence. Letting you decide his fate as if deciding what to have for dinner.

 So… what should you do?

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merry go round of life.

ೃ pairing: (magical prince! shoto todoroki x fem! reader)

ೃ  tags: howl’s moving castle au! studio ghibli au! 

ೃ warnings: slight angst, mention of endeavor and war.

ೃ part 1/2 of the howl’s moving castle au. 

ೃ word count: 3,807 words

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ as the tags and the au suggests, this fic is pretty much the premise of howl’s moving castle except shoto is a magical prince. i’m super excited to complete the rest of this studio ghibli au series and i hope you enjoy reading!  ♡

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! (feel free to add tags too because i love reading them and my heart swells with happiness when people love my work!) ♡

“Find me in the future!”

The voice of a young woman who he didn’t recognize. Amongst the shooting stars and the demons falling from the night sky.

Tonight was the night.

The grassy plains and the meadows that were surrounding the warm cottage that he called home. The loving home that he, his mother, and his siblings lived in. The home that kept him away from the real world.

Things will never be the same ever again.

This was going to be easy right? All he needed to do was trade his heart for the demon’s power and he’d see his father again right?

He’d finally see the real world. The magical world that he always yearned for.

Being confined in a cottage all his life did leave much to be desired. He couldn’t just run around the lush fields with his older siblings and learn magic through spell books all his life, can he? There were things out there that he had to discover.

Now that his mother had passed, his siblings vanished into thin air, and a letter sent by his father, the tyrant king of the Kingdom of Ingary, detailing that he must learn magic on his twelfth year, in order to secure a position of royalty and rule the land with him.

This intimidating man he had never met all his life, except seeing him on newspapers and in history books, would suddenly write a letter to him out of the blue- it must be urgent right? Maybe, this was his calling? Maybe the passing of his mother is the reason the king, his father, contacted him in the first place? Did the most powerful man in the entire continent know about his whereabouts all along?

Was he living a lie all this time?

Shoto needed answers. The king’s invitation and this letter was his only clue.

But, before that, he needed to learn magic and sorcery first.

He was going to turn 12 in a few month’s time, how is he going to do this? He can’t just snap his fingers and manifest magic on the spot, right?

“A m-meteor shower? I-in a few months?” The handsome young boy with half-and-half colored hair and the prettiest heterochromatic eyes, whispered to himself in disbelief. “Take your chance and meet a fire and ice demon who will give you their magic.” He continues to read along the lines of the tabloid, grabbing a worn notebook on the table next to him, and writing down every piece of information that entailed the phenomenon that was about to come. “It doesn’t say when though.” He continues to whisper to himself, his shoulders dropping in defeat as if he had just hit a slump.

The only hope that he was holding on to right now was his luck guiding him on that fated day.

And it did guide him. At a cost.

The fire and ice demon who were to give him his magical quirks, weren’t all that he had seemed.

In exchange for his humanity, he was to become the most powerful and the only wizard prince in the entire world.

Several years have passed. 

The once lost boy, who is now a famed prince, was in search for something again.

The effect of the demon taking his heart had made him soulless. Lifeless.

 Clinging on to material things and fake temporary pleasures in life were the only things keeping him going. 

The once newly crowned prince had wanted to escape his hellish kingdom, in search for peace and solace, a feeling that he did not experience while living in such a wide and empty space and with an estranged father who knew nothing but war.

His skills of wizardry grew stronger and stronger, expanding to more than just fire and ice; the magic that Calcifer, the demon whom he had made a contract with, bestowed upon him all those years ago. He had collected enough knowledge and learned enough encantations to get him out of this castle, and travel the world by his own blissful means.

Calcifer, the oh so powerful yet surprisingly comical demon helped him with his plans.

And what better way of an escape than with a magical moving castle?

This led to Shoto and Calcifer coming to another agreement that the demon would power the castle as long as Shoto would find someone in this world that would break the contract between them.

The prince and the demon were able to escape the confines of the castle scotch-free, however, it was not long until King Enji realized that the heir and the next in line to the throne, disappeared without a trace. Immediately warranting a search party consisting of his most elite soldiers. This prompted Shoto to adopt different identities and aliases, changing his appearance in every other kingdom he visited and lived in so he wouldn’t be recognized. Along his journey, he took in a sweet orphaned young girl, named Eri who became his assistant and apprentice.

The king was growing impatient. It had been a few years and his men have not found a trace as to where the prince might have gone. 

He was running out of options.

He wanted Shoto to excel. To be powerful. He never ever planned to see him or even bothered to send a letter telling him that he was the son of the most powerful king in the land, if the boy did not have anything special about him.

The magical genes passed on to the younger Todoroki by his sorceress mother. That’s all that he wanted. Use him. Use him for his power. Make him a prince, raise him, and then throw him away if he was of no use anymore. His son’s magical prowess was all he needed for his quest to conquer the entire world.

The only option he had left was to choose violence.

The king called up his war council and declared war on the neighboring kingdom.

If nothing was going to bring Shoto back, then conflict will.

With the entire continent falling into shambles, kingdoms fighting each other left and right, the peace and the freedom Shoto Todoroki had always wanted to achieve had become short-lived.

 He knew he was the reason why a conflict had arisen in the first place, yet, he couldn’t help but fight his father’s forces behind the scenes, and continue to run away, still seeking for permanent liberty. For a permanent home.

 He found his home.

In a simple girl working in her family’s hat shop.

And finally, Shoto had something to live for and to fight for.

 “Calcifer!”

“Shoto’s heart! It’s MINE!”

“Please! Let go!” You struggle to fight your way through the igniting fire coming from Calcifer and the ember that was about to consume the Witch of the Waste. Her old and wrinkled hands clutching on Shoto’s heart as if her life depended on it.

The remains of the moving castle continue to crumble, as the only power that was keeping it alive which came from Calcifer had become unstable as the Witch of the Waste was holding Shoto’s heart.

 “Put it back now! Please!” You try to fight back your tears, still trying your best to remain kind to the old witch yet she did not budge.

“It’s hot! It’s hot!” She continues to ignore your pleas, reacting to the delicate burning material that was on her hands instead. The grip that she had on Shoto’s heart had grown tighter and tighter and you had to do something to stop her.

 Time was ticking.

You look around the rubble and the debris, weighing out your options when a bucket of water had appeared in front of you. It was as if telling you that this was the only decision left to make.

  You take a deep breath and throw the bucket of water at the Witch of the Waste which also resulted in Calcifer, the demon who has manifested into a form of a destructive inferno for thousands of years, had been put out  just like a regular old fire. 

Like it was nothing.

There was a short moment of silence.

Eri was clinging on to you, looking for reassurance your face, yet you could not give her that. You hold her tight to try and help cheer her up just a little bit, while Heen, the old service dog given to Shoto as a gift, had his paws on your feet, as he did not know what was going to happen either.

The castle that was still moving with its last remaining energy, grinds to a halt.  

Is this it?

“(Y/N)!” You hear Eri call out. You open your eyes and see her hands trying to reach out to you. But, before you could reach her, the remaining part of the castle that all of you were standing on, split into half due to the lack of non-existent energy powering it. 

You feel yourself falling.

Heen, the dog, jumps to you before the latter remains of the castle subsequently falls down the cliffs of the Waste. You brace for impact until… you feel light. As if you’ve landed more comfortably than you thought.

You raise your head to take in your surroundings, aside from the few dirt and rubble sprinkled on your hair and on your dress, you were safe. Heen was safe too although the debris that was left of the castle was not salvageable anymore and there were no means to get out of this place with the few materials left.

It looked like there was no way out of here.

Tears swell in your eyes. All these frustrations and all this pain you had to endure because you wanted to save Shoto, was all for naught. Was there still a chance to save him at this point? Or rather, did you even ever have the slightest chance of saving him since the beginning?

Heen quickly trots all the way to where you were. However, you ignore him and continue to stare off into space, thinking about the careless decision you had just made and if what you did was even the right thing.

He barks softly, trying to get your attention, but you barely move a muscle. Even more tears forming in your eyes.

“Heen.. what h-have I done?” Your voice shakes, still trying to process everything that had just happened. “I poured water on C-calcifer… What if I killed Shoto too!?” You bent forward, kneeling down on the rubble around you. Drops of water began to pour out from your eyes, tears streaming down from your cheeks.

Hopelessness and Uselessness.

These were the only emotions you were feeling right now.

You continue to break down in your sorrow. The thought of doing everything in your power to help Shoto but knowing that nothing was enough aches in your heart.

He doesn’t deserve all this pain and anguish.

All you wanted to do was to help him.

Why was fate doing this to you? To you both?

All hope was lost until a glimmering light reflected on the remains of one of the magical doors still connected to the Castle.

Heen continues to bark at you until you turn your head to him and then notice the light glimmering from your ring. The ring with magical properties that Shoto had given to you, to keep you safe and to help you when things go awry.

“It’s moving?” You wipe your tears and stare bewilderingly at the ring that was vibrating on your finger. “Is Shoto still alive!? Can you lead me to him?” You ask softly, slowly regaining your hope and your confidence that maybe you can still save him.

You stand up from the ground, running to the corner of the cliff. The ring continues to guide you, it’s light reflecting on a door that was hidden behind the debris of an iron sheet that was once a part of the castle.

You push it down with all your might, Heen trying his best to help you. The metal sheet falls down with a loud “thud” and the blue energy emanating from the ring continues to glow brighter and brighter, the light pointing to the direction of the door.

You turn the knob, the ring trembles even harder. You slowly pull the door open and a sudden rush of wind blew across your face. The inside was dark and empty. There was nothing of interest here.

But, why did the ring want you to go inside?

You hold your hand to your chest, letting the ring guide your way through the darkness. You stretch your hand out to the pitch black of nothingness, and it ripples at your touch. 

It was a portal. 

Of course it was a portal. What else would it be? You thought to yourself.

You take a deep breath and with Heen following close behind you, you take a step into the darkness. Praying that this portal takes you to where you need to be.

You were keeping count of the passage of time. It’s been several minutes of you just walking in darkness. But, even if you turned back, was there even a place to return to? You continue to hold on to the little hope you have left. The ring still doing it’s best to guide you to where it was telling you to go as you continue to explore the endless cave of darkness around you. 

The ring starts to quiver again, as if it had caught a signal or had detected something. You walk faster, following where the ring was leading you until you catch site of a speck of blue light. Walking even faster, you arrive at the inside of a dimly lit cottage. 

It was old and simple. For some reason, it felt like you’ve seen this place before. 

There was a table at the center, with papers and books sprawled about, a bookshelf next to it, a worn bed at the side, and a hearth near the edge of the room. 

You approach the table to examine the papers that were placed upon there when the ring suddenly stopped shaking on your finger. Heen was barking at you again, so that you would turn your attention to him and see him scratching the door that led to the outside. 

“Heen?” You mumble, looking out the window. You approach the door he was trying to open without taking your eyes off the windowpane that reflected a gloomy and plain image of the night sky outside. 

You leave the cottage and suddenly, it dawned on you that this was the cottage that Shoto had lived in when he was a child. 

This is the same beautiful place he had taken you a few days prior. Yet, there was a sort of melancholy feeling to it. It felt lonely, barren, and there were no colorful array of flowers in the meadows. It felt like a major downgrade to the wonderful place he had shown you. Was it not true? Were the beautiful flowers and the serene view just an illusion? Was this the reality of the place he had lived in most of his life instead?

Before you could even fully process your surroundings, an array of shooting stars began to fall from the sky. It was burning blue and bright, it was ethereal but at the same time, terrifying. These were demons and magical entities from an otherworldly universe. Seeking to make contracts with human beings who wanted to learn more about magic. 

“This is the time where Shoto met Calcifer.” You whisper to yourself, still looking up the bright night sky, taking in the beauty and the wistfulness of this particular event and what happened to Shoto because of it. 

You look out into the pools of water surrounding the cottage, the shooting stars falling down into the ground from afar. A shrieking yet soothing sound echoed around the area every time a star fell. 

You look up to see an unusual shooting star, shining brighter than the others. You continue to look on in awe until you feel the the ring on your hand quivering again, slowly disintegrating.

You were preoccupied with the ring suddenly disappearing that you had not noticed the big and bright star had already fallen down the ground near you, closer than the others did. The rays of the star reflecting brighter and more scintillating than the others. It was drawing you in, like that of a beautiful phantasm. 

You notice someone from afar approaching the star that had fallen. 

A young striking boy with half white and half red hair, his eyes shining bright different colored hues and his presence, even from afar, was so comforting to you.

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. The man you want to save, the one who made you feel like yourself again, the one who loved you for who you are even though you transformed into an 80 year old grandma with a back problem. He has loved you in your darkest times. He has loved you for who you are. 

Will you be there to love him back? Just like he had loved you? 

You continue to watch the boy go around the star, examining it ever so curiously. From there, you feel the emotions that Shoto was feeling at the moment.

You could sense the loneliness and the feeling of isolation that Shoto Todoroki has felt all his life. 

“That’s Shoto...” You whisper once again, continuing to watch him from where you were standing.

 More and more shooting stars fly through the night sky, and you instinctively knew that something was going to happen.

You run down the stairs and sprint your way towards Shoto, ignoring the stars  falling down into the ponds, taking forms of dancing wisps, then changing into running pigmy as if they were trying to reach Shoto. 

Shooting stars begin to fall around you, barely missing you yet you continued to run with no care in the world. Saving Shoto was the only thing going on in your head at the moment and nothing will stop you from doing so. Something in the grass had pulled on your heel, causing you to fall and flail on the ground. The half and half prince was a small pond away from you yet a dark oozing liquid was taking a hold of you from below, preventing you from doing so.

Before it fully took a hold of both your feet, You quickly stand up from the ground, stomping your feet then backing away quickly. Another shooting star falls down from the sky, and you watch as it swiftly falls into Shoto’s hands. 

The sound of the fallen star shrieks and tingles your ears, and you had no choice but to watch in agony as the little Shoto begins to move his lips, talking to the demon known as Calcifer. He had a small smile on his face as he continued to speak. There was so much hope and innocence in his eyes, he was so excited to receive his magical abilities, blissfully unaware that he was about to make a deal that would be the cost of his humanity and his heart. 

All he wanted was to see family and go to places he’s always dreamed of. 

Was that too much to ask for?

Shoto slowly but surely, brings the demon into his mouth. There was slight hesitance but he gobbled it up then swallowed it. He felt a tinging pain as he clutches both of his hands to his chest, then coughing up Calcifer who had now become his heart. 

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped. 

You continue to look on but before you could try and run to him again...

Your ring shatters. 

A black hole appears from below your feet, slowly sucking you in. You try to move but your body doesn’t want to. Keeping you still, your legs swinging, as if you were in a body of water. All the color around you begins to fade to black, and so does Shoto and Calcifer. 

You turn to look at them once more, hoping they would hear you. Reaching your hand out to them. 

“Shoto! Calcifer!” In a last minute attempt to get them to notice you, You shout with all your might, tears welling up in your eyes again. 

The boy and the demon turn to you with doe eyes, catching your voice yet barely recognizing who you were and why you were there. The young Shoto continues to look at you, still wondering who you were, cupping Calcifer in his hands. 

“It’s me (Y/N)! I know how to help you now!” Shoto and Calcifer ceaselessly fade away, as you are consumed by the darkness.

“Find me in the future!”

Mundane life and a mundane everyday routine.

 Sew some hats, manage the store, hop on the bus, visit your popular sister in the bakery she works in and then head on home. 

This was your life.

Did you want it to change? Yes. But, did you have the will and the magical powers to do so? No. 

“It’s your life (Y/N). Do something for yourself for once will you?” 

The words of your sister will haunt you for the rest of the day. Well, She is right. But, this was your life. It was dull and uneventful. If this was your fate so be it. There was no point in trying to make it interesting at this point right?

You walk back on your usual route to the station, however, you had to rendezvous to another way to the station due to a road block. Guess life wasn’t being kind to your today isn’t it?

You pass by two soldier guards in an alley to the station. They looked bored and had nothing better to do and you had no intention of mingling with them, even if your sister told you to try and talk to more people.

“What a pretty girl. Want us to take you for some tea?” One of the guards attempt to flirt with you, trying to block your way. The other guard snickers at his friend’s tease.

“No. Please leave me alone.” You deadpan. Glaring at them and trying to let them know that they were crossing the line. 

“Oh you see. Ya scared her!” said the other guard, nudging his friend.

“I think she’s even cuter when she’s scared.” The guard replied, hitting his friend on the shoulder. 

You were about to run to the other direction when you hear a crisp and handsome voice from behind you, and a reassuring hand on your arm.

“There you are sweetheart. Sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you.” 

To be continued.

02 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 1.9k

➙ warnings. explicit content. oral (f receiving).

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05  | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis. 

“can we have morning sex?”

“not today.”

x

“is that my brother’s shirt?” is the first thing kim taehyung says to you after a whole night of you declaring war against him for choosing his girlfriend over you.

your body clock’s designed in a way where no matter how late you go to sleep, you’ll always wake up at 8 in the morning. the question of whether you can go back to bed or not varies. like right now, when your stomach is grumbling because it’s decided to deem that the spicy carbonara ramen you had has lost its sustaining-abilities.

“uh, is that a woman-choosing, best friend-abandoning human i see?” you say, eyes squinted at said human.

“whatever,” that seems to have taken taehyung’s interest off the creme colored sweater hanging off your shoulders and way past your butt. you could’ve not word shorts when you went out to get yourself a bowl of cereal. mainly because the brothers have a similar habit of sleeping in until the sun’s shining directly into their faces and they’d have no choice but to wake up - that is, in the event that they forgot to shut the blinds.

“what are you doing up anyway?” you ask but it’s a no-brainer because every friday night, kim taehyung and you would never fail to release a week’s worth of pent up frustrations over playing video games until the crack of dawn, “don’t tell me you haven’t slept.”

“unlike some people, i’ve got things to do,” he steals away the bowl of cereal you just finished preparing for yourself, “places to be.”

you can’t even get mad at his brazenness, not when those eyebags make him look like he’ll pass out with one swing of your punch. and you do punch like a girl - besides the fact that you are one, it’s already a settled fact that you’re really not fond of the idea of wasting your energy on something pointless - so you tend to give the least amount of energy for, for instance - if you do choose to - punching kim taehyung who’s walking away with your bowl of cereal.

so you fix yourself a new bowl, savoring it while watching an episode of the tale of nine-tailed and spending the entire morning catching up to the latest episode. it’s only until half an hour past noon, do you strut back into seokjin’s room, noticing the lump under the sheets now shifting with a sign of wakefulness.

“morning!” you greet, hearing the sound of hymns trickling into chuckles as seokjin pushes the sheet off his face and steals a glance at the uncalled for being that’s perched on top of him.

“you’re up early,” he remarks, arms stretched over his head, muscles flexing deliciously.

“can we have morning sex?” you put on your best smile, lashes fluttering in what you hope to be a coquettish manner rather than someone who looks like they have dust in both their eyes.

“not today,” he says but his large hand latches on your right breast, massaging with a expertise before pinching on your nipple and making you jump in surprise.

“ah!”

but before you get to complain, he’s pulling you down and engulfing you into a warm but shirtless hug (on his part at least).

“not fair,” you pout but snuggle closer anyway, forehead leaning against his chest.

but it’s short-lived because thunderous footsteps start echoing in the hallway and sounding dangerously close with each passing second. for a split second, you watch seokjin watch you, panic spreading across his face before your hands instinctively push him away. then the panic dissolves into alarm as he calls your name, accompanied by another timber-like voice that’s shouting out the same syllables.

“___!”

and then your butt hits the ground, then your back and your head at the same time.

“whew chile, that sounds painful, you okay?” taehyung sounds concern, but he doesn’t take any step towards you to further assert your head - you could’ve had a concussion for all he knows!

“um, gee thanks for making sure,” you want to roll your eyes, but you’re too busy rubbing the spot where your head made contact with the floor.

but seokjin, ever the thoughtful person, is already climing over the bed and pulling you up with one heave.

“why are you shirtless?” taehyung suddenly inquires.

 the cozy creme sweater clinging onto your body feeling immensely inadequate as you ice up. he looks between you and his brother, screws twisting in that head of his before he asks another question.

“is that really my brother’s shirt?” his eyes scream concluded assumption.

well, it’s true, but-

“would you give me your sweater if i said i was cold?” you don’t give him a chance to respond, “no. right. so shut up. what do you want anyway? hurry up cause i wanna take a nap.”

“let’s play, the squad wanna go one more round with you before we all go to sleep,” he says, the matter of why seokjin is shirtless or if it’s really said man’s shirt you’re wearing now no longer a matter of importance.

you like how his brain works.

“the fuck? you came all the way here just for that?” you narrow your eyes, as if visually asking him if he knows whether he’s making sense or not but you get up anyway, walking towards your laptop that’s perched on the desk where you left it last night.

your friends greet you with less enthusiasm than they did last night - everyone sounded like they either need sleep or need a fuck. there’s no clear answer to what they need but you guess you’re up for one game.

“alright losers, let’s geddit.” your cheer is met with groans and tired version of ‘wooo’s and ‘yeah’s.

five minutes into the game, you feel a peck on your cheek and a smiling kim seokjin gazing down at you with bed hair and puffy cheeks. the smile you offer him back is fleeting because you have a character to maintain and a team to support. this time, you choose the supporting role while hoseok takes on the fighter role.

once you realize that the figure casting a shadow over you remains still and unmoving, you peek up at him for the briefest seconds to ask ‘what?’.

you’re only met with a higher tug of his lips.

and then he falls down on his knee - and you don’t even have the chance to wrap your head around it when he grabs hold of your ankle and spread your legs apart. lifting your ass up as he pulls down your shorts seem to be a muscle response than your brain actually understanding what’s happening. but by the time it does, seokjin’s face is already buried deep between your thighs.

“wah- yikes!” you manage to divert your surprise to the enemy that came on screen, forcing out a laugh, “th-that was a close one, whew i was about to die.”

“the fuck? you already had 8 hours of sleep what are you messing up for?” taehyung says into your headphone.

seokjin licking a strip up your love nub.

but that doesn’t stop you from retorting, “oh my god, did i tell you to play all night and not sl- sleep?” you bite back, barely managing to end your sentence with a consistent amount of sarcasm when the tip of seokjin’s tongue slips into your entrance.

“okay, okay, we’re all a little sensitive here,” jeongguk, the most competitive and non-losing-accepting out of the five of you actually tries to placate.

oh, you’re sensitive alright.

then he says something about how “we’re a team” and “if you wanna fight, fight the enemy team.” or something. you’re not so sure because you’re too busy clasping your hand against your mouth whilst trying to dish out healing powers to your team that’s fighting a few feet in front of you as seokjin tugs on your thighs, positioning them in an angle where his tongue can reach deeper inside you, so much so that your ass is almost hanging off the air.

“fine,” you almost choke on your supposedly vindictive reply as your toes begin to curl, back arching as the only sound that manages to escape you is a sob-like whimper whilst sparks erupt from the depth of your stomach and course through your veins like sweet, sweet poison.

seokjin kisses the inside of your thigh once your breathing slows down and you’re slumping on the chair like you have no energy left in you. jimin’s voice demanding you to cover for him barely registering in your brain as you click an ability that showers him with a protection spell.

“sorry, got distracted,” you say into the mic simply before hearing jimin’s “it’s okay, nobody died.”

literally.

if anyone of you died, it would’ve definitely been on you. last night, you got away with saying you weren’t in your ‘zone’ but today, your underperformance will be the reason you get kicked out of the squad for good. probably.

and because you’re under fire, you can’t stop seokjin when he slips away and out of the room, leaving you to make up for your mini blunder.

the game lasts a good 20 minutes before the golden symbol of victory flash across your screen and more energetic sheers erupt in your headphones. everyone starts bidding each other farewell and ‘good night losers’s before the headphones go quiet.

only then, do you bound down the hallway and into the kitchen where you know the reason of the sizzling, salivating scent is because of kim seokjin. a still shirtless kim seokjin with his beautiful, broad back on you as he chops something on the chopping board and gracefully pours it into whatever he’s cooking.

“that wasn’t fair - you should at least give me a warning,” you stand with your arms crossed over your chest.

“did the enemy you go against give you a warning before ambushing you?” he asks in a matter of factly, teasing smirk on his lips that makes your heart go flip flop.

he’s never smiled at you like that before.

“that’s- that’s different,” you refuse to back down, “they couldn’t even if they wanted to because the system doesn’t let us communicate with the enemy team.”

he nods whilst stirring the - you’d peeked - fried rice that’s sizzling in the pan, “i did give you a warning.”

“um where?” you can fee your eyebrows knitting together.

“the kiss,” he taps his cheek twice before shutting off the stove, devious smirk playing on his lips.

“i thought that was a bona fide peck!” 

“that’s on you,” he shrugs, pouring the fried rice into four plates, “like namjoon says - never assume.”

“okay, maybe he did say that,” you concur, taking a seat across from him where he places the plate and offers you a fork and a spoon that he took out from their respective drawers under the counter.

“something smells good,” taehyung comes popping out from the hallway, bowl of empty cereal in hand as his eyes light up at the sight of the two other plates placed between you and seokjin, almost as if knowing that the only other thing that coud summon the kim brothers out from their dwelling is seokjin’s cooking.

“i’m starving,” namjoon announces, seconds apart from taehyung’s assertion.

so you have breakfast - or lunch, really - together like you would. just four kids from the same hometown who found home in each other’s presence.

you might’ve found something else that you like in seokjin’s pants - but that’s besides the point.

x

note. and here we go for the 2nd installment! hope yall enjoyed!

taglist. @scalubera​ @aretha170​

Fate and Phantasms #184

Oh shit we’re a day late. Sorry. Now that Summer’s over, Fate and Phantasms is heading out to Shimousa, starting with the Archer of Inferno! You know the deal by this point; true name spoilers and build breakdown below the cut, character sheet over here, but still expect a little bit of spoilage because you can’t spread out a character over 20 levels and not spoil a bit about them.

Next up: I thought the ghost of an occultist driving a car made by a talking lion would be the most convoluted character design for a while. I was wrong.

Tomoe Gozen is a Battle Master Fighter to talk with her fists and throw people around as well as a Hunter Ranger to get her fiery arrows and to specialize in fighting massive crowds.

Race and Background

Tomoe is kind of halfway between an oni and a human, never quite at home in either world. Thankfully that’s exactly what Tieflings are as well, so getting her race is pretty easy. As a Mephistopheles Tiefling she gets +1 Dexterity and +2 Wisdom, Darkvision for night raids, Hellish Resistance to fire damage (it would be awkward if you died to your own inferno), and the Legacy of Cania. This gives you the Mage Hand cantrip immediately, with one casting of Burning Hands and Flame Blade with your Charisma per long rest at third and fifth level respectively.

As the wife of a Lord, you’re the definition of a Noble, giving you proficiency with History and Persuasion. People just like you, y’know?

Ability Scores

Step one; Dexterity. You’re an archer, this shouldn’t come as a surprise that this is pretty high. (I mean I say that, but there’s ton of archers that don’t use bows, so...) Anyways, second is Strength. You throw people around like sacks of potatoes, so you gotta be pretty good at lifting them. Go with Wisdom as your third highest ability. Large scale battles are hectic, you’ve got to have a sharp eye to do your best work in them.  Your Constitution isn’t half bad, oni tend to be able to take a beating. Your Intelligence isn’t that high purely because we need other stuff more, so we’re dumping Charisma. You’re a bit awkward no matter which side of the family you’re talking to.

Class Levels

Ranger 1: Starting off as a ranger gives you plenty of goodies, including plenty of proficiencies, like Strength and Dexterity saves, plus three skills; Insight and Perception to read your enemies and Athletics to make it easier to haul them around. First level rangers also become Deft Explorers, which makes you Canny with athletics. That doubles your proficiency bonus for extra oni strength when you push and pull objects. You can also set a Favored Foe as a bonus action, dealing an extra d4 of damage once per turn after hitting them with an attack. You can do this proficiency times per long rest, and the damage grows as you level up.

Ranger 2: At second level, you gain the Archery fighting style for an extra +2 to your ranged attack rolls. The archer class is really made up of archers, huh? You also learn how to cast Spells using your Wisdom to cast them. Theoretically. You don’t actually have any spells that bother with that. At first level you can use Longstrider to move around the battlefield easier and Absorb Elements to add a little bit of fire to your arrows immediately. That helps less than the other elements since you’re already resistant to fire damage, but we suffer for our art here. Well, you do.

Ranger 3: Making it all the way to third level without burning out grants you entrance to a shiny new conclave, and the Hunter conclave turns you into a Horde Breaker when you take the subclass, specializing you towards dealing with large groups. Once per turn you can make an extra attack, as long as your second target is within 5′ of the first. You also gain Primal Awareness, letting you Speak with Animals. I don’t think anything in canon says you can do this, but your event is one of the only times we hear the servant animals talk, so I’m counting it. You also learn how to cast Zephyr Strike, speeding yourself up and possibly dealing extra damage at the same time. Controlling your spacing is vital when it comes to dealing with tons of enemies.

Ranger 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Strength for stronger punches. They’ll get even stronger in a second, don’t worry.

Fighter 1: Bounce over to fighter for the Unarmed Fighting fighting style. Now your punches deal 1d6 damage (or 1d8 if you have both free) and you can deal damage to grappled creatures at the start of your turn. You also get a Second Wind, which will heal you as a bonus action.

Ranger 5: We’re done multiclassing for a while, since heading back over to ranger will net you an Extra Attack each action. Now you’ve got two attacks against one target, or three if you can use horde breaker. You also learn second level spells, like Beast Sense and Enhance Ability. I don’t think you’re strong enough yet, so that latter spell will give you advantage on strength checks for the duration. (Or a target creature advantage on any one kind of checks, that’s just the most in-character option.)

Ranger 6: At sixth level Favored Foe grows to a d6, and you also become Roving, which increases your speed and lets you climb and swim without slowing down.

Ranger 7: Seventh level rangers will find it a lot easier to Escape the Horde, forcing disadvantage on all opportunity attacks against you. Right now you’ve still got to keep your distance from your enemies to use your bow and arrow, so this will help. You can also cast Aid to increase your maximum HP along with that of a couple of friends for something that will really excitate your whole lineage.

Fighter 2: Bouncing back to fighter gets you an Action Surge for two actions per turn once per short rest. Now you get up to five attacks in a turn thanks to Horde Breaker and your extra attack.

Fighter 3: If we keep on trucking we’ll hit third level, which is where things get really spicy. As a Battle Master, you get four Combat Superiority d8s per short rest, and you can add one per attack to attack you make, dealing extra damage and adding effects to the blow. Technically. Only one of your maneuvers actually deals with attacks, but that’s Pushing Attack, which will do a lot of work for you. When you hit a creature you deal extra damage, and if they’re smaller than Huge and fail a strength save, they get pushed 15 feet away. Your other maneuvers are Evasive Footwork, adding the d8 to your AC while you move to make fighting you even harder, and Tactical Assessment, adding the die to an Investigation, History, or Insight check. We might not have been able to make you smart, but this should cover whatever tactics you need. You’re also a Student of War, giving you proficiency in any one artisan’s tools. Pick your fave, you’re not exactly Hokusai.

Fighter 4: Our last level in fighter grabs the Crusher feat for +1 Strength and once per turn you can push someone an extra 5 feet as long as they’re large or smaller. Also, critical bludgeoning hits give all attacks against their target advantage until you start your next turn. Now you can fling someone 20′ away, and while that technically doesn’t let you throw them in the air I’d allow it. Honestly, if someone’s moving that far away their feet have got to be leaving the ground at some point.

Ranger 8: Going back to Ranger for good now gets another ASI right away, and Gunner is a weird feat to pick, but hear me out. It’s basically the crossbow expert feat, but it trades that bonus action attack for a +1 to Dexterity, which is way more useful since you don’t use a hand crossbow. You also get proficiency with and can ignore loading on firearms, but most D&D games don’t have those anyway, so it’s fine to be a bit out of character. The real good reason we’re here is to ignore disadvantage on your ranged attacks if people are near you. Archery and brawling don’t normally go together, now they do. You also get Land’s Stride so you can move through difficult terrain easier and have advantage on saves against magical terrain. You leave a lot of corpses around in Shimousa, but this’ll help you keep your footing in that demiplane of skulls you do your boss fight in.

Ranger 9: Ninth level rangers get third level spells, like your Primal Awareness spell Speak with Plants. That might sound totally out of character, but it turns out there’s a legit reason for it: Hey look over there, it’s Flame Arrows! Finally, you can dip 12 arrows into fiery goodness, and each one deals an extra 1d6 fire damage on a hit. You’ve got up to an hour to use all of them, but it also takes concentration so don’t get too attached.

Ranger 10: Tenth level rangers are Tireless, letting you heal yourself with temporary HP as an action Proficiency times per day, and you heal exhaustion on short rests. Some people call that inhuman, I call it efficient. Gilgamesh wishes he had what you do. You can also use Nature’s Veil to turn invisible for a round as a bonus action Proficiency times per long rest. Think of it like a smoke bomb. Or a wildfire bomb. Just set things on fire, hide in the fire, done.

Ranger 11: At eleventh level, hunters can let out a Volley of ranged attacks, letting you attack every creature within a 10′ radius of a point you can see. Technically, this means you can pump out up to 50 attacks per round thanks to Action Surge, assuming a lot of creatures are dumb enough to clump up next to each other. 51, sorry, Horde breaker’s still there. To make getting into position easier you also learn the UA spell Flame Stride, negating opportunity attacks, bumping your speed up by 20 feet, and dealing fire damage to nearby creatures when you run by them. It also explicitly sets items on fire, so now we know how you caused so much damage in Shimousa.

Ranger 12: Use this ASI to round up your Strength and Dexterity for stronger punches, tougher punch saves, better arrows, and a higher AC. A banner level for you.

Ranger 13: Your new fourth level spell from Primal Awareness, Locate Creature is way easier to justify than the last one. You just know where the enemy general is located, even in the thick of battle. We’re basically building a Dynasty Warriors character at this point, aren’t we? You also get Freedom of Movement, just in case you need to speed around the battlefield without setting stuff on fire. I know, it’s boring without the fire. You just have to make due for two more levels.

Ranger 14: Your Favored Foe grows again, and you can Vanish as a bonus action, hiding yourself without any way to track you, bar magic.

Ranger 15: Your final spell of the build will turn you into a mighty inferno that can burn down all of Shimousa! Well, not really, but if you Summon Elemental then Vanish away, it’s almost like you turned into a fire elemental, right? You can also Stand Against the Tide, using your reaction to redirect a missed melee attack at another creature. It’s really hard to hit you when you run away, so I suggest fishing for attacks of opportunity for extra damage.

Ranger 16: Use your final ASI to grab the Tough feat for an extra 40 HP. Onis, man. They’re hard to kill.

Pros:

You specialize in dealing with large groups of enemies, with plenty of ways to move through them and attack over large areas at once.

Working with your bow and fists means you’re never in a bad position in a fight. Hah hah, you ambushed the archer, I guess you’re just getting your skulls bashed in instead.

Your range and speed, combined with your punches’ pushing power, means you are great at choosing your fights. For the most part you can determine where and when you fight an enemy, giving you a pretty solid advantage. As long as your DM doesn’t make all the fights take place in a vacant plain somewhere.

Cons:

Your charisma is pretty dismal, so even if you have a plan in mind good luck getting people to follow it.

You’re also pretty unfocused, and I mean that in every sense of the word. You’d be a lot more consistent with damage if you only focused on punching or arrows, and since you’re specialized for bunches of weak enemies single bosses can be tricky.

Most of your magic damage is Fire, which is easy to resist. If you’re up against a demon or devil, you might just have a bad time.

Foreverland

➜ Words: 15.2k

➜ Genres: 95% Fluff, 5% Angst, Peter Pan!AU

➜ Summary: Just because you're nineteen doesn't mean you aren't still a CHILD! So why does everyone want you to grow up so badly?! Is it so wrong to not want to work? To get married?! And for heaven's sake, you'll wed anyone but boring Namjoon! Little do you know, a certain fairy boy's about to grant your wish and whisk you far away from this nightmare.

cr.

You flip the page of the storybook.   It sits on your lap, the two covers spread over your thighs, the page corners crisp against your fingertips. The colours seem to jump out at you — raspberry, periwinkle and kelly vibrant against the white. And you’re completely enthralled with the adventurous storyline, studying the sentences before your eyes follow the illustration of the garden gnome climbing the mountain.   “Y/N!”    A sharp shriek interrupts your concentration and you look to the house porch. Your mother has her hands on her hips, apron tied around her waist and ladle in hand. “Heavens to Betsy! What did I say about climbing trees again! Are you tryin’ to break your neck?! Get down here this instant, young lady!”   You sigh, jumping down from the thick branch much to her horror. But your landings are always perfect. This spot’s perfect. You don’t know why she has such a bone to pick with your favourite reading place.   Not only was the tree branch comfortable, but you got the biggest and brightest view of the grassy field and can feel the wind whisking through your hair. Not like she’d understand.   She never liked heights.   “Look at yourself,” your mother chastises and starts to brush off the skirt of your dress. “You got so dirty. You can’t be looking like this when Namjoon’s coming by.”   “Again?” Your exaggerated exhale gains the lift of her brow. But you can’t help it. It’s not like your walks with Namjoon are something you enjoy. “I don’t like him, mom. You know that.”   “Then who do you like?”   You recoil. “No one.”   “You’re not a child anymore, Y/N. You’re already nineteen and you’re turnin’ twenty soon. And what happened to your friends? Sarah’s already gotten married and so did Irene.”   “That’s because they had no dreams,” you tell her. “They’ve always wanted a boring life.”   “Well, it’s time for you to grow up,” she huffs, holding you by the shoulders and looking at you one last time. “If you don’t want to get married, then move out and get a job.”   Heck no. You don’t want any of that.    The last thing you want is to be like Sarah or Irene who only knows how to gossip over tea and plan how many babies they’re gonna have. Or be like your parents. Your father’s a war veteran and always working long hours while your mother’s a homemaker — she’s so bored in the neighbourhood that she frets over every detail about you and drives herself nuts.   You don’t know when it became like this but all the adults are so utterly boring.   It seems like everyone’s grown up to live a monotonous life in the suburbs and you refuse to follow.   “Y/N?”    Your train of thought comes to a crashing halt by a tall dark-haired gentleman with rounded glasses. Namjoon’s always been polite and well-mannered but his talking can get you fast asleep. “Are you okay?”   “I’m fine. Thanks.” You muster a smile, looking away from the kids crowding around the trees and climbing them, giggling, hooting and hollering at each other.   As Namjoon walks past them, he shakes his head in disapproval. “They’re so noisy.”   “When was the last time you climbed a tree?” you suddenly ask.   “I never really did. I always preferred to build train sets and reading.”   Immediately, your eyes light up. “Reading?”   “Encyclopedias.”   Your eyes dim just as quick. “Oh.”   //   The pastel mint that’s engulfed the dining room — walls, chairs, tablecloth — is washed out, especially with the dim yellow ceiling lamp hanging over the rectangular table. But you don’t comment when the pastel pink kitchen looks much worse. Your parents’ decorating choices have always been questionable to you.   “I heard Namjoon came by,” your father says at dinner. “How was it?”   “Same as always.”    It goes silent. The air is awkward and your mother clears her throat noisily. The mashed potatoes taste bland on your palette.   “You know, he came by the other day to have a chat with me. It seems like he’s quite serious.”   You have an inkling of what your father’s trying to get at and you put your fork down, allowing it to clank against your dinner plate. “Namjoon’s terribly dull.”   “He’s a respectable businessman,” your father asserts.    Your mother agrees and chimes, “Namjoon isn’t boorish.”   “He has no life in him,” you retort back. “Watching paint dry is more fun.”   Your father’s brow jumps and he raises his voice, “He will be a fantastic family man.”   “He has a great background, dear,” your mother offers in a softer tone.   You abruptly stand, chair legs squeaking against the linoleum, not wanting to hear anymore of their reasons. No matter what you say, they have hundreds of defenses. No one’s actually listening to you. They don’t understand!   “I won’t marry him, never ever. I won’t get a job either! I hated working as a secretary!”   “Sit down, Y/N,” your father deadpans, looking back at his dinner plate as if you’re just a dog barking. You don’t faze him whatsoever. “You’re not a child who can throw a temper tantrum anymore.”   “I am a child!”   “You’re nineteen,” he reprimands. “It’s time to grow. up.”   “Ugh!” You whirl around and stomp up the stairs, abandoning your dinner on the table. Your mom calls after you, demanding to know where you’re going, but you get to your room, slam the door shut and lock it.   You dive into your bed, face flat into your pillow.   A moment later, you hear a knock but when you don’t respond, the steps fade away.   It’s always like this. You don’t know why so many kids want to grow up quickly to be adults when there’s nothing fun about it whatsoever. You don’t want to marry Namjoon. You don’t want to be a housewife for the rest of your life. You don’t want to work for someone else either.   You just want to be free — is that so much to ask?   All you want is to read, to go on an adventure, to escape to somewhere else, be someone else.   You move your face to the side and out of the pillow to finally breathe and your eyes incidentally stray out your windows. It’s a starry night tonight, pinpricks of milky light glittering over the dark horizon. You find yourself standing up and walking over to open the latch. Immediately, fresh air whisks inside your suffocating room and you inhale a deep breath.   You lean on the window sill with your arms, pupils flickering up to the bright North Star in the sky.   It’s silly and naive, but with how dismayed you are, you shut your eyes and wish upon that glimmering star. You wish that someone could take you away from here. Far, far away. To a place where there won’t be any expectations for you. A place where you won’t have to work. Where you won’t have to marry Namjoon.   A place where your dreams could be granted.   But not for a second do you expect for your wish to actually come true.   You become sleepy while resting at the sill, lids heavy as you begin to drift off. But then, there’s a tickle at your nose and a light tap of your shoulder.    “Mama….stop it,” you groan, “I’ll talk to you later…”   Yet, there’s a harder tap and a deeper voice— “Hello?”   Your eyes shoot open at the unfamiliar timbre and your eyes narrow in on a man-boy floating in front of you. Dark hair. Twinkling irises. A mischievous smile. You stumble back on your butt and scream.   No one hears you, not your parents who are heavy sleepers or the noisy neighbours who somehow have taken a day off from snooping around. So, you’re left alone to face the stranger who’s seemingly not standing on anything. He’s just outside your bedroom window, floating mid-air.   “W-Who are you?!”   You have to blink thrice to make sure you’re really seeing turquoise fairy-like wings.   “Name’s Seokjin.” A sparkly red vest with golden trousers and a blue hat with a green feather on the side — he looks like he’s come straight out of one of your storybooks. “But you can call me Jin.”   “What are you doing here?” your words stutter out.   “I heard a wish being made and came to grant it.”   Jin floats down and steps onto your window ledge, peering curiously inside your room.    “It’s quite pink,” he notes and the corners of his mouth upturn into a perfectly rounded smile. “I’m guessing that’s your favourite colour.”   Without warning, the stranger comes in. An uninvited guest who’s all too meddlesome with the trinkets on top of your dresser. Your eyes bulge, brought speechless in the meanwhile. You wouldn’t know how to explain if your parents were to come in and see this stranger walking around your room.   You don’t even know if he’s a man or a boy in the first place. It’s almost like he’s both — one second, he looks young and the next, he looks to be around your age. But one thing’s certain. He’s tall, height overcoming yours, and he has light blue translucent wings on his back.   “What are you?”   The question stumbles out without much thought and you realize a little too late once it’s said.   He whirls around with a frown and lolls his head to the side. “I’m a human.”   “How does a human have wings?!”   He laughs, a bubbling sound emitting from his mouth, and he looks behind him. “Oh this? It’s magic. I guess that kind of makes me a fairy.”   You wonder if by fairy, it’s the fairies in the books you’ve read and you wonder what exactly he means by magic. More importantly, you wonder if this is all a dream in the first place.   Jin holds out his hand, palm lifted upwards and after a beat of hesitation, you take it. He helps you stand up on your feet again and smiles. “What’s your name?”   “It’s Y/N.”   “That’s a nice name. Okay, let’s go.”   “Excuse me?” You blink hard, questioning if he’s even from this world. “Go where?”   “Foreverland, silly.” Jin smiles, plump lips pulled, cheeks puffed out like loaves of bread, brown irises twinkling. “Don’t you want to escape from here? Go on an adventure? Come on!”   He takes your hand, leading you to the window, but your steps are slow. “Where’s Foreverland?”   “Boy, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” He looks back at you with a boyish grin. “Just come see for yourself.”   You wonder if this is a dream. If it is, then there’s no point in staying in your room.   So you simply nod and his smile widens.   Jin gets onto the window ledge and pulls you up with him. But before he can go any further, you blurt out, “Wait!” And he promptly halts, looking at you to see if there’s anything wrong. “D-Do I need to bring anything with me?”   He laughs at your question.    “No.”   Then, before you can even blink, Jin jumps. With your hands held, you fall out the window after him and scream at the top of your lungs. Yet, there’s no fall in the pit of your stomach. There isn’t a rush, the wind tearing through your hair, or the impending splat on the ground.   You peel open your eyes to discover Jin carrying you. An arm around your back and the other behind your knees. Immediately, you loop your arms around his neck and find your house becoming smaller and smaller as he flies away.   “Did you really think I was just going to let you fall?” the strange boy asks with a cheeky smile.   “You should’ve warned me,” you murmur, not putting up much of a fight or complaining when you were too busy looking at the view. You were flying over the entire city, watching the way the lights of the buildings glimmer into a mosaic of colours, your house now a mere dot in the distance.    It’s a breathtaking sight, reminding you of stars in the distance. Except they were the buildings you entered on afternoon shopping trips with your mother or streets you biked through. You could see the diner and the record shop and even the drive-in theater!   Jin smiles as he looks at you. “If you’re impressed now, wait till we get to Foreverland.”   You turn your attention to him, eyes running from his lashes to the slope of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow. The breeze makes your cheeks warm and you take the opportunity to pinch yourself on the arm.   It hurts, which only means one thing. This isn’t a dream.   “How are you doing this?!”   “I said it before!” he exclaims in a pitched voice. “Magic!”   It can’t be real. But at the exact same time, it is.   And with that realization, you start hollering at the top of your lungs, momentarily startling the boy carrying you. “I can’t believe this is happening! This is amazing!”    Jin grins. “I know!”   You cheer as if you’re on top of the highest mountain, as if you’re facing the endless ocean and screaming your name, as if the entire world could hear the howls coming from the pit of your stomach. Exhilaration bleeds through your veins and you laugh aloud, finally feeling alive.   Instead of feeling fearful, cautious, or burdened with an apprehension you know anyone in your position would have, you’re elated. For the first time, you were finally going on an adventure.   The two of you fly a bit more, soaring beyond the wispy clouds and blue oceans, until the golden sun starts to rise over the horizon. As soothing as it is, to where you could fall asleep, you make sure to keep your eyes open to catch it all. And soon enough, Jin’s swooping downwards towards an oblong-shaped island in the middle of nowhere.   “Welcome to Foreverland.”   A sandy beach, an open field, a forest nearby. Jin lands and sets you down onto your feet. The grass is pliant beneath your toes and you look around with your lips parted.   “What is this place?”   “Anything you want it to be,” he says. “Foreverland grants magic, so anyone can escape to it. Here, you can make your dreams come true. Anything in your imagination can be real.”    If what he’s telling you is true, then the possibilities are limitless. But you don’t know what to do, where to start.   “Where do you live?”   “In that treehouse.” Jin points a few paces away to where the forest and the meadow meet. You see an enormous tree that looks centuries old with winding branches that act as a staircase and a tiny fort fit at the top. Cute windows, warm lighting spilling from inside and a string of bulbs wrapped around the green foliage make up his cozy home and you’re put in awe.   “There’s magic all around us,” Jin says with a small smile after watching your reaction. “You can do whatever you want. Try it.”   “How?”   “Just imagine whatever you want!”   It sounds too easy, but even though you’re not quite sure what you want to do, you shut your eyes anyway. Somehow, your mind strays to how you always wanted to be a princess when you were younger and then to the castle dollhouse your aunt got you for your sixth birthday.    Lilac walls, three towers, trim wrapped in pink, a brown gate, teal roof, the ribbon flag.   And then you open your eyes again.   A gasp befalls your lips. The castle you used to play with as a child is built right in front of you, manifested from thin air right to the last detail from your memory. The flourishing bed of flowers and winding cobblestone path welcomes you inside as the castle’s majestic ruler.   “Looks like you have a natural talent for this,” Jin laughs with an enormous grin.   “This is incredible!” You don’t know what you want to do first. If you want to run inside the castle and look into all the rooms, if you want to fall back on the meadow floor and imagine pools of chocolate, or if you want to feel that buzz of magic again, those vibrations in the air that still tingle on your skin. “Why aren’t there more people here?”   “There’s a lot of visitors, but no one stays for long,” Jin says, his expression unrecognizable in the split-second that it changes. He smiles again before you can decipher it. “But you can stay here for as long as you’d like.”   You decide that you want to go inside the castle first.   You run around the halls, up and down the stairs, flinging bedroom doors open and sprinting across the massive ballroom with the hanging chandelier. There are three levels in total, ten rooms, a dining hall and the top of the highest tower gives you the best view of the forest and the mountains in the back.   Jin follows you in the meanwhile, infected by your excitement and answering the numerous questions you have. He seems happy to share Foreverland with you, and your mind’s already racing with countless ideas of what to do, build and create. Or at least until your stomach grumbles.   “Hungry?”   You sheepishly smile. “I guess.”   Jin grins as if it’s a problem easily solvable, but you’re not sure what he has in mind when he leads you through the thicket of the forest. It’s an uphill climb, the lush canopies letting through the rays of sparkling morning light while the chickadees and blue jays chirp, wings fluttering overhead.   The tree trunks eventually open up to a cleared riverside with enormous rocks scattered around.   But what takes your attention is the long, white table and rounded chairs all around. There’s cake stands filled with buttered pastries, frosted cakes, teacups and teapots discarded and a radio on top of a rock.   “What is this?”   “It’s where we have our tea parties,” Jin informs with a smile as he pulls out a chair for you and you plop down with a fork materializing in your hand.   Instantaneously, magic thumps the air and the teapots start to dance. Fuzzy folk music plays from the static radio. And the appliances start to swirl to the cheery rhythm, tilting back and forth as teacups start to levitate in front of you. It’s like something straight out of a book and you laugh as you watch them.   The teapot pours a cupful until it spills over and you quickly take it.   “Thank you very much.”   It’s the best earl grey tea you’ve ever had and your eyes widen before you’re sipping it again. If possible, the teapot seems to blush and pours you another cup.   “Have some cake,” Jin suggests, sitting on the other side and watching you with a grin. The fork flies out of your hand to cut into the slice and the silver utensil feeds you itself. The sweetness explodes on your tongue.   “This is amazing, Jin!” You’ve never been allowed to eat so many sweets, not when your mother was constantly nagging and telling you to watch your weight. But there’s no one here to tell you otherwise, so you fill your stomach until it aches. The plates and utensils also settle down after they accidentally dribble frosting on Jin’s hair, much to the boy’s dismay.   The tea party concludes after you’ve had your full and you bid them goodbye.   “Did you like it?” The both of you are strolling back into the forest, Jin matching your steps.   “Did I ever!” You laugh. “It was spectacular. Foreverland is spectacular!”   “I’m glad.” He smiles to himself at the same time your eyes stray over to a majestic tree sitting in the middle of the magical forest. Large trunk, enormous branches, your steps speed towards it.   Jin’s brow raises but he follows after you, watching you hoist yourself up on the first branch.   “You gotta be able to see all of Foreverland up here.”   The boy’s amused and his wings start fluttering. “I could always fly you up if you want.”   “That’s cheating,” you argue, grappling with another before pulling yourself up. “My dad’s always told me that the effort makes the result sweeter. Plus, there’s nothing quite like climbing trees. You should try it.”   Jin observes the way you’re already sweating and out of breath, and opts not to. “I’ll stick to flying.”   “Suit yourself.” You dust your hands before jumping to grab another branch.    You can tell Jin’s impressed at how you’re maneuvered yourself but it’s all thanks to your childhood in the countryside. This is nothing. And in just a few minutes, you’ve made it to the top of the ginormous tree, overlooking the entirety of Foreverland. Jin’s wings stop flitting as he sits down on the branch beside you and you both soak in the scenery.   The wind tears through your hair and you’re left breathless, gazing upon the painting-like island. You can spot his treehouse from afar, the castle you’ve built, and the beaches near where you first landed. The greenery and blue horizon seems to stretch on for miles, and it’s all laid out in front of you for your eyes only.    You don’t notice how Seokjin’s turned his head to look at you.   “This is so unbelievable,” you exhale.   None of you see the green leaf beside you that withers away.   “I’m glad you love it so much.” Jin smiles. “You can stay for as long as you’d like.”   The sun is hanging high in the sky, signaling it’s already afternoon and you realize that in your excitement, you haven’t had a wink of sleep. Up here, it’s quickly catching up to you. You’re too comfortable against the tree trunk, unable to stifle your yawns, and your lids become heavier.    The second time Jin glances at you, he finds your head bobbing and he smiles.   He carries you back to your castle, through the window into one of the rooms and he places you on the soft bed. In your deep slumber, you hear a soft voice— “Sleep tight, princess.” — and for some reason, you rest easy.   //   In your dreams, there’s a man-boy with wings wearing a ridiculous outfit, red vest and golden trousers with a blue hat and a feather on it. But somehow, he seems to sparkle and so does the place he takes you to. Magic thrums the air, vibrating on your skin and anything you wish for can be real. It’s a fantasy world straight out of the many storybooks you’ve held tightly onto….   In your dreams, you want to stay forev—   FWOOP.   There’s a deafening noise in your ear. A violent rush of wind smacking your face. You open your eyes with a shriek already tearing from your raw throat.   Onyx eyes sit high on the creature’s narrow skull and they stare into yours, mere inches away. There are horns on top of its head, body crimson and scaly with a row of larger scales running down its spine. Its black talons are sharp, gripping against the edges of the shattered shingles.   Dragon.   It’s a colossal dragon. And it’s ripped off the roof of your castle.   The creature’s shadow looms over you and every exhale from its nostrils whisks your hair back.   This isn’t a dream. It isn’t. “Jin!”    You scream at the top of your lungs, scurrying back in a cold sweat, blood curdling at the back of your throat. “Jin! Jin!” There’s only one person who can rescue you— “Seokjin!”   The dragon leans down and it nabs the hem of your white nightgown with its pointed teeth. You’re immediately lifted into the air with another screech violently ripping through your vocal cords. The dragon’s wings flap aggressively and you’re practically dangling diagonally in mid-air.   Oh shit. Shit!   In the midst of your panic, you scramble for a way to save yourself and then you remember. This is Foreverland. Anything you want can become a reality. You can grant any wish you desire.   So with that in mind, you quickly think of a witch’s broomstick. Something you can easily fly away on. And just like that, it manifests itself beside you, parking next to your dangling body.   A smile stretches into your features and your arm lifts to—   The dragon bats it away. As swiftly as it appears, the broom is being flung downwards.    The creature increases its speed, beginning to circle the island and you resort back to screaming— “Jin!”    You’re shivering as the dragon soars through wispy clouds, heading towards the mountains past the forest. When the creature starts to sweep downwards, your shrieks only increase in volume and pitch.   Then, the dragon drops you.   You’re flailing for ten seconds, mind-blank, the pit of your stomach falling up into your throat, your screams becoming soundless. But before you slam into the ground, your body is plunged into light green.   It absorbs your speed. Cushions your landing.   And you open your eyes to figure out that you’ve been dropped into a humongous plate of jelly. Unable to breathe, you start eating your way out towards the light. Your hands shove backwards as if you’re digging yourself out of dirt and your mouth chomps down until you’ve broken free.    Gasping, you pull the rest of your limbs out of the green jelly and stumble to the ground.   The taste of green grapes linger on your tongue.   But more importantly, your attention is stolen by a figure standing on top of a gray rock. Ruby cape, golden crown lopsided on a black head of hair. The stranger suddenly turns around and you’re faced with a rabbit-like boy — doe eyes, a big nose, pouty lips.   “Welcome to Jelly Mountain.” His voice is smooth and he hops down to hover over you. “You’re my new hostage.”   Suddenly, there’s rope bounding your entire body.   You’re utterly confused and you realize you’re quivering uncontrollably. “W-Where’s Jin?”   The corner of the stranger’s mouth tugs.    “Seokjin?” He barks out into deep, sinister laughter. “Dead, of course.”   Blood drains from your face.   The turmoil slams into your frame. You burst out into tears.    The stranger goes completely silent, eyes widened as he watches sobs choke out of your chest and he flinches back. “Wait. A-Are you okay? Is everything alright?”   Dead. Jin’s dead. Devastation wrecks you entirely and you lose strength fighting, flopping over to weep into the ground. Just like that. He’s. Dead.   Your captor cautiously approaches you while you blink past your hazy vision, teardrops hanging off your lashes. And once he gets close enough, you lift your foot to kick him in the knee. Hard enough that you can hear a crack in his joint.   “Oof!”   The boy doubles over and you get to your knees, rage replacing grief. “Why would you kill Jin?!”   “Who killed me?” A familiar voice sounds overhead and you knock your head back to see a dignified silhouette standing at a higher cliff. Jin flies down in front of you and points a wooden sword at the king.   But the boy wheezes and lifts his palms up. “I give, I give.”   The ropes around you instantaneously vanish and the second it does, you rush upwards, launching yourself at Jin. Your arms open and your bodies collide against each other. He’s surprised and stumbles back before he smiles modestly. Jin pats your back as you mumble into his shoulder, “Oh god, a dragon took me from my bed and I thought you were dead for real and I was so scared.”   The wind ceases for a moment, the sky losing its blue vibrancy for a sheer second.   A soft laugh emits from Jin’s lips and after you let go and he whirls around to the other boy. “Look at what you did, Jungkook.”   Jungkook scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I was just kidding, I didn’t know you would take me so seriously. This is how we usually play.” He melts into a timid sort of smile and approaches you again to properly introduce himself. “I’m Jin’s imaginary friend.”   Before you can think too much, Jungkook eagerly shakes your hand. “I was really excited when I heard there was someone new in Foreverland.”   “Well, it’s nice to meet you too. But it’s very rude to take your dragon and steal me out of bed,” you huff out, almost sounding like your mother. At the same time, said dragon pops up from behind a rocky boulder with sad eyes and a whimpering noise.   You recoil and dart to hide behind Jin. But he laughs and steps aside. “It’s alright. Everyone’s friendly here.”   The dragon is clumsy as it tottles towards you and it bends over to dip its head down. You hesitate, but with Jin’s encouragement and his reassuring nod, your hand lifts and you pet its mound. You’re shocked to find the scaly texture softer than expected, though your caresses are cut short when it nudges you with a puff from its nose. The dragon’s tail is wagging.   You step away after a held breath, turning to glare at Jungkook and he ducks his head.   Jin laughs and takes your hand before another argument or fight can take place. “Are you hungry? Let’s go have some cake and tea.”   You allow him to lead the way and Jungkook strolls along with his arms folded comfortably behind his head. “I want earl grey!”   You’re not sure how imaginary friends work in Foreverland. But you don’t know how Jungkook is so life-like. If you were told he was someone like you and Jin, then you would believe it.   Jungkook readily drinks up all the tea until the teapots are tired of pouring. “Ugh, scones?!” He tosses the scones over his shoulder and indulges in cake just as much as Jin does.   There are still so many things about the power of Foreverland you have yet to learn.   “What do you want to do now?” Jin asks as the four of you tread through the meadow. It was a new day and a day full of endless possibilities.   You hum, considering it for a moment. “Have you ever read Jack and the Beanstalk?”   “What?”   A seed materializes in your hand and you lean down to plant it into the soft dirt. Both Jin and Jungkook have inquisitive expressions, but you simply step back and let magic do its work. It takes an anticipated second of bated breath held in throats. Then, there’s a splitting noise.   The ground shakes beneath your feet and a thick, green stalk blasts from the ground. It sprouts, twining and twirling upwards, growing past your eyes and the cotton clouds.   You turn around to Jin with a cheeky grin. “What are you waiting for?”   You start to climb the soft vines of the huge beanstalk, hoisting yourself upwards while Jin’s wings begin to flutter and he takes flight beside you. Jungkook, in the meanwhile, stays rooted to the ground and you look down at him, asking if he’s coming along.   “I’m fine,” he declines politely. “I’m not one for heights.”   “Alright.”   You continue onwards while Jungkook waves with the dragon beside him. Seokjin, on the other hand, is eager to see what’s awaiting him at the top.    “What is this?”   “It’s the beanstalk from Jack in the Beanstalk. You know, the story about the boy who traded in his cow for magical beans and it grew the next morning.” When Jin’s expression remains blank, you elaborate, “He fought the giant, took the goose that laid golden eggs and became rich. Have you never heard of it?!”   Jin merely shakes his head and you’re absolutely appalled.   “It’s a fairly famous fairy tale.”   “I was never allowed to read much of them,” he says passingly and notices how you’re starting to break into a sweat. “I can fly you up.”   “No.” As tiring as it is— “I love climbing.”   Within minutes, your fingertips can grasp the white clouds and your castle’s diminished into a mere smudge. You heave your body upwards with one last surge and collapse onto the clouds.    Foreverland has become the size of your thumb, surrounded in the abyss blue ocean. But you don’t look down for long when there’s so much to see around you. It’s just how you envisioned — a kingdom above the clouds, mist thin at the horizon, pastel blue overhead.    Jin lands on the plush surface and seems to be even more amazed than you are. He stares at the cotton clouds that stretch beyond the sky and after a beat, starts to jump. He bends his knees, springs upwards and bounces off the clouds.   “Look!” He laughs and you giggle, mimicking him. It’s soft beneath your feet, dipping when you land and pushing back as you hop from place to place. You twirl around when you capture air time while Jin seems to be having the time of his life, jumping as high as possible.   “This is so much fun!”   “What did I tell you?”   For once, you’re glad you can finally be the one to show him something new.   “I can jump higher than you can!”   “Not for long!”   But the bouncing session is cut short when you leap towards him and he drifts to the side in mid-air. Your heads bump into one another, skulls knocking — and you both fall back with groans and sharp inhales.   “Ouch!” — “Ugh!”   You pout, rubbing at your pulsating forehead while Jin’s cowered over and scratching his crown.    “Can’t you watch where you’re going?”   “It’s not my fault,” you retort. “I’m not the one with wings.”   He snorts and to get back at him for the injury already fading away, you collect an armful of the clouds. They remind you of the soap bubbles in a bubble bath, foamy and fluffy, and you fling it at Jin. The majority hits his face and some floats down on top of his head.    You burst out laughing at his wincing expression and how the clouds have clung to his hair and the area around his mouth like he has a beard. “You look like Santa Claus!”    “Oh, you’re gonna get it now.” He wipes his eyes and you giggle, staggering back to your feet to run. Jin regains his own footing and starts chasing you with an even bigger armful. “Get back here, coward!”   “Hey! No flying! That’s cheating!”   “We never made up any rules!” He grins as you struggle to run on the bouncy surface, restoring to leaping away. The pair of you are laughing incessantly until your stomach aches, but then you’re interrupted by a deafening roar.   Harsh wind swoops your figure back and you’re startled, falling onto your butt again. The red dragon soars past the clouds with its wings expanded. It circles over your head before landing a few steps away. Yet, instead of being frightened like earlier, you laugh this time.   Jin slows down and smiles. “The dragon’s name is Lady.”   “Lady?”   You look around from Jin to her, noticing how long her lashes are. She stares at you as if anticipating something.   “Sit,” you command on a hunch and surprisingly, she listens. Lady plops down on her behind and her tail begins to swing from side to side. You ease and step closer towards her. “Roll over!”   Lady rolls on top of the plush clouds.   Your thumb and forefinger shoot out. “Bang!”   Lady flops to her side as dead weight and you burst out laughing, coming up to pet her, scratching right under her chin. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Yes, you are!” She practically melts in your hand, nuzzling into your palm.   At the same time, Jin watches you with a softened smile. The horizon loses its bright hue.   //   “Have you ever heard of the Little Mermaid?”   “Tell me about it.”   “Well, it’s a story about a mermaid who falls in love with a prince she rescues. She trades her tail for legs in exchange for her voice to be with him. But he thinks someone else saved him and marries that girl instead.”   Jin’s brows are deeply furrowed, taken aback by the fairy tale. “Then what happened?”   “She’s given the choice of killing him to get her tail back, but in the end, she can’t do it. So she throws herself into the ocean and becomes sea foam.”   “That’s sad,” he says on an exhale, genuinely saddened by the story and you suppose the first time hearing it is always the most emotional.   But you agree with him. Part of you finds it hard to understand why someone would give up their family and home, but your friends always said love makes you do crazy things — whatever that’s supposed to mean.   Your hand tightens on Jin’s as the both of you swim deeper into the ocean’s trenches. The only way you’re able to breathe comfortably is through the water-breathing seaweed you thought of, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that something doesn’t need to exist in the real world to materialize in Foreverland.   The waters are perfectly still, a vivid cyan with the golden sunshine from above cascading through. It shimmers all around you and once the soft sand floor comes to view, so does the rocky towers and arches.   All from your imagination, you’ve constructed a whole water kingdom. Now, colourful schools of fish glide past you, anemone and seaweed practically wave, seahorses swim by and the corals decorating the structures are vibrant against the stony shades.   Jin smiles, swimming closer with you hand-in-hand so none of you can drift away. “I never thought about doing this.”   “Have you ever heard about Atlantis? It’s apparently a city underwater that’s sort of like this too. I read it in a book once.”   “You really like to read,” Jin muses and you nod.   “It’s the only time when I can be somewhere else without having to really be there.”   Jin stops at the center of the city’s square, surrounded by the many towers and buildings you’ve created in the middle of the sea. “You can make all those stories come true in Foreverland.”   As sincere as his words may be, they spur on your curiosity. “How long have you been in Foreverland for?”   “I don’t remember.” He looks to the distance. “A long, long time.”   Before you can dwell on what he says or decipher the expression on his face, you’re swept up by a school of rainbow fishes that tickle your skin. A giggle emits from your lips and air bubbles float upwards as the water sparkles around your frame. With the distraction, you don’t notice the way Seokjin’s gazing at you.   Or the way the sunshine shimmer dims.   //   It’s a busy day — from being woken up by a dragon quite literally stealing you out of bed, having a tea party, climbing a beanstalk to jump on bouncy clouds, and exploring an underwater kingdom, you and Jin are equally winded when night arrives.   So the pair of you opt to gaze at the stars instead of going on another adventure. You lay next to each other on the meadow floor. On top of a bed of soft grass with daisies surrounding you.   “Did you know the North Star always stays in the same spot?”   “Really?” Jin shifts his head, looking at your profile instead of the glimmering pinpricks of light. A daisy near him droops.   “All the constellations move except for that one. It’s pretty easy to see too. It’s right there.” You point upwards. “If you can find the Big Dipper, you can find the North Star.”   Jin smiles to himself as you chat about all the things you know. He’s always been the one showing others, guiding them around, teaching them about Foreverland. It’s nice to be the one who listens for a change. But eventually, he’s lulled by the sound of your voice and your own lids begin to droop before you’ve realized that you’ve dozed off.   It’s a bit later on that in your sleepy haze, you feel the brush of a blanket.    Jungkook sneaks by, draping the cotton over your forms before he lays down too with his arms behind his head. Lady, on the other hand, curls around your frame to further keep you warm.    And the four of you fall asleep like that, out in the open of the most magical place.   //   Time passes quickly in Foreverland. You suppose it’s like that when you’re busy having tea parties with Lady, Jungkook and Jin. When you’re going on adventures together. When you’re exploring the entire island. Telling each other stories. Manifesting all kinds of creations.   But every so often, your mind strays and you wonder what your family at home thinks.   You’ve been at Foreverland for more days than you can count on both your hands and you don’t want to leave. But you wonder if you should. You wonder if they’re worried. If they’re searching for you.   The last conversation you had with your parents was an argument. You didn’t mean to stomp off, to disappear completely. You just didn’t want to marry Namjoon, but it’s not right to end things that way.   And all of it weighs on your mind.   It lingers. Even when you’re laughing, giggling, having so much fun that you want to stay forever.   “Jin.”   “Hmm?”   “Should I go back?”   He turns to you abruptly, like he already knows the meaning of those four words, as if you don’t need to explain any further. And his brows furrow deeply, boyish visage ruined by the hurt.   “Why?”   “I….just don’t want my family to worry about me.” You fiddle with the long strands of grass spilling past the gaps of your fingers. “I’ve been here for a long time.”   “Time works differently here than it does where the others live,” he says and your eyes connect. “You don’t need to be worried that they’re worried. They’ll barely know you’re gone.”   It’s comforting to be assured by him, but it still doesn’t solve the unrest stowed in your heart.   It’s not right to abandon them. To leave your family behind. Even if they, themselves, don’t know—   “What do you want to do?” Jin suddenly asks, interrupting your thoughts with his gleaming irises.   You hum, tapping your chin.   He smiles. “Do you want to go on a pirate adventure again? Or go slay the giant.”   “I have a better idea.” A grin swells into your cheeks as a suggestion forms in your mind. “Have you ever heard of Cinderella?”    He shakes his head.   “Once upon a time, there was a girl named Cinderella born, and she grew up being mistreated by her stepmother and stepsisters. One day, there was a ball in the kingdom and everyone went, except for her. But then her fairy godmother came and gave her a beautiful dress. She went to the ball and danced with the prince.”   “There’s a lot of princes in these fairy tales,” Seokjin interjects and you laugh.   “Yes, there are.” You chide, “Don’t interrupt! I haven’t finished.”   “Sorry. Keep going.”   Night sets and stars paint across the sky like silver glitter spilled onto black paper. A full golden moon sits high up to accompany the stars. The weather is warm and the breeze caresses against your cheeks, a perfect cuddle against your form. The light from inside your splendid castle spills out on the horizon of the otherwise tranquil Foreverland.   “The spell wore off at midnight, so right before the clock struck the twelfth hour, the girl ran away and she only left a glass slipper behind. The prince tried to find her and once her foot fit the slipper, they got married and lived happily ever after.”   Jin hums, less amused than he was with the other fairy tales you told. “What do you want to do with this story?”   “Have a ball, of course! It would be a lot of fun.”   “I’m not really the dancing type.”   “Then I’ll just have to teach you!”   The rounded carriage pulls up to the stone steps of the castle and you get out, kitten heels hitting against the cobblestone. You’re a bit more clumsy walking in them than you expected, but Lady grunts happily and helps you up the stone stairs by nudging you with her head. You pet and praise her when you get to the top and her lashes flutter as she lays back down at the bottom.   You’re not one for dressing up when your mother’s always nagging and fretting over every single detail. But it’s fun to do it yourself and envision that you’re an actual princess of Foreverland. It feels like you’ve completed another one of your dreams — purple ball gown, flowers sewn into the skirt, sparkling tulle overwhelming, and a crown of daisies in your hair.   For once, you feel less like the tomboy climbing trees and more like a princess from a storybook.   “Welcome.” Jungkook smiles boyishly, dressed in his own costume. White shirt with ruffled sleeves, long blue coat, breeches and stockings — he looks silly, like he’s from two centuries ago, but you don’t laugh in case he gets embarrassed.    Tonight, Jungkook’s playing the role of the squire after all. And he stands near the entrance, happily allowing the grand doors to open. He grins before announcing your name, “Y/N!”   Once the crack of the door parts, your eyes fall directly to Jin in the center of the golden ballroom.   There are funny puppets you’ve made filling the room — paper figurines you used to cut out as a child now full size and flapping to the breeze, stumbling around as a poor excuse of dancing. They make you laugh, the sound traveling mellifluously above the violins and trumpets playing by themselves in the corner. It’s the good kind of classical music that adds to the elegant atmosphere.   But you don’t dwell, not when Jin holds out his hand and you walk to him before taking it.   You slide his one hand on the small of your waist while your hand is placed on his shoulder and you hold his other. Jin’s dressed in princely attire, black jacket with a golden sash across and dark trousers. His hair is pushed to the side, revealing his forehead and you muse how it makes him lean to the older side of his usual appearance.   “You’re very handsome,” you admit with a smile, realizing his shoulders are broader than you ever considered. “How do I look?”   “Pretty,” Jin exhales and the way he says it makes you embarrassed as well. You’ve never been complimented excessively in your lifetime, but enough times that they easily roll off your shoulders. Yet, somehow, with the way he’s staring at you, with the way the syllables stutter out of his lips, a single word you know that is genuinely spoken, you feel your face heating.   “Thank you.” You divert your eyes towards your shoes and guide him with your steps. “Step back once and then to the side. One, two, three. Like that. See? You got it already! Who said you couldn’t dance?”   Jin hums, naturally falling into a rhythm. He’s a fast learner.    “Do you feel like a princess now?”   A cheeky grin swells your cheeks. “I do with you around.”    “This is surprisingly fun.”   “Of course, it is.” Your eyes flicker to the chandelier hanging off of the rounded, high ceiling. Then to the polished marble floor that’s ornate with flowers and swirls. The entire room is a warm, yellow hue and it seems to sparkle. “The pictures of balls were always pretty in storybooks. I liked them as much as the adventure stories.”   As the music swells, Jin spins you around and you twirl across the floor with a hand held.    But as you land back into his arms, his left foot smashes on yours. “S-Sorry!”   Laughter bubbles out of you. “It’s okay.”   You look into Jin’s eyes, soaking in just how brown his irises are. They resemble the warmth of the sun, a cup of coffee your dad would brew on cold mornings. They’re deep and comforting. And for a mere moment, it feels like you’re just two people who met at a dance hall one magical evening — same-aged strangers who could’ve run into each other serendipitously.   “How old are you, Jin?”   “Whatever you want me to be.”   Suddenly, you realize your feet are not on the ground anymore. You’re levitating, floating mid-air, gliding upwards. Immediately, you gasp and grip Jin closer, pressing your body onto his.   He smiles tenderly.   “Jin!”   “It’s alright. Just trust me.”   The music crescendos as you dance while drifting around the ballroom in his arms. The skirt of your gown sweeps with you and magic thrums the air, vibrating on your skin. You feel enchanted, swept up in the moment, in his eyes and embrace.   The corner of Jin’s mouth tugs and a quiet giggle befalls your lips as he twirls you around again.   When the both of you become tired, you get back to the floor and stumble out onto the castle terrace laughing.   You’re still catching your breaths, his cheeks rosy and yours warm. The violins are muffled behind the glass doors.   “Look at the stars, Jin!” you tap his shoulder twice, pointing upwards to the boundless horizon.   You don’t notice how he’s turned to gaze at you. How his eyes have become tender. “I’m looking.”   You rest against the balcony railings with a quiet sigh. “We should’ve done this sooner.”   “We could always do it again.”   Your head swivels over and you’re caught off guard to see Seokjin staring at you intently, as if he has something to say but doesn’t quite know how to. Your breath hitches in your throat and you gaze back at him, eyes met, tension overwhelming. It’s a moment that reminds you of when you were younger, when you used to peek into the kitchen at night and see your mom and dad at the counter speaking in low tones — intimate. The word you were searching for: intimate.   Ding Dong. You snap back to your senses when the clock strikes midnight. The bell chime resonates through Foreverland and you grin.   “Guess that’s my cue to leave.”   Staying true to the tale of Cinderella, you slip away from his side.    Yet, you’re immediately pulled back. Seokjin takes your hand before you can fully walk away, cradling your palm gently in his. “Y/N,” he calls you quietly and you spin around. “Stay with me.”    You’re not sure why he has that expression on his face. Why he looks anxious. Why his wings become transparent.   “I’m joking,” you say with a smile to ease him. “I don’t need to run off at midnight like actual Cinderella.”    “No. I mean...stay with me in Foreverland.” A pause. His deep timbre is heartrending. “You don’t need to go back.”   “Jin.” You step closer to him, brows furrowed deep enough to hurt. You don’t know what to tell him. You don’t know how to utter the words that are restrained in your throat. “I have to go back eventually. I can’t just leave my family behind forever and I can always come back. It’s not like you’ll be alone anyhow. You have Jungkook—”   “You’re different,” he instantly blurts and you frown, not sure you quite understand.   “What do you mean?”   Jin opens his mouth but closes it a second later. “I’m not sure. You’re just...different.”   You’re utterly confused, but unable to dawdle on the subject when he smiles and squeezes your held hands, pulling you back into the ballroom. “Let’s dance some more.”   //   It’s seldom that you awake peacefully — without Lady ripping off the roof of your castle to pick you up by her teeth, without Jungkook bouncing on your bed and pretending he’s a knight in the middle of battle, or Seokjin trying to tickle you to consciousness to start the day of adventures.   But today, it’s quiet. Unusually so.   When you step out of your castle, you’re horrified to find the ground split. The land across Foreverland is cracked several inches wide and deep enough that all you see is darkness when you peek in. It’s as if there was an earthquake or a storm that caused an earth fissure.   The flowers have lost their colour — petals and leaves monochrome. The trees don’t sway. And when you look up at the sky, in between the azure horizon is a streak of the black galaxy.    It’s as if Foreverland itself is starting to crack.   Panic overcomes you.   “Jin! Jin!”   You run, avoiding the split of the ground, sprinting across the gray meadow and towards Jin’s treehouse on the edge of the forest. You call his name at the top of your lungs, alarmed and frightened at what’s happening. But the figure you see in the distance isn’t him.   It’s Jungkook and you’re relieved to find someone in reach.    “W-What’s going on?” you pant, catching your breath and slowing down. “Jungkook?”   The boy’s frowning, lips lopsided, eyes diverted from you.    He’s not panicking — he knows something.   “I’m…..I’m not allowed to tell you.”   “What? What is it?!”   He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scratching the back of his neck, fidgeting on spot. He doesn’t utter a single word and anger swells inside of you. “Jungkook!”    The boy groans loudly and leans over to take your hand. “As long as you promise not to tell. I’m only doing this because you’re so special, okay?” Jungkook starts walking frantically towards the treehouse and you struggle to catch up to him.   “W-Where are you taking me?”   “You’ll see.”   The both of you climb the stairs of the treehouse and enter. You’ve come here enough times, glanced out the window, laid on the wooden framed bed, sat at the oak table, admired the strung lights and cozy atmosphere. But Jungkook comes to the bookcase on the back wall and pulls out the spine of a blue book.   You step back in surprise when it trembles and starts descending into the floor, revealing a concealed area. In moments, the top of the bookcase is snug against the floorboards like two seams never even there.   Jungkook looks back at you and you follow after him.   It’s a darkened space that consists of a downwards spiraling staircase and you begin to descend down. You figure that you’re inside the tree and that alone amazes you.   Jungkook materializes a lantern in hand to give luminescence and the two of you come to a wooden door at the bottom of the staircase. He hangs back and looks at you. “Open it.”   Your hand wraps around the golden knob and you push it open.   Wind sweeps through your hair, making you shut your eyes. But once it subsides and you look again, you’re met with a hidden room of secrets — a small space with towering piles of briefcases on desks and scattered across the floor. There’s metal filing cabinets, picture frames, books, soaring stacks of papers. It clutters the room, giving off a suffocating feeling.    You step in slowly. “What...is all this?”   “It’s where Jin stores away his subconscious,” Jungkook murmurs and you pick up a photo frame of Jin tensely standing next to what you suppose is his father — a stern-looking man who’s similar to his son but with more wrinkles. They’re both expressionless in the fuzzy photograph. “He comes from a long line of salesmen. His dad was a salesman and so was his grandfather and his great-grandfather.”   You set the picture down and look upon the heaps of briefcases, almost scared they’ll topple over you and smother you to death.   “If Jin talks about his reality, his creations will shatter, so he stowed everything away,” Jungkook says and you turn around to look at him. “You still have a connection to reality, so it doesn’t affect you as much, but the longer you stay here, the more you have to detach yourself from the real world.”   “How do you know all this? How...do you know Jin’s secrets?”   The boy smiles gingerly. “I’m not just Jin’s imaginary friend or best friend, Y/N. I’m his voice of reason and self-awareness. He stowed those parts away too, just in me, so he wouldn’t have to feel so sad all the time. You could say I’m the adult in him. Or at least, I have all the adult parts of him.”   “The adult parts of him?”   Jungkook nods. “Foreverland is a place for kids who don’t want to grow up. It grants magic so people can escape to it, but you can only stay if you retain your innocence. Or if you don’t regret it and choose to leave. Kids always end up growing up and choosing to leave, and Jin recognized that. So he decided to put away any part of himself that would ever grow to regret it.”   You wonder how many children came and went. How many stepped in Foreverland, spent their time here and chose to leave in the end in spite of everything he did to get them to stay. You wonder how many times Jin was left alone. Abandoned.   You wonder if that’s why he begged you to stay with him forever.   Your voice is a cracked whisper— “How long has he been in Foreverland for?”   “Time works differently in Foreverland, so I’m not sure how much it is in the real world.” Jungkook is as solemn as you are. “He’s probably been gone for a lot less. But he came here when he was your age and he’s been here for twenty eight years. Five of which he spent without anyone outside.”   You’re stunned, made speechless, trying to fathom that length of time.   “Twenty eight years?” More importantly, you don’t know why you feel so heartbroken. “What has he been doing in that time?”   “He’s been looking for a partner to stay in Foreverland with him for...forever.” Jungkook musters another smile and he shrugs with melancholy faded in his doe eyes. “The dream world Seokjin built is lonely by himself and I’m just an imaginary friend. I’m the only other person who can take a human shape. You can’t create humans in Foreverland — I was just already in his mind when he arrived here, so it worked.”   It’s a lot to understand, to wrap your mind around. All the secrets of this magical place are being spilled into your lap and you’re not sure what to do. All you’re certain about is that Jin’s stored away parts of himself, that he’s been deserted over and over again, and that he’s been yearning for someone permanent.   He’s been suffering.   “Y/N?”   “Then why is Foreverland breaking apart?” you quickly ask. “Is it because his subconscious is leaking back into him? Is it because of this room?!”   Jungkook smiles softly. “It’s because Seokjin’s falling in love with you.”   A beat. A pause.   Your heart swells up to the bottom of your throat and it aches.   “That’s what’s distorting his reality and everything he’s built in Foreverland. Falling in love means abandoning innocence since children can’t fall in love the same way adults can,” Jungkook murmurs. “It’s been happening for a while, Y/N. You just haven’t noticed. The flowers and leaves withering, the sky losing its colour, the breeze stopping, the sun becoming less bright…”   Jin’s falling in love with you?    He loves you?   You don’t know why that discovery has you so joyful and sorrowful at the same time. His emotions are reaching out for the part of him that he tucked away. Yet, at the same time, you’re the one ruining all of Seokjin’s dreams. You’re destroying everything he’s ever created.   “That’s not a bad thing,” Jungkook interrupts and your eyes meet his. “It’s not a bad thing to be in love, Y/N.”   “What...what will happen to you if Foreverland breaks?”   The corner of the boy’s mouth tugs timidly. “Don’t worry. Foreverland will always be a place and I’ll always exist here, even if Seokjin leaves and forgets about me.”   Jungkook takes your hand and guides you away from the room. “I think you deserve to hear all of this since you’re becoming someone important to Jin too. But you should keep it a secret or else he might throw me overboard during the next pirate game.”   “Jungkook.”   He turns around, simply smiling at you. The boy leads you up the stairs and seals the space with the bookcase again. You step out of the treehouse and knowing the secrets of Foreverland, everything looks different to you now.   It’s less like a paradise of infinite dreams. More like a fragile flower about to wither.   Jungkook comes beside you and waves his hand. He repairs Seokjin’s Foreverland.   The ground stitches back together, the sky painted blue again, the flowers becoming vibrant. But you know it’s just a temporary fix. Underlying the polished layer are cracks.   //   It’s never the same again. Tea parties, dragon rides, adventures and explorations of Foreverland — Seokjin doesn’t once notice the way the colour in his flowers are losing their hue or the way the branches of his treehouse are withering, losing leaves like it’s the autumn season.   Your naiveté has been casted away.   You can’t ignore it once you’ve seen it, can’t revert the enlightenment, and you can’t stay with him.   Not when it’s ruining the world he’s made. Not when he has no choice in the matter. Not when he’s not even aware that this is happening.   “Jin.”   He shifts to you.    The pair of you are sitting on the branch of the tallest tree in Foreverland again, reminiscent of the first time you came here. You climbed while he flew, and together, the both of you look out at the sun, sitting next to one another. And you savour this moment, knowing it’s the last.   Your breath is heavy in your lungs. “I’ve decided to go back.”   “Go back to where?”   “Home.”   “The castle?”   “No.” You can’t look at him. Your voice drops down to a quiet murmur, “Home where my family is.…..where my parents are. Home as in where you took me away from.”   Silence.   It threads through the spaces between your bodies that seems to be growing as the seconds pass. The weight of tension lies on your shoulders and a lump forms at the bottom of your throat, clogging the overwhelming emotions bubbling in the pit of your stomach.   You finally gather the courage to look at him and he utters a single word—   “When?”   “A-As soon as possible.”   “Why?”   You muster a small smile. “It looks like I can’t leave them behind after all. It’s...not your fault, Jin.”   For the first time and for one last moment, you reach out. Both you and Seokjin are looking forward towards the sky, but your hand hesitantly slips on top of his. A beat later, he turns your palm to lace his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand tightly.   “Do you really have to?” he asks.   “I do.”   “When will you be back?”   “I don’t think I will come back.” You swallow hard, eyes stinging painfully. “This is goodbye forever.”   Suddenly, Seokjin lets go of your hand and he launches himself forward, flying away. You stand up from the branch, stunned by his cold reaction. “Wait!” you scream after him. You don’t want this to be the last moment. You don’t want it to end like this. “Take me back! Jin—!”   In the midst of your panic, your foot slips. You lose balance and teeter backwards. It’s too late. A shriek tears from your throat as you fall. Stomach dropping. Eyes shut tight. But before you can conjure something up to save yourself or cushion the landing, the blow is softened by warm arms.   Your lids flutter open to find that Jin’s caught you. He’s carrying you with one arm behind your knees and the other around your back. You loop your arms around his neck, gasping for air and he swoops to the ground.   Jin sets you down on the soft grass. “We’ll leave tonight.”   His turquoise, translucent wings rapidly beat and he takes flight again. You watch his backside fade into the golden sunset until it’s a black silhouette too difficult to look at. And you know there’s not much of an hour left.   //   Never once had you dreaded when night came to Foreverland.    You always looked forward to the starry horizon, watching the constellations move overhead and laid in the grass with your close friends by your side. You liked to count the specks of glitter, admire the shine of the moon, allow the breeze to caress your cheeks. Yet, it feels bittersweet tonight.   You’re not sure if it’s because you yearn to stay in Foreverland. Or if it’s because you’re afraid of leaving the people behind.   The red dragon curls up to your frame and you smile while running your hand down her scaly muzzle. She whimpers, cuddling up to your touch. “I’ll miss you a lot, but you’ll be a good girl, right, Lady?”   She grunts and the sound of crunching grass beneath feet has you whirling around. Jungkook approaches with his arms behind his back and your smile widens. “So you’re going?”   “Uh-huh. Get in here, Kook.” You come over, opening your arms to hug him.   Jungkook squeezes you back and he mumbles in your ear, “Are you sure this is the right decision?”   “No.” You part from him, taking a good look at the boy who kidnapped you for a game, who led expeditions and adventures through Foreverland, who let you know the secrets of this magical place. “I wish I could be sure when I make a choice.”   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth curls. “Even adults are never sure.”   That alone comforts you, resonating inside your mind.   Seokjin arrives at that moment, flying towards you and landing smoothly. He doesn’t look you in the eye. “It’s time to leave.”    You nod and he carries you the same way he brought you to Foreverland, his arm placed around the back of your knees and the other behind your back while yours are looped around his neck. He lifts you up like you don’t weigh a feather and he soars into the sky.   You look down to see Jungkook waving with a boyish grin, Lady roaring out. You watch how your castle, the last traces of your time spent on the island, becomes a mere dot in the distance. The sandy beaches, open meadows, Seokjin’s treehouse, forest and mountains, they fade into the clouds. You blink back the tears that have accumulated, that threaten on your lash line and you look ahead to allow them to flow without Jin being able to see.   The two of you soar beyond the wispy clouds and blue oceans until the silver moon is high over the horizon. The wind brushes through your hair and you allow yourself to lean onto Seokjin’s chest, savouring the warmth of his embrace.   As soothing as it is, you focus on the view to subside your sobs. And it’s still a breathtaking sight, even when your vision is hazy by tears. Eventually, the pair of you fly over a familiar city, watching the way the lights of the buildings glimmer into a mosaic of colours.   Your house comes into sight.    Jin didn’t even need reminders of the direction, as if he memorized the house you came from.   “You can set me down in front of the house,” you mumble, hoping he can’t hear how clogged your voice is from silently crying the entire way.   He nods and descends swiftly. Jin sets you down on the grass and you hold onto him, hoping he won’t leave so soon, hoping you can have another moment. But you know this is goodbye.   This is it.   You turn to face him.   He’s the first one to say something. “Are you sure?”   You nod. “I’m sorry—”   “You shouldn’t be.” He slips your grip off of him and you flinch, hurt. But then he takes your hands in his and your eyes meet. “I won’t force anyone to stay with me if they don’t want to.”   No. It’s not like that! Yet the declaration lays on your tongue, threatening to spill, but never coming out. He has it wrong. It’s not like you don’t want to stay. But if you told him that, in the last seconds of your final farewell, what would he say? What would he ask you?   “I….I loved every second I spent with you, Jin! I—”   The lights inside the house suddenly flicker on and you whirl around, wondering if they woke up from your loud voices. You’re running out of time.   “Go inside,” Jin says gently with a wistful smile.    He lets go of you. About to take off.   But before the time runs out completely, before midnight has struck, you rush forward and plant a kiss on his cheek. It’s soft. Chaste. Your lips press against his rosy skin, hesitant and timid.   Jin’s stunned, eyes as big as saucer and he looks at you.    You muster a smile, trying your best not to cry and leave that as his last memory of you.   “Thank you.”   Before tears can spring from your eyes in the form of heavy April rain, you spin around and hurry to the door of your house. Your mother’s bad habit of leaving the door unlocked makes it easy to turn the knob and you step inside. But when temptation is at its highest, you peek over your shoulder.   But Jin’s already gone.   As quick as he came into your life.   “Oh Heavens to Betsy! Oh my goodness!” The cry of your mother gives no room for you to grieve. She stumbles down the stairs, unable to believe her eyes. “Harold! Y/N’s come home!”   Your mother scurries and even though she’s upset, she immediately embraces you with a fervour that has you shifting back. You can feel her entire frame shaking and you hug her back, pressing your face to her shoulder to dispel away the tears collecting in your eyes.   Your father comes at the commotion, slippers clunking on his feet down the stairs. Once you come into sight, he’s shocked frozen in his spot. “Y/N?”   Your mother lets go and you smile at your father. “I’m home.”   “Where did you go?”   “I thought you did something foolish,” your mother gripes. “You were gone for three days! I wanted to go down to the station but your dad decided to wait! I couldn’t sleep a wink at all—”   “Wait. I was gone for three days?” You’re taken aback. You were in Foreverland for three whole months. But you suppose Jungkook really wasn’t lying when he told you time works differently there. “I-I’m sorry. I was staying with a friend farther away. I should’ve said something before I left. I’m….sorry.”   “No.” Your dad shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”   In your entire life, your father’s never apologized to you. He’s not the kind to, always disciplining with a firm mindset, never to give any leeway. So you’re even more astounded.    “What for?”   “I’m sorry for forcing you to do things that you didn’t want to do. I was just worried. But I won’t push you to marry Namjoon if that’s not what you want.”   “He’s been doing a lot of thinking lately, sweetheart.” Your mother smiles, coming to his side.   You shake your head. “No, I understand. I’m just…..I’m just really happy to be home.”   Your mom’s brows furrow. “Then why are you crying, Y/N?”   You don’t realize you are until she says it. Until your hand lifts and you’re wiping at your wet cheeks. Then the sobs surge and you cry harder, choked whimpers spilling from your aching chest, your throat constricting your emotions. Your mom quickly comes to embrace you and you lean into her while looking past your hazy vision, out the kitchen window, to the starry sky above.

Memories of Foreverland begin to fade against your will as time goes on.   You wonder if it has anything to do with what Jungkook told you and how your connection to the place is weak. But you begin to forget the scent of the flower meadow, the taste of the special earl grey on your palate, the heat of the sun beating on your cheeks.   Then, it’s the feeling of loneliness when you climb the tree in the field to read while your mom looks on from the kitchen window. Sitting on the branch and gazing out at the view, you wonder why it feels so lonely when you’re used to doing it by yourself.   A haunting nostalgia lingers uncomfortably as well. Most often when you see kids doing play pretend on the streets, when you listen to their bubbling laughter, soak in their carefree nature.   After that, you begin to forget doe eyes, soft yet scaly texture against your hands, and dark hair. Twinkling irises. A mischievous smile. Brown eyes that resembled the warmth of the sun to you.   A rotten sense of discomfort overcomes your very being.    Like there was something you should’ve never forgotten. Like you’re missing something, or rather, someone. It’s a crazed desperation of yearning that aches your chest. And you can’t shake that pain off.   All you know is that you often wake up in the middle of the night with a tear-stained pillow and there’s the word Foreverland written on a page at your desk that you have no idea what it means, even when you know it’s your writing.   You slip inside the house quietly, dress ruined from tree climbing. You wonder if you’ll be scolded—   “...just looks so sad these days.” Instead, you overhear your mother’s voice coming from the kitchen. “Heavens, ever since she came back from her trip a week ago.”   “Did she ever say who she visited? Maybe that has something to do with it.”   “No, she hasn’t said a single word. Maybe she should go see a doctor, Harold. Our little girl’s not speaking much either and it’s startin’ to worry me. She’s not usually like this…”   You step into the pastel pink kitchen. They straighten their posture and seal their lips as if to pretend you weren’t the topic of discussion a moment ago and you muster a smile.    “Afternoon.” You go to pour a cup of the orange juice from the pitcher and pause. “Actually, I was just thinking about something.”   Your mother places down the kitchen towel, anticipation clear in her face. “What is it, dear?”   “Well…” You turn around, leaning against the counter. “I was thinking about everything, what I want to do from now on, how Irene and Sarah are, all my friends and all that, and I think it’s time for me to get married.”   They’re shocked.    Your mother’s mouth draws open while your father promptly puts down his newspaper, folding it back up.   “This...this is great news, honey!” A grin draws on your mother’s features and she comes to hug you. You’re nearly squeezed to death. “I can’t believe you’ve finally come around and changed your mind!”   But your father seems less enthused. “Are you sure?”   You nod. “Sure as I’ll ever be.”   You’re fairly certain the only way to shake off this painful discomfort is by moving on. It’s not like you want to worry your parents anymore either. Like they said, it’s time to be an adult.   And just like that, you’re thrusted forward quicker than you can imagine.   The next time you meet with Namjoon, he gets down on one knee and presents his grandmother’s gawky heirloom to you in a box. He ends up sliding it on your ring finger before you even get a chance to respond properly.   “How do you feel in this dress?” your mother asks.   One blink later, you’re placed in front of a mirror, drowning in a white, wedding dress.    The skirt is overwhelming your frame and it’s oddly tight around your midsection, making it hard to breathe. Not to mention, the sleeves are cut off awkwardly, not quite at your wrist or at your elbow. The lace sweetheart neckline is scratchy at your skin too, making you itch at it.   It’s ugly.   “It’s beautiful,” Irene squeals.   Sarah nods her head, pulling another tissue out to dab at her eyes. “You look gorgeous, Y/N. I think this is the one.”   You muster a smile.   Even if you go this far, for some reason, you don’t think you’ll ever forget about those brown eyes.

In the real world, it’s been days. In Foreverland, it’s been months.   Seokjin sits by himself in the meadow, downcast head and reddened eyes.   Foreverland is falling apart around him. The ground continues to splinter with each moment that passes, deepening the trenches that echo silence. The sky has split, no longer azure during the day or filled with stars during the night. It’s become blackened and every so often, pinpricks of light rain down and hit the land as if the stars themselves are falling.   There isn’t a breeze. The ocean does not move. The trees do not sway.   What hasn’t withered has lost their colour — flowers, petals, leaves monochrome like newspaper print. Jin’s own wings flicker between being tangible and a hallucination.   It’s as if Foreverland itself is crumbling and Jin makes no effort to save it.    What’s the point?   In the meanwhile, Jungkook sighs to himself, looking onward. He doesn’t think you ever expected that Seokjin would still be very much in love with you even after you’ve left and removed yourself from this place.   Jungkook approaches his best friend and sits himself down. “What’s wrong?”   Jin picks at the grass. “Nothing.”    The former holds back a snort, staring out at the horizon. “You know I always know how you feel, right?”   “It’s just Y/N,” Jin discloses in a half-hearted mumble. “It feels empty now that she’s gone.”   “A lot of people have left before.”   “It feels different this time.”   “You love her,” Jungkook says in a quiet yet firm voice. It isn’t a question, answer, or suggestion.    It’s factual.    Their eyes meet. It’s silent.   Seokjin’s Foreverland is collapsing, breaking apart at the seams — the treehouse, the flowers, the sky shattering into a darker, less star-full horizon. The proof is all around them and one that cannot be ignored any longer. It screams to be acknowledged, aches to be heard.   The corners of Jungkook’s mouth curl. “Go where you need to be, Seokjin. It’s a better place for newer dreams that you can fulfill. This isn’t where you should be anymore.”   “What about you?”   Jungkook’s boyish smile turns into a grin. “I’ll always be here. Plus, I’m right here too.” He pokes Jin’s chest, right where his heart should be and the latter scoffs with a soft smile. “I won’t miss you too much. We’ve already been together for so long.”   Jin exhales in exasperation and Jungkook leans back, putting more weight into his hands behind him. “Foreverland is a place for visitors. It’s not a place to make a home.”   “Then where’s home?”   Jungkook looks at the sky. “With the people you love most.”

The lace is itchy.    For some reason, scratching doesn’t seem to alleviate the itch, even when you’ve scratched enough to make your skin raw and your fingernails hurt. The dress is really white too. To the point where it’s blinding to your own eyes. You’re starting to think you should’ve gone for the other dress with the feathers even though it was fifteen pounds heavy.    Your mother shrieks and it nearly startles you to death. “Oh my goodness! My daughter’s never looked more beautiful! Now hurry along before we’re late!”   You nod, mustering a smile.   A part of you wonders if this is the right choice, but you remember someone told you that even adults are never sure of their own choices. You wonder who told you tha—   “Are you alright?” your dad interrupts your train of thought.   “Of course, I am.” You nod to reassure him and turn away before his perceptiveness can flourish the doubt that’s long overcome the discomfort that still lingers. You take his arm and inhale a deep breath to brace yourself.   The grand, wooden doors of the church hall open.   It parts and you’re allowed a peek inside. The hundred people seated on the brown benches turn around with smiles. The organ deafeningly plays the beginning discordant chords of the bridal march before it crescendos melodically and echos down into your eardrums. The bridesmaids and groomsmen grip their bouquet of flowers and begin filing down the aisle.   Oh my god. You can do this. You can do th—   “You can always walk away from this.” Your dad’s quiet voice breaks your inner mantra and your eyes find his wrinkled ones. He looks concerned, brows furrowed, lips lopsided and reading the look on your face. “I’m on your side until the end, sweetheart.”   The corner of your mouth pulls into a soft smile. “Thanks, dad.”   It’s your turn. The doors are wide open. The music beckons you to meet your destiny.   And you step inside the church hall. Namjoon is on the other end of the aisle, prim and proper in his traditional suit and bow tie, wearing an amiable smile that could only belong to a businessman. You try to match said expression, but it’s hard to feel your cheeks.   Everyone’s eyes are on you, some dabbing their cheeks with tissue. Irene and Sarah are on the side in their brown bridesmaid dresses, swooning at the sight. And your dad lets go all too soon.   Before you’ve even realized, you’ve made it to the end and he’s passed you to Namjoon, taking his place beside your already sobbing mother in the front rows. The music tapers off as well.   “Welcome, family, friends and loved ones. We gather here today to witness and celebrate the union of Namjoon and Y/N in marriage.”   Namjoon’s holding your gloved hands, his smile picture perfect. You face one another as the officiant drones on.   “Marriage is a joyous occasion. It is the promise between two people who love each other, and who trust in that love. It is truth, honesty, and hardships shouldered among a pair—”   It’s hard to focus when all you can think about is how itchy your lace dress is. And it’s everywhere. From the neckline to your armpits to where the sleeves end. It’s driving you crazy and you wish you could rip your hands away from Namjoon’s to scratch.   “—that are prepared to begin their new life together. Marriage is the most sacred unity in humanity—”   Christ. This is so boring. You can’t wait till this is over and done with. If J͠҉̛̀͏ì͢n̷͏̵͢͞ was here, he would’ve snapped his fingers and put the almost senile, croaking officiant into a pirate costume.   You smile to yourself at the idea, muffling a quiet snicker.   But then you freeze.   Wait. Who’s .̛̀҉̷̕.͠͠͡?   “—and should not be entered into lightly, but rather, reverently, lovingly, solemnly. Thus, if anyone has just cause to object to the forming of this union, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”   Suddenly, the doors bang open.   The doors crash against the church walls, startling you to death and nearly causing you to stumble back onto your butt and scream. Everyone instantly whips their head over with widened eyes.   A stranger interrupts, shouting from the pit of his stomach, “Wait!”   There’s a man, perhaps your age or a year or two older, standing at the end of the hall. Dark hair pushed to the side, revealing his forehead. Irises twinkling. And past the crowd, the shocked expressions, the scandalized whispers, the stranger looks right at you.   Namjoon immediately steps forward, covering your sights on the stranger. “Who are you?!” he bellows.   But you place your hand on Namjoon’s shoulder and he stops, looking back at you. You stagger forward with a frown, steps slow down the aisle. Your parents call for you, but you don’t hear them. Not when you’re so transfixed on this man. There’s something strangely…..familiar.   A tap on your shoulder. A boy outside your window.

       “Don’t you want to escape from here? Go on an adventure? Come on!” 

An island. Faraway. With a castle and a treehouse. A….flower field. A dragon. A doe-eyed companion.

       “There’s magic all around us.”

A beanstalk — an underwater kingdom — a magical ball.

       “Stay with me.”

The man gazes at you and you stare back at him, looking into his brown eyes that somehow resembles the warmth of the sun to you. Like a cup of coffee your dad would brew on cold mornings. They’re deep and comforting, and a murmur befalls your trembling lips, “Seokjin?”

Before your brain can catch up, you’re sprinting towards him.   Seokjin grins, plump lips pulled into a mischievous smile, cheeks puffed out like loaves of bread.   You launch yourself at him. Your arms open and your bodies collide against each other. He stumbles back with a laugh and embraces you tightly in his arms. You hug his broad shoulders, eyes fluttering closed, savouring the moment.   He doesn’t have his sparkly red vest, his golden pants, the blue hat with the green feather. Jin doesn’t have his wing either. There’s nothing remotely magical about him, not when he’s just in a plain, white dress shirt tucked into black trousers. But him being here is already the most magical thing that’s happened to you.   “I-I can’t believe it’s you. What are you doing here?”   “I had to come see you,” he murmurs. “I went to your house but no one was there. I heard from the neighbour you were getting married today.”   You pull apart from him, inches away from his face. “No. I mean what are you doing here, Jin?”   He doesn’t hesitate. There isn’t uncertainty in his expression. No moment to waver.   He’s as certain as the stars are real and answers within a beat—   “I love you.”   A fact you had known, that creeped up on you and made you feel bittersweet. But something you thought you would never have the chance to hear from his own lips.   You search his expression. “W-What about Foreverland?”   “It doesn’t matter where I am. I just want to be with you.”   You’re crying. You can feel the tears streaking down your cheeks and for once, it’s not from tender longing or a nostalgic sadness. A smile tugs on your lips and you pull him closer.   “What took you so long?”   Seokjin smiles against you. “I needed to get my things in order, but I’m here now and I’ll stay with you if you’ll take me.”   “Yes. Of course, I will, silly.”   You heartbeat pitter patters fervently in your chest and he leans down, brushing his soft lips against yours in a sweet kiss. Your arms come to loop around his neck while his palms cradle your waist. The warmth of Jin’s skin heats your cheeks and your lashes flutter shut while his eyes open just a little to watch you. He kisses you long enough that he can inhale your breath and you feel his smile against your own.   Your heart soars. Everything you had longed for is right here. And it feels like magic. 

[Epilogue]   Growing up and becoming an adult doesn’t mean needing to abandon fun — and your life with Seokjin proves it.    The pair of you go on plenty of adventures and explorations, more than your parents would like. You’re always packing your bags to discover something new. And when you visit, your parents are adamant that sometimes it feels like there are two children at the dinner table.    But you know they’ve never been happier to see how overjoyed you are and what a great fit Seokjin is. They assume he’s someone you met when you disappeared and while that’s technically true, you don’t add more to the story. They don’t question it either.   You’re sure your parents are a lot more worried when they see you teaching Jin how to climb the enormous tree out by the field.   The whole church fiasco ends up as a scandal. It’s the talk of the neighbourhood for months on end. It’s not like you particularly mind — although, you still get glares from Namjoon and his family when you run into them. You’re sure he doesn’t want to hear any more apologies from you, but you’re also certain that this experience will make him less boring as a person.   Your nose twitches.   You sniff the air and before it even registers, you groan.   “Jin! Why is there something burning?!”   You come into the kitchen and call him again, but silence answers. With a sigh, you check the oven and take out the cake that’s practically burnt to ash and push it onto the counter. The smoke is dispersed after you waft the air.   You’re already busy picking up after school children as a teacher, you don’t really need to pick up after your husband too when you get home.   You look out the door and step onto the porch. From a distance, you can see him and a hopeless smile slips onto your visage.   You cross the field, the meadow soft beneath your feet, wind whisking through your hair. The golden sun is sinking over the horizon, turning the sky into shades of tangerine and your figure a black silhouette against the light.   Seokjin’s seated beneath the canopy of the tree. The two covers of the storybook spread over his thighs, page corner crisp against his fingertips. The colours seem to jump out — raspberry, periwinkle and kelly vibrant against the white. He doesn’t notice you approaching, completely enthralled by the adventurous storyline.   While you were gone for three days, Seokjin was gone for two years. It was a mess to sort out with his family too, his father even stricter than yours and angered while his mother was devastated and resentful that her son had chosen to leave without a single word. It was hard for him to adjust to the real world as well. It took time. But you’d like to think Jin made it out okay.    “You left the cake burning in the oven.”   His attention is brought back and he looks up, smiling at you. “Sorry.”   Much to your dismay, Jin pulls you down and plants an affectionate kiss on your cheek.   You scoff lightly and unknowingly pout while your husband grins, already aware he’s gotten away with it.   You plop down next to him and lean your head to lay on his shoulder, staring at the pages of his storybook. “What are you doing?”   “I’m thinking of writing another storybook,” Jin hums. “A sequel to Jungkook’s Adventures. What do you think if I called it Foreverland?”   “I think it’ll be wonderful.”   The two of you share tender smiles, gazing at one another while the tree above you sways, leaves rustling to the warm breeze.   You don’t need magic to live in your dreams forever.

Labyrinthian

This fucking thing has been the source of my fucking writer’s block for months and I FINALLY GOT THIS THING FINISHED!

Featuring cryptic Trickster Eldritch Labyrinth god Dazai

The labyrinth was unending, unyielding. The walls themselves so tall that you had to crane your neck to see the sky- it had gone dark, and the stars? Forget it. You would be so lucky to see stars in this hell.

When the king had called for a sacrifice, you had been one of the many offered. Dressed in white for the offering, and forcefully purified, you had been let loose in the labyrinth, fodder for the creature inside. Because of your sacrifice, the headman had said, you thought venomously, the kingdom would be safe, the monster sated for one more year.

And what of the next year?

“Short sighted bastards,” you spat on the ground and marched forward. Marched to your death, maybe. Probably even. But you had to keep moving. If you stopped, if you gave in, then fear and hopelessness would overcome you.

You didn’t want to die. But if you had a choice, then you’d rather die on your feet than in a crouch, crying in despair.

Already it was at your heels, following you. As you alternately hurried, walked, marched or sprinted through the stone paths you would find horrible mementos of the past sacrifices- bones, dried and flaking blood, severed limbs or shredded clothes, similar to what you wore. You prayed over each other them- not to the gods who had trapped that Thing here, but to the souls of your predecessors. May they be at rest and free from pain, fear, and the machinations of the living and immortal.

The Thing in the labyrinth was a god. Was, but now he was an immortal thing with the human hunger, cast down by the pantheon and sealed here.

Your stomach growled uncomfortably.

There wasn’t much to be done about that, though- you had been given limited rations, and you wanted to make them last, unappetizing as they were.

So on you went- with no direction and no way to mark where you’d been.

But time dragged on, and eventually your anger and your fear fled, and you had nothing but hunger, thirst, and exhaustion waiting for you and slowing you down.

It wasn’t fair, you thought. The despair had caught up with you, and you could feel your eyes burning. “I’ll save my tears,” you muttered, rounding a corner. By now you were leaning on a wall. If the monster found you, you would die for sure.

But instead of more endless stone walls, you saw trees, and water. For an absurd moment, you thought that you had found the way out. But as you stepped into the clearing, you saw more walls around it, and you understood.

This was a garden.

But it was a garden, and that meant water and hopefully food, so that was something.

You drank from the water until you threw up, and then drank some more. The water was cold and clear, and you had never tasted something so sweet in your life. You dipped your feet in to calm the ache next and closed your eyes. You couldn’t relax, but you could rest here.

It felt safe, like the air itself had taken a moment to let itself go.

“How could something so beautiful exist in such an ugly place?” You wondered out loud.

When your feet grew numb, you began to look for food. And, luckily, you didn’t have to look long.

“Fruit trees,” you breathed in wonder. All of them were fruit trees.

You’d never been much of a tree climber as a kid, but hunger bred desperation, and like a monkey you were scrabbling up and up to the first stable branch.

You ate 3 apples and dropped some more to the ground before climbing down, more carefully than you had climbed up. Your belly full and your thirst quenched, you finally succumbed and fell asleep beneath the tree. And no matter your intentions, it was a deep sleep, dreamless and dark.

-x-

You woke, completely relaxed under a late morning sky.

The sky?

And more than that- there was a smell

The smell of apples cooking.

When you raised your head you saw a young man wearing the white garb of the sacrificed. He was bandaged, but he still smiled when he caught your eye.

“You’re up.” He waved, and you found yourself wandering over. “Sorry, I just saw the garden and I was so hungry. Did I scare you?”

“No.” And it was the truth. “I didn’t see you with the other sacrifices.”

“There are several gates.” He shrugged. “One in each of the cardinal directions. I came in the West.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Your expression hardened. “If all the food comes in the same gate then the meal is all at once and the sacrifices would have to be more than once a year.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Here, I roasted a few for you, too.” He handed you a spit on which two apples were speared.

“Thank you,” you took them gratefully, and introduced yourself.

His name was Dazai, he told you. He was from a port kingdom. Over breakfast he described the sea and the ships, and you listened eagerly. Before the sacrifice, you’d never been anywhere but your home village and the market.

“Have you seen anyone besides me?” You asked, despite yourself. It felt like a cloud had passed over you both, and you shivered involuntarily.

Dazai looked down at the fire and sighed. “No one alive,” he said very quietly.

“I…was afraid of that.” You admitted, and you both went quiet. You ate your apples while they were still warm.

After awhile, Dazai cleared his throat and you looked t him again.

“Would you like to run with me?” He invited.

The idea…wasn’t a horrible one, in all honesty. In the very least, you thought darkly, you could trip him up and use him as a distraction if you were found by the monster. But more than that, you wanted company.

The two of you filled your respective waterskins and packed away as many apples as you could carry. Dazai took some of the charcoal from the dead fire. “We can mark our way with it.” He explained. It was a risk, but a calculated one; if you knew which direction you had come from then the monster surely could as well.

You and Dazai began to walk and you felt much more relaxed with someone at your side. It was as like the labyrinth itself was cleansed. It wasn’t as scary with someone else, you decided.

For lack of anything better to do, you compared notes on the creature in the labyrinth.

“My home says that the gods cast him down for his cruelty,” you recounted. “They sealed him here- once you’re in, you can’t escape.” You swallowed nervously. “But that part can’t be true. There has to be another way out.”

“He wasn’t a god,” Dazai scoffed as you backtracked, marking on the wall that the passage was a dead end. “He came Before the pantheon.”

You frowned. “There was a before?”

“Honestly,” he sounded s disappointed. “What are they teaching people nowadays. Yes, there was a before. The Old Ones were first, and when the New rose, there was war. The Labyrinth God weighed his options and helped overthrow his people.”

“Why would he betray the Old Ones?” You wondered. “Wouldn’t he have loyalty for his people?”

“It wasn’t about loyalty.” Like he was explaining things to a child, Dazai broke it down. “You have to look at the bigger picture- there was a war and it had to end. The Labyrinth God looked at the outcomes and made a sacrifice for the lesser damage.”

“And it made him cruel?”

“No. It made him a liability. They cast him out, stripped him of his divinity and created the labyrinth. And here we are.” He squinted up at the sky. “Well, at least we don’t have to deal with straight sunlight,” he grumbled.

But something made you suspicious. “How do you know so much about it? I thought you came from a port town?”

“I do. But my family were scholars.” He shrugged.

“Oh. And they just…surrendered you?”

“Well, it was only me. And it wasn’t like they liked me much to begin with.” He chuckled, and you felt a momentary stab of both guilt and pity. You had people on the outside to get back to, and Dazai just…didn’t want to die here.

Well, maybe you could bring him back with you.

But you didn’t voice that idea, you weren’t stupid. A. you didn’t want to offend him, and B. You didn’t really trust him, not just yet.

So on and on you walked. More than once you hit dead ends and had to go back, or somehow circled back around. Several times you swore you heard the growling of the god in question. Those times bot you and Dazai froze and listened, pressed against the wall, trying to judge just how far away it was. The final time, the ground shook as it passed by the next passage over, and you could feel a scream welling up in your throat.

But it passed, and you both waited and waited for ages before going on, slowly and silently, all talk gone.

That night there was another garden, this one more lovely than the night before, with animals and birds. The lake was a little river, and again you both refreshed and rested yourselves. There were pear trees this time, and pomegranates. All the fruit was delicious raw, but there was something satisfying about cooking them and eating them warm.

“Gosh the stars are pretty,” you observed, leaning back. Across the fire, Dazai looked up and softened at the sight of them.

“Yeah. They are.”

You both slept, huddled together for warmth as the fire died.

-x-

And on the third day, the environment of the labyrinth changed. The stones themselves were different, and the walls…

“It’s almost welcoming,” you breathed in wonder.

“It is, isn’t it?” Dazai reached out and touched the stone experimentally.

Remarlably, you found yourself led to some stairs. Stairs, of all things. Up and up you both walked. Why hadn’t you seen any sign of this in the labyrinth?

At the top of the staircase, you saw a palace.

You could smell food now, and your stomach growled for food that wasn’t just roasted fruit.

“Hungry?” Dazai elbowed you playfully.

“A little,” you nudged him back.

There was something strange about all this, you realized, but you were curious. “Let’s investigate.” Dazai declared, leading the way.

The palace was lit and clean, incense scented the air. It was lived in, clearly.

“Is this the monster’s home?” It was so…civilized. What sort of prison was this? One filled with art and delicate vases and décor.

You both followed the smell of food through gardens and rooms and halls, finally finding tables already laid.

“It’s like a celebration.”

Why was your heart pounding?

There was a terrible growl and you froze.

It was here.

“Relax,” Dazai laughed, picking up a goblet. “There’s nothing to fear.”

“Are you insane?” You snapped, grabbing his sleeve. “It’s here- it’ll eat us Dazai, we have to move!” This was a horrible idea, what had possessed you to come inside like this?

The palace shook under Its footsteps, you were running out of time.

He’d gone insane, clearly, but could you really just abandon him to his fate here?

Yes.

Your survival…

You ran in the other direction, and Dazai’s wild laughter was as loud as the growling, snarling, howling beast that you were trying to flee.

Deeper into It’s lair you ran, your lungs on fire. You didn’t think about Dazai, because it didn’t matter. One foot in front of the other, you ignored everything. There had to be a way out of the palace, a way out.

You burst into a garden in full bloom, but no sooner had you registered that it was grass beneath your feet then you lost your footing, and you fell. And it was hard. Dazed, you lay there, shaking. It was behind you- you could smell the crackle of ozone, hear the footsteps.

But then what you heard was clapping.

“You did so well,” Dazai singsonged, patting you on the shoulder. “I had so much fun. But the game is over, darling, and I think that I want to claim my prize.”

You looked up at him and tried to process just what the hell he was talking about over the racing of your heart.

“Your…prize?”

His kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, eager and impatient.

“You ran and I gave chase. It’s the first time a sacrifice has become more than a meal.”

“What…what am I then?”

“Mine. And there will never be another.”

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.3]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 7.7k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Chapter 03: Ties That Bind

Where war, and joy, and terror Have all at times held away; Where both delight and horror Have had their fitful day.

The happiest under heaven A king of powerful mind; A company so proven Would now be hard to find

Gawain put on a good cheer. ‘Why should I hesitate?’ He said. ‘Kind or severe, We must engage our Fate.’

[Sir Gawain and the Green Knight]

    „Breathe,“ Hanneman says for the third time. At every tap of his pen against the table, you flinch as if someone is knocking right against the inside of your skull. “You have to feel the Crest, become one with it. Don’t think of it as an addition; see it as an extension of your very self.”

    You exhale but it’s hard to focus after you’ve been sitting in the same position for nearly two hours and your legs keep falling asleep.

    “Focus on it,” Hanneman continues. He starts to gesture with his free hand, an indicator that he’s just as frustrated with your lack of progress as you are. “Focus on the feeling that took hold of you when you fought the bandits. Imagine what you want. Ask yourself what it is you really want, and take hold of that picture.”

    Well, first of all, you really want a sandwich.

    For the past few weeks, you’ve been waking up before sunrise to attend private lessons with Hanneman to get a hold of your Crest’s power. Now the end of the month approaches, and still your body refuses to get accustomed to work at such an early hour, and more importantly without eating first. An hour ago, your stomach started growling, but Professor Hanneman has proved again and again to be very successful in ignoring factors that disturb his lessons. You continue breathing through what you consider hunger pains instead of the raise of new powers, but with the sound of screaming students outside and the occasional flapping of wings as Pegasus Knights fly by on their patrol, it’s anything but successful.

    “Focus!” Hanneman chides again as if he can read your mind and knows exactly you’re thinking of the pheasant roast with berry sauce on the menu today.

    “I’m trying,” you groan and slump into the chair, defeated. “But I don’t feel anything.”

    “Hmm hmmm,” Hanneman hums and looks at you like you were supposed to understand what he’s conveying with that sound. “Maybe we’re looking at it the wrong way,” he says once you don’t follow up on his inexplicable sound. “Maybe we should stop thinking of it as a common Crest, but approach it like it is something entirely different.” He quickly notes something on his paper, then proceeds to flip through the open books he’s splayed out on his desk. “There is so little we know about the Crest of the Herald. I am much frustrated no one thought of studying it a thousand years ago!”

    “I don’t understand. How can it be different?” Your first lesson solely focused on Crests. How they are thought to be power incarnate, bestowed upon humans by the Goddess countless ages ago. Today those who are descendants of Fódlan’s Ten Elites and Four Saints, who fought during the War of Heroes beside Saint Seiros, wear Crests, a sign of wealth and nobility.

    “Well, one possible explanation could be that for whatever reason, the first Herald was different from his fellow warriors, the Ten Elites,” Hanneman offers, leaning back into his chair and looking a lot more interested in the conversation now. “The Goddess must have found him worthy of her power just as she found Saint Seiros worthy.”

    “Then why wasn’t he a Saint?” you wonder. From your understanding, the Four Saints were special comrades of Saint Seiros, just as guided by the Goddess as their leader. What had made the Herald from back then different? “According to everything you told me, he sounds a lot like this Macuil person. Focusing on strategy and all that.”

    “Saint Macuil,” Hanneman corrects you, but there’s no bite in his voice. “And yes, perhaps he was akin to the Saints, but that clearly wasn’t what determined the final decision to name him Herald.”

    “Well, that’s just my kind of luck,” you mumble, but when Hanneman makes a puzzled sound, you ask instead, “And you’re sure I’m a descendant of him?”

    “Most likely! You bear a Major Crest, which means the Herald’s blood runs strong in your body. After he disappeared, he might have settled down and started a family. Unfortunately, nothing is recorded about him after the War of Heroes concluded.”

    “Then how come there was no one else in a thousand years who bore the same Crest?” You aren’t sure you fully understand how they work. Apparently, Crests grant special powers to those who hold them such as high aptitude for magic or enhanced strength. But you know better than anyone that the Crest of the Herald is special. It doesn’t simply give you a boon, it allows you to command the flow of battle. But is it really a blessing bestowed by the Goddess? You don’t remember a divine revelation or talking to a Goddess. Or did that maybe occur even before you were found by the Officers Academy’s students? Before your memory loss? You certainly don’t feel chosen by a deity.

    “Trying to explain the Goddess’ whims would wield about the same result as asking this question,” Hanneman says. “Sometimes a Crest may skip generations. No one can say with certainty who will be chosen. If it will be the first or third born. That is why we must further study Crests! For example, why, unlike other Crests, has your appeared physically visible?” Hanneman mutters more questions under his breath and notes them quickly on his paper. It’s remarkable how enthusiastic he approaches the topic if it only didn’t make you feel like an experiment lying on a dissection table.

    “I want to know so much more about the first Herald,” you mumble. “What was his name? Where was he from?” Why did he disappear and what were the costs he had paid for such a title. Only one month in and Lady Rhea already granted you an impressive room to reside. People treat you with respect and admiration even though you aren’t doing much besides wave at them on the streets or hold some conversations. If being the Herald only encompasses these tasks, you’ll gladly take on the role and speak to people. But that would be a dream too good to be true.

    “We can only speculate,” Hanneman says. “Some believe the Herald came when Seiros needed him most. Our Goddess’ answer to her cry of help. Others believe he was simply a general who originated form a farmer’s family. Other, smaller sources talk about a prince from a far off land who passed through Fódlan and decided to stay. But in all cases, the Herald was a great asset to win the War of Heroes and save Fódlan from the tyranny of the Fell King.”

    “Yeah, no pressure there,” you mumble, sinking further into your seat. Hopefully no one expects you to save Fódlan from evil monarchs. If yes, it certainly won’t happen on an empty stomach. When Hanneman releases you, there’s only one place for you to be. The Dining Hall is crowded at this time of hour. Students and faculty bustle everywhere, eager to get their favourite meal on a plate. Just like them, you are drawn in by the amazing smell of roasted meet and freshly baked pastries.

    The only thing you can live without is how once you enter the room several heads turn in your direction, and a ripple of “Look, it’s the Herald” goes through the crowd, spreading like a wave. Or a disease, you think with a sour taste in your mouth as you move through the parting sea. They want you to acknowledge them but Goddess forbid you actually engage in conversation with them and they flee like you’re the Herald of Pest.

    “Herald!” Well, not everyone escapes. Some seem to like living dangerous.

    Edelgard looks straight at you from between the other students from the Eagle class sitting at a table, removing any doubt she means anyone else but you. Running from her would be a sign of defeat, so you drag yourself over to the Eagle table and give the round an uncertain smile. “Hello.”

    “Herald, if you have time, please sit with us,” Edelgard offers but the look she pins on you doesn't give you any choice. The silence of her classmates speaks louder than words, and a quick glance to Hubert tells you that he very much would like for you to notsit with them.

    “Sure,” you say lamely and sit opposite from her where Bernadetta quickly shuffles to the side to make room, and then further down the bench until she jumps to her feet and flees from the hall. It’s a miracle she’s out of her chambers in the first place, undoubtedly Byleth’s work.

    “Did you manage any progress with Professor Hanneman?” Edelgard asks, carefully cutting her pheasant roast into small bite-sized pieces. She looks the complete opposite from someone capable of hacking away their enemies but you wouldn’t dare to underestimate her.

    “It’s slow,” you admit, solely focusing on shoving potatoes from one side of your plate to the other so you don’t have to look at anyone. “I’ve only grasped the basics of how Crests work and the Herald’s is so different.”

    “Research might prove more fruitful if you’d be called into action,” she says, and it’s difficult to determine if that statement is a simple observation or underlying critique towards Rhea’s decision to leave you out of the major education system. At least that’s something you’re sure of. Edelgard is difficult.

    “Maybe. But chances are higher I get myself killed somehow on the battlefield.” You’re already dreading the approaching noon hours. Byleth has worked out a special training programme for you and the house leaders. So far there hasn’t been a day without aching muscles and bruises for you. Thinking of Byleth, you can’t help but ask, “So how’s Byleth as a Professor?”

    Edelgard considers her plate with mild interest, but her index fingers start tapping against her cutlery. She has small, delicate hands. Cute hands. You gawk at them for two seconds before noticing Hubert starring daggers at you, and quickly avert your eyes to your cup of ginger tea like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

    “Our professor shows knowledge in the most curious things,” he says, surprising you by joining the conversation. “I think the Adrestian Empire will benefit greatly from that.”

    You aren’t sure how leading the class correlates directly to joining the Empire, but you don’t want to point that out. Hubert is still too much of a puzzle you’re adamant on not piecing together because whatever picture waits for you after the assembly might be one of horror.

    “She really is one to look up to,” Edelgard agrees, but she isn’t looking at anyone, so it seems she’s saying it more to herself. You want to try and read more out of her expression, but distraction comes quickly in form of more students from the Eagle class. Caspar is the first bouncing excitedly towards the table, and still he somehow miraculously manages to keep his food from flying everywhere. “Herald!” he calls and slides right on the seat right next to you. “How’s the head situation going?”

    “Caspar,” Linhardt chides and gives his friend the disappointed look of a parent that can’t bring his child to use a fork to eat. “Would you stop pestering the Herald with the same question every day?”

    Linhardt hits the mark. It was nice in the beginning to have someone show so much interest in your wellbeing, but now you don’t know if the daily reminder how you fail to regain pieces of your past is rude or just Caspar’s naive politeness.

    “Yeah well.” You try to stuff as much potatoes in your mouth as possible just to avoid talking about it. “Nothin’ yeff.”

    “Herald, please try to keep your manners in check, will you?” Ferdinand comments because of course he catches you with your mouth full and sauce dripping from the corners. Unlucky for him, you don’t really care.

    “Well, sorry.” Caspar frowns and scratches the remains from his plate. The two minutes you needed to finish your potatoes, he’s cleared his whole plate. “I just thought it might help.”

    “Help to be reminded what’s missing?” Linhardt doesn’t look convinced. “I think the Herald knows so better than anyone.”

    “Guys, drop the subject,” Edelgard intervenes. “Let us finish our meals now. Classes resume presently and I don’t want to hear any stomachs growling, understood?” The last part goes with a pointed look towards Linhardt, who answers with a lazy shrug while continuing to poke at his food, looking bored out of his mind. It lasts about three seconds before he brightens up and turns towards you while rummaging through his school bag. From that, he pulls out notes and a pen, and unceremoniously shoves them into your hands. “I have a question, Herald. Would you be so kind and look over these strategic proposals I’ve developed from the last lesson? I understand what you taught us were basics as we find them in the library. I simply took the time and applied those to the strengths and abilities of my classmates.”

    You raise your eyebrows. “You did?” Up until now, you didn’t know Linhardt was paying attention whenever you gave the students your sorry excuses of lessons. You feel like you’ve seen him asleep far more than actually looking at the board or writing, so him presenting his notes to you now is more than a surprise. He has a clean handwriting, small letters that curl into themselves and forget to take a break between words. You squint at the sentences, trying to make them out. It sure doesn’t help that half of it is crossed out by what looks like a strategy sketch with little circles and everyone’s names filling out the space.

    “This looks … elaborate,” you comment, unsure if you’ll ever be able to solve this enigma.

    “No worries.” Linhardt gives a little smile. “Please give me your answer report until tomorrow. And feel free to correct me on anything I’ve done wrong.”

    He’s probably done a much better job than you on your lesson notes, but you nod with a lopsided smile. “I will.”

    “Oh, and while we’re at strategy talk,” Caspar jumps right in, “any good ideas how to take on a taller opponent?”

    “A good kick to their shins?” you suggest.

    “A dagger to their liver?” Edelgard says.

    “Poison in their cup?” Hubert offers.

    “You’re all animals,” Ferdinand says.

    Linhardt groans. “I toldyou how to win in a fight like that, Caspar. Why won’t you listen to me?”

    You don’t want to be part of the argument breaking out between them, so you turn away and try to see what the other students are doing in the dining hall. At the opposite end, Claude catches your eyes and waves like he’s been waiting way too long to finally get your attention. He points at Edelgard and flaps his arms like a chicken. He points at you and spreads his hands behind his head, forming antlers with his fingers. When Edelgard follows your eyes, his head whips around and he pretends to agree with whatever Lysithea just said.

    “I hope you forgive Caspar’s enquiries,” she says, steering your focus back to her. She’s gently tapping the corners of her mouth with an embroidered napkin, and oh there they are again, her delicate fingers. You look away before Hubert catches you staring again and decides to put poison in your cup7. “I speak on behalf of everyone in the Black Eagle House when I say we wish for your full recovery to be soon.”

    “If wishing would only get the job done, I might have something to work with by now.”

    Edelgard doesn’t blink, her expression frozen. “Meaning?”

    “I thought I'd come here and one of the Church's healers would just wave their hands to return my memories,” you mumble, scribbling a tiny Claude with little, evil horns on his head in the corner of Linhardt’s notes.

    Edelgard looks at you like you've just insulted her whole noble lineage. “That isn't how magic works.”

    You throw your arms up in frustration to emphasise that yes, that's the point. You don't know how anything works in this place, and you doubt Byleth's four pages of lesson plans are going to help.

    “If no one comes to your aid, maybe it is time you take matters into your own hands.” You flinch at the scornful sound in Edelgard’s voice. Judging the expression on her face, she seems just as surprised about her outburst. She gets up abruptly and bids farewell with a curt nod, followed closely by Hubert as always. Her classmates look after her, each more puzzled than the next.

    “Didn’t she seem … angry to you?” Linhardt thinks aloud, blinking into the empty space.

    Ferdinand harrumphes. “She’s always like this. Please excuse her, Herald.”

    You don’t think she’s done anything wrong, and yet she certainly doesn’t appear as always. Something about her last words strikes you as especially sharp; reproachful. Those weren’t meaningless words, but you don’t have any ways to decipher the message. A little voice tells you she isn’t wrong either. So far nothing has helped returning your memories—Manuela’s medicine, herbs from the Greenhouse, Hanneman’s spells. It seems like your brain has built defencive walls to repel any probing, which begs the answer to the question what is hiding in secret even more. But can you really do it on your own, like Edelgard suggests? It seems impossible.

    With newfound doubt you finish your meal, saying your goodbyes to the now scattering Eagle students as they scurry off to their next lesson. Two hours are left before you’re meeting with Byleth and the house leaders, and since you agreed to look over Linhardt’s notes, the library seems a good next stop. You still want to go over the seven classical manoeuvres of war, especially since the students didn’t really grasp the remaining two last time, and it gives you a good excuse to look over them again as well. At the beginning, you thought there was nothing you could teach those children, not with experienced colleagues at your side who have participated in countless battles themselves. Who could have thought that talking about tactics and strategies came as natural to you as breathing. Well, Rhea did for certain, and even the students drink up your every word like it is a message from the Goddess herself and you her chosen herald. The irony of it.

    But it isn’t only the students accepting your guidance. Something inside you changed in the last couple of weeks as well. When you started going through the books in the library, it was more stumbling and slipping on foreign terrain, but just in a couple of days, you moved through the matter like a fish following smoothly the currents of its native waters. It felt like home. Like building the foundation of a house from thousand variables, the result different each time but still the same: art. You build the art of battle, the last decision that will bring victory or death. You love every second of it. Which opens the possibility that it really isn’t your first time, but also more questions: Who taught you? What battles have you fought? How many of them did you win? Since those aren’t as simple to answer, you focus on fulfilling the first purpose, and hope that it will some day be enough for the students to survive battles.

    If only it would end there. Your second duty isn’t as easy or pleasant, and it lies in wait for you everywhere, stalking you like a dark shadow with monstrous fangs.

    “Herald.” A soldier gives a courteous bow, intercepting you in the Great Hall on your way to the library. “Pilgrims ask for you near the Entrance Hall. Please allow me to escort you.”

    Immediately, your nerves tingle with nervous anticipation. This is the scary part. Meeting the people, seeing the hope in their eyes. You’d gladly send them back where they’ve come from, but some have travelled for multiple days, and denying them audience would be cruel.

    “Don’t let me stop you from your duties,” you say, unconsciously tugging your clothes in order to appear presentable. “I will welcome them on my own.”

    The soldier nods and bows again, his expression barely readable under the helmet before he disappears as quickly as he came.

    Planning lessons is easy. You can find whatever you need in the library and work out the flow with the students. But nothing can prepare or teach you how to act like the Herald people wish for. Nowhere is anything written on the old Herald, how he talked to them and what promises he’d whispered when day broke. That is where you are on your own. Not even Rhea could answer that question. She only instructed that you see them, and remind them about their devotion to the Goddess—for she was the one who made it possible in the first place.

    The Entrance Hall is emptier than usual. Most of the students are in class, and a handful of knights and soldiers might be at the advanced training camp Jeralt and Alois hold in honour of the Blade Breaker’s return. So spotting the pilgrims isn’t difficult. Especially with the Gatekeeper waving his arms in wide arcs as if fearing you might overlook him.

    “Greetings, Herald!” His grin is blinding. “The pilgrims are waiting for you just at the at the foot of the stairs.”

    “Yeah,” you say. “I can see them.”

    “Oh, yes, of course! If anyone causes problems, count on me to help!”

    “Thanks.” You answer his thumbs up with one of your own before moving downstairs. What a refreshing young man. Certainly good looking under his helmet. Byleth seems to like talking to him a lot as well.

    Today’s pilgrims aren’t much different from other days. Old people are supported by their family members, who have brought baskets with sweets and flowers, presenting them at your feet.

    “Herald,” they breathe in awe, bowing. No matter how often you’ve seen it by now, it still feels incredibly wrong.

    “Raise your heads,” you tell them, helping an elderly woman up to hrer feet. She gasps at your touch, then clings to your hands. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat. “The Archbishop and I bid you welcome. The Goddess will smile upon your devotion.” Your cringe slightly when echoing Rhea’s words and wonder if any second the goddess might punish you by throwing lightning your way.

    “We are blessed to finally meet you,” a younger woman says, taking the old woman from your hands—mother and daughter maybe? “Please accept our gifts, and may the Goddess guide you on your path to light.”

    “She will answer your prayers and guide me so I can bring you peace,” you reply just so you can say something they might want to hear. Judging their delighted expressions this wasn’t the worst you could have said. Dorothea would probably be proud looking at your acting skills. Or point out your bad posture and how you’re avoiding their eyes. Dorothea would probably tell you how much you have to polish your acting skills.

    “Bring us peace?” someone from the last row spits, pushing to the front. “You know nothing, the Herald will bring chaos and ruin!” A man in his forties looms above you, an ugly, padded scar crossing his face from one temple to his chin. A war veteran? They way he holds himself looks like he’s been beaten up once too much to get up again.

    “You heathen, don’t you dare speak to our Herald like that,” the old woman barks, immediately doubling over in a coughing fit. Her daughter supports her, glaring at the man. “Go in peace, but go if you only came to talk ill about our Herald,” she says, clearly upset. "Doubting them is doubting our Goddess. How dare you."

    “First I want to see the Herald do something! What if … if this one is an impostor.” The man turns towards the others, throwing his arms in the air. “Bring forward proof that you are not here to ruin our lands, but to actually serve in the Goddess’ name!”

    This time his demand meets less resistance. Until now people were fine with seeing you and the Crest, but to want actual prove? You could easily threaten them and ask if they doubt the Goddess’ decision, but you’d rather leave that method to Rhea. You don’t want to sound like her. You don’t want to scare people. Yet admitting that you don’t really have a clue how to really use the Crest would surely support the man’s accusation. Diminishing the people’s trust in the Herald is the last thing you want, especially if it means facing Rhea’s scorn.

    “I—”

    “Herald!” A voice calls from the top of the stairs. When you turn around, Sylvain waves and jogs downstairs, looking like he’s been running for some time. “There you are. The Archbishop wants to see you.”

    Oh no, has she heard of your failure already? Giving the choice of facing a group of doubting people or Rhea, you’d immediately go to the people. You give him a curt nod, unable to speak because you don’t trust your voice.

    “I apologise,” you say to the pilgrims, clearing your throat when it comes out as a croak. “I will have something prepared for another time.”

    “No, you do not need to prove anything to us,” the elderly woman says. “We will always believe in you. Please tell Her Grace we are constantly praying to our Goddess and thank her for sending you to us.”

    “I will.” You squeeze her hand a last time. “Save travels.”

    The man still glares at you, but without a chance to keep you present any longer, he turns away and follows the rest. You can’t wait to leave all that behind, and as you steel your nerves for what’s waiting for you in the Audience Chambers, you look up to Sylvain and ask, “Did Lady Rhea say what it is about?”

    He looks over at you and blinks a couple of times, then seems to remember. “Ah ... yeah, about that. I lied.”

    You stop dead in your tracks. “You lied?”

    “Yup. I don’t know what Lady Rhea’s doing. But you looked like you were about to puke at those poor pilgrim’s shoes. As hilarious as that would have been, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment.” He stops now as well and smiles a boyish crooked grin. Sylvain knows exactly what to do with his face so girls fall over themselves to do him a favour, and boys grow jealous of all the attention he gets. Two weeks in, and you’ve figured out his game, keeping a respectable distance that wouldn’t birth the thought you’re avoiding him. In fact, this could be the very first time you’re actually holding a real conversation.

    “Well, I … thank you? But I had everything under control.”

    He looks like he doesn’t believe you. The gatekeeper you’re just passing looks like he doesn’t believe you. You press your lips into a thin line and dare any of them to disagree.

    “Okay.” Sylvain shrugs. “But now we’re here.”

    “Sylvain, what do you want?”

    “Cutting to the chase, huh?” He crosses his arms behind his head. “Why do you think I want something?” Your raised eyebrows seem to be answer enough. Sylvain laughs a little helplessly and returns his hands back to his front, raised as an offer of peace. “I promise, I want nothing. Just a little talking. A little talking hasn’t hurt anyone.”

    Something inside you wants to argue against it, but without a solid argument in hand, you follow him silently, wondering where his destination and intention lies. He belongs to the many students you can’t really read, nothing about his ambitions or goals. Sometimes he gives you this strange look through half lidded eyes, his gaze focused on your right eye—his interest in your Crest undeniable, and yet he’s been one of the few not to talk about it with you. It’s strange because whenever you come together, he looks like there’s something he’s dying to say. This time is no different.

    He leads you to the wooden pavilion in the gardens, but instead of offering you a seat, Sylvain leans his slim hips against the table, half sitting on it. Seteth would be furious seeing this.

    “How’s the Herald business doing for you?” he asks the one question you wouldn't expect from him. “Other than you having ‘everything under control.’” He has the audacity to air-quote. This isn’t a conversation you want to hold right now, leastwise with him. Sylvain must discern that you’re ready to bold from whatever your body is showing. With a quick step, he’s standing between you and the escape route, lazily leaning one arm against a column to uphold the illusion that you’re only having a pleasant talk when in reality his body stands between you and your freedom.

    “Do you talk to the other faculty members like that as well?” you say through gritted teeth, crossing your arms. Sylvain blinks like he doesn’t understand, but you’ve seen this act before, followed by an eerily precise repetition of a subject to one of his classmates when he thinks none of the teachers pay attention. Sylvain is playing dumb and deliberately hiding a sharp mind.

    “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” he quickly says, nothing about this crooked smile appearing apologetic whatsoever. “I’m generously curious. You’re holding up really good.”

    “In comparison to what?” you demand, your heartbeat picking up. Is he trying to call you out on something? That you aren’t heraldy enough? But to your surprise, Sylvain looks genuinely surprised by your reaction.

    “To nothing. In general?” He shrugs. “Back on the ceremony day, you didn’t look so good standing up there, and His Highness told us everything happened really uh … ‘suddenly.’’ More air-quotes, whatever they mean this time.

    “If you mean I wasn’t really asked to become the Herald, then yes.” Your arms drop back to your side. “It was suddenly.”

    Sylvain watches you for a moment, and again, there’s this look in his eyes; the need to say something he can’t. He kneads the back of his nape, avoiding your eyes. “All I’m trying to say is … having that Crest out of nothing is cool. Probably. And maybe terrifying? And just—”

    You grow impatient. “Come on, get the words out, Sylvain.”

    “A Crest isn’t just this nice letter of invitation to a privileged life. Just take care, is all I’m saying.”

    And there’s another page to the book of surprises with Sylvain’s name on it. The immediate lack of response catches him off guard; it’s like he only notices now that the vital part to understand this conversation is missing: The source of his doubt towards Crests.

    Sylvain’s body turns in a split second, his feet facing the direction he’s ready to bold towards, but this time you stand in his way and block him off. “Sylvain, are you okay?”

    He blinks in confusion, then furrows his eyebrows in deep thought like you demanded he recites the Ten Heroes from memory or else fails classes. His face contorts with the effort of looking fine. “Why, yes! Just peachy. Why would you think something is off?”

    “Because I have eyes in my skull.”

    “Very pretty eyes, if I dare say.” His answer comes out like a fire spell, hard and fast, seemingly more instinct than anything else. He clears his throat and scratches his chin, loosing momentum. “Goddess, I am bad at this.”

    “You are.” No need to sugar coat it. “If something happened, just say it.”

    “Nothing really happened, I just—” He exhales audibly and stares into space for a long minute, before side stepping you without difficulty. “Actually, I remembered Professor wanted to see me after class. Something about extra lessons about eh. Horse riding. Yeah. I’ll catch you later, Herald.” He winks and bolds away, darting under your outstretched arm before you can catch him. For someone this tall, he’s surprisingly agile and fast, already disappearing behind a tall hedge towards the main building.

    If that wasn’t the strangest conversation you’ve held with anyone, you don’t know what might excel that. Maybe it’s time you stop avoiding Sylvain.

    The Training Grounds smells of sweat and oil. Many students and knights train, which is surprising at this kind of hour, the short break between afternoon and evening classes. You’d like to know what they’re working on, but Byleth doesn’t tolerate inattention in a classroom or on the battle field, and demands you do push-ups each time your eyes wander somewhere off. You hate her a little for that. For whatever reason, Claude has taken on the role of your partner in crime, and does whatever necessary to make Byleth punish him as well.

    “What can I say, I like a good workout,” he said when you asked. He didn’t even try to hide his lie, looking as miserable as you felt. Probably hating Byleth a little as well.

    It’s the fourth week of private training with her and the house leaders, and so far you can definitely say that you were not meant to fight on the field. You see how your opponent moves, you can somehow predict what they’re going to do next—but your body simply protests to act accordingly. You stumble, you fall, you need a second too long to get up and before you can do anything, a training sword is at your throat. Byleth always looks like she wants to facepalm her fist through her forehead. Or yours.

    “Herald, this is not how you disarm someone,” she says, as always, and demonstrates it in one smooth, swift movement, as always. You blow hair out of your eyes, knowing you’re about to fail again. At least that gave Claude a reason to give you a new nickname, though if it’s better than the last is debatable.

    “You gotta twist your wrist, duckling!” he calls from the other side of the hall, immediately drawing Byleth’s attention to him. He and Dimitri are facing off, both wielding a spear which should give Dimitri the upper hand. So far, he hasn’t landed a single hit on Claude.

    “Keep your elbows in!” Byleth berates Claude. “Stop flapping them like some kind of chicken.”

    Claude lets out a disturbingly convincing cluck.

    You raise an eyebrow. “At least someone’s having fun.”

    Byleth sighs. “He’s going to get himself killed sooner than later.”

    “I don’t know. He’s managed so far, hasn’t he?”

    “I’m not sure if it’s a talent or a fault.” She turns back to you and nods her chin towards the side. “Take a break. I’m going to see how the boys are doing.”

    You nod, tensing all over because that’s where Edelgard is currently standing and picking out a training axe. You haven’t talked to her since lunch, and you can do without it for a couple more hours. She barely glances at you when you walk over, and instead checks out the edge of the wooden blade, turning it left and right.

    “Is she as strict in the classroom as in here?” you ask, unable to go on in awkward silence. Edelgard hums, throwing a quick glance towards Byleth from under her long, white lashes. “She’s systematic and consistent. Capable in both fields. I have no reason to raise any kind of complaint.”

    “That’s impressive.” You sure as heck still wouldn’t want her as a teacher. “Even though she’s been pushed into all this, she handles it like she’s never done anything else.”

    “I think as a mercenary, she is used to changing approaches depending on the employer.” Edelgard is still looking at Byleth. Reading her expression is impossible, and you don’t want to point out that sticking a sword into thieves and bandits is not the same as teaching kids how to fight in a battle. Her head whips to you suddenly, and she considers the training sword in your hand. “Speaking of different approaches,” she continues, “have you considered that your field of combat might be magic?”

    You have, so the answer comes immediately. “Chances are higher I set myself on fire.” You stare at her. “I didn’t mean it to rhyme.”

    Edelgard ignores your last comment. “But you haven’t really tried it out, have you?” Your lack of response is answer enough for her, and she nods like that proves a point.

    It’s complicated. You haven’t really tried it out because … the simple answer is, you’re afraid. It gets tricky once you try to search for the answer to that. There’s just a strange sensation when you try to use magic, like there’s a vast sea of possibilities and one step inside is enough to get you lost. It isn’t as bad with wind spells or white magic. You haven’t touched Fire spells because a crippling fear chills you to the bones every time you manage to nourish a small flame inside your palm—the complete opposite to Dark magic. When you tried a MiasmaΔ for the first time it felt strangely … secure. The rope tying you to a shore, it had felt like—

    There’s a loud crash when the spears collide and Claude knocks Dimitri off his feet. The whole room is silent as everyone watches how Claude taps the blunt end of his practice spear against Dimitri’s chin. “Steady on there, darling,” he says with a smug grin. Dimitri flushes bright red, and pushes with more force than necessary the spear away, quickly climbing to his feet.

    “That wasn’t bad.” Byleth quickly steps in before Dimitri can throttle Claude. “Dimitri, you rely too much on your brute strength. That’s a big disadvantage against someone like Claude. And you, young man,” she turns to Claude who’s been smiling victoriously, “are scheming too much and lose time to take action. In a serious battle, you won’t be as lucky as today.”

    “Noted.” Claude whirls his spear from left to right, almost dropping it when Dimitri drills his elbow into his side. “But in a serious battle, I won’t be upfront. I’ll be hanging back nicely, and skewing my enemies with a myriad of arrows.”

    “You can barely shoot three at the same time,” Dimitri grumbles, his cheeks still splotched with red specks.

    “You wanna bet—”

    “That’s enough, guys, save it for then next round.” Byleth ignores their sulky expressions and turns to you, raising a single eyebrow. The message is clear. What are you waiting for?

    Your feet feel like they’re glued to the ground. Edelgard doesn’t hesitate at all. “Let’s go.”

    She strides in the middle, training axe raised. It’s made out of wood, but you don’t doubt that she’s able to severe a limb from your body if she only tries hard enough—and what you know of Edelgard is that she alwaysexceeds even her own expectations. You grip your sword tighter. It’s a clear disadvantage, but better than anything else you can handle. Maybe it won’t be as bad.

    The fight lasts for about seven seconds. The moment you raise the blade, Edelgard is on you and unleashes fierce strike after strike, the power behind each hit forcing you back. She doesn’t bat an eyelash when she easily disarms you, the wooden sword flying over your heads and the edge of her axe on your throat. Somewhere behind her, you hear Byleth sigh. “Again.”

    The next hour is torture. Edelgard throws you to the ground, again and again. Byleth keeps telling you to get up, again and again. One might think they would cut you some slack, being the Herald and all, but it feels like Edelgard is so much more aggressive today because you’re the Herald. Or maybe it’s personal. Maybe she’s appointed you to be her sworn enemy, and won’t miss out any chance to make it as hard as possible for you.

    This isn’t fun. Being watched by Dimitri and Claude, who whisper conspiratorially to each other isn’t fun. Luckily, Byleth notices them gawking and bellows them to focus on working on their stances. Right now, you’re thankful nothing escapes her eyes and she calls her students out on their bullshit. It doesn’t make your current situation easier though. Every muscle burns, just raising the sword is exhausting and your feet feel like they’re about to give out any second. This must be hell.

    When Byleth finally ends lessons, you ignore everything and crumble to the ground, splaying your limbs out in all directions. Surely they can clean up without you, two hands less will barely make any difference.

    A shadow settles over you. You know who it is, and don’t bother to open your eyes. “Go away, Byleth. I don’t want to hear how bad I am.”

    “Personally, I think you have improved, Herald.” Your eyes snap open. Dimitri looks down at you, his forehead still glistening from perspiration. “But facing Edelgard as an opponent usually wields those results. Don’t let it bother you.”

    You want to point out that he and Claude don’t seem to have as much problems as you, even though yes, none of them have defeated her yet in practice. He goes down to your level and sits beside you, and you hate how this all barely made him breath hard, like it’s just a stroll around the monastery whereas you’re trying to climb the mountains surrounding it.

    “I think she hates me,” you blurt out. Luckily, most students have already left the hall, Edelgard included. Dimitri considers this a moment, and you don’t know what to make of his lack of immediate response.

    “I doubt she hates you,” he finally says.

    “But?”

    “But she has a hard time warming up to people. Give her time. Once the ice is broken, you will see that her personality is one you’d like to have around.”

    “Oh?” You watch him for a moment, but Dimitri doesn’t blush or look away. It was a heartfelt, sincere statement, which flusters you for some reason. No one should be that honest.

    “Talking about breaking ice. Do you know if something happened to Sylvain?”

    “Sylvain?” Dimitri raises both eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me he harassed you in some kind of way.”

    “No, no, he just—” You finally get up from lying on your back, and try to explain it by frantically moving your hands. Dimitri still looks puzzled. “He said some weird things about Crests in general?”

    “Hm.” Dimitri stares at your hands for a moment, then quickly raises his eyes back to your face. “It’s complicated.” Well, that answer is as good as none. “And I won’t go into details without his consent. I can only say that if he talked about Crests, in whichever way, his brother must have upset him again.”

    “He has a brother?” Now you’re wide awake. Many students have siblings. You know of Hilda’s brother and Raphael’s sister. It shouldn’t surprise you Sylvain has one as well even though he’s never mentioned it before.

    “Do you have siblings?” you ask, generously curious. As heir to a kingdom, it’s hard to imagine his parents would have settled with one child. But he hasn’t mentioned any sisters or brothers as well.

    “Hmm, I have a step-sister,” he says, although very hesitant and you can see if someone doesn’t want to talk about a specific topic. He doesn’t return the question, which is kind of him and makes you wonder … maybe you have a sibling as well. Somewhere. Maybe somewhere in Adrestia or Leicester a younger brother or an older sister is currently looking for you, unrelenting in their journey to be reunited at last. The thought alone brings a flicker of hope alive. Maybe they'll come once word of the Herald’s return travels far enough.

    “I guess as long as Sylvain doesn’t disturb classes or acts out of order, I would leave him to his brooding. I can tell out of experience, only Felix is capable of cheering him up.”

    “Felix?” Your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Are we talking about the same Felix?”

    A smile forms on Dimitri’s mouth. “I understand why imagining that might prove difficult, but I assure you, Felix is one of the view exceeding in handling the mess Sylvain is from time to time.”

    “Felix and Ingrid?” you guess, earning a nod from Dimitri. “Ingrid is a very nice girl,” you continue, picking at a loose thread from your uniform. “But Felix seems detests me. Every time he sees me, he looks like he wants to throw his sword at me.”

    “That is—” Dimitri stops mid-sentence. “That might be not so far off from his true intentions.”

    You groan.

    “But I assure you it is for a different reason than you think. Felix is simply … difficult with people holding a commanding position.”

    “He doesn’t seem to have the same problem with Byleth,” you point out. No, whenever he trains with her, he manages something close to a smile and accepts her guidance. Then again, she isn’t his teacher.

    “I’m sure you’ll be able to make him consider his opinion on you during the Mock Battle. I as well am looking forward to how you will guide us.” Dimitri beams. You stare at him like he’s just lost his head.

    “What?”

    “The Mock Battle three nights from today?” Dimitri’s smile falters a little. “Have the Professor and Lady Rhea not told you yet? You are to participate in the Mock Battle as the commanding unit of the Blue Lions.” Now he’s pulling his eyebrows together in worry. “Herald?”

    “I—” You jump to your feet. “I have to go.” Go far far away. Just yesterday you introduced the students to the tactic called Feigned Withdrawal, which involves staging a retreat in order to induce the enemy to abandon its position and plunge ahead in an attack. Dimitri abandons his position, getting up to go after you, but instead of turning back to surprise him with an ambush, you flee the battle and hope the enemy doesn’t pursue.