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#why has this post gone from worrying about a friend to just complaining about my work

eris-snow · 1 year

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𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, fluff

Falling in love with Bakugou comes naturally, but loving him is a lot of work

Thinking about rest.

Thinking about relaxing without having to worry, thinking about just crashing in bed for hours with no repercussions at all on my life.

Just be a trainwreck for a couple of days, blissfully snoring in a bed under a fluffy blanket for as long as you'd like.

There's too much work, so much that it makes you want to bawl your eyes out, but you know you can't.

It's just so, so overwhelming.

And then he comes around.

Katsuki Bakugou.

He flashes you that smug smirk and his perfect report card as if it was as easy as breathing.

You don't get to say anything, because of him.

So what if he's a ticking time bomb that explodes 20+ times a day? So what if he has public image issues and has trauma the size of a whale? He still gets straight As and friends willing to die for him.

You roll your eyes at him and slump down, covering your own report sheet. It's not bad, but with the number of all-nighters and sacrifices pulled on the daily for you, it's nothing outstanding in this elite class.

You understand that Bakugou works hard, damn hard. But sometimes you wonder if he realises how lucky he got. Good quirk, good looks, good instincts and a well-off family.

Sometimes, you wish that the world would realise how hard you've been working too.

But you don't get to complain. No, not when he's been through literal shit, too. Probably worse than you.

The kidnapping, his dumpster fire of a relationship with Midoriya, and the fact that he's sacrificed himself for said green bean during the war.

You've gone through a lot, but he's gone to Tartarus and back.

You steal a glance at your watch and catch your flushed cheeks staring back at you.

Great.

Now your heart's hammering against your chest like you're running a marathon.

It didn't help that you actually liked the blond. Between training sessions and the post-war patrols, you were seeing him a lot more often since you were now working at the same agency as him.

Edgeshot's agency had dissolved after his funeral.

Bakugou doesn't go easy on you, always being the competitive hormonal teenager he always has been, and some still making your heart flutter for him as effortlessly as pushing a button.

Why?

Look at him.

He might be an asshole, but if you squint on the millisecond he's not scowling, you'd find that he doesn't look half bad. Then you catch yourself trying to find the right time to do it again.

After about 5 times, you start to find him attractive.

Thinking about rest. Because even though you like Bakugou, he's still an ass, and you can see his flaws as clear as day. What you would give to just curl up in bed and sleep, but you're sure that it'll still be Bakugou barging into your room to wake you up to keep you from slacking.

If it makes him smile that mischievous smirk again because of you and only you, then maybe working late isn't so bad after all.

#mha #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #fluff #bakugou fluff #my hero academia #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader

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manofmanymons · 3 months

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may you share some takuma x kaito hcs i am in drought and dying

Yeesus do I need to start writing about them again is the takuma x kaito fandom okay al;kfjdaklj I thought was getting too annoying about them but maybe not???

first things first in case you missed any of the other times I rambled aggressively about them

here's the most recent time someone asked about them <3

here's a post from that time someone (multiple someones? all the same anon? I'll never know) was asking about marriage hcs 💍

here's a time I was just randomly babbling about them :P

this isn't a hc but just a scene that haunts my brain a lot >w<

this post talks about multiple ships but they're in it 💃🏻

here is a short fic that's like 90% just me shoving hcs in your face 📝

and since we're already shamelessly self plugging here's the first thing I ever wrote about them teehee

OKAY SO

GETTING TO THE ACTUAL POST NOW LMAO

several pre-relationship hcs

Dracmon knows the idiots are crushing on each other before either of them figures it out. Agumon can tell that there's something different about the way Takuma talks about Kaito but he's not sure exactly what it is.

Y'know that scene where if you pick the wrong dialogue, Kaito will get all pouty if Takuma says people would like him more if he softened up his speech or looks a little? I imagine Kaito might briefly worry about if Takuma would actually like him better that way. In the end he doesn't change, obviously, but the realization that he likes someone enough that he considered changing for them for even a second gets him angry and a little embarrassed. How dare Takuma make him have Stupid feelings.

Literally every single one of their friends (and most of the kemonogami) knows Kaito has a crush on Takuma. They have the restraint not to make fun of him for it, but they very much ALL know. They'll even try to subtly (why does that not look like a real word) play wingman for him, making excuses for why those two should be alone together or asking Takuma about his thoughts on romance and if he likes anybody. Takuma only realizes that's what they were doing in hindsight years later. Kaito never notices even though he's the one they were trying to help lmao.

At least some of them have bet on how long it would take them to get together.

Fuck it I don't talk nearly enough about idiot pining Kaito. He likes Takuma so much it's embarrassing. Miu has sent pictures to their friends' secret groupchat that doesn't have Kaito or Takuma in it of the stupid way he smiles when Takuma texts him. Ryo caught him on video trying to strangle Takuma for calling him adorable once. He will secretly replay the part of the video where Takuma calls him adorable when he's alone because he likes hearing it. Lowkey sped past the cute, silly "butterflies in your stomach" kind of crush straight to the "my heart hurts when you're here yet aches worse when you're gone" kinda head over heels. He would die before admitting it, even to Dracmon. We love a boy who's just a tiny bit pathetic alkdja

I swear I'm not tryna be hardcore delulu playing the game with ship goggles on but like...Every time I think about that time where he gets mad at Takuma for being too close to Miu, but instead of complaining about him being too protective, Miu remarks that it looks like he really wanted to spend time with Takuma, it just kinda reads like he was perhaps a little bit jealous. Most mentally sane and emotionally stable way of expressing that you want your friend to pay attention to you.

I think it's hilarious that Kaito's voice is so goddamn deep for a 14 year old. I also think it a contributing factor to Takuma's crush on him. Like "wow that guy sounds cool."

Anywho, established relationship part

For the first few years post-canon, they keep going back and forth between who's taller. Takuma doesn't really mind either way, but Kaito hates being shorter. Solely because of how funny his reactions are, Takuma will jokingly call Kaito "little" whenever he's taller, even if it's only by 1cm. "My precious little boyfriend," "my little love," etc. Kaito hates this. He does not hate how happy Takuma sounds when he's saying it.

Usually when they're in public, people assume they're friends. Kaito is unbothered by this. Takuma does not like the way people look at his boyfriend. Again I really don't think he's the jealous type in the sense of ever legitimately worrying about anyone stealing his bf away or minding it when Kaito spends time with Not Him, but I could see him getting irritated if anyone openly stared at or god forbid flirted with his bf in front of him. Bc like real talk for a second, outside a shitty small town, you cannot tell me that no one aged 13-17 would crush on Kaito just from looking at him. Way too many angsty teens in the world.

Freaking cat boy constantly lies on top of whatever Takuma's working on and falls asleep.

They are secretly both the "would you still love me if I was a worm" boyfriend.

Bf who overthinks x bf who rarely thinks things through

Obsessed with Takuma constantly thinking of 2-4 different ways to respond during conversations being how he actually thinks and not just a game mechanic. The patience it takes for Kaito to cope with being stared blankly at for 10 seconds after asking for a kiss bc Takuma's too busy wondering if he should ⬅️ tell him he doesn't need to ask next time, ⬆️ just kiss him, or ➡️ ask if he's sure he wants one. As if Kaito didn't already feel dorky enough for asking. "Why would he ask?" HE'S ALLOWED TO PROPERLY ARTICULATE WHAT HE WANTS SOMETIMES INSTEAD OF WAITING AROUND FOR TAKUMA TO MAKE THE FIRST MOVE OKAY BUT HE WAS STILL SCARED OF DOING IT WITHOUT ASKING FIRST

Dracmon really does trust Takuma a lot and is more or less the captain of this ship. He still threatened to kill him if he ever hurt his partner when they first got together. Even when your bestie can turn into a mechanical dragon with cannons, something about a 10+ foot demon pointing a gun at you and telling you he would not hesitate if you screwed this up will really set ya straight.

Most of the time they hang out, they do whatever Takuma wants to. It sounds bad, but Kaito just really hates making decisions and really likes being around Takuma regardless of what they're doing. It took Kaito confirming this for Takuma's mom to stop getting on him about it though.

As close as they are, Takuma knows and doesn't mind that there are some things Kaito is always going to want to do with Miu instead of him, and Kaito knows and doesn't mind that there are some things Takuma is always going to want to do with Minoru.

Uhhh they are,,,very silly. Kaito high key one of those kids who decided he was too old for a lot of things when he was still really young, so sometimes Takuma has to force him to act his age and/or make up for lost childhood. Of course, Takuma himself has a tendency to think he's older than he actually is, but sometimes Kaito sounds so much like a tired adult that even he knows that's not normal.

Kaito has a lot of biases regarding how dumb he thinks romance is that he has to get over now that he's in a relationship. He's about to call someone else's big romantic gesture stupid until Takuma comments on how sweet it is and he has to go "yeah, real cute" instead. He's trying his best guys he really is.

...Several love songs have wormed their way into his playlists since dating Takuma. Some were even there since back when he just had a crush. Many are a result of Takuma sending him songs and saying "this made me think of you." Don't tell anyone. He only listens to rock and metal, he swears.

Sorry besties I cannot think of anything else rn I'm sure there's more but I'm eepy

#digimon survive #kaito shinonome #takuma momozuka

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lapinbunwrites · 7 months

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Title: A Childish Tea Party

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None

Fandom: Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn

Characters: Humor, Friendship, Post-Canon

Additional Tags: Friendship, Humor

Words: 795

Ao3 Link

Naesala couldn't remember the last time he had a pleasant conversation with Sanaki. She was always more condescending than he was, and everyone has told him his is the worst. He, for some reason, took great pride in that. But when he heard it coming out of a small child, he realized, it probably wasn't the best thing in the world. Last thing he wanted to deal with her complaining since that she is an Empress, she could do whatever she wanted. Naesala has done it, and it never worked for him so he's a little irritated a child could get away with it.

"Naesala!" Sanaki demanded his attention.

"What?" He said, focusing his attention to her.

"You haven't paying attention like you should," she pouted.

"I'm sorry your royal empress," he sighed, taking a sip of his tea. He was hoping this little tea party of hers would be rather different from what it was. He thought is going to be more pressing than what she wrote him about. "Listening to you talk about the food you've eaten in the last day isn't all that interesting."

She let out a little growl, giving him a stink eye. "Well I think it's better than hearing you talk endlessly about Leanne."

Naesala pinched the bridge of his nose. "That was weeks ago and I'm surprised you were paying attention."

"Well, I thought I could find something to use as blackmail against you," Sanaki teased.

"I'm surprised that you would use it, considering that you have no need for it," Naesala smiled, taking a sip of tea.

"I was hoping for a something juicy so I could try to con sweets out of you," she laughed, trying to take a bit of her treat.

"Well, you can keep trying, but no one is going to say anything," he reminded her.

"Hmph, I could always ask Tibarn, Reyson, or even Leanne," she said.

"They won't say a thing, or at least I hope not," he said, getting out of his chair.

"Where are you going?" Sanaki asked, yanking him back to the table. "This isn't over."

"Well, I have more important things to worry about having a tea party with a child," he said, trying to pry her fingers off of him. "For someone who is only thirteen, you have one hell of a grip."

"I am fourteen now!" She reprimanded him, roughly pulling him back.

"Yeesh kid," Naesala said, using his strength to pull her out of her seat and holding her off the ground.

Sanaki held onto Naesala's arm tightly as she kicked the air, trying to look for the ground.

"What are you doing?" He asked, waving his arm up and down.

"PUT ME DOWN!" She demanded.

"Fine, but I'm leaving afterwards," he sighed, placing her on the ground.

"Why, I thought you were excited to be here?" She asked, smoothing out her clothes. "I just wanted to spend some time with you."

"I didn't think you would enjoy my company," Naesala grumbled.

"I really do," Sanaki murmured, walking back to her seat. "I don't have many close friends, especially many near my age. So I was hoping that maybe you would like to be my friend."

Naesala wishes he could say that he was hard for him to make friends, but he always had Rafiel, Reyson, and Leanne. He's known them since a very young age so he's never had to worry about being alone in his life. He couldn't imagine what Sanaki would of gone through by herself without any friends. She ascended the throne at such a young age without any true childhood to talk about. Most of her life he could imagine that she was in and out of meetings, war councils, and training sessions. It really wasn't a traditional childhood to him so he could see her not having any friends to have. Sure, she had Sigrun and Tanith, but they were more guardians than anything.

He took on deep sigh before letting giving her a smile. "Fine, I will stay and listen to you-"

"Oh, hooray!" Sanaki said with a sparkle in her eyes.

"But," he smirked.

"But what?" she asked, her earth shattering for a split second.

"You must listen to me and what I want to talk about," he bargained, sitting his seat.

"Fine fine! If you insist," she agreed, taking a bit of her food.

Naesala smiled as he ate his food as he listened to her talk. Thinking about it, being in her presence and listening to her talk, wasn't such a bad thing after all. Maybe he will take her up on more of the tea parties she invites him to. Maybe even make it a tradition only to see that smile of hers.

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

Consistent writing style, who's that? Anyway here is yet another revenge fic @aptericia! Hopefully this two little bickering duos feel you with the same amount of joy you gave me!

#my writing #fire emblem fanfiction #naesala #sanaki #fire emblem radiant dawn #fire emblem path of radiance

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streets-in-paradise · 2 years

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Stranger Things Drabble

Like a Witch and her Familiar - Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader

Warnings: Talk of grief

Summary: Post season two setted. Eddie comforts you after the death of Mews, when you feel like no one else can be there for you because you have no right to grief over your pet.

Notes: This short drabble is part of the Henderson!Reader concept i have been working on in previous posts. I wrote this very quickly as a harmless way to deal with my post vol 2 grief.

Tags: @losersclubisms @dark-angel-is-back It took a while for it to hit you. Only then, when things were calm again, it struck you. A normal delayment of the reaction considering the previous circumstances. When you got to find out of everything you missed and the worry about your brother was a priority... who would have stopped to think about a cat?

With everything that happened in your full unawareness, you felt like you didn't have the ríght to grief over Mews. Joyce lost Bob, your brother could have died while you were somewhere else making friends. Your conscience would tell you that all you were allowed to feel was thankfulness, but you couldn't control your emotions despite the guilt.

That cat has been your companion for years and you were quite a loner, she meant a lot to you. In the quiet that followed after the mess you began to feel painfully aware of her absence in your home. Her spot near the window to watch the birds was empty, there were no more happy welcome meowings receiving you when returning from school, nor 4 am wake up crying for a late hour snack of your hungry girl. No more silly sibling arguments about who should clean the litter box, you wouldn't find her asleep in Dustin's bed nor wake up alongside her. She wouldn't be rushing to curl up against you during long study sessions or on the couch while watching TV.

She was gone, eaten by a disgusting creature that Dustin brought to the house when you were too busy doing something else to watch over him.

The worst part was having no one to go in order to share your feelings. It was a disrespectful thing to do, your trivial sounding grief was a mock in comparison to what everyone else went through. You didn't have the ríght to complain, you weren't there in the middle of the shitstorm.

Swallowing your feelings seemed the way to go, until those exploded inside you and were randomly exteriorized making you look like a total weirdo. The unfortunate victim who caught your pathetic spectacle was precisely your new friend.

From the many times he accompanied you on long walks home from school so you both would have more time to talk, Eddie already knew that cats seemed to love you and you never hesitated in stopping to cheerfully salute any that would be crossing your way or meowing for your attention. He once teased you about it saying that being followed like that by cats would have got you marked as a witch back at the old times of witch hunting trials, what made you adore him. Your amazing syntony of mutual understanding was scary. Wonderfully scary, like if you would have found a soulmate.

During one of those walks with him you had the bad luck of coming across an orange cat and you couldn't control your sobbing as you would immediately remember your girl.

Eddie's primal instinct was to hug you as fast as he saw the tears, even if he wouldn't understand why you were crying.

" My Mews looked just like that. She passed away very recently and I miss her so much." You began to explain to him between your sobbing, feeling contextually forced to help him understand what was going on. " I see her in the shadow of every cat that passes by, everytime i hear some meowing across my street I dream it could be her... I know it sounds stupid. "

" It doesn't. " He cutted you off in a calming tone. " If you loved her, then it matters. "

There was no way to fully explain to him why you felt incapable of expressing your feelings over that loss, so you tried your best.

" Joyce, the mom of Johnnatan, she just lost a man she was falling in love with... I can't cry over a cat. It's an insult to other people's pain... and I bet I look like a crazy cat lady ríght now."

Eddie began to caress your hair as he delivered a heart warming reply that only you, with your weirdness in perfect sintony with his, could have enjoyed.

" More like a witch who lost her familiar. "

There was no better way to explain how you were feeling, he put your thoughts in words with such a magnificent exactitude and provided the perfect analogy to point out how Mews was more than just a cat to you.

Everything felt easier in his company, that was exactly why you were willing to lose so many hours enjoying it.

" You are so ríght, she meant that much to me. I don't have many friends and Mews was always there for me. In some ways, we were like a witch and her Familiar. "

He kissed your forehead, then stared intensely into your eyes, as if he was asking a non verbal permission to carry on with his attempts of comforting you.

" I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Do you want to talk about it? Maybe putting it into words may help. "

Exactly what you needed and what you couldn't do. Cherry picking the confesable aspects of the story, you told him a bit of what happened in hopes of getting it out of your chest.

" She was partially eaten by some... unidentified animal from the woods. My brother found the body and he hid it from me so I wouldn't have to see her ripped apart. "

The last part got a small prideful smile out of him.

" Great kid, that is very sweet. He wanted to protect you from the pain. After all I have heard about him, I bet that your little brother is as awesome as you are. "

" I talk about him all the time, I know. Sorry, I just can't help it. " You apologized, fearing that your past rambles about Dustin could have been boring to him. " i love him so much and i'm so proud of him. I wish he wouldn't have to deal with that alone. "

" You don't have to deal with this alone. " He continued for you. " Mews may be in kitty heaven, but she had the most adorable cat mama. I can't know for sure, but just by looking at you playing with all those random kitties I get the feeling that she had the happiest life at your side and that is what matters. "

You couldn't help smiling a little bit at his sweet speech, what seemed to encourage him.

" Shit happens, don't blame yourself. Maybe even if you would have been there, it wouldn't make a difference. All you gain while wondering are a bunch of guilt maggots eating your brain. That will not bring her back and will not help you out. "

He was so easy to talk to that you truly wondered where he been all your life, even when you knew you were the one who was once reluctant to approach him.

" I'm sorry that she didn't make it to meet you, she would have loved you. You know what it's said of cats, you can't fool their perception. They are very good at spotting nice people. "

That time he was the one smiling, your praise took him out of guard.

" I really don't care about what everyone else says of you, Eddie. No one in a good long while has been this sweet with me... You are truly awesome and I have no words that could be enough to thank you."

You had no idea of how much hearing that meant to him. It made him wish he could treasure you in a crystal box away from the many people that could try to change your opinion.

" We have a good long while walking ahead, tell me more about your little one. Pick your happiest memories with her, it would be like meeting her at her best. "

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #stranger things imagines #joseph quinn

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innerslumber · 1 year

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I know this might sound silly but I am feeling really emotional over the messages I've gotten over the Marvel Exhibit posts. I've had people thank me for sharing because they will probably never get a chance to see it. I've had people who has already seen the exhibit but the stuff I saw was new for them and how much they enjoyed it. It's just...been really gratifying.

Because going to this exhibit has been on my To Do list for months. When I finally escaped my abusive spouse with my children, all I could think 24/7 was how do I protect them and how do I get our family stable. And I remember one of my kids' counselor telling me that I need to pick at least one thing for myself. One thing that is just for me because he said I deserved good things too. That I should be free to have an afternoon where I can have fun, without worry and guilt.

And every month, like clockwork, he'd ask me if I had gone to see it. And every time I had an excuse. Oh I was busy meeting my lawyer because I'm about to go to court. Oh I gotta get our new apartment set up. Oh my friends are busy and they can't help watch the kids. There was always something more important because there was so much to do. But the truth was, I was also just so scared. What if my kids got sick while I was gone and I couldn't be at the school right away? What if my car broke down and I got stranded? What if I missed an important call because I was too distracted? Just scared scared scared.

But the exhibit was leaving in April and I knew the clock was ticking. So I finally picked a date when I knew my kids would be looked after, bought a ticket and went.

I remember at the start of the tour, the museum employee said most people spend 30-40 minutes to get through it. I spent almost 3 hours. I read every plaque, stared at the art and costumes from every angle, and even looped back to see things when the crowd had thinned out. Just so I can savor it. Because I felt this panic, like if I don't seize this moment, I'll never be allowed to enjoy something alone again.

But after the tour was over, I went and got lunch and let it sink in. That this wasn't my last chance to enjoy something for myself. That it was okay to enjoy myself. That I was allowed to. I could eat this food that I normally wouldn't have ordered because my spouse would complain about the smell of the food I grew up with. That I could enjoy it without censure or ridicule. I didn't have to rush back and be terrified that I would be late and get screamed at. I could actually pay for this lunch from my own bank account. That I didn't have to sneak around using cash that I had squirreled away so my purchases wouldn't give away my location on the online bank statement. I could just...sit there and watch people walk by in the sun while I sipped my soda and...it was okay. I didn't have to feel guilty that I was alone and enjoying an afternoon doing something "frivolous".

And it just really hit me why I even wanted to go to the Marvel exhibit in the first place. Because luckily I fell into this fandom just when my life was at its darkest. All the wonderful friends, fics, art and crazy posts that helped me get through all the lonely, scary, painful days and nights. Reading Bucky recovery fics after he escaped his torture and brainwashing and telling myself I can do that too. Then feeling stupid that I was projecting so hard on a fictional character but desperately wishing I had a Steve too.

My therapist told me that recovering from trauma is not linear and I'm going to have good days and bad days. And sometimes it will take days before my mind processes things completely. Over a week passed since I went to the exhibit and I found myself crashing. I know it may seem ridiculous but in my mind, I was setting a pin on this outing. A bright shining lodestone in my mental eye. A box that I could tick saying, "Yes. You're finally at a point where you can allow yourself to have this." And now that I was on the other side of it, I felt a bit lost.

But I was scrolling through the pictures I took and I decided to share on the blog. Initially I was just going to send some to friends in DMs but I changed my mind. Editing 90 images and writing up posts at 3 am was probably not a good life choice but fuck it, I never said I was smart lololol.

So I'm really glad that I was able to give something back to the fandom that's given me so much through this difficult time in my life. It's just pictures and my crack commentary but I'm happy that it gave other fans some serotonin. Some days I feel this imposter syndrome where I'm barely holding it together and I am sure I'm not the only one. But it feels so damn good when my friends and I can squeal over our favorite characters and just take unabashed joy in it.

Because for the first time in a long time, my body is my own, my mind is my own and my heart is my own. I can empty my mind of the pain and fill my heart with love.

And where my mind and my heart wants to go, they can. Even to go see some superhero tights.

#personal thoughts #PTSD #recovery from trauma #stucky #fandom love #gosh i got so fucking lucky meeting you all #what a bunch of stand up impossibly loving human beings #i hope we can keep squealing over Bucky and Steve together for a long time #or any other ships you all indoctrinate me into hahaha #love you #Marvel: Universe of Super Heroes

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siriannatan · 1 year

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{I have no idea what to call this one but it's WeatherHusbands}

This post by @made-nondescript and @umbrify got my lizard brain working so... here's a short snippet thingy...

AO3

fWhip was having a terrible morning. He had to suffer through Jimmy and all of his mister perfect, I wake up for fun and do sports energy even earlier than usual due to how their current lab project simply had to be done. And now had to wait an additional hour for his next class. He already had to wait a whole hour for it when the lab was at its usual time... So he went to Pix's antique store to not crowd the already overcrowded with tired students coffee shop next door. And now kind of sat there and complained about Jimmy to Pix as the shop's owner went over his important shop books. And slowly sipping his coffee.

"I just don't understand how he can have so much energy this early, he's not human I tell you," fWhip huffed and took another sip of coffee. If anything could help him through today that was it. Why must he share so many classes with Jimmy's terribly perfect self? At least there was that modern lit elective he took just because a friend asked him.

He was about to complain more but the door opened and Pix didn't even look up from his book. "Hello Scott," he said with a sigh.

"Don't you hallo Scott me," came a very familiar huff. fWhip knew Scott well. They had that modern lit together and Scott was... a bit of a special case. "Hello fWhip," Scott grinned spotting him and instantly turned back to Pix.

"Can I help you?" Pix asked, finally looking up from his books.

"No." Scott said placing his colourful, covered about a third of the way in pins bag on the counter. And pulled out... A white thermos with pretty red flowers all over it and a matching tub with a plastic cover. "I know you'll drink nothing but coffee if I let you so I brought you some tea and cookies I made while studying last night," Scott grinned.

fWhip was a bit confused. Not why Scott was in an antique shop. He was the star of the history department. Their own mister perfect with all perfect scores. Scott was not only that, Scott was also a weirdo who took modern lit even though he apparently hated modern literature. And a home economics elective just for the hell of it. And he had a pretty full schedule without those... Oh, and he apparently took some art thing as his third elective. What normal person took three electives with nothing to do with your main subjects? Who took three electives in the first place if you could get away with just one? And he fed Pix on top of that? How did that even happen?

"Okay, I'm off to my Grimlands History class, I'll come by around lunch, don;t worry I have plenty of these and I'll pick them up after classes... Bye," Scott grinned, placing a kiss on Pix's cheek. "See you at modern lit, fWhip," he waved and marched off. His colourful combat shoes made a funny noise on the tile floor as he marched off, bag over one shoulder, long coat flowing behind him. All he was missing, fWhip thought, were flower petals but Pix would probably not tolerate that in his store.

"I have no idea why he keeps coming here," Pix sighed shaking his head. He did pour some of the tea from the thermos into a cup he usually used for coffee and opened the cookie box. fWhip vaguely recognised the two as something Scott once showed up to the lit class with, calling it an art project.

"Well, he is a history major," fWhip shrugged, sadly noticing his coffee was gone. "And the best one too," he added having noticed the shock on Pix's face.

"I thought he's an art major or something..."

"He does take an art elective, I think he painted these," fWhip could not help but chuckle as he pointed to containers Scott dropped on Pix. "A complete overachiever who always has homemade snacks on him," he summarised as Pix slowly ate the first cookie. Complete disbelief was still on his face.

"He never talks about history," Pix hummed, finished the first cookie and took another.

"All you have here is probably too new for him, he always complains about modern literature saying ancient elven texts are much better," fWhip hummed, his initial Jimmy annoyance getting maybe a bit lower at the thought of Scott bringing Pix homemade cookies in hand-painted containers. It was at least a distraction, wasn't it?

#my stories #my stuff #empiresshipping #empires smp #weather husbands #side bit of #fwhimmy #I do not have a weatherhusbands problem

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honeygold-dew · 2 years

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Extraordinary Attorney Woo Ep 8: “I won’t let you walk all over me.”

Well, this episode was just as much a rollercoaster as the last one, but for different reasons this time.

(Once again, episode thoughts from someone on the spectrum)

1. We start with the anonymous (who is he kidding, the entire team knows Minwoo wrote it) post on the company forum, singling out Youngwoo enough for employees to recognise her, complaining about her specifically benefitting from nepotism.

I don’t even need to mention the ableism in this, the ableism in Minwoo, I feel like that’s been covered by everyone. My thoughts this entire scene though, is why did he specifically choose Youngwoo, when he’s been working next to Sooyeon all this time who he knew had powerful connections from the beginning? How is it him being righteous and fair, when he witnesses first hand Youngwoo is more than competent at her job, but goes after her while seeing Youngwoo as “the strong” compared to the CEO of the entire company who openly benefits from connections?

Minwoo would not be threatened if Youngwoo was not more competent than him. If an autistic person worked alongside him and was not outperforming him, he wouldn’t even care to sabotage them. His ableism would assume he’s getting the job above them. He wants Youngwoo gone because he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against her as a lawyer, so he pulls all the tricks to get her out of the running and him a full-time job. Classic corporate moves, what we experience in real life, but Minwoo has time and time again actively used Youngwoo’s autism as the brunt of his sabotage.

Which is exactly why, more so than Sooyeon loudly and unapologetically standing up for Youngwoo, we got Youngwoo standing up for herself. “I won’t let you walk all over me.” And that’s all that needs to be said!

2. Minwoo responding with “Are you shameless?”

Yes. Youngwoo should be shameless. She has done nothing to be shameful for. If there’s one thing men have, it’s the audacity, trying to bring you down while being confidently wrong. Kwon why don’t you spend all this free time you have working on the case, instead? Earn your permanent employment the right way and be a better lawyer!

3. Theme of romanticism throughout the episode.

There was a post I saw on here earlier describing how poetically and lovingly Youngwoo appreciates the beauty in things around her — even in the episode she loved taking in the tree, feeling the wind and watching its leaves move, seeing the town together with it. I’m happy to see Youngwoo feeling deeply constantly shown in the drama, even more so in an episode addressing things needing to be played tactically instead of relying on human connection and emotion.

I’m happy Youngwoo was advocating the side of connection and feeling, when the stereotype of all autistic people being logical, unemotional robots is too often used in media. I’m happy that Youngwoo having romanticism, is completely in line with her character we know and love.

4. If I thought that fall on the hill looked painful, WOW did I flinch when she fell down the stairs. (Speaking of falls, her fussing over the judge after he fell on the same path was adorable, especially the part where she offered him her jacket because that’s what Junho did with her the last time, even cuter because Junho likes her and that was an act part of his constipated pining). But what I want to talk about here, Youngwoo addressing her independence from her dad.

She wants to be an independent adult both financially and in her livelihood. She wants to do things on her own. She wants to live her own life where she makes the decisions. Granted, it may have began after finding out her father’s been too controlling of her experiences, but I’m happy for her. Even living with bestie Geurami is an upgrade from an overly-worried dad. Seeing her giggle and enjoy breakfast with Geurami was honestly so nice and refreshing, normal things you do with your best friend and roomie. She didn’t overbear Youngwoo or try to treat her like a child either and made something new-ish for her to eat, which she did enjoy. In her comfort zone but new. Youngwoo happy. Geurami happy. Me happy. I hope by the end of the drama Youngwoo is able to establish her independence however she sees fit.

5. The mother… sigh. This one was a little tough to see. I don’t have much to say, this is their story and these are the decisions they’ve made to lead to this point.

At first, I thought Tae Su-mi would try to hide Youngwoo’s existence. I thought upon discovering Youngwoo’s her daughter, she’d revoke the job application on her own, considering the drama leading us to believe she was cold about her child out of wedlock. But instead… she was sad. She was crying. She asked if Youngwoo resents her. My heart ached for her. I can’t imagine that was an easy decision to make in your college days. I wonder where next their relationship will go in the episodes to come. Youngwoo’s response to her also touched me, it was nice spending time with her at the tree. Youngwoo again loving and appreciating the little things, Youngwoo again loving their small time connecting instead of focusing on the hurtful.

She’s a wonderful character, and I can’t wait for next week.

P.S. “The birds, the lambs and even Myeong-seok” line made me laugh so much. You poor soul, 3 AM is the best neurodivergent thinking time, get up!

#extraordinary attorney woo #extraordinary attorney woo episode 8 #woo young woo #autism #actually autistic #extraordinary attorney woo review #kdrama

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milkxtea666 · 2 years

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🖤A Little Hate🖤

Paring: Eddie Munson x (fem) Reader

Summary: As if being the new kid isn't hard as is, having one month of school, no friends, joining a club at the wrong time, making embarrassing first impressions, and being homesick makes it harder. So here to making new friends (and enemies)!

W/C: 4.6k

Warning: This is going to take place after season 4! So let's pretend all is well, Eddie didn't die, or that the "earthquake" was that bad. This is also gonna be a slow burn and an enemies to lovers!

A/N: I posted this on AO3 long ago, and i will continue to post it there. AO3 will be the first to update. So plz if u can go read it on AO3, same title and my username is kth666. But other than that enjoy the fic!!

CH.2 IS OUT!!!

♩♪♩♬༶•┈┈🖤┈♛ ♛┈🖤┈┈•༶♩♪♩♬

Being the new kid at school sucks, but what sucks even more is being the new kid at school

at the end of the year. Theres no time to make new friends, or to get used to the environment. I basically have a month to save my reputation before I am known as the loner. Then again, I don't really care. It's not my priority, it's okay if I become a loner; that means I'll become a cool, quiet, mysterious girl. In addition, I plan to go back to California for college, so if I'm gone then who cares about what people think of me.

A harsh bump on the road interrupted my thoughts. I snapped out of it & looked out the

car window, we were entering the trailer park, it looked a bit trashy but the cotton candy sunset did the view a favor.

"Y/N, remember, this is just temporary, you know we still need a bit more money

to buy Pepa's house." mother reassures me as she pulled into the driveway of our trailer.

"Yes mother, I know." I said with a small smile.

Pepa is my great aunt, she lives on the other side of Hawkins, and plans on retiring to Nevada by the end of summer. I got out of the car and looked around the park. I knew there was a forest around here, but I didn't it expect it to be right behind our trailer. I could see no end to the forest, who knows how deep it goes. I turned around and saw two trailers to my left and right.

There was a red-haired girl doing skateboard tricks in front of the trailer to my left. She did an ollie then turned to me, giving me a smile before continuing her tricks. I smiled back, and turned to the trailer to my right. I saw a van in front of the trailer. There was no one in sight but I heard thumping coming from the trailer. The owner was probably blasting loud music.

"Y/N, come and get your bags from the car" mother said

"Coming." I replied. I walked to the back of the car and opened it. The first thing I grabbed was the bag that had my skateboard in it.

"I still don't understand why you had to bring such a huge bag with you, we could have left it at the storage unit, you know?" mother complained.

"I told you mother, one bag has all my clothes and the other has my books & parts to fix my bike." I lied, "You don't want me to fall behind on my stulles now do you?"

Mother shook her head and smiled, "Guess not" she relpied.

Mother would never let me have a skateboard, she says it's "improper" for a lady

to use them. I bought this skateboard with 3 months of allowance; I was so excited to use it. I remember my mother being worried sick because of all the bruises and scrapes I got. I just told her that I was clumsy, and for a year the reputation I had in my family was the clumsy one.

I how it sounds controlling of my mother to dictate my hobbies, but I understand her intentions; given the woy she was raised, she just wants the best for me. I gathered my other bog that actually had my clothes and made my way inside.

There was already some of our furniture in the trailer, mother come the other day with the movers to set it up. I walked pass the living room and went into the hall. There were three doors, the one in front of me was the restroom, the door was open and I saw the toilet. I peeked into the room to the left and saw my mothers clothes spread out on her bed. This means that the room to the right is mine.

I opened the door to my room and to my surprise it was emptier than I expected. It only had a bed and a dresser. The bed only had a pillow and comforter. Since it was summer I didn't mind it. I put down my bag of clothes on the bed, and the bag with my skateboard I placed under the bed. I opened my bag of clothes and started to put them in my dresser.

"Y/N, your bike and backpack are still in the

car. " Mother yelled from the living room

"I know," I replied and walked to the living room, "is it okay it I get them tomorrow when I go to school? I'm pretty tired right row, I just want to sleep."

"Sure,"she replied. She walled up to

me and kissed my forehead. "Get some rest

pumpkin, you have a big day ahead of you."

I hugged her and went to my room. I put

away the last of my clothes and got ready

for bed. I turned off the light and shut the door. The moon was directly out my window, lighting up my room. I got in bed and shut my eyes. As I

was drifting off to sleep I heard a electric guitar in the distance. Whoever was playing it

is very talented, this was the best guitar rift I have ever heard. However, I couldn't put my finger on the song that they were playing.

-----

"Pumpkin, wake up." my mother said softly as she gently shook me awake. I extended my arms to stretch and yawn.

''Morning mummy" I said in a groggy voice.

"Morning. get ready, I'll be making breakfast"

''Alright." I got up lazily and went to the restroom to wash up. Once I was done I

went to my room and picked out my clothes. I took out my denim overalls and a striped shirt.

I put my hair in a ponytail and put on my Doc Martens. As I was tying my laces I smelled

bacon. I walked to the kitchen & found my

mother making my plate already.

"How'd you sleep, love?" she asked as she handed me my plate.

"Surprisingly well actually." I responded as i

sat at the table.

"That's good. Oh I wanted to ask you something." She said. I took a bite out of my food and nodded.

"Are you sure you want to bike to school? I really don't mind driving you. What if you

get lost?" She asked worryingly. I swalled my food and gave her a soft smile.

"I'll be fine mother, I memorized the map of the city, plus, the route to school is not too complex."

"Okay then. Now hurry and finish, you dont want to be late." She said and kissed the

top of my head.

I nodded and took a few more bites of my food before getting up. I took my plate to the sink and looked out the window. I see a car pull up to the trailer where the van is. A middle aged man got out of the car and entered his trailer. So thats who lives there. However, I couldn't help but think, who was playing the guitar last night? I start to head out.

"The car is open Y/N, you can go ahead and grab your things." mother said from her room

"Alright mummy, I'll be off then. Love you."

"Love you too, be safe."

I walked outside, the crisp summer air tingled my nose. I have never smelt crisper air. The air in California is smoggy and polluted, this was an enjoyable change. I looked to the trailer to my left and saw the red-haired girl grabbing her bike. She looked at me and smiled.

"Morning." I said to her and gave her a small

wave.

"Morning." She repied and smiled back.

"I'm Y/N" I said as I grabbed my bike from the car.

"Max." she simply said. She then hopped on her bike and looked at me with a smile, "Gotta go, see ya." and she paddled away.

I leaned my bike against the car as I fetched my bag from the back. Once I got it I closed the car and opened my bag, fishing out my walkman. One I got it, I put it on then my backpack. I presed play on my walkman and AC/DC started to play. The reason I keep my walkman in my backpack is because mother would never let me listen to this type of music, she would ground me for sure.

The music was at full blast, but I heard a loud roar of a car. I turned to my right I saw the van pull out of its driveway. Since the van was facing away from me, I couldn't see who was driving; but I did see their hair, it was long

and curly. I put one side of my headset to the side of my ear and heard that Crazy Train

by Ozzy Osbourne was blasting from the van. Then the van stared to drive away, and with it, the music faded. I put my head set back on, got on my bike, and made my way to school. I wonder what kind of person they are. Could they be the one that was playing guitar last night?

Before I knew it I arrived at school, I got off my bike and walked to the bike ramps. As I was walking I looked around at the school. It was a very different vibe than my other school in Calilornia. I took off my headphones and heard the bell ring. I finished locking up my bike and I tugged on the lock, securing it in place before heading inside.

As I reached for the door handle I heard a Metallica song from afar. I turned to the parking lot and saw the van from the trailer

park pull up to the lot. What? Are they a student or a teacher? What are the chances, maybe I'll get to meet them. Finally someone with the same taste in music! I shrugged and opened the door.

I walked into the school and saw the front office right away. I went in to pick up my schedule and a map of the school. The office lady told me to come back after lunch to pick up my lock for my locker. I said my thank you and made my way to homeroom. The teacher greeted me right away and showed me my seat. I sat next to a girl with short, blond curly hair. She turned to me and smiled.

"Hi!" She said as I sat down.

"Hey!" I responded with a huge smile.

"I'm Debs." She said as she extended her hand to shake mine.

“Im Y/N." I responded

"What a cool name! What year are you in?"

"Oh I'm a senior."

"I see. What school did you come from?" Debs asked again, was she interrogating me or something? Whatever, at least she's nice and interested in me.

"Oh, it's in California, so I don't th-"

"California?" She interrupted with surprise.

"Yeah" I giggled

"You're so cool. Oh by the way, have you joined any clubs?"

"No, not really, I just got here." I said nervously.

"Sorry if I'm just bombarding you with questions but, do you want to join the art club?" she asked. "We are in desperate need of a new member for a project we have."

"Of course! I love to paint!"

"Great! We meet during brunch," she saw my map and leaned to me, "here." she said as she pointed to a room next to the gym.

"Okay." I replied with a smille. The bell then rang and class started.

I was off to a great start; I made a friend and joined a club within a matter of seconds. Looks like I won't be a loner like I thought I would. I was happy. My first few classes went

by smoothly. I'm glad that the teaches did not make me introduce myself in front of the class. I'm guessing they didn't do this because it's the end of the year and they just wanted to get their lectures over with.

The ball rang for brunch and I made my way to the art club. It wasn't far, I got there in

less than a minute. Outside the door I saw Debs waiting for me. Once she saw me a huge smile appeared on her face.

"You came!" She exclaimed.

"I did!" I responded happily. She took my hand and took me inside. She burst open the door and held my hand up.

"Guys, I found our last member!" Debs yelled.

All 10 some members turned to me with a smile. I have never felt so welcomed in my life, they all emitted a good vibe.A girl in the far back shot up from her chair and walked to me. She had her pin straight hair in pigtails, and wore a colorful dress. A huge smile was plastered on her face. Her hand extended to shake my hand.

"Aubry." She said introducing herself.

"I'm Y/N." I replied with a smile.

"You can paint right?" Aubry asked.

"I can! At my old church I was often asked to paint murals, so I'd like to think that I can paint well." I rambled. Aubry's eyes lit up.

"You're exactly what we needed! See, the school wants us to paint club doors as a going away gift for the seniors that are in it. We were short one member for a club, but now that you're here we have just enough people!"

"Oh, well I'm glad to be of help!" I replied. I was already valued amongst people, this made me feel like everything was going perfectly. Aubry turned to the rest of the members and made an announcement.

"Alright people, we can finally get started! Grab some supplies and go to your designated club room!" Everyone got up and grabbed their stuff along with some painting supplies. Debs gave me a pat on the back before leaving to get her supplies.

"Y/N, you can start painting tomorrow, for now I need you to go to the club room to pick up the references they want from their president. After that you can start working on your sketch." Aubry said.

"Okay! But um, where exactly is the club room that I need to go to?" I asked.

"Oh! Silly me, do you have a map?" Aubry said. I nodded and pulled out my map from my notebook and handed it to her. "It's over there." she said as she pointed to a room that was near the back of the school building.

"Got it. I'll be off then!" I said with a smile. As I began to walk out of the room I couldn't help but hear people whispering, I heard something along the lines of 'I feel so bad for her.' However, I payed no mind to it, I was excited to be part of this club.

The farther I went into the school, the less people I saw in the halls; this was probably because theres not much to do here other than doing some rebellious things. I approached the room, and on the door was a paper that said "Hellfire Club." Hellfire? Please tell me this isn't a satanic club of some sorts. I do not want to mess with that kind of stuff. The fact that no one told me what kind of club this is made me slightly worried. But I mean, how bad can it be? It's not like the school could allow students to do bad stuff.

My nerves got the best of me, I was shaking slightly as I opened the door. The inside was slightly dark, the only light were some dim stage-lights and fairy lights along the walls. I right away saw two kids sitting on a table talking, but stopped as soon as I opened the door, letting in the bright light from the outside.

"Hi, um I'm Y/N. I'm here from the art club, I am supposed to pick up the reference sheet from the president?" I asked nervously. I was stood at the door way, not wanting to enter the room just yet.

The two kids got up from their seat, grabbing some papers that were in front of them too, and started to walk to me.

"Cool! I have the references here, but I'm not the president, he's not here at the moment." said the taller kid. Once they got closer to me and into the light I got a good glimpse of them. They were both wearing shirts that said Hellfire on them, the shorter kid however had a cap that said "Thinking Cap," that was cool. The taller one had black hair while the other had light brown hair.

"Here," the taller one said and handed me the papers," Oh, I'm Mike, and this is Dustin." and pointed to the shorter one. Dustin smiled.

"Hi." Dustin said with an adorable smile.

"Nice to meet you guys." I said politely, "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly is this club? I need to know so I can, y'know, get a better understanding of what I need to paint."

"Well, Hellfire is a Dungeons and Dragons club, we basically-" Dustin spoke before I started to zone out. Oh no. I've heard of this game before, the reputation that it has is horrible, mother says that it's the devil's game. People always make fun of this game as well. Is this why the art club needed a member? Because they didn't want to be associated with this club? Did Debs just stab me in the back? Things were going well for once, but now, my reputation is about to be ruined. Why does this happen to me?

"Hey, you alright?" Mike asked. Shit, I zoned out.

"Yeah, I'm good," I replied "I gotta go and start planning this. See you." I then walked away without looking at them. This was so embarrassing, this is bad. I can't believe that Debs would do this to me without telling me. As I was speed walking I bumped into someone.

"Woah, hey there." said the voice of a man. I was too mad to acknowledge him, so I kept my head down and continued walking.

"Watch where you're going!" the guy shouted.

I walked into a restroom that was around the corner of the hall. I stomped into a stall and shut it, dropping all my papers.

"Fuck!" I yelled, clenching my hands. I was shaking in frustration. I wanted to go home. Not the trailer. My old home. I tried to give this change a chance. I tried to be open minded about everything, and not letting my reputation become my first priority. But this made me snap. I can't believe I still have four more hours of school left. I just wanted to leave. My frustration got the best of me and I punched the stall door. I looked down at my now red knuckles.

I need to chill.

------

The school day couldn't have passed by any slower. I was eager to go to the trailer and isolate myself from everything. I do admit that my feelings got the best of me, but then again I can't expect to be happy with these events. At least I'm expressing them and not repressing them, like I do when I get mad at mother.

As soon as the bell rang to end school I left right away. I did not want to talk to anyone, especially Debs. When I'm angry I can't control what I say, like I said; I let my emotions get the best of me.

I was dodging everyone on my way to the front of the school, I didn't want to just mindlessly bump into people like I did with the guy from earlier. I was finally outside and went to my bike. I unlocked it as fast as I could and rode home right away.

I was passing through an empty road with nothing along the sides; I took this opportunity to let my feelings out. I let out a scream, and a few curse words as well. I felt slightly better afterwards. Speaking of letting my feelings out I looked down at my knuckles, they were now bruised up. Crap, I can't let mother see.

In the distance I saw the trailer park, I felt a slight feeling of ease once I saw it. Finally, I'll be alone and away from my problems, for now. I arrive at the front of the trailer and shove my bike to the side, then I walk to the door. I open it and head inside, but before closing it I look at the trailer to the right, the van isn't there. I shut the door and head to my room. I throw my backpack on the floor and collapse on the bed, screaming into the pillow. Thank goodness mother works all evening, I definitely need some time to myself.

After an hour of relaxing I got out of bed and went to the kitchen to make myself some food. I look though the cabinets grabed a can of soup.

"Yeah, you'll do." I said to myself.

I finished eating, washed my dishes and headed back to my room. I had no homework but I did have to work on the sketch for the damn art club. I really don't want to be in art club now. But I can't just not do it and leave them now, that'll be bitchy of me. Damn me and my people pleasing personality. It's okay, it's only for a month, after that it's going to be me and my dorm at a university in California, where I belong.

I took out the references that were given to me and looked at them closely. Wow, this is some fantasy type of stuff, is it medieval? I should have listened to Dustin, I have absolutely no idea what goes on in the game.I see a lot of knights fighting dragons, and a few weird looking creatures. I think I'll just take it easy and draw all the characters fighting a dragon. I am not going to try my best on this.

It was getting dark, I turned on my lamp but it didn't work. Weird. Guess I'll have to work in the kitchen. I grabbed my supplies and walked out my room. I placed my hand along the walls looking for a light switch, when I felt it I turned it on but there was no light.

"You got to be fucking kidding me." I groaned in annoyance. Just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse, it did. I was at my breaking point. I threw my stuff on the kitchen table and tried to look for a flashlight in the darkness.

No luck.

I guess we didn't pack one. What am I going to do? This sketch is due tomorrow. I'm so fucking stupid, I shouldn't have started this so late. I took a second to think of a solution then I looked out the kitchen window. I looked at Max's trailer and saw no light coming from it, nor a car out front, but the trailer to my right had its lights on, and the van was outside. I wouldn't hurt to borrow a flashlight from them.

I walked outside and headed to the trailer. As I got closer I could see that the van was beat up, I'm surprised it still runs. I walked pass the van and onto the doorsteps. Here goes nothing. I took a moment to gather my thoughts so I don't come off as rude despite my horrible mood at the moment. I knocked 3 times eagerly. I took a step back and waited for a moment. I heard a few thumps followed by heavy, clumsy footsteps.

"Coming!" The voice of a man said, extending the "i" in the word. His voice sounded familiar but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

The door opened to reveal a tall guy with long, curly hair, so that's him. He was wearing the same shirt that Mike and Dustin wore, the HellFire shirt. You have to be kidding me. My mood instantly got worse, but I still needed that flashlight.

"Hi. My name is Y/N, I just moved into that trailer over there," I said with a fake smile and pointed to my trailer. He looked over at the trailer and back at me with an eyebrow raised.

"Wait, I've seen you somewhere. Hold up, hold up." He said as he put a finger on his lips and the other folded under it. Where in the world could he have seen me? I've never seen him anywhere other than the van at scho-

"You're that girl who bumped into me at school!" He exclaimed with a huge grin. Shit.

"W-what?" Was all I could say, I can feel the fear and embarrassment take over my facial expression.

"Yeah! It is you. Same outfit and everything!" He said happily as he crossed his arms. "You should really watch where you're going y'know?"

"Sorry about that," I said shaking my head and avoiding eye contact with him. A sly smile appeared on his face before speaking again.

"So, what can I do for you?" Tilting his head slightly to the side.

"The power went off in my trailer, I was wondering if you have a flashlight I can borrow for the time being?" I asked.

"Uhhhhh," he said as he was thinking "no." He smiled. I rolled my eyes in irritation and turned my heel.

"Thanks anyways." I said as I was about to walk away.

"I'm kidding!" He said as he grabbed my shoulder to stop me. A huge grin appeared on his face, nearly laughing. I am getting very annoyed now, I was not in the mood to joke around. I rubbed my temple in annoyance and turned to him.

"So you do have one?" I asked in a stern voice.

"Yep." He said as he reached to the side of the doorframe from the inside. I assume it was hanging there as he got it with ease. He was handing it over and i reached out my hand to receive it, but he pulled away.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, you've been a little bit rude to me." He pouted, pretending to be hurt. "Say the magic word please."

I wasn't having this. Tears of frustration started to well up again. I just wanted one simple thing, and I tried my best to be nice, so why is it so hard to obtain one simple thing.

I looked up at him, biting my lip, trying to stop myself from crying again.

"...please." I said quietly, voice nearly cracking. His face instantly dropped and a concerning look took over.

"Woah, you okay?" He asked, handing me the flashlight. I took it and turned around instantly so he wouldn't see my tears fall.

"I'm okay, thank you. I'll give it back soon." I simply said. I walked off the doorstep and just as I had one more step left I tripped over myself and fell to the ground knees first.

"Hey, you good?" He said in distress. He came up to me and squatted next to me. I stayed in the fallen positions for a moment, hiding my face as the tears were hitting the dirt bellow me. This is it, my last straw. There is no way I can continue living like this, why can't this be over.

"Do you need a hand? Are you hurt?" He said trying to help. I got up aggressively, grabbing the flashlight as well.

"I'm fine." I said and walked to my trailer, not looking back at him. I went in and shut the door loudly, leaning against it too, and slowly dropped to the floor, sobbing.

I'm not going to school tomorrow, I don't want to try anymore.

AHHHHHHHH HOW EMBARRASSINGGGG n e ways heres the link for this fix on AO3! plz leave a kudos if u can

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x y/n #season 4 stranger things #stranger things season 4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #hellfire club #max mayfield

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orchid-151 · 1 year

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Need of Sleep 💤

(this was something I wanted to post up Valentine's Day but because I was busy with work and everything I wasn't able to sit down and type it out, since I go back to work tomorrow I figured I could go ahead and type this up and have it ready for y'all to read. I'll find time later go on the laptop to fix it up.)

Summary: Orchid had been up brewing potions for days and Smith wants her to go to bed the rest, worried about her mental health. With Mason haven't been gone since yesterday out collecting materials, Smith finally decides to try and get her to go to bed...

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Smith was pacing around back and forth in front of Jay muttering to himself all the while. He had spent the last hour complaining to his friend on how Orchid had been awake for the past three days...

"... And I know Mason usually can make her go to bed but he's been gone since two days ago... I know we should go look for him but I'm worried about Orchid... What should I do Jay?" Smith looked to his long time friend.

Jay looked up from his book and at Smith seriously. He was not annoyed by Smith, he was annoyed that Smith didn't see the bigger picture.

"... We both know Mason can handle himself... Orchid needs us right now, so go make that girl get some sleep."

Smith was taken aback at first but understood what Jay was saying "Right, Orchid should come first..." Smith headed for the door...

"Your welcome~🎶" Jay sang as he went back to his book...

======================================

Smith walked into Mason and Orchids home and to the room where Orchid had been. Smith watched as she was in the middle of brewing, her fram visibly shaking from tiredness... Smith took a deep breath, and walked into the room. He calmed himself, coming up with an idea to lull her to bed...

He smiled to himself, and snuck up behind her...

"hey there beautiful~ ❤️" Smith wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Orchid gasps in surprise "GHA! Smith!"

He started to talk "Why don't we go sit and talk..."

"T-t-talk ab-bout wh-wh-what?" Orchids tired mind made her stutter.

"Just talk... Like about 'having kids'... 'our future'.... Going to bed~" Smith moved his arm from her waist to her arm...

"b-bed...?" She question as Smith cupped her head leaning her back into him "You know, to sleep..." He said lovingly, as he slowly swung her around "... You have been working hard the past few days... And I care about you..."

"c-care...?" Orchids mind was so foggy she was repeating the last word she could register...

He lightly dipped her "Yes, I care about you... Because I love you."

"love..."

"I love you Orchid." He said staring loving to her eyes...

"I... Love you... Too..." Orchid said tiredly

"Let's first get you to bed... You need your...."

*SLAM*

Mason opened the door... Hard.

"Mind telling me WHY your holding my SISTER like that?" Mason stood at the door, finally returning from collecting materials for his craft...

Smith had to think carefully, as one wrong phrase might set Mason off...

"WELL...?"

"Uh... Um, w-welcome back... Well, you see... O-Orchid has been awake f-for days now... I was trying to g-get her to rest..." Smith tried to explain his actions, as he really did want Orchid to go rest...

Mason stood there for a moment "... There's only one way you can get her to sleep..."

"... R-really... H-how?" Smith asked with worry...

======================================

'Maybe this was not such a good idea....' Smith thought as he was snuggled up to Orchid in her bed. She was sound asleep giving off the noise like that of a purring cat... Smith however, could not close his eyes.

He wore a worried expression as he looked over to the corner of the room... Where Mason sat... Cleaning his hammer...

The older brother was humming a tune, to quietly that the villager couldn't understand it...

Smith didn't know how long it would be before Orchid woke back up... But he knew one thing: next time he'll be more straightforward on making her go to bed for her own well being.

[I thought it would be a cute headcannon that normally Orchid would be able to go to sleep faster if someone was snuggled up to her, like a teddy bear... But a living being.]

(below is the original that I copied from. Original concept on my deviantART: kylemew24)

#minecraft oc #minecraft #villagers #minecraft villagers #illagers #villager #illager #storytime #Orchid and Smith

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meaniebeanietwo · 2 years

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Let’s get this straight : I have very high standards.

I’ve seen enough « heartbreaking » scenes in animation to know which ones feel forced, and which ones don’t.

In my opinion, a good heartbreaking scene doesn’t have to last long, or be a season climax, or take the entire focus of the show to make it seem important and dramatic. In any case, I would be more struck with a scene that would make a terrifying event seem more « casual ». For instance, take the episode « Scary-oke » from Gravity Falls. During the episode, Dipper raises an army of zombies, and panic rises - not only for the characters, but for the audience. The twins look for a way to fight the monsters, but the more they try, the less options they have left. Even Soos, their greatest ally in this situation, « dies » in front of them. They are all alone, the house is being torn down by the zombies, they already broke the lights, then the walls fall, and the door, and suddenly they are surrounded. Dipper says how this is all his fault and now they are defenceless, and suddenly a zombie grabs him by the arm. Dipper’s last words before he (almost) gets bitten are « Mabel, I’m sorry ! », and then his sister screams his name with horror. And then Stan beats the monster up.

The thing with this scene is, it was small. You might not even call it a heartbreaking scene, because we are used to everything in modern cartoons focusing on the « big scene » for a few minutes to make you feel for the characters. If you don’t pay attention watching the episode, you almost can’t hear Dipper’s sentence, and in my eyes that makes it even better. I don’t quite know how to explain it, but scenes like this one have more impact on me when I’m invested in the scene myself, not when the show makes everything it can to make me feel the moment. When they go out of their way to make it look tragic, and the dead (or almost dead) character says that they were bad and now they’re good thanks to the good guy they just saved, and then they let out their last breath, I don’t feel a thing. But when they just show you this scene quick, and there is a moment of silence, it gives the person watching time to process what just happened and realise how bad things are on their own.

As another example, I could mention the moment Star fled back to Mewni in svtfoe. Star confesses to Marco because she absolutely had to get it off her chest, then immediately runs away. Marco runs after her, but you can’t even see her go through the portal : when Marco opens her room, it’s already getting back to normal. He just stands there, only being able to say « Star… ? » before remaining speechless, in this now terribly empty room, and even the end credits remain silent. You can also see Star’s tower in the house is gone. It’s like she was never here. And it gives you a punch in the stomach. No need for kisses or speeches. Just pure… nothing.

Now, if you’re still reading this : first of all, you are probably the kind of person who listens to asmr to go to sleep. And second of all, don’t worry, this post is not just me complaining about my taste in cartoons. I just wanted to clarify how I see things before I mention this scene.

As you might have guessed it : this scene hits hard.

And it’s not difficult to see why. How can you look at Molly’s terrified face, usually bursting with excitement, and not want to immediately pry them out of this situation ? It’s even worse when you know she has no idea what any of this means, or even why they would do this to her and Scratch, and when you realise she is only thirteen. Sent away forever for being happy and having a best friend. How messed up is that ?

And Scratch knows this. He knows how terrible all of this is, but the difference is, he’s come to accept it. The only regret he has is that his best friend is sent away with him. And in that last moment they have, he tells her the truth, the only thing that comes in his mind. Not the fact that they are about to disappear forever, but the fact that meeting Molly was the best thing that happened to him. He clarifies, because he doesn’t want this to sound like it doesn’t come from the bottom of his heart : knowing Molly wasn’t just « nice », but the « highlight of his afterlife ». He takes her hand to make her understand that he means it. He is looking right at her, with an apologetic but sincere expression. And Molly gives him back his smile and takes his hand as to silently reciprocate his words. And they let go, lost, but together.

This is a great scene. The characters say exactly how they feel, and it comes naturally, without overdoing it. You know scenes like this are good when you can tell what each character is thinking just by their expression, no matter the characters talking, no matter the location, no matter the circumstances. They don’t need to say what they are feeling : you know it yourself. And of course, the (gorgeous) animation does an amazing job at this.

#tgamm finale #tgamm spoilers #the ghost and molly mcgee #flow of failed phantoms #heartbreaking scene #I am a skeleton with standards

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formalpeacaps · 4 months

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2/14/24 Recap Part One

Good morning, my beautiful, wonderful chickadees, I’m back! We’re all back! We’ve missed some things, haven’t we? Unfortunately all my old recaps are gone, but don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson and now am writing all of them in Google Docs, which means that Paige can delete the entire sub, she can delete videos I’m writing about, but I will always, always have receipts, and I will continue to pop up, like a very persistent little fungus.

Anyway, I refuse to recap Paige being incoherent in the Bahamas as a birthday gift to her, and as soon as I finished this of course Paige posted another vlog, but let’s start with last week’s vlog and work our way into this week’s, shall we?

A “florida for the winter” vlog

I don’t know “why” this title “needed” “quotations”

Nine seconds in, and 1.75 fonts. It’s all one font technically, but she changes the color and if it’s italic or not three times.

Paige is hosting dinner. Paige is wearing all black in Florida because she’s “a cold person”. I think what she means is that she’s always freezing due to a lack of body fat, but I would accept that she’s also kind of cold emotionally speaking. That seems like an accurate statement as well.

Paige complains about getting a blowout because she “never feels like herself” when she gets her hair done like that, which begs the question why she pays money to get her hair done like that. Also I find it funny that as Paige says, “when my hair looks good it just doesn’t feel right”

We’ve seen your $20 Amazon extensions, Paige, we know.

Paige makes sure to let us all know she’s sending PR slippers from Rao’s tomato sauce, because heaven forbid we don’t know she gets free things in the mail as a very important influencer.

Paige makes dinner for Tommy’s - sorry, their friends. (You can tell it’s actually Tommy’s friends because it’s all guys, they refuse to acknowledge Paige or her camera, and several of them aren’t white.) Dinner is the world’s most basic cheese board, spicy rigatoni, grilled meats, and a salad, because our girl is a one trick pony. Oh, and her single dessert (banana pudding) afterwards.

The dressing recipe takes us up to 2.75 fonts and it’s just multiple types of mustard and multiple types of vinegar.

We also get to see a new DB glassware sample and it looks so weird? It’s shaped like an upside down coke bottle, but it has mason jar threading? This makes no sense

Look, okay, hi. I’ve looked into Paige’s demographic and I know that she could release a literal dog turd but put a white hydrangea next to it and her 2,000 die-hard sorority girl fan squad would buy it and they don’t care. I understand that none of these girls whose frontal lobes have not fully developed grew up watching Antiques Roadshow with their mom. But I did and I am bothered because glassware is made into certain shapes for REASONS, design elements like threading for a lid exist for REASONS, also I can tell just by the weight and clarity of it that glass is probably mostly plastic and it would feel wrong if you clicked your nails against it. Again, I understand, I’m not the target demographic. I know no one else cares, this is a nitpick, blah blah blah. But between you and me, as someone who gets very into nerdy minutiae about material design and history, I’m bothered. Had to just throw that out there.

IT HAS LIKE A RUBBERIZED LID WITH A PLASTIC STRAW IN IT BUT THEN WHY DOES IT HAVE THE THREADING THAT LOOKS SO WEIRD AAAAAAAAAAAAH

If you’re also weird about this stuff you can DM me and we can read Bill Bryson’s At Home together and discuss this in further neurodivergent niche interest detail

After dinner is over and everyone’s gone Paige and Tommy pretend that they’re cute and into each other but as always just come across as middle schoolers trying to prove that they’re very cool and like the opposite gender now

Okay I’m calling it, it’s the same font but now it’s in yet ANOTHER color and italicized so we’re officially up to 3 fonts now. 2.99 fonts? 3 fonts.

The next day, Paige “works” (puts on her AirPod Maxes and does Woman Laughing At Salad at her screen on what we’re led to believe are business calls) and then blathers on about all her brand deals. Two things about this. One: her face is so disconcertingly shiny. Like she looks like an overly waxed cafeteria apple, or like if you touched her face it would make the new sneakers on a gym floor squeak. Why is she so shiny? Second of all, maybe because I don’t follow influencers, but I have never found an influencer who talks so much and so inorganically about their brand deals. Paige never misses an opportunity to be like, hello, I have a BRAND DEAL, did I mention there’s an upcoming BRAND DEAL, soon I’m going to have a BRAND DEAL and yet somehow never legally discloses ads in a very Mikayla Nogueira fashion. The result is both technically illegal and yet deeply inauthentic feeling so it’s like not even worth the FEC violation. My memory is faulty because I simply do not care, but considering how bad Paige is at doing the one thing she’s supposed to do, it doesn’t exactly surprise me that I think the only people Paige has worked with repeatedly over a long span of time are brands that will work with literally anyone (Mejuri, Intermissi, Revolve), Revlon makeup, Frankie’s bikinis, PJ Place, and maaaaaaybe Butcher Box and Thrive Market? Speaking of -

Not legally disclosed Thrive Market sponsorship! Paige eats three entire chips with salsa to prove she’s a girl’s girl who totally eats normal amounts. Paige claims she needs to subscribe to this company to get her Poppi fix in the boonies of “not being outside a major city” in Florida but Poppi had an ad during the Super Bowl and is in my local Shaw’s (that’s New England’s big basic regional grocery store chain, like equivalent to a Roche Brothers or Market Basket or Kroegers or whatever) AND Whole Foods, so that doesn’t strike me as… correct.

Tommy decides he wants stir fry so they go to Whole Foods and Paige makes “Asian-inspired peanut sauce stir fry”, I assume to bait me into screaming at her. [NOTE: there used to be now-deleted rant about Asian cooking that I have edited out in post production because Tumblr says it makes this text block too long and lol who cares] I don’t like being this person because the idea of “authentic” cuisine is bullshit and gatekeeping, and so if you, a normal-ass person, like your Americanized Paige style stir-fry, you can keep your Americanized Paige style stir-fry. But if you’re cosplaying as a food influencer and great chef and claiming to make the food of another culture, it’s just basic respect to actually try and understand what the fuck you’re doing and make clear to your audience where you’re adding your own twists.

Love to play my favorite game, Guess Why Paige’s Followers Are 99.99% White Sorority Girls/Former Sorority Girls Challenge

Paige doesn’t vlog for a fascinating day of filming ads and watching Tommy fish (oh no!!!) and then lays out in the sun and philosophizes on how zen and calm she is in Florida because of the weather and because Tommy’s a “super grounding person”. As she says this Tommy screams and hits her with the hose and she adds in font number four “So grounding <3”. Before Paige and Tommy go to the beach for him to surf and her to film people without consent on her drone, she rhapsodizes about citrus season and how oranges are better than candy.

“It’s eighty degrees at the beach and I’m wearing a sweatshirt. I’m probably the only girl in Florida to do this. I don’t know if you can relate to this but if there’s a slight breeze, the hoodie’s going on” - Yeah weird it’s almost like what happens when you don’t eat enough or have a proper amount of fat on your body????? You’re cold??? Even when you shouldn’t be??? Like that’s not a cute little girly thing it’s a symptom you need to be eating more???? ANYWAY.

Paige pretends to care about manatees and them getting hurt by boats but I would also bet she and Tommy go on the exact type of boats that hurt manatees all the time.

Paige body checks herself in a Free People Movement outfit (undisclosed PR from Australia!) and then they play tennis and eat… Mashed potatoes and gravy? Sure.

New font in the end credits (yellow on a puke-y olive background) which brings this video’s font count up to five.

[EDITOR'S NOTE - the second vlog I recapped is in part two, there's a character limit.]

#paige lorenze #plsnark

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semper-legens · 7 months

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151 and 152. This is Going to Hurt and T'was the Nightshift Before Christmas, by Adam Kay

Owned: Yes Page count: 277 and 142 My summary: Adam Kay shares his diary entries from his years as a doctor, first on the hospital rounds then specialising as an ob/gyn. From the tragic to the hilarious, his diaries reveal a true story of working for the NHS. My rating: 5/5 My commentary:

Back to Adam Kay. I've talked about these books before, but something about them recently had me giving them a second look. They're still as great as they were the first time. I've always marvelled at the ability that comedy writers have to balance the silly and the serious, shifting the tone of a piece on a dime from jokey or sarcastic to serious as a heart attack. Which is really the theme of working in the NHS, as far as I understand it from Kay's testimony and other reading. For every member of the public who comes in with something strange stuck into their every orifice, there's budget cuts or poor decisions being made by the higher-ups that have a very real, very serious impact on the British public. I mean, I complain about shitty decisions being made at my work by the local council, but at the end of the day a library being underfunded isn't as dangerous as a hospital being underfunded. I'm very unlikely to make a mistake that kills someone at my job due to being overtired or stressed, after all.

It's honestly astounding to look back on this from a post-Covid* perspective. I remember being encouraged to stand out on the street and applaud the NHS for their amazing work during the early pandemic, and there were 'thank you NHS!' stickers everywhere. And then the medical professionals dared to ask for more money and better working conditions, and suddenly they're the bad guys all over again. We appreciate doctors and nurses and other NHS staff in the abstract, but we don't really care about their wellbeing. Kay points it out in one anecdote - people act as though doctors aren't fallible humans, as if they're just machines who know a lot about the human body, who can be mistreated and made to work long hours for little pay. He had to miss out on a lot of his life because he was needed at the hospital, causing arguments with his then-partner and family and friends. He came into work exhausted, something that isn't advised when one is performing delicate surgery as part of their job. And the system is perfectly happy to grind down all of these doctors into dust, in the name of public health. Fuck the Tories, and up the doctors, I think is my point here. I love the NHS. I just wish that it had enough funding to work.

(* By post-Covid, I mean that we are living in a world after Covid-19 emerged, as opposed to 'Covid is gone forever and nobody has to worry about it any more'.)

Next up...ugh, why do I keep doing this to myself? It's the House of Night again.

#This Is Going To Hurt #Twas The Nightshift Before Christmas #Adam Kay #bookblr #book blog #5

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votestaynight2 · 11 months

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5th Day - omen (Scene 3)

Sorry the post is a bit late today. Had some technical issues.

"―――I don't know you really well because we just met, but I don't hate you. At the very least, I want to be friends when you are like this."

"――――――Really?" "Um, you feel more like a little sister to me. And I won't bring up that incident again. …That's all I can promise you. Can you believe me?"

"―――Yeah! I'll believe you if you say so…!" Ilya tackles me and embraces my arm again.

"……Man. What are you?" I complain, but I accept it. It's not bad.

I don't feel any hostility from her. Her hugging me won't kill me, and it wouldn't be older brother-like to panic now. I guess I'll have to talk with her, just like she wants――――

My talk with Ilya lasts for about an hour. She listens to my pointless rambling and mundane stories.

…Since when did it start getting painful? She is an innocent girl. She's a Master and has no doubts about it… I think her lack of fear about going into battle is sad.

"――――――――" A family of magi called Einzbern. She is sent out as the greatest Master, a result of their thousand-year-old history.

If that is Ilya's goal, then…

"――――Ilya. Can I ask you something?" "What?" "Do you recognize the name Emiya Kiritsugu?" …I have to ask her this question.

"――――――――" The air freezes. The silence is dead.

"No. I don't know anyone like that." …Her silver hair flutters. Fairy-like, she gets up from the bench and turns around.

"It's getting late. Berserker's going to wake up at night, so I have to get going now." "――――――――" Ilya waves goodbye.

"Yeah, I should go home too." I get up. This is all the rest I'll get. We will be enemies again once the sun sets.

But… "Can I talk with you again, Ilya?" …I ask the question as if it's only natural.

"―――U-Um, I don't know. Do you want to see me again, Shirou?" "Of course. I wouldn't ask you if I didn't want to." "……! Okay, then I'll come again tomorrow if I feel like it. Don't expect too much and keep waiting, okay?" She runs out of the park.

…But. She suddenly stops.

"I was lying. He is someone I know."

"Ilya――――?" "…I was given birth to this world to win the Holy Grail War. My mission is to kill you and Kiritsugu."

She sprints off. She doesn't turn around. I watch until she's out of sight.

"I'm home… huh? Fuji-Nee's home already?" I take my shoes off and go into the hallway. What is the archery club advisor doing, coming home so early?

"Welcome home, Shirou." "…Hm, so you're finally home, simpleton." Saber is sitting Japanese-style in a good manner, and Fuji-Nee has her head on the table in a bad manner.

"――――――――" Fuji-Nee looks utterly defeated. …I'm curious as to why, but I'm sure it's nothing that important.

"I'm home. Did anything happen while I was gone, Saber?" "No, I saw nothing unusual. How about you, Shirou? Did you find anything noteworthy at your school?"

"No, me neither. Shinji was absent, but school was like always. I don't think we need to worry about anything happening there――――" With Fuji-Nee sitting right there, I can't just come out and say "there isn't a Master at my school."

"…Hm, I smell something. I feel a sour presence, like an old 10000 yen bill you forgot about hiding, a presence of a secret."

The lazy dog sniffs the air.

"You smell like rusted shackles, Shirou. Very suspicious. Are you hiding something from me-nya?" "Whoa." I can't believe it. She's acting crazy.

"…Saber, did something happen with Fuji-Nee? It takes something really big to turn her this way." "Uh… no, I did not do anything. I believe Taiga is lethargic because she is hungry." She says those awful words quite casually.

"You're lying! You're the one who beat me up, saying you wanted to know how strong I am, Saber-chan!" Fuji-Nee pounds on the table.

…It must have been a frightening, humiliating experience, since she's hiding behind me even as she glowers at Saber. And I don't know when she started calling Saber Saber-chan.

"…Saber. Did you have a match with Fuji-Nee?" "Um… I proposed that we move around if we had some free time. Since a match using shinai would not prove fatal, Taiga agreed with my proposal――――"

"Don't let her fool you, Shirou. Saber-chan was really about to kill me. I can tell. I know about guns. She was about to kill me. She really was about to kill me. She'll turn me into butter if I let my guard down!"

Fuji-Nee trembles. "…Saber, um…" Did she go all-out against Fuji-Nee…?

"Eh… um, I believe I let my guard down a bit. I was angry that you were late, and Taiga was stronger than I expected, so my reflexes took over――――" …Wow, that's scary. Fuji-Nee is a fifth-degree black belt in kendo, but Saber's on another level entirely.

"Anyway, don't go sneaking into Saber-chan's room at night if you don't wanna die! You'll see hell if you make a move on her! It'll be your own fault if you die!" "……Ugh."

…Oh yeah. There's another problem for me. I have to do something about Saber, who is determined to sleep in the same room as me. I'm a teenage guy. I don't know what'll happen if I sleep in the same room as someone like her――――

"You need not worry, Taiga. If that is Shirou's command, I can only obey. I will never fight back."

"Hmmmm? Did you say something outrageous?" "No. Taiga, I will be sleeping in the same room as Shirou tonight, but please do not misunderstand." Saber states it as a matter of course. "――――――――" Fuji-Nee freezes.

"……" Here it comes… Considering the power balance between us, it's going to be me.

"Fuji-Nee. I've kept this a secret until now, but…" I try to pacify Fuji-Nee, who is standing behind me.

"Alrighty." She completely ignores me, and I hear sounds of her stacking something like telephone books.

"Listen to me. ――――Saber doesn't understand Japanese." "Here I go." Oh, I knew it. She's doing something like a sleeper-hold on me. Fuji-Nee doesn't know how to go easy, so it's really dangerous for her to choke someone――――

"No, this isn't the time for this! F-Fuji-Nee, you got me good! I'm really going to pass out…!" I hear my bones creaking. Continued grappling is Fuji-Nee's only reply.

"Whoa, I give up…! No, don't throw me now!" I start to pass out, and as a last resort, I start to tap out. But…

"Shut up, you spoiled brat! I never raised you that way!!!!" ――――Oh, I'm really passing out now. …Man… Why don't my troubles come one at a time?

"――――Man, that was terrible." I crack the joints in my neck. Thanks to my training, I only got some bruises, even though I was thrown down to the floor.

"Um, I'm sorry… I was going to let go halfway so you could break your fall, but you were heavier than I thought and I had my hands full with just throwing you."

"Of course. I'm not a kid anymore. Don't try throwing me with those thin arms of yours. At worst, you would've fallen with me." "…Sorry."

"You're at fault too, Saber. You'll be sleeping in the room next to mine, so we're technically not in the same room." "Uh… But I need to protect you, so…"

"You can protect me well enough from there. First of all, I'll wear out if you sleep in the same room as me. I'm sorry, but that's the best compromise I can offer you. If you want more from me, you're going to have to fight for it."

"Hmm… This is a difficult matter."

"It's fine if you two understand. Well, I guess I'll go cook dinner." I get up while trying to loosen up my neck.

"Oh, Fuji-Nee. I'm thinking of having Sakura stay over starting tonight. What do you think? I figured I'd let her use the outbuilding where Saber stayed last night."

"You're going to let Sakura-chan stay over? I'm fine with that, but what's going on? You've been acting really strange these past few days."

"…Well, um, Sakura doesn't seem to be doing well recently. Shinji's not home much, so I thought it'd be better for her to have people around."

"Okay… I don't mind, but have you actually asked her? She seemed all right during club practice."

"No, I was going to ask her later―――wait, what did you do about the club? Why did you leave so early?" "Hm? Oh, someone got injured, so I left Mitsuzuri-san in charge, took the person home, and came straight here."

…So that's what happened, huh? It's disturbing to hear someone got injured in the archery club, but Fuji-Nee wouldn't be here if it was serious. I bet it's something like a jammed finger or anemia.

"――――" Well, this is my chance. Fuji-Nee considers Sakura a part of the family, just like I do. Then――――

#votestaynight

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no-droids · 3 years

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gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

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

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

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

Day 5–11:13am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extravagant, magnificent are both words. Floral is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s here… isn’t he?

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

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

This… this is a taunt.

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

“You okay, Nerida?”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naydee smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something catches your eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

—Bong—

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

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

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

One o’clock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes you a second.

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

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

“Ma—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Commotion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crib—he forgot the crib—

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

You raise your voice. “Din?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, well. You could just about fucking cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

***