#SUNKISSED & FRECKLED AS HE SHOULD BE

[octoooo]

POV: You bothered them on their only day off

Outfits based on:

Them Last Night:

Handsome bride & ugly ass groom <3

[servicpop]

kinktober week 2 — edging & public/voyeurism(?) subby cole ( cowboy oc ) x bttm ( "showgirl" ) m reader

ⓘ voyeurism because cole is naked & outside , hand job ( cole receiving ) , he gets a cold from it

It was a quiet evening in Cole's hometown with you and him sat thigh to thigh on his plush swing chair out on the porch of his house. The streets weren't busy beside the occasional herder dog chasing after a stray sheep — to which you and Cole got a good laugh at.

This was the grace period of your work, no shows scheduled for the week, no meetings, and you were contact free from your boss. So, you spent the first day of the week travelling from the city to the countryside where Cole lived, and he was ecstatic seeing you again. You remember so vividly what happened when you showed up in the town. All the townsfolk practically knew every bit about you from how much Cole would talk about you and show off the polaroids you'd send to him via letters.

Asking where Cole was wasn't difficult since people were quick to usher you to Cole, leading you to the stables where he was tending the horses. The moment he saw you his eyes widened as if seeing an angel and he stumbled over his own boots from how fast he was running to you. He swooped you up in his arms and lifted you up from the ground almost cartoonishly with the way he nuzzled his face into you. Cole also spun you around a few times which undoubtedly made you feel a bit dizzy.

"Whaddaya smilin' so hard for, sugar?" Cole giggled at you smiling like an idiot; the laughter just bubbled out his throat. He leans his face closer to yours, only an eyelash away as he interrogates your random smile.

"Just thinking," you hum, still grinning ear to ear with your arms tangled and coiled around his. Cole doesn't believe you for a second and you can see it in the way one of his eyebrows raise. He moves in to brush his cheek against yours, cuddling up to you as the porch swing rocked delicately.

Cole's skin is more bronzed than before, his cheeks were dusted with sunkissed freckles, and his eyelashes seemed to have grown a bit longer, but his dimples never changed. Those dents in the side of his cheek always seemed to appear when you were around him.

You can feel his hands wrap around your waist a little tighter and your ears start to pick up Cole's slightly laboured breathing. You were about to ask if he was alright before you see him move his felt cattleman hat over his lap. That quirks your eyebrow.

"What's this?" You ask him with a playful chuckle, brushing your fingertips along the fabric of the hat.

"Don't stare sweets, it's just my body actin' up," He murmurs behind your shoulder, shrinking into the darkness between your back and the chair, "I'm embarrassed."

You giggle at his reaction; Cole is too pure for his own good. Your fingers slide underneath his hat, resting your hand on his inner thigh. "You don't have to be all shy, you know I won't judge," you coo, rubbing the fabric of his denim jeans lightly, but Cole squirms at the ticklish sensation nonetheless. His hand darts out to grip your forearm with shaky fingers like he was debating if he should actually stop you or not.

"Honey, not here," his voice almost reaches that whiny tone when he gets desperate for something. Despite his words, Cole doesn't even seem to notice his own hand guiding yours closer to his crotch. Its like he acts subconsciously, like its programmed into his brain to let you touch him. He lets out a small sigh of defeat, his head dropping back to rest on your shoulder as his hands move to clutch the top of his hat.

"Just— Just a little," his voice cracks and he's stuttering but you know that's his way of giving you the greenlight. You find your way to his belt buckle, slowly undoing it incase he wanted to back out and stop. He doesn't, so you slip off the belt and pull the zipper down.

Cole is hard. You see it through his light gray boxers, he's twitching, begging for you to give it some attention.

The cool breeze of the afternoon air reminds you that you're outside on his porch, nothing blocking his body but his hat. You glance up at Cole's face and it seems his cheeks have gotten significantly more pink and his pearly whites are caught onto his chapped, equally pink lip. There's a glossy sheen over them from saliva and you know its because he's been licking his lips repeatedly — a habit you've realised he does when he's flustered or nervous.

"You okay?" You giggle softly, shooting him a genuine look before stretching the fabric of his waistband down to rest below his aching dick.

"Yup, mighty fine darlin'." He's lying, and you know because Cole has his fist to his mouth and he's biting down on his pale skin to try and control himself. In reality, he's leaking all over your palm already, and his pale pink tip is dyed an angry red now.

You first use the tips of your fingers to cage around the base of his cock, dragging it all the way up lightly until it reaches the head. Cole is already whining and whimpering into his fist from the ticklish feeling. You see the slight tremble in his thighs when you slide your thumb around and over the slit of his tip, smearing his pre-cum everywhere.

"Oh, hellfire," he barks out but its more of a puppy's bark. The phrase 'hellfire' is an unfamiliar term for a city boy like yourself, but you're smart enough to understand that it's an old-timey phrase for a swear word. It's cute with the way he's crumbling at your hands but still makes an effort not to use "big city curses," as he calls it.

You finally move your hand to wrap around Cole's girth, stroking at a slow pace at first before increasing the speed. Its a vulgar sound from the lack of lube but his copious amounts of pre makes up for it. You feel every single vein throb at the feeling of your palm rubbing against it, pulsing with need.

"Hah, you're too good at this," he praises through a clenched jaw and laboured breaths. It isn't long before Cole catches your rhythm, bucking his hips up to match your hands. The porch swing rocks slightly more as he's thrusting up into your hand, his hat long gone as he's now fully exposed to those who walk by.

His moans become a little more throaty and you can tell he's enjoying it with the way his legs squirm as if he's being restrained from moving. Cole's eyes are screwed shut and his eyebrows are knitted together but his mouth slightly gapes into an 'o' shape, shamlessly letting out groans and whimpers.

Your fast paced stroking starts to slow down, and Cole's eyes fling open. "Wh–what are you doing?" He fluttered his thick eyelashes, looking down at your hand slowly pumping his cock. You don't respond to him, slowly increasing the pace but never speeding it up enough to tip him over the edge.

"Sweetheart, please." You swear you see tears brimming his eyes as he tries to move his hips to your hand and it does succeed for a bit. He's seeing stars as your hand just glides along his dick, feeling up every place that he's sensitive at. Its not enough though, your hand is barely squeezing him and it feels like a half-assed attempt to jerk him off.

"Baby, please just— clench your hand harder, please," he pleads, cupping your hand with his but he's so gentle with you it doesn't do anything. He's so close, he's teetering off the edge of an orgasm but he's not there yet. It almost hurts with how bad he wants to cum but he can't. Your hand ghost's over his tip and his body jerks forward from the touch but you pull away again and that heat in his stomach dies again.

He lets out a shaky breath of relief when he feels your hand clamp around him once more. Cole shoots you a glare, squeezing your hand tighter as if he's ensuring that you don't pull away again and mumbles, "I don't trust you no more."

You giggle and shake your head apologetically, "Sorry, sorry, I won't do it again," you promise, and you even bring your free hand to palm the tip of Cole's dick. He's whimpering again the second one of your hands is rubbing his head and the other is pumping his length.

His head is strewn back, adams apple bobbing at each harsh swallow. Cole feels your breath fan his tip and his eyes fling open, his whole body tensing as he watches you press a kiss to his red cockhead.

He orgasms right then and there, accidentally splashing your face with his seed.

"Ah— sorry 'bout that... you okay?"

You lift your head and Cole's hand wipes the cum off your face, "Maybe I deserved that," you chuckle. The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon and the streetlamps were starting to flicker on. Cole's shoulders jerk as he sneezes.

"Might've caught a cold from bein' out here, naked, all because of you," he huffs dramatically, pulling up his boxers and his jeans. "You gon' nurse me to heal if I do?" He flashes his teeth in a toothy smile and he has that post-orgasmic glow to his face.

"Yeah, yeah I will."

[midniteamethyst]

Making Waves

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader🔞

A/N: I thought of this earlier today and had to write it. It is part two of "I Will Follow You" but you can read it as a stand-alone if you want to. Also, I found this picture on Pinterest and thought it was perfect.

Summary: Leon and you stay in Spain for a little longer after your mission is successful. Leon decides to make a fantasy of yours reality.

Warnings: SMUT, fluff, lovemaking, second time together (and in general), beach sex, oral sex (f), unprotected sex, fingering, hand job, squirting, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie.

Word Count: 3k

The sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks, the smell of sea salt hitting your nostrils with every intake of oxygen, and the feeling of the sand between your toes as you and Leon stand on the shore hand in hand. It was over. The job in Spain was finished. But you couldn't pull yourselves to leave yet. Both of you are alive and breathing while taking in the beautiful scenery in front of you. The bright blue ocean looked more vibrant against the sky that was nearing sunset. Traces of gold, oranges, pinks, reds, and a tint of purple saturated the sky. Your eyes were fixated on the ocean while his were stuck on you. The way your hair looked flowing in the salty breeze. The freckles and sunkissed glow your body had. The way your royal blue string bikini showed your gorgeous figure that you bought yesterday with the navy blue swim shorts he bought so you both could go to the beach. The both of you had been out all day, Leon wanting you to take in Spain the way it should be. You both relaxing in the water, lying down and listening to the waves, and you finding seashells. You even made a necklace out of a washed-up shark tooth for Leon that you convinced him to wear that "matched" the hag stone necklace you made yourself. The smile on your face when he put it on made him love the necklace even more. You felt Leon's strong arms wrap around your waist, you lay your head back against his broad chest.

"Much better way to spend our time in Spain right?" He asked his face your h/c locks. You hum in response, relishing being in his arms. You close your eyes as Leon slowly sways you back and forth in his arms.

"I don't wanna leave." You say softly. "I want us to stay here forever.".

Leon chuckles and kisses your temple. You turn around and stand on your tiptoes, wrapping your hands around his neck.

"This has been the best day of my life." You say while playing with the hair at the nape of Leon's neck. He touches his forehead to yours, his soft golden locks brushing against your cheekbones.

"Mine too." he strokes your sides lovingly. You both lean in, your lips ghosting over each other's before Leon gently kisses you.

A lot happened during your time in Spain. The president's daughter, both you and Leon getting infected, confessing that you both were in love with each other and you two displaying that love physically for the first time for you both. It made you both realize how precious days and moments like this were important. To live life to the fullest and take chances. To take action on things you only ever dreamed about. You pull away from Leon, looking into his bright cobalt eyes with a smile on your face, his mirroring yours.

"I love you Leon."

"I love you too, princess."

Leon feels you lightly grasp his necklace and begin fidgeting with it between your fingers. Your eyes focused on how beautiful it looked against his bare chest. His collar bone was prominent above where the piece of jewelry lay, his biceps naturally flexed when he was relaxed, and his toned chest and pecs led down to his abs where his navy blue swim shorts lay on his hips. Just a tug of the white string and you could slip the shorts down from his hips.

Nope. Bad brain. Bad horny brain. Bad idea.

You thought to yourself. You weren't about to have Leon fulfill your fantasy of making love on the beach. Even though you and Leon wouldn't have traded how your first time was for the world, he wishes it could've been a little more romantic. But, the thought of dying was too high to think of that. You hadn't noticed you were biting your lip until you felt Leon pull it softly from your mouth, making you look at him.

"What's on your mind, baby?" Leon asks.

You would have missed the smirk on his lips if he wasn't so close. Your skin felt like it was on fire the way he was looking at you. You were at war with yourself at the moment. What should you do? Tell him? Joke around with him? Tell him you became possessed by a succubus and you wanted him to take you where he stood? Okay maybe not the last one, that was too dramatic. You take a deep breath before speaking.

"Can I... tell you something? Like really personal and not have you judge me?".

"Of course you can. When have I ever judged you?".

You give him a "we don't have the time to list them all" look.

"Okay okay. I meant on something serious." He chuckles moving hair out of your face.

"So... you know how we were talking about fantasies before we first had sex?". You tread carefully to see what his reaction would be.

"Yeah... Why are you thinking of one right now?" Leon asks.

His demeanor was calm and cool on the outside but he was dying on the inside to see where this was going. Leon noticed how your thighs rubbed against each other. You nod your head.

"I didn't think you'd be interested since we both agreed on our next time being more romantic."

He gently cupped your face, rubbing your cheekbones while looking deeply into your eyes.

"What is it, baby?" He whispers, voice lower but still soft while his breath hits your face. You're not sure if it was because of how he was affecting you, how he wanted to know so badly, or if it was your confidence growing like it always did around Leon that made you tell him.

"I want you to make love to me on the beach."

You freeze at first when he doesn't respond. Yup, you shouldn't have said a word. Until you notice his smile at you, kissing you lovingly.

"I can't think of anything more romantic than that."

Leon laughs when he sees your eyes go wide and your mouth drop.

"Really? You mean it? I mean I always thought it would be romantic especially with this sunset in Spain. But hearing you say it makes me want it even more."

"What are we waiting for then?" Leon's voice is husky, making the want between your thighs grow.

He kisses you slowly and passionately while he picks you up. Your hands cup Leon's face and your legs wrap around his waist, feeling the tent in his swim shorts. You let out a soft whimper as Leon's tongue brushes against your lips, making you open your mouth for him. Your fingers brush through his blonde locks that are surprisingly still soft after being in salt water all day. Leon gently lays you down on the large blanket you two had brought, lips still locked onto yours. You pull him closer to you, deepening the kiss and making him sigh. Leon pulls away reluctantly.

"Can I tell you something too? Since we're being honest here."

You chuckle "Okay, what is it?".

You feel Leon grab you by the hips making your back arch as you gasp as you feel how hard he was in his shorts.

"I've wanted this fucking off you all day." His voice rough.

You arch your back into him more as you feel his hands on your back playing with the strings of your bikini.

"Then take it off." You respond playfully with a smirk.

Leon smiles as kisses your neck, your body filling with need for him. Leon unties the bottom of your bikini, his lips ghosting over your neck as he licks your salty-tasting skin. You shiver from him lifting his mouth from your neck, his lustful but loving gaze on you. His finger ghosts up your back and he unties the top string with one hand while the other traces an index finger down your sternum from in between your collarbone, to the middle of your bust. His index finger hooks underneath the string and lifts your top off, your nipples hard as they can be. Leon tosses your top to the side. He takes in the tan line on your gorgeous skin before he cups both your sensitive breasts and massages them. You let out a quiet moan as his hot tongue travels between your breasts before finding home on your right nipple, sucking the supple flesh while kneading the other. You grip Leon's head and moan making him smile against your skin. The heat in your core makes your arousal coat your bikini bottoms. Leon lifts his head and places his mouth on your other breast, lightly tugging on your nipple with his teeth making you throw your head back. His large hands ghost down your body, rubbing softly against your stomach before he unties one side of your bottoms and rubs your soaked slit making you shake.

"Leon... feels so good." You whimper needing more.

You feel him untie the other side of your bottoms as he kisses down your body. He kisses your stomach right about your pelvic bone.

"I love you Y/N." He says as his breath his your already hot skin.

"I love you too, Leon." You say moving some of his hair out of his face.

Leon lifts your legs up and takes your bottoms from your soaked slit, seeing how wet your bikini bottoms were. They were soaked. He groans when he looks down and sees your arousal glistening on your thighs and lips in the golden sunset lighting. Leon kisses and licks your inner thigh close to your core making you whine. His tongue caresses your outer lips before he slowly glides his tongue from your quivering entrance up to your swollen clit, repeating the up-and-down motions while sucking in between. You moan at the feeling of his tongue circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Your fingers tug on Leon's locks making him grunt, the vibration only adding to your pleasure. Slipping his middle finger in, you whine at the feeling of him stretching you out with the feeling of him eating you out so intently. Your core feels like it's about to explode as Leon adds a second digit and moves them in a "come hither" motion.

"Gonna cum for baby girl?" Leon says against your sensitive heat.

"Y-yes." You say, your body is on fire, and the pressure in your core is about to break.

"Then cum for me." He says as his fingers move faster.

You walls clench around Leon's fingers as your orgasm explodes all over his fingers and mouth, soaking the fabric under you. Your body convulses while Leon runs his hand down your thigh, soothing you through your orgasm. Your breathing is heavy and you're trying to catch your breath. Leon takes in the look of you beyond blissed out. His hands softly move over your body while you catch your breath.

"Holy... shit... that... was... amazing..." you say between labored breaths.

Leon chuckles, his eyes on you seductively while licking his fingers and lips of the mess you made on him. He leans down and kisses you deeply.

"We're not finished yet, baby". His lips brush against yours as he unties the strings of his shorts. You eye his abs and your hands reach down to the waistband, helping Leon free himself from the damp fabric as you kiss him. You take his fully hard, warm, length in your hand. Leon groans into the kiss at the feeling of your small hand stroking him. His lips pull away from yours as he lifts your legs on either side of him. You moan at the feeling of Leon rubbing his length between your soaked folds and clit before he slips himself inside you. You moan at the feeling of him stretching you.

"Okay for me to move, baby girl?" Leon grunts after a few seconds, trying to contain himself at the feeling of you squeezing him.

"Yes, I need you so bad, Leon." You respond.

Leon slowly pulls out of you to his tip before he pushes back in experimenting before he picks up his pace a little. You let out a shattered moan at the feeling of him stretching you out while his cock rubs repeatedly against your G-spot. Leon moves his hand on your one side to soothe you while he gently grabs your other hand. He kisses your hand while his thumb strokes your knuckles as he ruts his hips against you, your walls deliciously squeezing him. His hips move faster, your arousal soaking his length.

"I love you, Leon." You say as he thrusts hit deep inside of you, hitting your cervix.

"I love you more." He says kissing your lips before trailing his lips down your neck.

You arch into Leon's body making your breasts press against his chest, wrapping your legs tight around his waist while grabbing onto his hair. The grip he has on your waist tightens as he feels your walls quiver around him. Your core begins to ache, needing the euphoric high your body was chasing. Leon lets out a strangled groan as your walls grip him tightly like a vice, making him release inside you at the same time you reach your high. Your body buzzes with feeling numb as you cry out in pleasure, your fingers raking down Leon's back as you come and you swear you black out from how intense your orgasm is. Leon continues thrusting into you, making sure both of your all's orgasms are ridden out before he pulls out. You feel hot heavy breathing on your neck, as Leon lays beside you on the blanket, his hand soothing the ache inside your lower stomach as both of you catch your breaths. Ocean orbs lock onto yours and a smile spreads across his face, the now dark purple to magenta and orange sky making him glow. You turn towards Leon and gently place your hand on his cheek, softly stroking it. Leon's eyes flutter shut for a few seconds as he leans into your touch while you feel his strong arms pull you closer to him. You feel his hand reach out and move the messy hair from your face, taking in how gorgeous you are and how lucky he is to have you.

"Can't get any more romantic than that huh?" He says smiling making you giggle sleepily.

You kiss his lips softly, rubbing your nose against his.

"It was everything I wanted and more Leon."

Leon lays flat on his back and pulls you to his chest, both of you taking in the few. His fingers trace your stomach and he kisses your head. The feeling of being so worn out, wrapped him in his arms, watching the water hit the rocks and shore slowly lulls you to sleep. Leon kisses your cheek before shutting his own eyes for a bit.

"You're everything I wanted and more."

[fiapartridge]

mack and graces first date !!

first date | m + g 🌷💌⭐️

macklin x hughes!sister

summary: mack and grace go on their first date!

fia's notes 💌: like i said in my other post, grace & mack spent like their entire first year of knowing each other just being friends so them being on their first date is kind of like a long time coming vibe sooo enjoy !

not proofread

The sun stretched its golden fingers across the landscape of Michigan’s lakeside as a gentle breeze whispered throughout the leaves of the towering oaks. Grace’s sunkissed nose was hidden behind a book as she sprawled herself out on a blue beach chair. Her long brown locks were tucked beneath a camo trucker hat, her back exposed to the light as Macklin smiled silently to himself, making his way over to the girl.

“Did you know that 1-in-4 girls are involved in entrepreneurship?” Grace asked, feeling Macklin sit down beside her. 

Macklin chuckled quietly. She always knew when he was around even when she wasn’t looking. “No, I didn’t.” Macklin reached for the sunscreen in her tote bag, opening the cap, and squeezing the thick liquid into his hands.

“I think I should go on Shark Tank. I really think I could get a deal done,” she said, mindlessly talking as he moved her hair to the side, working the sunscreen into her skin. 

“What’s your product, Teddy?” Macklin first called her ‘Teddy’ after hearing Brock Boeser call Quinn ‘Huggy Bear.’ She could remember that moment like it was written across the walls of her mind: “Can I call you Teddy?” he asked, his hands in her hair and hers playing with the rings on her fingers. 

“Why,” Grace laughed, turning her head to look up at him.

“‘Cause Quinn is Huggy Bear, so you can be Teddy Bear.”

She rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “Except I’m not soft like him.”

“No,” Macklin grinned. “You’re the toughest around, Teddy.”

“How do you feel about a VR vacuum cleaner,” she suggested, flipping onto her back and shielding her eyes from the bright sun rays. 

“VR vacuum cleaner?” he smirked, shaking his head as he applied more sunscreen to the front of her body. His hands worked over her stomach as she stared up at him in awe. She never had to ask.

“Think about it: you’re sitting on the couch, you don’t want to get up and get the vacuum cleaner and clean the whole house, so you put on your VR headset and it connects to your vacuum, and you’re vacuuming from your spot on the couch!”

“Teddy—”

“Nope, nope. It’s gonna work, you gotta trust me, Mack. This is a billion dollar idea.” 

“Totally,” he chuckled before getting up from his spot behind her, grabbing her hands to pull her up with him. “Come on, let’s go.”

Grace furrowed her brows, closing her book and stuffing it in the tote bag she brought. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere.”

“Yes, said by every serial killer ever,” Grace rolled her eyes, huffing as she reluctantly followed him.

“I’m not gonna murder you, G.”

“Murderers never admit it to the victim, dumbass.”

He slung her tote bag over his shoulder as he held Grace’s hand in his, pulling her in the direction towards the lake house. “I’ll tell you if you go get dressed.”

She raised a brow, her eyes narrowing at the boy. “Are you not comfortable with what I’m wearing?” She wore a blue denim-patterned triangle bikini and a light sunburn on her freckled face.

“Trust me,” he inched closer. “I love what you’re wearing, but I don’t think the people at the flea market will.” Everytime he talked, Grace swore shocks ran up and down her spine. She could feel him on every piece of her. He just had that effect on people. Macklin Celebrini makes people feel special, and this past year, that’s all she’s ever felt with him—special

“The flea market?” she eyed him suspiciously. She hadn’t even known there was one in town that week.

He pushed her gently toward the house. “Come on, woman. Just get dressed; I’ll wait for you out here.”

She spun around, her hands colliding with his chest as her puppy dog eyes burned heart shaped rings into him. “Just one hint?”

Placing his hand on her bare hip, he ran his thumb over her tanned skin. “Our first date. Now will you please go. You’re really ruining my itinerary.”

“Your itinerary?” she laughed.

“Stop laughing and go,” he chuckled, pushing the girl away from him. God, she was gonna be the death of him.

Rows and rows of stalls littered the Michigan streets as Macklin held Grace’s hand, pulling her in every direction. By the twelfth stall, she was already holding a bouquet of white tulips and a soft cat plushy that looked exactly like Mittens, her Russian Blue back at home.

“I bet you’re glad I kidnapped you, huh?” Macklin smiled, swinging their hands back and forth between them.

“So you admit it,” she smirked, turning to him as they walked along the row of stalls, watching the couple pass by. “You kidnapped me.”

“It’s not kidnapping if I take you somewhere where you’re happy.”

“You will be surprised by how many kidnappings end up with the victim being happy and then, when they’re most vulnerable, they’re stabbed to death.”

Macklin shook his head, dragging Grace along. “You’ve gotta stop watching true crime documentaries.”

“But what if a hot guy tries to seduce me and I end up killed?”

He squeezed her hand, bumping his shoulder with hers. “I’m not gonna let any hot guy seduce you unless it’s me.”

Just before Grace could trip over her own two feet and melt into a blushy puddle right on the asphalt beneath them, a worker in one of the stalls called out to them. “You! The couple!” she pointed as Grace and Macklin looked at each other, silently asking if they should go or not.

Despite the hesitation, the couple made their way over to the older woman who was adorned with crystal jewelry and an eclectic mismatched quilt skirt. She sported black round glasses and curly gray hair—totally dyed for the effect.

The woman, her eyes sparkling with ancient wisdom behind her round glasses, leaned forward with a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Well, well, well," she murmured. "What do we have here?"

Grace shifted uncomfortably, her fingers nervously intertwining with Macklin's as they both gazed at the array of cards spread out before them.

The reader's gaze flickered between them, as if she could see right through them. "A couple in the making, are we?" she mused, her tone light yet knowing.

Macklin chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, not exactly," he replied, shooting a quick glance at Grace, who blushed furiously in response.

Grace cleared her throat, mustering up her courage. "We're, uh, sort of testing the waters. This is our first date," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The tarot card reader raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Ah, the dance of courtship," she said, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Well, let's see what the cards have to say about your little...experiment, shall we?"

With a flourish, she began to flip over the cards, each one revealing a glimpse into their future.

As The Lovers card appeared, the reader's eyes twinkled with delight. "A powerful connection," she murmured, her voice filled with certainty. "The kind that transcends time and space."

Grace felt a flutter in her chest, her gaze meeting Macklin's with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. His lips quirked up for a moment, a hope deep inside of him wishing that this was real and not just some superstitious, otherworldly money grab.

Next came the Ace of Cups, its image shimmering with promise. "New beginnings," the reader whispered, her voice tinged with reverence. "A love that knows no bounds."

Macklin squeezed Grace's hand, not daring to look at her. He was as red as a tomato, and this was their first date. He was sure she was scared off by now, but Grace felt a sort of warmth spread through her chest. She didn’t care if this was real or fake; she liked hope.

Finally, as The Ten of Cups appeared, the reader let out a soft chuckle. "Happiness," she declared, her words carrying the weight of prophecy. "A lifetime of joy and fulfillment." The tarot card reader smiled, her eyes crinkling with age-old wisdom. "Hold tight, kids," she said, her voice a gentle whisper. “You’ve got a whole lot more dates ahead of you.”

[withahappyrefrain]

this one is so cute! 🍂🍁🍃

A stands in a queue when they notice a leaf stuck in the hair/on the clothes of the person in front of them. They offer to remove it for them.

for bob and maeve?

AHHHH so excited to start writing for these two! And of course I had to bring in Bradley and Birdie! ❤️❤️ Enjoy!

Fall in San Diego was different. By the time October started rolling, the average temperature had cooled down to a ‘crisp’ seventy degrees. Chunky sweaters were traded in for light cardigans. Sure, you could wear a scarf, but not a functional one. Gone were the days of needing gloves.

It was a stark difference from the east coast.

Gone was the scenic view of mountains and orchards. In its place were micro-breweries and overpriced wineries. But also gone was a shitty ex husband. In its place, the unknown.

At least the farmer markets here still sold apple butter.

It was a consolidation prize for Maeve. She was forever grateful that Nora wanted to show her around, but that also meant third wheeling for Nora and her fiancé. Worse, they were sickeningly in love. She had never been so happy for her best friend, but also so fucking jealous at the same time.

So she would enjoy these last few moments, while Nora was trying to find her partner amidst the crowd. They tried to not make her feel bad, but being around them reminded Maeve how alone she had become.

Wait, did that guy have a leaf on his back?

Upon squinting her hazel eyes, she saw that man standing in front of her did in fact, have a leaf on the back of his plaid shirt.

Should she- oh thank God, he was reaching for it. Now Maeve wouldn't have to look at it while standing in line.

Nope. Despite his long arms, the leaf had wedged itself in a place where he couldn't reach. Oh God, was she going to have to watch him struggle the whole time?

Wanting to save her sanity outweighed her dislike of talking to strangers.

"I can get it for you, the leaf. If you want?"

He turned around to reveal a face that made her heart flutter. Bright blue eyes, bluer than the ocean. Tortoiseshell glasses that framed his face. Sunkissed hair, tousled in waves. A button nose that brought a sense of sweetness to him. A smattering of faded freckles, no doubt from hours upon hours of being out in the sun.

"Could you? That would be great, otherwise it's gonna bother me all day?" His voice was smooth as whiskey, a rural upbringing lacing his words.

But what was most astounding was his smile. The way his thin pink lips contorted to form a small, slightly crooked smile. The creases that formed around his oceanic eyes, showing years of smiles and laughter.

God, he just looked kind. The type that Maeve always wondered what it would be like to have. To see first thing in the morning and the last thing when she closed her eyes at night.

"M'am?" It didn't come across as condescending, it was actually charming. It was also said in such a deep vibrato that Maeve to snap out of whatever the fuck those last two minutes was.

It's been three months, for fuck sake's Maeve.

Why would he even be interested in you?

This is why you're a twenty-eight year old divorceé.

Maeve nodded as she mentally scolded herself, "Absolutely, not a problem."

Bob turned around, despite not wanting to. He would rather focus on the umber curls that framed her face. Or the way shades of hickory and green swirled together in her eyes. His favorite had to be how her eyes squinted when she smiled. His mother would call that as having 'smiley eyes' when he was a child.

Jesus Christ, we're really desperate now.

It wouldn't end well for you anyways. Never does.

That's why you're thirty-four and still single, Robert.

So in a way, he was grateful to turn around, as it was a chance to get himself together.

That lasted for maybe ten seconds. Bob couldn't tell if touch was incredibly gentle or if she wasn't touching him. So he turned his head, catching her reaching out.

The eye contact made Maeve freeze for a beat or two. Once Bob flashed her that sweet smile, she found the strength to continue, internally marveling at how soft his shirt felt.

He must use fabric softener. Maybe he attends this market regularly. Maybe-

It's been three months.

Yes, three months since the document was signed and it was made official legally. But the acceptance of a unsustainable marriage had occured a year ago.

She held up the leaf for effect, "You want to keep it as memorabilia?"

Bob chuckled, making Maeve feel warm all over, as if she had just drank mulled cider, "No, no, I think I'm good. But I'd love to buy that for you as a way to say thanks."

This time it was her turn to shake her head, "Oh, it was nothing! Just a leaf." Bob noticed that when she shook her head, the curls that had fallen over his forehead shook slightly.

God, she was adorable. Absolutely, completely endearing.

"Yeah, but that would have bothered me the whole time I was with my friends. I wouldn't have been able to focus on anything else," he grinned, "Plus you had no issue talking to a complete stranger. That's gotta be commended."

A laugh escapes from her rosey lips, "I usually hate talking to strangers." Fuck, why would you even say that?

If he found it odd, the handsome stranger didn't visibly or vocally show it, "Yeah, I'm not a huge fan of that either. Again, gotta be commended."

She looked down at the jar of apple butter, "It would be faster if you paid for mine. I'm meeting some friends too."

"Happy to serve," the unintentional pun about his career was lost on her. At least he could bring it up to Mickey, who would get a good laugh out of it. And his wife Cielo too. And then they would probably do something sweet, like kiss while holding hands, unintentionally reminding Bob how utterly alone it felt coming home from work every day.

Their hands brushed against one another when Maeve transferred the jar to Bob. He turned around, partly to see if he needed to step forward, partly to hide the smile on his face.

Had he turned around, he would have seen the same smile on her face. One that was full of excitement, felt for the first time in years. Just like him.

Eventually, he looked back, this time mainly to see if his friends were amidst the crowd of shoppers.

He felt the need to explain, out of fear of coming across as creepy, "My friend went looking for his fiancé. She's bringing her best friend."

What a coincidence, Nora's fiancé was bringing a friend too.

Yeah, to help you feel less shitty about always being their third wheel.

"Well does your friend have any idea where his fiancé could be?" Maeve asked as Bob paid for the two jars of apple butter.

"Oh yeah, Birdie's first stop is always the Takyaki stand," Bob paused, "Birdie isn't her real name, it's just-"

"Do you mean Nora?" Maeve's voice was now timid. Blood rushing through her veins, wondering if it was too good to be true.

Bob stopped in his tracks, brows knitting together, "How do you know her name?"

Before Maeve could explain, two new voices interrupted.

"Bob?" "Maeve?"

Turning around revealed Nora (who many referred to as 'Birdie'), who was holding the hand of her fiancé, Bradley (who at work was referred to as 'Rooster').

Bob and Maeve turned their attention back to one another, realization hitting like a brick wall.

He's the kindest guy I know. You'll love him.

She's honestly just the sweetest. It's a damn shame what happened.

They're like you. They've been through similar shit.

"You're Maeve?" He had a long finger pointed at her (God his hands were huge) but it wasn't accusing.

Maeve felt at ease, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as she nodded, her eyes creasing due to her smile.

There were those smiley eyes that made his knees weak.

"I am and you're Bob? Just Bob, right? No totally random, work nickname?" With anyone else, it would have been demeaning. A few years ago, Bob would have taken offense.

But his shoulders were feeling lighter these days thanks to the past actually staying in its namesake more often.

"Well, my full name is Robert. I have some family who call me Rob, some call me Robby but that's because I gave them explicit permission to do so, not everyone reaches that level. And then some of my friends call me Bobby. So in terms of work nickname, you're correct, it's not totally random." His eyes were so expressive, it was memorizing to watch.

Charming. He was actually charming.

"Well, I think having multiple nicknames that are based off of your actual name is better than having one and it's a children's game or bird," she turned her head to flash a smile, "No offense Bradley."

Bradley, who was used to her strong opinions on call signs and now only a foot away, simply rolled his eyes, "No offense taken Maeve. But we do call him Bagman, remember?"

A coy smile spread across her face, something Bob found so endearing.

"So you two....know each other?" Nora asked, raising an eyebrow. She swears she would have remembered her best friend meeting one of her fiancé's best work friends.

"We actually just met. Maeve saved me from an afternoon of trying to reach a spot on my back to get rid of a leaf," Bob explained, gently putting his hand on Maeve's shoulder. His touch was pleasant, considerate even.

"Bob got me some apple butter as a thank you," Maeve held up the jar while looking down, hoping no one would notice the rosy hue that was spreading across her face.

"Which, I assume is to make your famous cinnamon sugar apple butter pie?" Bob now turned to her, his eyes lit up with excitement.

Catching her confused expression, Bob jumped in, "When you left a pie after visiting Birdie, Bradley brought in leftovers. It was a huge hit, I still think about it."

Charlie always had an issue with whatever she cooked. Too salty. Not healthy babe. Why are you even making that?

But Charlie wasn't here. He was on the east coast, no doubt trying to find another gullible person to invest in one of his bullshit 'ideas'.

Instead there was Bob, who had a sparkle in his eyes. Who had not only heard about you, but remembered details too.

God, the bar was so fucking low.

Meanwhile, Bob hadn't thought about Cassie once since meeting the curly, raven haired woman with the most adorable smile he had ever seen.

"Well, given the lack of a paper bag in Nora's hand, I'd say it's time we head to the Hog Haven stand and get some breakfast sandwiches," Maeve suggested, hoping it would turn the attention away from her.

"Absolutely! I know Bob wanted to stop by the pickling stand for Sauerkraut and that's on the way!" Nora grabbed Bradley's hand, and walked forward, leaving Bob and Maeve to walk side by side.

Almost as if it was planned that way.

"What's the Sauerkraut for?" Maeve asked, secretly noticing how he slowed his stride to match hers.

"I'm making Bigos. It means 'Hunter Stew' in Polish. My mom made it for me and my siblings all the time growing up. She's back in Wisconsin, and since it's finally 'cooled down' here, figured it was a good time to make it."

Bob can't remember the last time he felt this talkative to someone new. Usually it takes hours, sometimes even multiple outings for him to warm up. And that was if he liked the person's company.

It took him two months to warm up to Jake.

But something about Maeve had him talking a mile a minute. Even Bradley had turned around to raise his eyebrows at how much Bob was talking. He had to be careful; the last thing he needed was to be in the same situation he was in six years ago.

"I'm not super familiar with Polish food- other than bagels and pierogi's- but I'd like to learn more about it," her voice was sweet, albeit slightly reserved. Not wanting to appear too eager, or insinuate anything.

"I have a whole box of recipes from my mom and Aunts and Grandma. I can bring it next time-" He paused. No, don't assume. Never assume. "I can pass it on to Bradley who can give it to Birdie. Whichever you prefer."

"We can leave y'all to talk to each other if you want!" Bradley called out before turning his attention back to Nora.

"I have a feeling this won't be the last time we see each other. Not if those two lovebirds have anything to say about it." Her comment brought out a laugh in Bob, which in turn caused a big smile to break out across Maeve's face.

"Glad I'm not the only one who calls them that. Everyone else says it's too cheesy." "Well, those people have no love or appreciation for puns. Luckily for you Robby, I do."

He didn't correct her. In fact, he liked how the name sounded coming from her pink lips.

"Maybe we can keep talking about puns and recipes while they," Bob pointed to Bradley and Nora, who were currently holding hands and exchanging (what they thought to be) sneaky kisses, "Are themselves."

"So they act this way around you too?" Maeve's eyes lit up, relieved she wasn't the only one who had to deal with the most sickeningly sweet couple on the planet, "Being a third wheel with them is rough."

The two had now stopped at the pickles goods stand, ignoring their friends who had invited them out.

"I think it's going well! I never saw her smile this much with Charlie," Nora whispered excitedly, unable to take her green eyes off of Maeve and Bob.

"I'd say so," Bradley looked at Nora, not needing to see that his friend was talking to Maeve with a gleam in his blue eyes, a rare sight, "You know it's not going to happen overnight, right?"

"I'm aware. But I think they're off to a good start," Nora grinned. The sight of her best friend, looking the happiest she's seen in the past year, kept her bounce on her toes.

Bob and Maeve were indeed, off to a good start.

[flyinggraysonz]

CLARK KENT NEEDS TO BE TAN *i scream as they drag me into arkham*

For a man that sources his powers from the literal sun, Superman sure is awfully white. I mean he grew up in rural Kansas ON A FARM for darns sake, like at the VERY least give him freckles or moles.

“oh but flyinggraysonz, Superman is the perfect being he has no flaws or bumps or-“

SHUT UP shut up. HE IS TAN AND YOU KNOW IT. If the sun can effect his powers and energy, it should stand to reason that it can effect him on a physical level too!!

please PLEASE I JUST NEED SUNKISSED CLARK- THAT’S ALL I WISH FOR!!

[maddascanbe-blog]

Miracu-class girls are done! It took less time than I initially anticipated, thank goodness. Let's talk re-write's and re-designs shall we?

Sabrina so freaking cute, give the girl her hat. It was probably a gift from Chloe. For her redesign I thought she would be the kind to dress in cute blouses and flowy skirts. She has tennis skirts in every color for every occasion. As for her re-write- anyone who saw how I changed Chloe probably will guess that their dynamic is drastically changes as well.

Sabrina met Chloe when they were in their tween years, Officer Roger having worked security for the Bourgeois on multiple occasions. One day he had to bring his daughter into work and Chloe found her wandering the halls. When a kidnapper tried to abduct Chloe, Sabrina sprayed him with pepper spray her father gave her and then kicked him in the dick for good measure. Chloe then declared that Sabrina should be her full-time body guard, and she technically is being paid to hang out with Chloe. But Sabrina would have done it with or without the money since Chloe is actually very endearing once you figure out how she works.

Alix is next! Alix's violently pink hair could not be ignored, so I kept it (albeit a little less saturated) Also she is in fact still short. Her outfits are probably all variations of sports gear unless she has an event to attend at the museum. I also tanned her up since I imagine she spends a lot of time outside, girl is sunburnt. She is actually a year ahead in history, having gotten too bored with junior level classes. So she's friends with some of the seniors too. I won't get into Bunnix anytime soon but- let's just say it's a lot more tragic than cannon would ever admit. The rabbit's powers are changing, and Alix still has to live with that.

On a lighter note, Juleka, as stunning as ever. Tall queen. She is a year behind since her lack of participation in classes ultimately tanked her grade in several subjects. Her band director was more then happy for her to stay an extra year though, since she is trained classically as well as electrically on the bass. She may not like talking, but she has little fear of performing when the music can do the talking. Her twin brother actually graduated early, and he's working now to help pay for the band the two want to start. Her design doesn't change much from her cannon one other than the fact I switched her ripped leggings for lace ones. I imagine she actually has many outfits in this color pallet, since Chat Noir quickly becomes her favorite hero.

Mylene, okay the change I made here is pretty obvious. I debated for a long time on whether or not I change her skin tone. And when I did the line art? Wasn't planning too. But changed my mind last second, since I thought it helped the color pallet more. This would imply she is mixed, with her dad looking pretty much the same as cannon. it's hard to tell her unless you look closely but I gave her freckles that just cover every inch of her. She is Sunkissed. He character isn't super different, she is still easily startled, but she knows what she believes and will fight for it no matter what.

And finally, Rose! The lovely Rosey! The flower child! Her nonspecific illness still definitely happened, but I like to think she has actually recovered. I do not know enough about most chronic illnesses to make any sort of specification on what she has so nameless headache disease it is! She struggled a lot as a kid, but now she's planning to start a non-profit to help kids who are going through hard times of their own. She definitely still has her down days, the fact that she nearly died so young is not something she is quick to forget. But she will do whatever she can to give other people hope, sinee she knows all too well what it feels like to be hopeless.

As for her design, she had a bucket of pink upturned on her. She did have to have her hair shaved as an affect of her illness but now it's growing back faster than ever. She gets it cut every time it gets past a certain length to donate it.

Luka is next!

[truelydivine]

HIIII MY CAS HI MY CAS HI MY CAS!!!!!!!!!!!! SELFSHIP ASK TIME YIPPEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! tell me abt strawberry for caskei and raspberry for castoru if you’d pleeease :33 LOVE YOU SMOOCHING YOU MWAAAHH

HIHIHIHIHIHI MWAH MWAH ILUU KISS KISS AND KITTY NUZZLE <33

strawberry (caskei vers.) — what's your favorite part of their body? what is their favorite part of yours?

my favorite part of keigo is his hands and neck. his hands are a little rough, but he's always gentle with me. it's soothing and nice. his neck is nice, too. i can gave it kisses and nuzzle him and smell him. he smells nice... except when he's sweaty. no kisses if he's sweaty. >:(

keigo always tells me he likes my eyes. always rubbing his thumb under them and telling me they're pretty. he likes kissing my eyelids and where some of my (very light) freckles are. he tells me i should go outside more because my freckles get darker when in the sun. (apparently i'm sunkissable according to google's definition of 'sunkissed'.)

raspberry (castoru vers.) — do you have a photograph of your favorite memory of them?

i don't like taking pictures of myself or anything, but we do have aesthetic photos of satoru spoiling me on a full day of taking me to places i haven't been to before. parks, restaurants, etc. it was super fun. satoru does have his wallpaper as us kissing in front of a bouquet of flowers... i'm definitely not standing on a stepstool, nuh-uh. my boyfriend is giant freak and that's fineeee.

[xamaxenta]

PIONEER OVER MAGICAL GLAMOUR THEORY YEEEEEES!!!!!!

I LOVE where your mind goes and I love feeding off of each other like this!! What if illusion magic is already a sound concept but it's meant to be intangible, something remotely cast to fool perception about something inanimate and possibly immobile? The intricacy of the spell work comes from how close the illusion is viewed from, so it requires more detail for something observed up close and less for something seen from a distance.

But Sabo's glamour spells are specifically created to be cast on living things and thus are labeled as a completed different subset of illusion magic. Ace is surprised and inspired and enchanted when Sabo shows him his first glamour attempt because not only is it clearly modeled after him, but that paired with the spell being the first of its kind gets Ace all worked up. It's clear at this point that Sabo cares deeply for him, but to see that it is to this extreme is both humbling and deeply gratifying.

Running about in the knightprince au enclosure with youuuuu 🥰

I was going to touch upon that! Yes what if! What if Illusory and veiling magics the kinds that already exist or have been documented and have concrete spellwork and theory for is only for stationery and or inanimate objects, or simply projections of the intangible like youve mentioned above :3 exactly that! What if that is all that has been this far documented in the mana archives…

But Sabo, he’s such a bright little star, forefront of biological illusions/glamour spellwork itself because he technically created the theory itself, coined the term glamour himself

There’s been attempts by mages and lesser sorcerers, to change one’s image or how they should be perceived in the onlookers eye

But normally its only small things like hair colour, or erasing a defining feature like a birthmark or scar for a short period of time, nothing like a full physical illusion that is also tangible has been recorded or even considered possible

But here is Sabo waltzing around with his sunkissed tan his freckles that dont disappear when the light changes and the sun sets, with hair that flows long and wavy and the strands feel so wispy and soft between Ace’s fingers

What Sabo conjures isnt a trick, its reality itself and its the first of its kind and alien and Ace is enchanted (gorgeous word by the way omg…)

Devastated emotionally in his heart that Sabo cares so much for him in this way to weave a whole new subset of magic just to walk beneath the open sun hand in hand with him 😭💕💕💕

[daisymintt]

WIP Wednesday: Fairyland Chapter 1

“Come on, Merlin, hurry up! We haven’t got all day! They’ll be expecting us to be back soon.” Arthur yelled over his shoulder at Merlin who was struggling to keep up under the weight of the rabbits Arthur had caught. It was dusk, night would soon be upon them and make it even more difficult to cross the terrain. “Of course, Sire-!” Merlin tripped on a root and fell into a bush. Cursing under his breath, Merlin got to his feet just in time to see Arthur disappear. “Arthur!” He yelped, dropping the hunting supplies and dashing towards where he last saw him. 

Merlin skidded to a stop outside a circle of mushrooms in the center of a grove of hawthorn trees. Fairy rings, his mother had called them. He vividly remembered when he was little back in Ealdor his mother’s warnings about them. One day he failed to heed it and had stepped into one. He remembered the fear he felt when he started dancing and couldn’t stop. 

It hadn’t taken long for his mother to realize and find him crying for her, still dancing, and pull him out of the ring. Merlin hoped this time would be different. He could feel the soft humm of magic coming from the ring, enticing him to step in. He sucked in a breath and stepped into the fairy ring. A warm tingling sensation filled him and his vision turned white then faded to black. His head felt fuzzy and hurt a little. He heard voices whispering and giggling around him. 

“He’s so handsome! It must be him, right?” 

“I don’t know… he looks quite human to me.” 

“We should take him to the queen, she’ll know what to do with him.” 

The voices murmured in agreement. Merlin groaned and slowly opened his eyes to find several curious faces looking down at him, giggling. The faces gasped and disappeared among the wildflowers. He rubbed his head and took in his surroundings. He was laying on his back in a meadow. The flowers were like none he had ever seen, in every possible color and shape you could imagine. 

One had heart shaped petals that glittered in the dusk light and smelled like his home in Ealdor, another had petals a blue so dark they were almost black, that drooped and curled in on itself. It smelled like Camelot after a rainstorm. Merlin looked up at the twilight sky where the orange of the distant horizon slowly bled from purple into the cool night sky like a painting. Once the initial shock wore off he quickly stood up and looked around for Arthur but couldn’t see any sign of him. “Arthur?” He called.

To Merlin’s right, someone giggled. He turned in the direction it had come from and it stopped. He crouched and held out his hand, “Hey, don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you. Can you help me? I’m looking for my friend, Arthur, he’s a bit of an oaf, has golden hair, walks around like he owns the place?”

The wildflowers parted and a little girl no more than twelve crawled out wearing dirty, ragged clothes. Dirt smeared her face, hands, and barefeet. Her hair was long, blonde, and tangled. Her skin was sunkissed and she had a smattering of freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes were a bright blue, almost too bright. With a pange in his heart Merlin wondered how a child had ended up here. He let his hand drop to his side and he adjusted his position so he was sitting cross legged on the ground. “So, have you seen him?” He asked again.

The little girl shook her head, “I have not but I might know someone who does.” 

“Can you help me?”

The little girl paused and pointed at his red neckerchief, “I’ll help you in exchange for that.”

“My neckerchief? Why?” 

She shrugged, “I like the color.”

Seeing no harm in it Merlin agreed. He started taking off his neckerchief. The little girl grinned, he noticed that one of her front teeth was chipped. He handed his neckerchief over to her and as she pulled back her hair to tie it around her own neck he realized her ears were pointed. A pixie, he realized. He remembered reading about them in one of Gaius’ old books after the incident with Princess Elena when he decided to study up on them. He had been surprised to learn there were different kinds of pixies who served different courts. 

[permanencia-voluntaria-blog]

The pride in his eyes

1 x 03

The son of an Earl

The officer was a midwingman just recovering from a terrible wound in his abdomen. He had just been promoted to the rank when a boarding party almost captured the capitan of the longwing he was serving. The doctors allowed him to travel home for 2 weeks after he was able to walk without pain and the physician advisedhad light work to get his muscles working and growing. "Not to climb the bloody cliff and get hurt all over again" as the doctors phrase it.

Someone might found curious that Jeremy Rankin knew all of this or condemn how he could insert himself in someone else's business, but he did not have friends to question his interest or care.

Officer Little had really fair skin under the bandages and his untied hair gave him a halo of contrast in his pillow. He did not had a single freckle he coud see from the chair next to the bed, not even in the sunkissed beaky nose, but had a mole in his right tumb. His clothes were of good quality but not as nice as his and had a horrible habit of nail bitting. Rankin was almost sure he was smart and proper but who could tell the character of a laying body.

Rankin was gratefully unsettle by the incident. He was no longer the undesirable in his class, two of his classmates even acknowledge him during lunch and it was almost time for him to finish his "education" and although he had not been asked by any particular captain he was not worried, after all he will be send to a prime dragon in preparation for his future assignation.

It had been almost a week since the accident and 3 days since he had seen officer Little after he disappeared from the infirmary and back to his cuarters. He had not coincide with him in the mess hall, meals or during training. He wondered if he knew it was him who found him. Was he ashamed? Was he grateful? Would he be invited to be part of the crew of the longwing? Just as this thoughs were circling his mind officer Little finally appeared in front of him next to one of the vulgar female captain his father warned him. He straighten his back and corrected his posture and face, however he had just finished his turn with the ground crew so the first impression he could give was a sweaty and dirty one.

"Mister Rankin" he began with a soft but firm voice "I apologize for the lack of proper introduction, I am Agustine Little and this is Capitan Little of Caleum. I have been informed that you not only saved me, but that you suffer great injuries from my fall. I want to express my gratitude for my life and apologize for the troubles I caused. Please let me know anything I can do to begin to repay my debt." after this pretty speach he looked to who Rankin could only fathom his sister as if consulting her on the the property of his speech, hilarious.

"Good day, officer Little, Miss Little" he began " My name is Jeremy Rankin, I am the son of the Earl of Kensington and future capitan of Celeritas. I am happy to be your aqueintance" After all the other boy could not help his relations. "I consider no debt is due as I was only doing my duty and what anyone would do under similar circumstances." and it was true, he would not have considered any other course of action.

The two siblings interchange a look in the rudest fashion and the female captain adress him. "I thank you in a personal manner regardless, my brother is my only living family. Caleum and I have been severly distressed knowing he was severely injured once again." she made a small bow, small talk and left them alone in the middle. The wench had no manners.

"You can call me Agustine" He said to Rankin "I am currently unassigned and you? Who are you serving with?"

"I am not, but I expect the assignation will come any day now"

The deamy expression of Agustine was taken a back and dropping all pretence of formality said "how old are you? Yo should be a runner by now, do you want me to ask my sister? She would be happy to, her enison was killed in Gibraltar and has an opening"

Ranking briefly contemplate the appalling idea of serving under a woman but decided to consider it regardless as the opportunity of serving in a Longwing was no small thing in his future career and it was set.

They spend the walk to his cuarters talking and he could not help to notice how delicate and soft he seem in comparison to his sister. After they separated with the agreement to meet him in an hour for dinner he let himself be satisfied with his path.

He was appointed to Caleum the next morning and went to the longwing clearing to report just to find it empty and after an hour of waiting in anger he went to his instructors to see what had happened. He saw Agustine talking with a well fleshed capitan and continue his way until he found officer Berkeley instructing new cadets in aereal tactics. He patiently waited for him to notice him, but after what he felt an eternity he cleared him throat gaining a scowl as he apparently miss him, he wondered not for the first time if he was longsighted.

"Yes mister Rankin, does Capitan Little require my assistance?"

"She is not in her clearing" he said, going for the direcness of the older man.

To this he scowled even depper and after a few more comments he sent one of the cadets to check with the ground crew. The officer ignored him and continued his boring lesson and when he was almost finishing the cadet returned with another runner and said without missing a beat "Where have you been? The capitan send me twice to look for you"

Rankin was appalled by everyones manners and general appearance and tried his best to show by example the correct behavior, but this was too much.

"I have been in the clearing! I went first thing in the morning! What do you mean by this?"

The boy was in the process of answering when officer Berkeley interrupted them "You two settle and shout your heart outs where I cannot hear you, off you go"

They went in relative silence only making small jabs until he turned into a different clearing that expected and he stood in his place a couple of seconds until Martin said "What are you waiting for? The dragon will not come tl you if that is what you are expecting"

"I was told the longwing clearing is over there" pointing in his confusion.

"Yes, so?" suddenly Martin's face iluminante with comprehension "You did not know Caelum is a Xenica?" he said, to Rankin dismay.

[remushrts]

Sunkisses

— pairing: lifeguard!james potter x gn!reader

— a/n: the brainrot i am having over this you don't understand, someone said lifeguard!james and i ran with it

— summary: james can't take his eyes off you when he sees you

James Potter was many things. Unfortunately, for everybody at the beach, he was not good at keeping things exactly professional. He was a lost cause from the moment he saw you, your hair wet and blowing with the wind, the smell of the sea he knew from the first second that would stick to your skin for the next couple days.

James thinks he would've fallen even if he had other options. How could he not?

And then again, there was work. A summer gig more of kinds, but nevertheless. He was supposed to keep it professional, he was supposed to focus. Damn him, kids could drown! He wasn't supposed to fall for the first cute person who watched him help aforementioned kids, but James was not strong in that way.

A lost cause, really, would be more of the appropriate wording.

James took a couple days to approach you, and still he could feel you looking, stealing glances every time you could. He felt a little less guilty in doing the same. You had a clear drink in hand, a few strawberries drowning in ice, and he couldn't figure out what it was for the dear life of him, but he knew it was sold across the street and you bought one everyday without fail, just when his shift was about to end.

Today he sat by your side and ordered the same. It wasn't too strong, and it was really tastier that what he expected. The bartender brought both cups at the same time and James tipped him. You would always get up, enjoy your drink closer to the sea. You didn't.

"You're a lifeguard, huh?" You ask him, eyes stealing another welcome glance of him. "Should you be drinking?"

"Yeah, only for the summer. though." He nodded. "And well, my shift's over, for about five minutes now."

"God helps the tourists." You laugh, looking at him as you stir your drink, taking another sip of it as your eyes looked away to the sun setting behind you, then back at him. "How you like it?"

"It's nice. Grew up around these parts." You raise a brow, and he chuckles. "Don't say you can't see it, you'll offend me."

"Sorry." You offer, hiding your smile.

"Care to tell me what I'm drinking?" His smile is so nice you feel it radiating to you, making your cheeks as warm as the sun could. You can barely distinguish a couple freckles in his, if you look closely, and to his credit, the faded tan on his skin is distinguishable enough.

"Oh, so you're taking drink recommendations from strangers?" You raise a brow, teasingly.

"Only if the stranger is pretty." He's fast to reply, shrugging your taunting off. It makes you smile however cheap his line was, and James takes it as a compliment. You've got the prettiest smile he's ever seen.

"Calling me pretty and I don't even know your name, that's a first." You snicker, another sip on your drink now watery.

"Well, I don't know your name either, stranger." He answers, letting the silence linger for a moment. "I'm James."

"Nice to meet you, James." You say back, telling him your name in exchange. James makes a note to remember it for next time he sees you, which he's hoping it's soon. Your drink is more than halfway through and he hadn't asked you anything other than your name.

The words rush past his lips in a blur. "Am I going to see you around?" He feels stupid, but you smile despite it. His heart feels lighter.

"Sure, James. As long as no kids drown and get you fired." The joke is bad, but he smiles like you just said something very endearing. To all accounts, he wasn't letting them drown before, but now he seems determined to never let a single child step towards water again if that's what it takes to keep his job, to keep you.

"They wouldn't dare to." He smirks and you know he means it.

[melobin]

melody did you see those pictures of seunghan from the seasons greetings photoshoot??? he is so pretty and lovely with his lil sunkissed freckles across his nose and cheeks oh how i wish to count and kiss them all!!!!

I DID THE LIL FRECKLES ARE SO CUTE 🥹 should be kissed all along them the photos had me kicking my feet hes so pretty 🥹🫠

[formosusiniquis]

When Mike Wheeler, red faced and still faintly tear stained, asks him how he knew he liked both Steve doesn’t know how to tell him it was his sister.

Before Nancy Wheeler it had only been boys. Before Nancy Wheeler Steve had been sure he was gay and knew well enough to keep it to himself; dating around enough to earn himself a protective reputation. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Marcus Summers, from the baseball team, during freshman year. Steve had gone to every game, and had been forced to make up excuses about schoolwork and his other commitments when asked why he hadn’t tried out for himself. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Tommy Hagan. The summer between seventh and eighth grade had been very kind to Tommy, he was sunkissed and boy next door sweet, Steve had wanted to hold his hand and count the freckles across the bridge of his nose. 

Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been his first love, a boy who only visited one summer, the year Steve turned ten. His name had changed every time they hung out but he’d favored E’s. Eli, Emmett, Elliott, Eric, Excalibur, Excelsior, and once for about an hour Wayne. His hair brushed his chin in pretty brown curls and his big brown eyes were always bright with excitement. He always got storm off mad when any of the other boys they’d played with that summer said he was acting like a girl, E would run off to the woods and Steve would always follow. E always came up with the best games anyway, he didn’t like playing soccer or HORSE or anything else with rules that couldn’t be bent; he preferred imagination games where they were knights or wizards. He didn’t laugh when Steve said he always liked playing house, but never wanted to be the dad because why would he want to be someone who never wanted to spend any time with his kids. E who, while insisting on being called Samwise all day, was his first kiss.

Cause he knows what Mike wants to hear. He’s seen the way Mike and Will have danced around each other since the last portal closed. He’s heard the things Mike has said to and about Will. He’s heard all about the week that Will was in the Upside Down. He’s heard all about the summer of ‘85. He’s heard all about the final off again that seems to officially mark the end of Mike and El romantically. He knows that Mike wants him to say that he’d never even thought about boys before he met Eddie. That there’s just something special about Eddie that makes him want to give up his lady killing ways. That Eddie was different. That it was okay that he was having these scary new thoughts, maybe Will was just an exception.

And Steve doesn’t know how to have that conversation. When he realized he liked both it was a relief, that maybe he could have something normal and wouldn't have to spend his life lying or hiding. 

But Eddie was different. Eddie was special. Eddie was probably it for Steve which is scary in a different way that he’s not ready to touch yet -- not when it’s only been three months.

There’s never been another girl since Nancy Wheeler, not really

There will never be another boy after Eddie Munson.

So he tries to help, as best he can. It’s easier with Eddie there, not quite dozing against his shoulder -- the kid’s emergencies always seem to come so late at night these days. “When I was ten, there was a boy whose name kept changing who decided prince charming should get to kiss his faithful knight. And when I was sixteen, your sister-”

Mike’s goodwill diminishes quickly as his sister gets introduced to the conversation.

“Stevie,” Eddie says. It’s not an admonishment for bringing up Nancy. It’s awestruck and watery. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember the first boy I ever loved," that word catches up with him a second later. Remember. 

Cause there's Eddie with his riot of brown curls and his Bambi eyes. Eddie, who has explained why soft feminine words chafe against his skin leaving him itchy and anxious. Eddie, who has an Uncle in Hawkins. Eddie who moved to town the summer before he entered high school with a buzzed head and his mother's last name. Eddie who finally settled into an E he liked best.

"Wheeler, here's a tip from me to you," Eddie says, his advice is always better received than Steve's anyway, "if you have to ask you probably already know."

"Straight people don't really spend much time wondering if they aren't really straight," Steve agrees.

They don't rush Mike out the door, a crisis is a crisis and even in the wake of new discoveries Mike deserves to be heard out. Deserves a chance to cry and rage and feel those emotions someplace safe from his Reaganite father -- just as much as Will deserves to have someone who knows what they want come to him, deserves better than experimentation.

They cross the bridge from late into early by the time Mike sets off. The sun is creeping up over the horizon and Mike looks solid, certain; the dawn hints at the man he is growing up to be. Though every instinct of Steve's begs him to drive the kid home, Eddie's soft hand lingering at his hip holds him fast. They wave instead, encouraging Mike to go home and to bed before he does anything; knowing his front bike tire is already pointed toward the Byers-Hopper place.

"The first boy you ever loved, huh, Stevie?" Eddie teases before the door has even managed to click shut.

"And the last, I'm hoping, if I play my cards right."

"You were always pretty good at that. You were the only person that summer who called me by my name, except Wayne."

"It was your name." He knows that's too simple. Knows how hard Eddie has had it, continues to have it. But that summer it had been that simple, Eddie trying on names like shirts each one fitting until they didn't. "For what it's worth, I like Eddie a lot more than Excalibur."

"Oh fuck off, I was going through a fantasy knight phase. Which I know you remember."

"Right a phase, and how much longer is this fantasy 'phase' going to last?"

They're the kind of tired that makes you feel drunk, when Eddie tackles Steve and sends them both to the floor and to giggles. Eddie might not have been his bi awakening, but Steve is pretty fine with him being his everything else.

[bruisedboys]

Hello and good afternoon my lovely, I will absolutely give you a steve request on this fine “afternoon”. What about a steve blurb where they go on an early date and either the reader (or steve cause that could be cute) is like smitten with the other and flushed and all that? They just have a like fun chemistry? Have fun with that! Love ya!

this is way too long to be a blurb oopsies. also I’m so sorry this took so long to get out, I hope it’s okay bae 🤍

fem!reader 1.1k words

Your legs feel like jelly.

Steve Harrington is hot. He’s hot, and kind, and funny, and just about the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. For reasons beyond your knowledge, he’s asked you out on a date.

You feel like you’re about to trip over your own feet as you approach Steve. He’s looks spectacular. He always does, but tonight he’s ditched the Family Video uniform for a dark blue polo, a brown jacket and a pair of Levi’s. You almost pass out just looking at him, and it gets worse when he spots you.

His face lights up like a Christmas tree, grin so wide his eyes crinkle up. “Y/N, hey! You look great.”

He’s so casual with it, so suave, it makes you lightheaded.

“Thank you,” you manage. Your face feels like a furnace as you toy with the material of your dress. “You too.”

It’s true, he does. And his smile only adds to it, so pretty and so kind it makes your chest ache. A moment later he gets that look on his face that you know means he’s about to make some corny joke.

“What, this old thing?” Steve lifts the corner of his jacket with an air of faux disgust. “I reckon the Family Video uniform is so much more flattering on me, don’t you think?”

You giggle. He’s funny, but maybe it’s more his smile that’s making you giggle. Either way, the sound is giddy and you’d be embarrassed but there’s no time for that, not when Steve is stepping forward, just on the verge of your personal space.

“Can I hug you?” He asks, quite abruptly, like he’s been holding the question in.

You try not to sound too desperate. “Yeah, sure.”

Your arms go around his waist while his slide over your biceps and around to your upper back. You practically melt in his arms. He’s warm and so gentle and his clothes are soft and he smells good. He smells like cotton and like his cologne, the same musky, heady scent you’ve picked up on the previous two times he’s hugged you. He’s so comfortable you could stand like this all night, the toes of your shoes slotting between his, his hands rubbing over the expanse of your upper back.

Too soon, Steve is pulling away. He’s all smiles as he takes your hand in his, his palm warm and calloused in yours.

“Should we go in?” He asks, giving your hand a soft jostle.

Your hand feels like it’s on fire. You hope Steve doesn’t notice. You nod. “Okay.”

Steve walks you to the front door of the diner, then releases you to hold the door open, a gesture that seems totally second nature to him. To you, it’s like being treated like a princess. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say quietly. Feeling brave and unable to stop yourself, you hold your hand out to him as he follows you over the threshold. He takes it without question and with a grin almost as big as yours.

He talks to the woman at the counter and someone shows you to a table for two. Steve looks even prettier in this lighting. You try not to swoon when he takes off his jacket and hangs it over the back of his chair. His arms are gorgeously thick, sunkissed and covered in freckles.

Dinner goes smoothly. Apart from you catching yourself staring at Steve more times than you can count, and Steve spilling wine all over the tablecloth, that is. It goes as smoothly as it can, with you so nervous and Steve so clumsy-handed.

He makes jokes and dotes you with compliments and asks you questions like he’s really interested in you, and you’ve never felt more liked. It’s surprising and dizzying and lovely all at once.

Steve puts his arm around your waist on the way out, a burning weight on your lower back. It’s nice, how intimate it feels. How he pulls you closer into his side so you both fit through the door at the same time. If that wasn’t enough, he even gives you his jacket while he walks you around the block. It’s warm and smells like him, and you half hope you’ll carry his scent around even after tonight is over.

When you reach your car neither of you move to leave. He stands with his back to your car, facing you. You stand directly in front of him, in his big warm jacket and your dress, feeling lightheaded with how much you like him.

“I, um. I had a good time tonight,” he says, and reaches a hand up to scrub at the back of his neck. He’s smiling, all dimples and pink cheeks. For the first time tonight, you think maybe he’s just as nervous as you.

You try not to sound too happy when you speak, but it’s hard when you’re grin is so big. “Me too.”

Steve beams. His dark eyes are flecked with the fluorescent store lights behind you, neon colours glowing within his normal dark brown. He’s so pretty it hurts to look at him. Like an art piece in a museum marked ‘do not touch’.

You ignore the signs, step forwards into his space and touch your hand to his hip. It’s the lightest touch, but Steve makes a noise anyway, a little gasp that has you worried you’ve overstepped.

“Sorry,” you say, stepping away quickly, moving to shove your hands in your pockets. “I—”

“No, no.” Steve is quick to shut down your apologies, grabbing your wrist with lean fingers and pulling you back into his space. “C’mere, I’m sorry.”

He guides your hand back to his hip, pushes his hand over yours so it sits flat over the waistband of his jeans.

“You can touch me, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

You flush at the innuendo but you know that’s not what he means. You spread you fingers and push one of them through his belt loop. You watch his abdomen rise and fall with his breathing. Neither of you says anything. Then, slowly, slowly, you lift your eyes to his, chin tilted up so you can see his face.

He looks about as frazzled as you feel. Lips parted, eyelids low, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. You want to push it away, bury your hand in his hair.

He beats you to it.

His fingers find your hairline and follow it, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Do you maybe want to … do this again sometime?” he asks.

His hand lingers in the space between your shoulder and your neck, warm and soft and setting your skin aflame. You nod. How could you not?

“I’d like that,” you say. I like you, you almost add.

You think he already knows that.

[no-droids]

Out of a Trillion

gif credit: @bestintheparsec​

Part Fifteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.6K

Warnings: uhhhh so there is a bit of SMUT in this one, not too much and I imagine if you’ve made it this far then that won’t be too big of a deal LMFAOOO uh some ANGST and my attempt at HURT/COMFORT and also violence/blood/injury description, so look out for that!

A/N: I started writing this before the season finale aired and I know we all want a bit of goodness and softness after it, but hopefully this will be okay!  I’ll start working on the next part tonight

***

Everything changes and yet somehow nothing does.  

From that point on, it’s like… like you’re both just suspended in this perpetual state of wondering, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  You know he said it’s up to you, but what the fuck?  Look whenever you want?  That’s way too much fucking pressure, he’s out of his mind.  You’re not equipped to handle that, who does he think you are?  Someone that can just… decide things?

And it’s not like you’re afraid of the commitment, or that you don’t want to look.  You do, but every single time a moment comes, it just never… feels right.  You don’t know what you’re waiting for, what feeling or meaning you’re expecting to magically present itself to you, but you can’t shake the idea that there should be more to it than just randomly deciding to open your eyes at some point, shouldn’t there?  Din said there was no ceremony, nothing fancy, and he gave you permission to look because he said he’s not allowed to ask outright, whatever that means.  It’s a standing offer because you guess he isn’t allowed to prompt it for some reason, but unfortunately, that leaves you in just about the shittiest position possible.  Now everything falls to you—initiation, execution, and consequence—and Maker knows you’ve never been that great making decisions under pressure.

But you do want to look.  Sort of.

Sort of.  Because… well, this probably won’t make that much sense, but you’re afraid.  Mostly for him.  What if he’s making a mistake?  It sounds stupid, but you’re afraid of what this means for him, the sheer perpetuity of this decision he’s now expecting you to make for the both of you.  This isn’t your creed, not yet, and you feel like there’s still so much to learn.  Not only about the Mandalorians and his culture, but about him.  To know is to love, and so you’ve taken to asking any nonsensical question you can think of whenever he’s around.  Though you weren’t expecting it at first, you’ve learned that he’ll always give you some sort of an answer.  Some of the highlights include:

“How old are you?”  (“I don’t know.  Probably mid-forties, but there’s no way to tell anymore.”)

“You don’t know your birthday?”  (No, I… think it was in the winter.”)

“What’s your last name?”  (“Djarin.”)

“Do you have any freckles?  Or moles, or birthmarks?”  (“No, none that I’ve ever noticed.”)

“Do you cut your own hair?”  (“Yes, but it’s been awhile.”)

“Do you have dimples?”  (“I don’t smile in mirrors.”)

“Are your earlobes attached or detached?”  (“What kind of question is that?”)

And so forth.

He also gives you so many fucking opportunities to look.  One right after the other.  You used to think Din was incredibly trusting with how often and voluntarily he decided to take his helmet off around you—he didn’t wait a single day once he first felt your hands on his skin to take it off in your presence.  You remember being blown away by his unexpected willingness to part with it after hearing so many tales of the Mandalorians from Kuill; stunned by the ever-present ability to just open your eyes at any moment and that’s all it would ever take.  One simple movement—life-altering, and so easy.

Now you find it nearly impossible, muscle memory just won’t allow it to happen naturally.  And yet somehow, avoiding it is like stepping around land mines.  He doesn’t trick you—he doesn’t set it up, he doesn’t surprise you or anything, but he’s… less careful.  When the kid is awake, Din acts normal—he walks around fully armored, he goes on hunts and returns a few days later with a quarry, teaches you more self-defense techniques in the cleared out hull while the kid watches and giggles at your pain from the safety of his floating crib.  But when the baby goes to sleep, he’s taken to lounging with the helmet off.  He only used to remove it to eat, sleep, or… do other things with you, but he never used to take it off just… because.  Now he does.  Now he’s less careful about darkness, less strict about how much light he allows to touch him.

Now he shares every single meal he can with you, sitting just off to the side so you’ll never see him on accident but providing the free exercise thereof should you ever decide to seek it out purposefully.  Now he interrupts you in the middle of your complaining about the bruises on your knuckles just to lift the rim of his helmet the slightest bit, lean down and give you a quick kiss, and then lower it back into position again before you can even catch a glimpse of the lips you only recognize by touch.  Now he keeps the light on when he goes to take a shower, he leaves the door cracked.

It’s starting to give you heart palpitations, you swear.  At one point, he lets you to see the entire back of his head and it nearly launches you into a fucking crisis.

It’s the middle of the night and he just got up from bed to use the restroom.  He’s quiet enough not to wake you on the way over, but then across the hull and with his back to you, Din flicks the light on in the small bathroom without closing the door.  Immediately rousing you after being so accustomed to the pitch blackness, you lift your head from the warmth of your shared pillow just enough to blearily make out the sight of him leaning a hand up against the wall and dropping his head down, and it takes you a second to realize that it’s actually him.

Soft, dark brown locks ending at his collar but somehow looking longer than you ever imagined when you’ve run your fingers through them.  Cascading in shaggy, natural curls—tall, broad shouldered and trim waisted, naked as the day he was born.  Your heart starts to squeeze in your chest and it just never stops, and for the second time in your life, you feel like he woke you up in the middle of the night just to show you one of the most beautiful things the universe ever decided to hide.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have ever seen a sight that would compare?  He’s just a man, you don’t think a single person would bat an eye.  But to you, he’s… his own monument.  Constructed in honor of everything dazzling that happens to lie just underneath something else.  A breathtaking view, even from this angle, that could only ever mean something to you.

Would you ever be able to know him?  No, that’s not phrased right.  What you mean is that… over the course of all your time together, you remember thinking that if he ever took his helmet off, he could walk right by you and you’d never be able to tell the difference.  He could be anybody.  There are trillions of people in this galaxy and how many of them have the same features?  Brown hair, brown eyes, sunkissed skin that only one person is allowed to kiss, not even the sun.  Would you ever be able to know him?

Staring at his back in the blissful silence of hyperspace and feeling like the Maker himself is letting you in on one of his proudest secrets, some wild thought suddenly occurs to you that… you think you would.  Somehow.

You can’t explain it and you’d never be able to prove it, but you feel like if you lined up every single person in this galaxy shoulder to shoulder, all however many trillions of them there are, then you could walk the entire length of it and somehow come to a stop right where he’s standing.  Every single time.  You feel like you could do it in the pitch black.  You could do it with your eyes closed.

And, he must just be so gorgeous.  Maybe not in a traditional sense (or maybe in one, you’d have no way of knowing), but mostly in just… the rawest sense imaginable.  Not like how symmetry and straight lines are gorgeous, but how a mountain is gorgeous.  Rocky, dangerous, steep, the product of constant conflict between two immovable sides.  He’s got scars littering his body, one of which you remember giving him yourself with a cauterizer on his lower back.  He holds himself like his shoulders could tell their own story if anyone ever asked them; built to endure, weighed down and made strong with a collection of burdens he chooses to strap to them, steel or otherwise.

You don’t want to close your eyes once Din slowly turns around to look at you, but it happens anyways and you’ve never been so disappointed in your own cowardice.

But then, in a way, it could just be your own self-preservation instincts taking over.  No matter how stunning and life changing the spectacle would be, why would anyone ever stare directly at a supernova?  For so long, you’ve told yourself that his face is something you shouldn’t ever see on principle, but in a way, you suppose it’s fair he put this decision on you because he always has, even from the very beginning.  He trusted you to keep your eyes closed for months on end and you never had a problem with it, so why is it so hard to open them now that he’s given you permission?

A couple weeks of that, and you start to worry that you’re unintentionally rejecting him.

It’s the last fucking thing you want, but how can you avoid it?  Din is… different, he notices.  He’s made a living off of finding things that inherently don’t want to be found—he knows all too well what secrecy looks and sounds like, he’s quick and observant and you don’t stand a single fucking chance against him in all the years of his practice.

But strangely, for as often as you feel like you can figure out what he’s thinking without ever seeing his face—realizing what his intentions are ahead of time and not feeling slighted when he phrases things a certain way or just chooses not to speak at all—you never truly realized how much that extended back to you.

He knows you, too.  He told you so.

For some reason, you didn’t even consider the possibility of it working just as well the other way around.  That you could choose to stay silent, and he’d know why.  You feel like the mystery of him just eclipses you in every single way that you don’t consider even yourself much of anything, much less something else to be contemplated and understood.  While you wouldn’t necessarily qualify the conflict as not being ready to commit, he seems more than willing to respect it regardless and nothing about the way he treats you or interacts with you changes.  Normally you’d say it’s like he forgot the whole thing ever happened, but it’s almost the exact opposite.  Like he was just naturally expecting it from you.

Are you truly so predictable, you wonder?  He said you’d say no.  Was he right?  You’re not saying no, you just… can’t remember the word for yes right now.  It’s right there on the tip of your tongue and the harder you work for it, the more frustrated you become with your own inability to find it.

But, instead of waiting, you think Din just decides to continue the conversation with the promise to come back to you when you finally figure it out.

Sometimes, especially when he’s gone, you find yourself thinking about what moment you’d choose, if you could.  Since you can never seem to find the right one naturally, how would it all go if you could construct everything yourself?  Where would it be?  Naboo?  No, that’s too cheesy.  One thing you and Din both have in common is your practicality, your respective propensities for wanting to tackle one thing at a time and not needing frills attached to something in order to find a deep connection to it, a personal value to it.  You weren’t even bothered when he didn’t claim you as a girlfriend to Peli, that’s how reasonable you used to be about labels.  Now you’re your own antithesis, trying to conjure meaning where there isn’t any just so you don’t feel like you’re the one who’s ripping it away.  You want this decision to feel as permanent as it is.  You want it to be a happy thing, something that happens when you’re both so in love that you can’t bear to have metal separating you any longer.

You think… you’ll just know it when the time comes.

***

“I have to leave,” comes Din’s hushed voice through the darkness, and even though it’s the first thing either of you have said in hours, it sounds frustrated.  Like it’s been bothering him for awhile and he’s just now finally telling you.  “I… fuck, I can’t stay here, I should’ve left a long time ago.”

You whine softly into the pitch black, turning your head into the pillow and curling your fingers into his hair.  “But it’s still so early…”

“It’s mid-afternoon,” he groans back, dropping his forehead down against your skin and breathing hot air along it.  “We’ve been parked here for hours, I don’t know how you can sleep so long.”

“I’m not sleeping,” you pout, before gently dragging your nails down his scalp and feeling his whole body shudder with it.  “Earlier I was.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you one last long, slow kiss.  You sigh when his tongue comes out and glides soft and hot against your lips, tightening your grip on his hair.

But soon he pulls away, lifting the covers from over his head and pushing up from between your spread legs.  “This one shouldn’t take long,” he gruffs, planting both palms next to your head and kissing you once more in the darkness, dipping his tongue into your mouth this time.  You moan softly and taste yourself on him, moving to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, but he breaks the kiss and leans back before you can, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in it.  “I’ll be back around dawn.”

You’ve known it was coming for hours now, so you’re able to play it off way better this time around.  “Okay,” you breathe softly, dragging your palms up his bare chest as he lifts himself tall over your body.  The slight disappointment underneath is so masterfully hidden, you’re almost positive you’re going to get away with it.  “Be safe.  Please.”

But then… well.  Bounty hunter.

Din pauses for a moment like that in between your open legs, letting you slowly slide your hands down his ribs and over the lines of his stomach.  You wait for him to move, find his clothes so you can get around and make some food, wake the kid up from his nap in an hour or so.  Can’t stay in bed all day, no matter how much you wish you could.

Only, he still hasn’t moved and you start to become concerned.  “Din?”

But then he suddenly groans like he just can’t help it, grabbing both of your spread legs and easily lifting them up.  You make a sound of confusion as he maneuvers them until they’re pressed together and draped over one of his shoulders, and then his hips drop and push forward to slide himself thick and perfect into your blazing hot cunt.

Still drenched and swollen from cumming in his mouth so many times earlier, you gasp and he just groans louder, a ragged thing scraping out of his throat while you struggle through blind and unexpected euphoria to reach him.  But you can’t—Din hugs your legs tight to his chest and settles in just like this, turning his head to drag soft lips and a hot tongue over your ankle before he starts fucking you.  Right up against your g-spot, with your whole lower body in the way and preventing you from slowing him down.

You just have to clap both hands over your mouth just to keep quiet since you can’t reach him.  You feel his teeth sink into the meat of your calf, hips pistoning far beyond your reach and it feels so fucking good that you almost don’t hear his gritted words against your skin.

“I have to go,” he groans, repeating it over and over until his voice begins to pull tight and it just sounds like a plea.  “I have to go, I have to go, I h—have to… h-have to go, I have to, I have to, I have…”

*** 

When Din finally steps foot out of the ship, fumbling with his rifle and cursing quietly through the modulator, it’s the middle of the night some twelve hours later.

***

Steady…

Steady………

Fire.

—and… you blink as bark splinters.

Did you…?  You look down at the blaster in your hand and then back to the ginormous charred tree trunk for a few seconds, wondering if you’re just seeing shit.

No, it’s real.  You actually fucking did it.  You…

… hit the target.

All of a sudden, your ecstatic giggle echoes loudly throughout the foresty autumn wonderland around you, reds and oranges and yellows crunching under your feet while you start to dance.

“Hey!  See that, bug!?”  You call out, shoving the blaster into your waistband and shimmying up to your enthralled audience of one, who just so happens to be smiling as wide as you are as he’s scooped up into your arms.  “I hit the target, I hit the target,” you sing, beginning to sway the baby back and forth as he squeals, laughing while you bounce him.  “No demon powers necessary, little man!  I figured it out, I just have to use one hand instead of two.  You can retire now, you’re the right age for—”

A twig snaps in the distance somewhere to your left, and you quickly spin around while reaching for the blaster behind your back.

Except all you see is a blue Twi’lek standing out amongst all the fall foliage, his hands cuffed behind his back and stumbling a few steps at a time while a considerably taller suit of beskar shoves him forward.  You relax and immediately turn to look down at the ground, trying to bite your lip so you don’t smile too hard while they both approach.  You did it—finally, you did it, you’re on top of the fucking universe right now.

You wait for them to pass by and move up the open metal ramp to the carbonite chamber, but then Din apparently decides to pause when he’s directly behind you, yanking the quarry to a sudden halt.  

You know you should probably turn around to address them, but you can’t hide the happiness from your expression, it’s way too obvious.  Though, after a moment, you decide to shyly turn to face the two men while continuing to bounce the baby in your arms, hoping that his and your matching expressions of excitement aren’t too terribly inappropriate right now.

Din looks from you to the splintered bark on the tree, and then back to you again, before slowly tilting the helmet up in a way that feels… proud of you.

“Congratulations,” he finally says, and you can hear the genuine smile hidden in the modulated drawl.

“Thank you,” you beam up at him, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.  “Was pretty awesome.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” he tells you, and you don’t know why, but the tone of his voice makes you go so warm.  It’s not like he’s openly flirting with you, but coupled with your giddiness and sounding like that in front of a bounty he caught in record time, it just makes your heart fucking throb for him.

“It’s alright,” you murmur, shuffling your feet through the crunchy leaves below and trying to play it as cool as possible.  You have company.  “I’ll be able to do it again.”

“Let’s see it, then.”  He tips the helmet over at the tree, and you look between him and the unfamiliar quarry for a second, not used to Din just… ignoring their existence entirely for you.  It’s not like the Twi’lek has said anything or inserted himself into the situation at all, but still.  Din has one hand latched onto the cuffs behind his back to prevent him from booking it, but other than that, it’s like he’s pretending he’s not even there.

“Uh…”  You immediately feel yourself get nervous.  “I can… try.”

He nods one single time in silent encouragement, and you slowly turn to face the tree once more.  The kid stays cradled in your arm while you reach for the blaster in your waistband, removing it and using your longest finger to flick the safety off with a practiced fluidity.  Then, extending it out in front of you and taking advantage of your newfound strategy of only firing with one hand, you line up the sight and pull the trigger.

You wish you could say it hits.  It would be so fucking cool and impressive if you hit the target like that, wouldn’t it?  But it doesn’t hit.  It misses, like usual.  Miserably.  And then an amused snort comes from behind you.

“Right stormtrooper, you are—” you hear an unfamiliar accent begin to snark, but the rest of it turns into a garbled howl the second Din jerks his elbow back to slam it in his face.

You whip around just in time to see a cascade of blood pouring down blue lips and sharp teeth—holy fuck.  You gasp and take a step backwards with the kid, not horrified by the sudden display of violence (not after Din spent an hour teaching you how to do that, too) but not quite expecting it at that moment, either.  But then, well… that’s the second time he broke a quarry’s nose for addressing you with disrespect.  There was that other one he choked, you’re pretty sure—though you can’t remember exactly what initiated that.

Din yanks the bounty up the ramp without another word, leaving both you and the kid there to process while he shoves him through the hull and towards the carbonite chamber none too kindly.  However, by the time he seals the quarry to his fate and eventually makes his way back to you, you just… 

Fuck, you feel so stupid.

You shouldn’t even bother, what’s the point?  All that practice and nothing to show for it.  If you can’t even hit a stationary target with the pressure of others watching, what makes you think you’ll have any hope at all in a situation where you actually need to shoot?  Are they gonna stand still for you?  Are they gonna be as wide as a fucking treetrunk?  You’re horribly embarrassed, so downtrodden in the face of a cruel taunt that you don’t even want to look at Din when he steps in front of you.

“Hey, just try it again,” he says without delay, but the damage has already been done.  It’s not his fault, you’re just… not the kind of person who is meant to shoot a blaster, maybe.  

“Ah… it’s alright,” you look out and smile sadly at the line of trees surrounding you, wondering how it’s possible that you only managed to hit one of them this whole time.  You don’t see it, but Din quickly touches the tips of his fingers to the side of his helmet twice before you look back at him.  “I hit it earlier.  I did, I promise.  You can see the mark if you look.”

His glove reaches out to brush your hair back, so unbelievably gentle after using the same arm to shatter bone just a few minutes ago.  “I know you did.  It was a perfect shot, you hit dead center.  I see it.”

“I did it with one hand, that’s why I tried the thing,” you mumble stupidly, looking down at your feet.  Dumb.  Dumb.

A strand of your hair is tucked behind your ear.  “Wish I was here.”

You glance over at him, feeling your expression suddenly go soft with a wave of affection.  It stops all the harsh criticisms, halting your negativity in its tracks and replacing it with just… soft, abstract things.  Mostly just warm, nonsensical fluff, but one clear and resounding thought breaking through.  You wish he was here, too.

“Maybe I’ll get good at it eventually,” you sigh, slowly handing him the blaster with the barrel pointed down and away from both of you.  Din carefully takes it from you, tucking it away somewhere on his utility belt while you gaze out at the designated target and victorious char mark decorating it.  “Or hopefully just okay at it at some point.  I guess I just need to practice more, right?”

“That’s right,” he tells you warmly, catching your free wrist.  “Try using this one when you do.”  And then a lightweight piece of metal is gently pushed into your empty hand.

Your expression furrows while you quickly look down at it, and—

You go utterly still at the gift, not even knowing what to think.

The first thing that you notice is the craftsmanship.  Brilliant, structurally flawless, the perfect size to fit your hand.  You don’t recognize the specific kind of metal that was used—definitely not beskar—but you think it might be constructed from the same material as Din’s old armor.  Dull silver, but with reflective chrome filigree accents around the handle, trigger, and safety.  It’s uniquely constructed and unlike any weapon you’ve ever seen before—no hard lines or edges, just a soft fluidity to the design that’s so aesthetically pleasing, it doesn’t really even resemble a blaster at all.

You can feel the visor silently studying your reaction while you continue marveling, noticing something new every time you look.  The safety is towards the back of the chamber, just like he said it’d be.  The sight is electronic, and you examine the way it’s built directly into the barrel.

Are those extra magnets on the inside?  Is this able to micro-adjust the plasma release for the best shot?  Holy stars, it must have cost a fortune.

“Din, this is…” you can’t decide where you want to look—the gorgeous crafting, the custom design, or him.  Standing so close to you, not saying a word while you search for the right ones.  “It’s so beautiful, I…”

“Was made for you,” he murmurs.  “Had to be.”

You look back down at the blaster to stop your eyes from tearing up.  He didn’t have to do this.  This is so… sweet, such a lovely thing to do.  Don’t cry, don’t cry—

“What is this?” You ask breathlessly instead, rotating the gun until he can see the symbol branded on the handle.  You recognize that it’s his signet, but you never bothered to ask him what it’s called, you never saw it as your place.  It’s an animal of some sort, one with a giant spike attached to its skull, and you’re glad you’ve never come face to face with one.

“It’s a mudhorn,” he answers quietly.  “They’re… dangerous animals.  Fiercely protective, preferring solitude.  The kid saved me from one a few days after I met him.  It’s… the mark of my clan.”

How fitting, you think, and an honor.  Perfect for him, and a bone-deep reminder of your two favorite people in the galaxy on your hip wherever you go.

“Thank you,” you tell him, hoping the sincerity in your voice sounds anywhere close to how you feel.  You haven’t even had it in your hand for longer than a minute and it’s already your prized position, the most important thing you’ve ever called yours.

Din nods and takes a small step back.  “Now hit the target.”

Feeling invigorated and renewed in every single way, you keep the kid tucked firmly in one arm while raising your blaster with the other.  The safety clicks off and your back straightens, chin lifting until something about the angle feels… right.  The trigger moves easily under your fingertip, and there’s almost no kickback considering how light the weapon is.  What you’re not expecting is the pure white beam of plasma shooting out of the barrel—unlike any blaster you’ve ever seen before—but then the immediate sight of it hitting the tree dead center sends a roar of triumph through your ears.  Fuck yes.

“Look at that!”  Din calls out over the kid’s happy squeal, and there’s nothing you can do to stop your loud whoop of victory.  Even though you know it only hit with the addition of those extra magnets to correct your terrible aim, that still feels so good—you feel so fucking powerful and dangerous.  You glance over to Din with a wide smile, but then his arm extends out towards the trunk directly next to the one with charred bark.  “Hit that one.”

You automatically swing the blaster in that direction and shoot.  A few pieces of wood split on impact and send sharp bits flying as soon as the bright white beam collides with it.

“That one,” Din tells you, and then bark splinters a half second later.  “That one.”  Bark splinters.  “That one, that one, that one—” hit, hit, hit, white plasma flying through the air and bark splintering in rapid succession.

He stops and spins around, pointing to a tree at the very edge of the clearing.  “That one?”

It’s furthest away but the trunk’s diameter is enormous.  As you lift the blaster, you know you’re likely to get it easily with this sophisticated weapon, even across the considerable distance.  So instead, feeling like nothing at all can touch you right now and wanting to see how smart the aim mechanism is, you raise up a few degrees higher before pulling the trigger.  Pale plasma launches from the barrel, and then one of the tree’s most prominent branches comes creaking and crashing to the ground right where you split it.

You’re beaming by the time Din turns back to you, the most excited you’ve ever been with your own progress.  He holds there for a moment while you lower your blaster and wait for him to speak, both of you looking at each other and not moving, until suddenly you hear his voice coming back to you.

Hit the target and I’ll marry you.

One of Din’s hands slowly comes up to the edge of his helmet, but before you can even process the implication behind the gesture, you’re immediately looking down at the crunchy leaves under your feet and clearing your throat.

There’s a beat of silence where you stare down at the dead foliage and wonder why the fuck you just did that.  Right in front of him, right to his face, too startled at how quickly you were being confronted with the possibility that you responded in an equally startled way.  It was instinctual, automatic and entirely out of your control, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to take it back.

But… you can’t take it back.  That’s the way things are, and after a few moments, you hear his boots begin to cross the distance to you.

“Come on,” Din murmurs gently through the modulator, carefully taking the blaster from your hand and clicking the safety back on again.  “We have to get going.  The fifth quarry is far.  Three day trip through hyperspace.”

He doesn’t sound upset or disappointed by your unintentional rejection, thank the Maker.  You want to explain yourself somehow, but it appears it isn’t necessary in the slightest.  His arm wraps around your lower back and he leads both you and the baby back up the open ramp of the Crest, squeezing you close enough to his side that you have to learn how to walk in a different way to stop yourself from tripping over his boots.

The helmet turns and presses to the top of your head while you focus on moving straight.  “Proud of you,” Din murmurs quietly, and your chest fills with enough air that you’d be worried about floating away if he wasn’t latched onto you so tightly.

He eventually releases you and walks over to the armory, pressing a button to unlock the doors while you hold the kid and watch him start to remove the multitude of weapons strapped to his body.

Maybe… maybe this isn’t the right time, but something brave surges up inside you.  After receiving the most precious gift imaginable from him, hitting all those targets and hearing him say that he’s proud of you, you’re buzzing with just enough energy that for better or worse, it makes you open your mouth and ask.

“Could I… come with you this time?”

Din nearly jerks upright and looks over at you immediately, but he takes a while in responding.  You hope he sees it in your eyes.  You hope he sees just how much you don’t want to be stuck here again when this is possibly the one time you’d be able to tag along.  It’s a bullshit quarry, one he could do in his sleep, and you’ve been getting increasingly restless while stuck on this ship.

When Din eventually does respond… well, judging from his shift in tone, you’re assuming he was just shocked at the question and didn’t take any of that time to actually consider his answer.

“No.”  Short.  Unfeeling, and not sorry about it in the slightest, before turning back to return the blasters you were using previously to the armory as if you said nothing at all.

Okay…  Um.  Not great, not what you wanted to hear, but maybe if you explain yourself better, he’ll listen.

“I just… I’m the only reason you have to get this quarry in the first place.”  Your voice is quiet, trying to let go of some of the concerns you’ve kept to yourself over the past two weeks.  Your fingers fiddle idly with the kid’s little woolen sack as he hangs out in your arms, wanting to plead your case but feeling slightly nervous now.  “You were out having a crazy expensive blaster made for me while I shook hands with Karga and agreed that you’d take more work for less pay.  I hate that I did that.”

“You had no choice,” Din mutters, turning around and striding past you while pressing a button on his vambrace to close the Crest’s ramp.  “My fault for being late.”  And… for as warm and comforting as his voice sounded earlier, it now just sounds… dismissive.  Aloof.  Half-listening, not really wanting to talk but forcing himself to.

“Well this time, I thought maybe… I might be able to help?  Maybe?”  Maker, you feel yourself going quieter the more he walks around the hull and ignores you.  “Karga said it was just a missing person, not even a criminal…”

“Karga says a lot of things,” he grunts with his back to you, voice completely monotone through the modulator.

Come on, speak up.  You’ve lacked a backbone for so long, you’ll never get what you want unless you say it out loud and let it be known.  You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders, trying to put a little bit of spine into it.  “I can be useful.  I can fight now, I’ve been working on my—” 

“You think I’m telling you no because I don’t think you’re capable?”  He suddenly whips around, voice ringing sharp and challenging throughout the hull while you freeze.  You don’t move but everything about you suddenly feels like it shrinks.

“I-I didn’t—” But he cuts you off, taking a step forward.

“I know you can fight, a Mandalorian taught you how.  I know you’re useful, I know it’s just a missing person, and I know you hate it when I leave.”  He pins you with his eyes through the visor, his tone harder than you think you’ve ever heard it before.  “No.  Your job is to stay here, on this ship, with my son, where it is safe, and my job is to go get the quarry.  Quit asking.  I’m not telling you again.”

The baby makes a tiny little distressed sound in your arms and you blink a few times up at the cold metal, feeling all the good feelings from before just… drain out of you.

Okay, that’s fine.  Uh.  You… the cockpit is behind you, you’ll go up there and fly then.  No reason, just… he should get going.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod and tell the wall over his shoulder brace in immediate agreement, before abruptly spinning around and grabbing the ladder.  Din doesn’t move a single fucking muscle while you try to find your way up to the cockpit with the baby held to your chest and a dead stone sitting heavy inside of it, hoping your face doesn’t show the vulnerability you feel wanting to take over as you retreat.  Get to the cockpit first, get to the cockpit first, get to the—

“Sweet girl, I…” you barely hear murmured through the helmet from the floor, soft enough to sound slightly shocked, but you scramble into the cockpit and shut the door behind you before he can say anything else.

***

Silence didn't used to feel like this.

At first it was eerie, unnatural and stifling when you spent years in a wide open desert, wind swirling and dust pelting.  It suffocated you the first few times you jumped into hyperspace, a phenomena you read all about and considered mathematically fascinating before ever experiencing for yourself.  It was… foreign and strange, but you began to value it more and more as time passed.

Then, you started to get to know him and silence just became comforting.  Something you could bask in, knowing it was a comfort to him.  A choice he made because it just fit him best.  You felt safe in it, you felt like you didn’t have to be anything else but you.  You never had to break it just to avoid awkwardness, you became… closer to it, until you learned to fall in love with it.

But only when he was with you and it was his silence.  Not… everything else’s.  Now it’s haunting again.  Now the sheer lack of sound through hyperspace is a stranger to you, and the distortion of light surrounding the cockpit feels less about the sheer magnificence of manipulating space time and more about the fundamental disconnect it causes.  Gorgeous, but at its core, a severance.  Ripping the fabric of the universe apart, tearing a wound in it.

It’s been a few hours and nothing exceptional has happened since your conversation in the hull.  

You’ll admit that you’re a sensitive person, and because of that, you’ve always had a problem knowing if you were right or wrong when someone comes at you with a hard enough will.  You second-guess yourself, it’s one of your worst traits, and you feel like trying to squash that tendency without knowing the limit is partially to blame for why you’re holed up in this cockpit with the kid.  You’re quiet but in a different way from Din.  When he doesn’t speak, it’s because most of the time, he’s sure of himself and doesn’t need to.  When you don’t speak, it’s because most of the time, you’re insecure and don’t want to.

After being left alone with your thoughts for this long, you’re starting to realize that… he was right.  What were you thinking, wanting to tag along?  Wanting to hang out while he risks his life for this occupation, you probably sounded so fucking ignorant.  Maybe… maybe he didn’t have to say it like that, but his point is still very valid and you’re not sure if you’re really justified in hiding like this anymore.

The way he said… your job, though.  That still stings a bit.  This hasn’t felt like an actual job in a very long time.  Was that just an expression, or did he mean it literally?  You’re stuck on it, you’ve just been going over this for hours in your head, trying to figure out if you should be the one to apologize or not—or if this is just you overreacting from the start and no apologies will be necessary at all.

“Sorry you got stuck with me, kid,” you mutter sadly to the baby, watching him fiddle with his favorite metal ball in your lap.  He makes a little gurgle, purring in that weirdly adorable little way of his and it somehow feels like a reassurance directed to you that he’s just fine the way he is.

Maker, you haven’t heard anything from the hull in a fucking eternity; it’s like Din turned into a ghost, hasn’t even made a single footstep that you could hear since you last left him standing there.  You remember performing a quick flight check as soon as you got up here, lifting off as fast as you could and hoping the thrusters would rumble loud enough to cover your series of pitifully shallow sniffles at being yelled at unexpectedly by a very large and intimidating man, not really crying but not really able to breathe normal either.  The little monster was able to wiggle himself around in your lap as you were trying to punch in the correct coordinates for the fifth quarry with rapidly blinking, watery eyes, and then proceeded to give your belly the smallest hug you think you’ve ever been given and pretty much break your heart with it.

Lovely little boy, so sweet when he wants to be.  He’s sat with you this whole time, he even tried giving you his metal ball to play with but ultimately decided to keep it to himself when he realized you aren’t nearly as fascinated by it as he is.  You know it’s probably getting late for him, and you’ve been weighing the idea of handing him over to his father so he can at least get a good night’s sleep somewhere that isn’t your arms.  There’s no blankets in here, just your lap.

“I think I gotta go take you to your dad soon, tiny.  He’s probably missing you,” you tell him, trying to keep quiet enough that you won’t disturb Din in the hull.  There’s a good chance he’s already asleep.  “I think… he might still be mad at me.  Maybe you can give him the big eyes, soften him up a little?”

Right on cue, his enormous eyes start to droop closed, and you let out a tired sigh of exasperation.  That’s not gonna work, come on.  They gotta be open, booger.

You watch him slowly drift to sleep, his ears relaxing until they too start to droop, but when you try to take the ball from him and set it down on the console, his eyes immediately pop back open and the toy slips from your fingertips.  It levitates right back into his tiny hands as you watch, and then he closes his eyes once more while tightly cuddling the thing he loves most to his body.

Unbelievable.

He’s a child, and yet he’s…

“How are you so strong?”  You ask him, unable to even fathom.  “You’re the smallest, most helpless little thing I’ve ever seen and you’ve got such… strength.  You defy the universe for a piece of metal.”

He doesn’t hear you, you think he’s asleep again.  It’s just as well, you figure.  He needs to go sleep in his crib, it’s time.  You scoop him up and make sure the little ball stays tucked snugly in his arms, before finally standing up and stumbling over to the door on numb legs.

Only, when it slides open, you quickly stop short.

Because there, sitting on the floor and resting his helmet against the corner of this small little platform leading to the ladder, is the Mandalorian.

So much closer than you expected him to be.  So big, crammed into such a tiny place.  You didn’t hear his footsteps climbing the ladder, and you would’ve noticed it during the hours you’ve spent in the suffocatingly muted quiet of hyperspace.  He can be silent but not when absolutely nothing else exists and he’s got a thousand fucking pounds of steel weighing him down at any moment in time.  You took off almost immediately once you barricaded yourself inside the cockpit, so has he… did he follow you up in those last few seconds, right after you shut the door?  The ones when you were sniffling like a child and trying desperately to turn the thrusters on before you let the tears come?

His head lifts and his back straightens as you’re looking down at him with his sleeping son cradled in your arms, your eyes slightly redder than they should be.  You’re a mess and… he’s been here this whole time?

“Could you hear me in there?”  You whisper in sudden mortification, but Din just keeps gazing up at you through the impenetrable metal visor.  A complete mystery again.  Unreadable—he could be anyone.

When he doesn’t answer you, your heart twists with the possibility that he’s still upset with you, and you quickly turn to the ladder to figure out the best way to get down without jostling the baby.

“I’m sorry.”  His voice stops you dead in your tracks.  It’s so soft, nearly flipping in and out of the modulator from the lack of volume, the most cautious sounding thing you’ve ever heard coming through the filter.  “I… hurt your feelings.  I’m sorry.”

And…  Maker, if anybody else had said it.  If literally anybody else had said it, you know it would’ve sounded like the most sarcastic, dickish remark in such a delicate moment.  But, you also remember him telling you once that you were tenderhearted.  That the galaxy would never be as kind to you as you are to it.  This… comes out sounding like he’s trying to change that.

It comes out sounding like he’s trying to use his voice to hold you because he doesn’t think you want to be touched right now.  Like… like he’s doing everything he can to be as careful as possible here because you think he might be attempting to do something he’s never done before.  Apologize for saying something he didn’t mean.

“You don’t have to,” you quickly tell him.  He’s not good with words and apologies are difficult enough to phrase for normal people, you don’t want him to fret over it if that’s what this is.  “It’s okay, I know you’re not… you don’t have to.  It was stupid of me to ask.”

“It wasn’t,” he instantly counters, his voice finally seeming to find the floor when it was just hovering before.  Not loud—still gentle, still making sure the kid doesn’t wake up and you’re not frightened away, but a bit more grounded this time.  “It wasn’t… what I wanted to hear, and I didn’t take it well.  Not stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you return amicably, looking down at your feet.  “That’s not my… job, like you said.”

Din suddenly hangs his helmet down to his chest, pressing his gloves to the part that curves over his forehead and rubbing it.  “Shit.  I didn’t mean—”

“You were right,” you acknowledge, having spent the past few hours coming to the understanding that it’s the hard truth and he just phrased it poorly.  “I’m not… built for it, I’d only get in your way.  I barely just managed to shoot stationary targets with a blaster today, and that’s only with that aim corrector built into the barrel.  I’m here to be helpful, not—”

“What are you saying?”  He suddenly lifts the beskar to study you, sounding genuinely confused.  “What aim corrector?”

That… makes you pause.

“The, uh…”  Now you’re confused.  “The one that adjusts the plasma release on the gun you gave me.”

He doesn’t move an inch or say a single thing to you in response and you awkwardly shuffle your feet for a second, everything so quiet that you can hear every little snore that goes in and out of the kid’s tiny button nose.

You blink at him after way too long of that, not knowing why he still hasn’t said anything.  “There’s an electronic sight and like a bazillion extra magnets packed into the barrel, Din, what else could—”

“Sweet girl, that’s… that’s for the Philithiorium,” Din breathes out, like he’s absolutely blown away by you right now.  “That gas is less stable than normal canisters, it takes more magnets to focus the white beam without overheating the metal.”

You stare at him, not truly processing.  He’s saying that… you made all those shots today without any help at all?  By yourself?

Your eyebrows furrow and you blink a few times, but then his slow, heavy sigh echoes throughout the metal walls with disappointment… and you don’t think it’s directed towards you.

“You’re just… always so unsure of yourself.”  He sounds genuinely distraught as his helmet tips down to look at the ground.  “I made that worse today.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you quickly shake your head, your chest already beginning to loosen slightly by just being around him, hearing his voice, seeing the metal glint under the fluorescent light overhead when he’s in such a vulnerable position on the floor.  “It’s okay, let’s just… pretend neither of us said anything at all, okay?”

“Is that what you really want?”  He asks you after a moment of quiet, and for some reason, you hear something in your mind tell you that his arms look so nice right now, don’t they?  You could fit right there, perfect and safe again.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you smile at him, feeling a bit of the ache trapped inside you continue to work itself out little by little.  You’ll be back to normal soon, it’s fine.

“No, I mean… do you really want to come with me?”  Din asks you, the words sounding cautious.  Confused, like he truly never expected the proposition from you at all.  “Or… do you just not want me to go?”

Oof, what a fucking question.

Why would he ask this?  It’s not pointed; it’s the softest, gentlest inquiry you’ve ever been posed.  Maybe in other circumstances, you’d say that him leaving doesn’t have anything to do with it, but… you’re certain that internally, it absolutely does have at least something to do with it and he was just able to know it before you did.  Which is probably why his sharp words seemed all the more cutting earlier.  It hurt because he said the truth first, verbalized a very deep insecurity you’ve been trying to hide from him and threw it right in your face when shutting you down.

Though, if it worked differently and you were the one who had to be away while he stayed here, you’d like to think you’d handle it way better than how it is now.  At least you’d have a real mission to focus on, new things to see and experiences to have.  You just feel… confined sometimes.

You take a deep breath and figure you’ll use sitting down as an excuse to think for a second.  There’s practically no room but you find it in the back of the cockpit near the doorframe anyways, doing your best to keep the kid level while you slowly lower yourself to the ground near him.  Not touching him, but close.

“I just… I lived my whole life stuck in one spot, wanting to see the galaxy,” you finally admit to him, staring at his chestplate but seeing the helmet tilt slightly in your peripheral.  “Sometimes it’s just… hard to see the galaxy and still be stuck in one spot, I guess.”

“…You want an adventure,” Din proposes quietly, and though there’s not a single hint of mockery in his voice, you suddenly feel like it’s really fucking dumb when he phrases it like that.  What are you, an eight year old?  Wanting to go on an adventure, see things you’ve never seen without any concept for real life?  Credits?  Time?  Resources?

You shrug a shoulder to make it seem like it’s no big deal.  Why is he even entertaining this right now?  “It’s stupid, I kn—”

“Like on Naboo,” he goes on, ignoring your harsh self-criticism, not allowing you the ability to even get it out once he heard the first couple words.  “Going through the forest, seeing that waterfall.  Someplace to find for yourself.  Explore.  Experience.”

You… you want it so badly that you think your eyes might tear up just hearing the words coming out of his mouth when he says them like that.  Like he… just inherently understands.  He knows.

He knows you.  He’s not good with words and yet he found the single most succinct way to put what you thought was a complex yearning without even trying.  You can’t even answer him, he hit the target dead on and you’re left with nothing to say that wouldn’t just be a miserable lie.

“Okay,” Din says after a moment, giving you a small nod.

You’re lost now.  “…Okay?”

“You’re never going on a hunt with me,” he tells you very seriously, no room for arguing.  “Ever.  And not because you can’t handle it, understand?”  He inhales, quickly adding on to his response before you’re able to analyze it the way you want to.  “But if you want an adventure, then… I can try and find a way to give you one.”

Stars.  He’s… too kind.  You somehow feel like it’s more than you deserve.  You were honestly hoping to just shadow him on a hunt, watch him work and stay well out of the way when he needs you to.  Helping if you think you’d be of any help; an extra set of eyes and hands.  You would’ve been fine even if he didn’t apologize for raising his voice at you, he doesn’t have to do this for you.

“Thank you,” you say for the third time today, feeling like each one has somehow multiplied in sincerity.

“It can’t be right now,” he quickly tells you, apologetic but earnest about it.  “I have to find the quarry, and I’m supposed to meet with Karga again in a week.”

You never did let him know about the other part of the deal you made with Karga, you admit.  Four pucks, no hassling, no hard time constraints.  That’s what you shook on, but you just never found a way to bring it up to Din.  Especially since you’ve been so preoccupied with hiding your growing disappointment from him whenever he has to go.

“If…” you pause, wondering the best way to phrase this.  Yikes, this is a toughie.  “Um.  If Karga… I don’t know, hypothetically, if Karga decided to loosen the time constraints back to the way they were before the Corellian bounty, would you… still need to meet with him again in a week?”

You don’t think he even bothers shuffling through all those words.  “Say what you mean.  Please.”

“That was part of the deal I struck with him,” you quickly explain.  “You can hunt on your own timetable again and he’ll keep giving you four pucks like before, no more or less after this one extra quarry.  It’s like a… replacement of sorts, for the one I kept you from getting the time before.  If credits aren’t an issue, you can take more than a week.  But only if you want to, you don’t have to.  It’s just there and you should know, that’s all.”

He takes his time responding, lifting his helmet just the slightest bit in… surprise?  Maybe?

“You never told me you did that,” Din finally murmurs.

“Ah.  Well.”  You look down at the sleeping kid in your arms.  “I didn’t want you to think I was trying to… keep you here.”

It genuinely is a struggle for you, and you think he’s just now realizing that.  As much as you know he gets frustrated with you for always wanting him to be here when he physically can’t be, you think it’s only now that he’s truly realizing the lengths you go to in order to stomp that part of you down whenever you feel it threatening to come up.  You allowed him to leave every single time without telling him he could stay, knowing that all that was left for you was babysitting and target practice for days on end.

“Will you come over here?”  Din finally asks, and the tone of his voice just punches you in the chest.  So soft, so distressed from having you so close yet so far from him and just… full of a quiet hope, like he’s fully expecting you to say no.

“Will we fit?”  You whisper after a moment, even quieter.

He doesn’t answer, he just reaches for you.  You do your best to scoot over to him without waking the kid, and then Din pulls you the rest of the way once he has a grip.  You go right into his arms, laying sideways across his lap and supported by his steel embrace.

Oh, it’s not comfortable but you’ve also never been more fucking comfortable.  One of his knees lifts and allows you to rest your back against it without worrying about falling over sideways and down the ladder to the hull, thank the Maker.  The beskar pauldron over his shoulder digs into your cheek, but Din immediately pushes an arm up to nudge his helmet off and make it better for both of you.  Your face automatically fits into the crook of his neck while he sets the beskar on the bend of his knee, and then he silently cradles you while you do the same to his little boy… who does the same to his favorite metal ball.

“Ni tar’tayl su,” he murmurs into your hair, the one phrase in Mando’a you do recognize, especially with how beautiful and elegant it sounds rolling off his tongue.  “Forgive me.  Ni ceta.”

You sigh your contentment and melt into him, well aware that you’d still be more comfortable in bed.  But when you’re pressed hard against his chest like this and the baby is fast asleep in your arms, you get to feel both of them breathing.  Din’s right lung is probably bigger than the kid’s whole entire body, but you like the radically different cycles they go through.  You think you count six full breaths coming from the brown sack in your palms for every one of Din’s and two of yours.  It creates the most beautiful little symphony that sometimes gets a little off track, but always finds its way back around again.

“How do you say…”  You ask, feeling his hand slowly move down the curve of your spine, mindless and hypnotic.  It catches the edge of your shirt and goes underneath, and even though it’s not his bare hand and there’s no skin to skin, it still feels so good.  Not sexual or sensual even, just… a comfort to you.  “In Mando’a, how do you say… out of a trillion?”

Din’s breaths pause for just a second, his portion of the synchronized rhythm faltering.  Soon it starts back up, and his head turns to press his lips against your hair.

“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” he admits, gently brushing a thumb across the baby’s forehead while he snoozes.  “There could be, but I don’t know it.  I’d use… out of a million million millions.  Dayn alanyc bal alanyc bal alanyci.”

Your eyes begin to drift closed, exhausted from keeping them open after shedding a few tears earlier.  Your first fight and you’re already completely in love with him again after a handful of hours of sulking and one conversation.  How is that possible?  You’re normally a very forgiving person and it wouldn’t have taken much to make you feel better, you just never expected him to… actually want it from you that badly, care enough about it to get on the floor and ask.

Din doesn’t move the entire night through.  You assumed he’d make everyone get up at some point and move to the hull, but he doesn’t.  You fall asleep against his chest, comforted by the silence once again.

***

The next morning, Din quietly climbs into the cockpit while you’re humming in the shower.  You’re too busy basking in the indoor rainfall to feel the ship pull out of hyperspace, and then jump back into it a few moments after.

***

“How long do you think you’ll be this time?”  You ask two days later, sitting on the extended flattop of Din’s old cot and swinging your legs back and forth.  The baby is currently sitting on your lap and trying to roll the metal ball down your knee so you’ll kick it in the air, you think, because he keeps dropping it at different moments and forcing you to stop moving your legs to prevent accidentally denting a wall.  Every time the ball clatters to the floor, he makes a sad sound and it immediately lifts back up into his tiny hands for another try.

Heavy boots clang against the metal floor as Din drops down from the ladder, having just landed the Crest on the surface of whatever planet you’re on.  “I’m not leaving yet.”

“Oh…”  You blink, surprised.  “Okay.”

“I wanted to do some more training with you first, if that’s okay.  You can say no if you want, but maybe not,” Din drawls, striding over to the armory and opening it.  He carefully removes your blaster from the front shelf, speaking with his back to you.  “You’re going to run.”

“Um.”  You take a moment to glance around the enclosed hull, before turning to look back at him with your eyebrows raised.  “What, like… in place?”

Din sighs and closes the armory before leaning back against the doors, rubbing the face of the helmet in exasperation.  “From me, sweet girl.”

Your legs stop swinging, and the baby grumbles and slaps three fingers against your knee.  “What?”

“We’re on Sanctuary II,” he explains, turning to grab his black bag from one of the storage shelves.  He unzips it and reaches back into one of the larger pockets on his utility belt, before grabbing a handful of credits and stuffing them inside.  “It’s a moon, the New Republic occupied it years ago and made it a safe world for refugees and orphans of the Empire.  You’ll have your blaster, some credits, a communicator, and a day head start.  You’re going to run from me.  Show me how much you’ve learned.”

Is… he for real?

Right now?  You don’t even know how to respond, you’re too surprised.  Even when Din approaches and carefully trades the kid for your blaster, setting the bag down next to you on the metal bed, you still haven’t answered him.

“If you want?”  He asks after a moment, and you quickly jerk your head into a nod and jump off the raised platform, almost knocking into him with your sudden excitement.

“Okay!  Fuck yeah,” you grin, but Din shakes his head.

“Rules,” he says seriously, and you quickly do your best to frown, trying to compose your thrilled expression to match his tone.  “One.  This is a safe world, but things can always happen.  You have a blaster now, but it’s for emergencies only.  Do not shoot me with it.  Do you understand?”  You nod, but Din reaches forward to grab your elbow.  “Out loud, please.  For me.”

“I will not shoot you with this blaster,” you vow obediently, carefully cradling the precious firearm in your hands.

“Do not shoot me,” he repeats while pointing a leather finger at you.  “Do not… shoot at me.  Near me.  Around me.  No, just—don’t shoot.  Unless I am… very far away.  Okay?”

Well, he didn’t have to phrase it like that.  You frown, but acquiesce regardless.  “I will only resort to blastering if it’s an emergency and you are not around.”

He nods a thank you for putting it into better words.  “Second rule.  Since you don’t have a ship, I won’t either.  We’re on foot.  I don’t doubt you can hotwire a piece of junk to do what you need it to do, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t.  Good?”

Entirely accurate and entirely fair.  “Good.”

“Three,” he says.  “I’ll have the kid with me, which is both good and bad news for you.  Good news is he’ll slow me down, bad news is I can’t promise he won’t also try to intervene at some point if you’re serious about putting up a decent fight.  What I can promise is that I won’t encourage it.”

“Reassuring,” you nod.  “Also not really a rule.  Please continue.”

“Four.”  He pauses for a second.  “I think I’m wanted by the New Republic.”

You nearly jerk back.  “What?”

“I can’t confirm it and I’m not proud of it,” Din quickly tells you, probably the vaguest possible explanation he could provide.  “I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.”

Is he fucking serious?  “I don’t want you to be arrested, Din, I—”

“I won’t be,” he assures you.  “They owe me one, I just don’t want to cash in yet.  Trust me.”

You… do.  Insanely, and against every logical thought flittering through your head, you do.  If you were ever going to bet money that someone would be able to navigate a safe world on foot without being caught by the numerous officers scattered across the surface, then you’d put all your credits on Din Djarin.  It… also shouldn’t really surprise you at all that the people seeking his incarceration also owe him a favor, should it?  It actually sounds right on par for him.  “Okay.”

“Fifth, and this one is important, so listen up,” he continues gruffly.  “You check in with me tonight over the e-comm, alright?  I don’t care where you are or how safe this planet is, if you don’t check in, I’ll come find you before the sun rises.  Say you understand me.”

“I understand you,” you tell him, your heart beginning to pound in your chest at the reality of this actually happening.  “I’ll check in tonight.”

“And if,” he goes on, “by some miracle, you manage to make it more than a full day, you check in with me tomorrow night, too.  Say it.”

“I will check in with you every single night for the full five days it’ll take you to find me,” you assert, the adrenaline starting to make you brash and giddy.  

Din tilts his helmet at you sternly.  It is a very, very stern tilt.  “Okay.  New plan, forget everything I just said.”

Your expression furrows.  “What’s the new plan?”

“That is the new plan,” he says, dead serious.  “Us.  Not doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” you grin cheekily up at him, poking his chestplate.  “I’m just giving you some motivation to find me quicker, that’s all.”

Din stares down at you, and… yeesh.  Tough crowd.

“Tell you what,” he finally grunts, sounding incredibly unamused with your jesting.  “If you can last that long with only a day head start, I’ll let you come with me to collect the fifth quarry.  You can even cuff the bastard yourself.”

You know it’s just because he’s rightly confident in his own deadly skill, but hearing him propose the possibility still shoots a thrill down your spine.  “Oh ho, you are gonna regret saying that, shiny,” you beam up at him, starting to hop back and forth on each foot with excitement.

“But if I’m able to find you, you can’t ask me ever again,” he finishes shortly, and you immediately go still in front of him.

“What?”

“If I’m able to find you in five days, I don’t want to hear about you coming with me on a hunt and you can’t ever ask me not to go on one,” Din tells you, his voice rough and gravelly through the modulator.  Not mean or harsh, but firm.  “From now on, it’ll be off-limits.”

You… take a moment, not knowing if you should feel scolded or not.  When you don’t immediately say anything in response, he sighs and turns the helmet away from you.

“Leaving is hard enough as it is,” he mutters, looking at the ground.  “Hearing you ask… makes it impossible.”

You slowly lower your gaze to the floor as well, feeling your heart constrict tight in your chest.  There’s a real pull under his voice, telling you that information even though it sounds like he doesn’t really want to admit it out loud.  It… really is a struggle for him too, then.  You understand.

“Okay,” you nod.  There’s not a single part of you that actually thinks you’ll be able to stay hidden from him for five days while stuck on foot, so this is essentially a given.  You’re not thrilled about the idea, but you’re going to do your best to respect it nonetheless, especially if he cares enough to put off hunting and allow you this experience for yourself.  It’s a better compromise than you ever imagined, and you’ll do everything you can to hold up your side of the bargain.

Din clears his throat and straightens his spine, turning the visor until it faces you head on once more.  “Final rule.  I reserve the right to break any rule we just agreed to, or any fucking rule in this galaxy to keep you safe.  Good?”

Your cheeks flush with heat, your stomach suddenly filling with butterflies.  He doesn’t do that.  Din says what he says or he doesn’t say anything at all, there’s no… taking things back, he’s already breaking his own code.

“What happened to The Way says no take-backs?”  You ask quietly.

“This is my way,” he answers you.  Quick, not even taking a moment to think about it, before pulling out a fancy looking wristwatch thing and clipping it on you himself.  “This is your communicator.  It takes more power than the one you have now but it’ll reach a further distance.  I have one just like it, they’re locked into the same frequency and timesynced together, and the batteries need to be charged every three days.  If you make it that long, I’ll remind you.”  Din grabs the bag while you slide your arm into it, helping you hook it around your shoulder with one hand while he cradles the kid in his other.  Your heart is pounding now, pumping with adrenaline as he pulls you towards the middle of the hull and then wraps an arm around you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you tight to him and pressing the helmet to the crown of your head.  His voice is barely a whisper through the modulator.  “Gar darasuum.”  For an eternity.

You find some way to wrap your arms around him, even with your blaster in your hand and the kid hanging out in his dad’s other arm.

“Dayn alanyc, bal alanyc, bal alanyci,” you murmur dutifully against the beskar chestplate, knowing your accent is probably butchering the words but hoping they still carry the same sentiment.

And then you’re squeeeeeezed hard enough to get a little air out of you, before you’re let go and he turns around, pressing a button on his vambrace so the ramp begins to lower.

It’s bright outside but not too bright, and everything is warm and gentle and breezy, right in the middle of a lush plain.  You inhale the fresh air into your lungs, looking out across the wide open field, having no fucking clue this is where your day would be leading when you woke up this morning.  Oh Maker, it’s gorgeous here.  Not like Naboo, where every single thing is picturesque and fit for an e-card, but in a soft, understated kind of way.  The sky is a canvas of swirling pastel clouds, pale pinks and yellows and blues, and the communicator on your wrist lets you know that it’s just after noon here.

You take one single step down the ramp, before immediately stopping and turning around to bite your lip at him.

“How am I… how am I supposed to outrun you?”  You ask, already clueless.  “You’re too good, better than me at everything.”

“That’s not true,” Din reminds you sternly, grabbing your hand at your side.  “You already know who’s after you, that’s an advantage nobody else has ever had against me.  You know how I think.  I don’t know how, but sometimes it’s like you can…”  He slowly shakes his head.  “See me.  Through the metal.”

“But… but that works both ways,” you point out, breathless at hearing him say that but needing to focus right now.  “You know me, too—you’ll know exactly where I—”

He shakes his head again, but quickly this time.  “Remember what I told you a long time ago?  What your best weapon is?”

You… do not.  He told you so many things, and you’re assuming every single one of them is going to come into play during this endeavor if you want to outlast.  You’re going to have to think back and remember all of them individually, find the time to figure out your best plan of action based on the remarkably little you know about how he hunts.

“You’re smart, remember?”  Din murmurs, squeezing your fingers.  “Your mind works differently, it sees things in ways I’ll never be able to, not even with this helmet.  So…”  He shrugs a shoulder like it’s the simplest thing in the galaxy.  “Don’t try to outrun, okay?  Just try to outsmart.”

You give him a nod after a moment, still not really sure about it, before giving his hand one last squeeze in return and eventually letting go.  

Outsmart.  Outsmart him, use what you know about him to be the most elusive quarry he’s ever hunted down.

As you make your way down the ramp, you’re already thinking.  His helmet tracks footprints, that’s a thing you know.  You’ll have to find someone to trade shoes with, then—yours aren’t too beat up, maybe you can find a local who’d appreciate a better pair.  Are you going to a city?  Would there be one in walking distance?  The wilderness won’t work, you’ll be too exposed and it would make you an easy target for either him or wild animals.  The weather seems clear here though, and you don’t think you’ll need to worry about rain or snow, but if—

“Oh—but when you do see me,” Din decides to add when your feet finally touch the grass, and you pause once more to turn around and look at him.  He stays quiet for a second, studying you through the helmet for too long.  Like the anticipation is getting to him already.

You bite your lip back at him and adjust the bag on your shoulder, tummy swirling with nerves and excitement.  He tilts the visor up, gazing down at you from the hull with the kid tucked in his arms.

“Try to outrun,” he says gruffly, before turning back into the ship and letting the ramp slowly close behind him.