#except for one very awkward falling out between two of my friends last year

[victory-cookies]

nothing like a little friend drama to spice up the morning. lord

[cinnamostar]

blind date

pairing : changbin x gn!reader

summary : when you’re set up on a blind date and it turns out to be your ex boyfriend from two years ago

wc : 1.6k

cw : nonidol!au, they’re exes your honor, fluffy, cutesy, not proof read that much idk what else

a/n : wrote this on my phone again so sorry for any mistakes! i don’t really know how to feeeel abt this fic, not my best work but i hope you like it!

you let out a nervous sigh as you enter the restaurant, a cold shiver traveling down your spine as the hostess leads you to your table, one your friends reserved on your behalf. you were starting to regret agreeing to this blind date your friends, hyunjin and felix, set you up on, but they were so insistent on it and said they found the ‘perfect’ match for you. you weren’t sure if you could trust them that much, but you knew at the very least, whoever it was wouldn’t be some creep like your other unfortunate dates.

hyunjin and felix were some of your best friends, ones you made in the last two years since you moved to the city due to a new position you got in your company. you met them by chance through a few coworkers, and since then, the three of you have been inseparable. they were incredibly supportive people, but they were tired of hearing you complain about shitty dates every weekend, so they decided to take matters in their own hands, stating they know this really cool guy through some other friends who was ‘totally’ your type. and apparently this new guy just moved to the city a few months ago too, so you would be the perfect tour guide for him too.

regardless of your nerves, you decide to put your trust in your friends as you patiently wait for this mystery man to arrive. you were curious to know what those two boys believed your type was and what made them so hellbent on making you go on this date, but perhaps curiosity killed the cat.

“hey, sorry im late!” a voice you were all too familiar with rings in your ears, the man before you rushing into his seat across from you with an apologetic smile as your mouth hangs open in utter shock and surprise, goosebumps making themselves known all over your body.

once he sits down, he looks up to meet your flabbergasted expression, the smile on his face falling once the realization hits him. his faces pales, almost as if he just saw a ghost appear right before his very eyes.

“changbin?” you ask incredulously, still not able to accept the ridiculousness of the situation.

“y/n?!” he mirrors your tone, except he was far more boisterous than you, causing a few heads to turn as he flashes a sheepish and apologetic grin to the other patrons around you two.

“i… uh, you’re my blind date?” he questions in a lower volume with raised eyebrows.

you sigh, an astounded chuckle escaping you, “i guess so…”

“i see… since when did you move here?”

“uhm, a little bit over two years ago. i ended up taking that promotion my company offered me,” you respond, a hint of anxiousness trembling through your words.

“oh, so, basically after we broke up..?”

“mhm,” you hum in confirmation, your body feeling tense due to the awkwardness that hung in the air between you two. “felix and hyunjin told me you just moved here, right?”

changbin nods, “yeah, one of my old friends needed a roommate and i just kinda wanted a fresh start, so i took my chances. how do you know hyunjin and felix?”

“coworkers,” you reply shortly, not really sure what to do in this situation.

“oh, cool! they’re old high school friends of mine, we only reconnected recently,” he smiles gently, biting his lips due to his nervousness, “i’m sorry if this is awkward.”

“ah, no, it’s okay. it’s no one’s fault, this is just some crazy coincidence,” you reassure him, “we don’t have to go through with the rest of the date, it’s okay to end it he-“

“no, no!” he interrupts, a dusting of pink appearing on his cheeks, “if you’re okay with it, we can just use this to catch up, no? it’s been awhile since we last spoke.”

you let out an uncertain sigh, “i’m fine with it, it’s just that we really didn’t end on the greatest of terms, did we?”

changbin’s face grimaces as he reflects back on the last months of your relationship, ones that were filled with constant fighting and disagreements over the littlest of things, which ultimately led to a very over dramatic break up since you both had become sick of each other over time. “no, definitely not,” he chuckles, “but we can catch up like old friends, no? unless, you wanna miss out on a lovely time with me, then that’s your decision,” he teases, the old changbin you once fell in love with slowly peaking through.

you roll your eyes playfully, “right, it would be a shame if i missed out on something like that,” a smile breaks out onto your face, a sudden wave of butterflies and shyness overtaking you. “sure, let’s catch up. i don’t mind.”

“great,” he clasps his hand almost as if he was celebrating this small victory, an embarrassed smile taking over his features, “well, i guess hyunjin and felix weren’t lying when they said this ‘mystery date,’” he lifts his hands to do air quotes, “would be my ideal type.”

you shake your head, laughing at his statement, “right, they weren’t wrong at all. maybe they were a little too spot on.”

somehow, those two hit the nail on the head and somehow paired up two former lovers through some miraculous twist of fate. there was no denying that your heart still had room for changbin, a piece of it feeling empty since your relationship with him ended. at the end of it, you had chalked it up to right person, but bad timing, as each of you were far too engrossed in each other’s career goals that inevitably took time away from the other. it wasn’t the right set of circumstances for either of you, as nether of you were at a stage of life where you could nourish a healthy relationship. he was once the person you imagined to spend the rest of your life with, but at that time, you thought if you weren’t able to bear hardships with him, then maybe he wasn’t meant to be that person. it was easier to accept you two were never meant to be, but your heart knew better than that. your heart knew he was the one, but that life just cruelly got in the way of your relationship with him.

eventually, the waiter came around to take down your orders, briefly interrupting the flow of conversation you and changbin were having. in some strange way, talking to changbin against was incredibly refreshing, as you missed the sense of safety and familiarity he brought with him. he was still the same sweet and endearing changbin you once fell in love with all those years ago, and maybe those feelings of love never truly left your heart as each time he would giggle, your heart would thump out your chest. you found yourself having to resist the natural urge to hold his hand, or to reach over and pinch his cheeks like you use to do back when you were together.

you missed this, and you missed changbin more than you could’ve ever imagined. his very appearance was enough to rekindle old flames of affection you once held for him, ones you never thought you’d be able to experience again. you both were enjoying every moment together, laughing and poking fun at each other as if nothing had ever changed, and before you knew it, two hours had gone by in the blink of an eye.

changbin insisted on walking you to your car, matter-of-factly informing you it’s what chivalrous men like himself do, which sent you into a small fit of giggles.

a gentle breeze bellows through you both, a comfortable silence filling the air, the awkwardness from earlier no longer to be found. you look up to the night sky, taking a chance to admire the full moon that glistens above you.

“you know, whenever i look at the moon, i still think of you,” changbin confesses in a hushed whisper, a longing look in his eyes as if he was looking off into some distant memory. you turn to him with a quizzical expression, urging him to go on. “you use to always tell me to look how pretty the moon was nearly every night. even if we weren’t together, you would text me to go outside and look at it,” he reminisced fondly.

“you always looked too,” you smile.

“honestly, i didn’t really get it at first,” he laughs, “but i loved you and it always made you happy whenever we looked at it together, so i made sure to look at it every night. even if we were fighting and weren’t with each other. even now, i still look up and think of you.”

your face grows hot as his words fluster you, the unexpected vulnerability catching you off guard, “thank you,” you respond gently, “for doing that for me. it always made me feel very loved.”

“i still do it. i think part of me will always love you no matter what.”

your breath hitches, your eyes widening as he looks away bashfully, not expecting or planning for those words to ever leave his mind. you let out a soft exhale through your nose, a shaken smile taking over your features, “i feel the same way too.”

quietness returns, neither of you sure how to continue the conversation as you reach your car, “well, this is me,” you break the silence, pointing to the car next to you, “thank you for today, it was… fun. i had a lot of fun.”

he nods, “me too,” taking in a deep breath, “do you… do you want to do this sometime again?” he asks meekly, fearing your response.

“yeah, i’d really like that, changbin.”

“okay, great. it’s… it’s a date?”

“it’s a date.”

[goosewriting]

Hellooo goose! it’s my first time interacting here and i just wanted to say how muuuuch i love your writing 🤍 its sooo… GOOOOOD you have no idea, i literally DEVOUR every single rottmnt masterpiece of yours 🫶🏼

with that in mind, i have a request (only take it if you feel like it ofc <3) and i can’t get this out of my head omfg and because its about to be valentine’sss…

The prompt is; you and leo being veeery close friends for a long time.

A friends to lovers situation. his brothers notice and leo asks them (one by one separately because of the teasing even tho they already know lol) to help him out for valentine’s and mikey decides to help with some red velvet choc brownies and (insert fav food), donnie and raph help keeping it a surprise and setting everything up…. (IM SOBBING THIS IS SO CUTE STWAP)

it ends up leo and reader kissing tenderly, very cute, it rises up a bit. they’re so in love. stOP.

pretty please 🫶🏼

i love your writing

-🐨

Be my Valentine 💝

summary: the turtles set a plan in motion so Leo can ask out reader on valentine’s day.

relationship: Rise!Leo x gn!reader

warnings: none! fluff, smooches, second hand embarrassment maybe lol 

word count: 3.1k

A/N: welcome koala anon! tysm for your kind words and the super cute request, this thing practically wrote itself lol i missed writing for Leo 😭💙 as it wasn't specified, i set this some time after the movie. hope that works!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

The turtle brothers and you have been friends for quite some time now, around two years in fact. And you love them all dearly and equally, except for one maybe… 

Leo has always been the touchy type and isn’t shy when it comes to physical contact. You don’t mind; he’s like that with everyone, after all. Just another layer of his complex personality. 

However, lately you can’t help but feel that something has changed. The passing glances, the casual touches… they feel different. You catch yourself feeling self-conscious when he’s around. And the other turtles are no help either; it’s like when Leo comes into the room, the whole atmosphere changes. Like there’s a sudden tension in the air. You’ll be hanging out with the turtles like normal, but when Leo joins you, his brothers suddenly make excuses to leave the room. 

Deep inside, you suspect what they’re trying to do. You think they’ve noticed your own shift towards the blue-clad turtle, and now they probably think you have a crush on him (which in all fairness, you do), so they’re trying to get you alone with him to confess or something. While you appreciate their attempt to help or support you, it really isn’t comfortable for you, being left like that. It has already led to the occasional awkward moment between you two. You just wish it would go back to how it was; your crush is for you alone and not to be shared, as you cherish the friendship with the turtles too much to risk it over asking out Leo. 

What you don’t know, however, is that Leo is inwardly freaking out every time he steps anywhere near you. For you see, he is down bad just as you are. He’s just better at putting on a façade to hide underneath.

He didn’t fall for you first, though. Your crush developed somewhat gradually over the last months; for him it was a realisation hitting him in the face all at once, like a wall of bricks. And not even that long ago. But that doesn’t make it any less brain wracking for him. 

Unsure of what to do, he went to his brothers to ask for advice. No matter how much he plays the face man of the group, thinking he’s suave and all, he actually has no real experience in this. (In truth neither do his brothers, but who else is he supposed to ask, Splinter? Right.) Besides, you’re not just a passing crush or a random interesting person. No, you mean a lot to him. And he doesn’t want to ruin what you have. 

At first, Leo intended to not say anything and just cherish your friendship, but no matter how much he tries convincing himself that you just see him as a friend and that you’re out of his league anyway, he still has a tiny spark of hope in him that maybe, just maybe, you feel the same.

So of course the first person he asks is Doctor Delicate Touch himself. 

Mikey is delighted that his brother finally admitted to himself how he’s feeling. Truth is, the brothers noticed a looong time ago that Leo and you are into each other, but you’re both too dense for your own good. They have been itching to help out and already started scheming. Hence why they tried to give you some alone time every now and then.

But now that Leo approaches him first, Mikey essentially calls an emergency family meeting. He pulls out a full flowchart showing plans A through G to ask you out, Donnie starts his fully animated PowerPoint  presentation to go with it, and Raph rolls in a whiteboard to brainstorm ideas. With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, it would be the perfect occasion for Leo to confess.

After sitting down a whole evening and planning everything out with his brothers, they come up with the following plan: Mikey will help Leo bake some delicious velvet chocolate brownies (because you deserve not only good, but the best!), Donnie says he will scope out some empty buildings that could be quickly remodelled into an undisturbed, cosy movie night corner, and Raph will be in charge of getting it all set up. For being the biggest and spikiest, he actually has a great eye when it comes to interior decorating.

It’s also good that the few days before Valentine’s you have several exams for your classes and some other errands to run. So you already excused yourself from not being able to see the guys as often as you’d like in that period of time, and they plan to use the time to get all preparations going.

To make sure that you won’t plan anything else that day, Mikey messages the group chat, casually asking if you’re “free next Wednesday” to watch a movie, which is something you do rather often with the guys.

Since your last test is on Tuesday, you say yes, eager to have a welcome reward for yourself for doing all your classwork. Mikey suggests a movie night, and one after the other, the different turtles’ responses pop up in the chat, all of them saying they’re free and that movie night sounds good.

It’s a date then 😉 — you reply jokingly, without thinking much of it. Unbeknownst to you, Leo almost faints when he sees your reply. Raph’s laugh at his brother’s face reverberated pretty far through the sewers, too. 

— — —

After several last minute study sessions, wishing for information to travel into your brain by osmosis while smushing your face against a book, and a lot of caffeine, all your exams are done, and you’re officially on break.

That night you sleep well and long, sneaking in an extra pampering self-care bath before meeting the boys. Earlier that week you went to get some snacks, and as you look at the bag on your kitchen counter after you’re done changing, heat prickles at your cheeks.

On the sweets aisle you kept mainly gravitating towards Leo’s favourites, and only after you were done paying did you realise not only how many snacks and sweets you bought, but also that, on purpose or not, you picked most just because they were blue or had blue packaging, which reminded you of him. 

With a sigh you take one last look in the mirror at yourself; the bath got you in a really good mood, and you’re honestly rocking your outfit. If the confidence continues throughout the night, maybe you’d even find it in you to tell Leo how you feel… Is Valentine’s Day too cheesy for that? And on movie night with his brothers, no less? Maybe you should have invited him somewhere else, or maybe it’s just not meant to be…

With a slight seed of doubt in your heart, you grab your things and make your way out the door, about to start the familiar trek to the turtle lair. Except that you get a message, and the sound alone makes your heart skip a bit; it’s from Leo. You know it’s him because you’ve set a special ringtone for him, a sound effect from his favourite Jupiter Jim movie. But you’d rather fall into a ditch than have him know that. He would never let you live it down. Especially if he saw how quickly you scramble to get your phone out of your pocket at the sound.

Turns out, movie night isn’t in the lair at all, it’s in a place you’ve never been, not alone nor with them. It strikes you as a little odd, but you know the area isn’t dangerous or anything, plus you’ll be accompanied by literal ninja mutants, so, if anything, your curiosity is peaked. You did notice that the last few days, there was a strange silence from the turtles. You assumed it was because they didn’t want to disturb your studies, but something was… off. There was more secrecy than usual. And now they’re meeting somewhere new? It takes every ounce of self-control not to immediately message Mikey and ask what’s up. You’d find out yourself soon enough anyway. 

After taking a bus and a short walk, you arrive at the meeting point. Your eyes travel from the pin on your maps app on your phone to the run-down building in front of you several times, making sure you’re at the right location. And you are. Except that there’s nothing here. You try looking in through the windows, but they’re blocked with old wooden boards from the inside. 

Just as you’re about to walk around the building to find an entrance, a door partially hidden by a pile of rubbish and debris opens with a creak, and Mikey’s head pops out.

“There you are!” he greets you with a chipper tone.

”What in the world is this place,” you rhetorically ask with a chuckle. “I thought we were watching a movie?”

“We are, we are. Don’t let looks deceive you. Come in~”

You step in, and Mikey closes the door behind you. You follow him up some dusty stairs, using your phones’ flashlights to navigate through the darkness, as whatever little daylight remains outside can’t come in through the barricaded windows, and there seems to be no electricity. The air is stale and you can see dust particles floating in the beam of your light.

“Is this safe?” You sound less amused now, starting to get actually concerned. 

“Totally,” Mikey answers, completely calm.

”This was Donnie’s doing, I suppose?”

”Yup.”

”Just what are you guys up to,” you ask under your breath with a playful smile, more towards yourself than at him.

Once on the upper floor, you see light coming from under a door. Mikey opens it, letting you step in first. You enter the room, and as the turtle brothers say “Surprise!” in unison, you can’t help the gasp that escapes you. Never would you have guessed this was inside, given the state of the building from the outside. 

Several low hanging lights emit a warm inviting glow, complemented by some fairy lights. The space has been cleaned thoroughly, and you spot a pile of blankets, pillows and bean bags on the floor by the projector, which is already turned on and the movie on the wall is paused at the studio intro. A little makeshift table, consisting of a plank of wood held up by some bricks, holds a variety of delicious treats, going from pizza to finger food to desserts, as well as beverages.

You let your gaze slowly pan over the place to take it all in, nodding to yourself with a low whistle.

“Not bad,” you say. “Not bad indeed.” 

“Are you surprised?”, Donnie asks with a smug grin. 

“I most definitely am,” you respond. “I love what you’ve done with the place. Not that I know what the place even is.” 

“It’s an old office space, set to be renovated by the end of the year. I just pulled some strings to use it for tonight,” Donnie explains with a swiping motion of his hand, as if saying no big deal. “Raph here is the one who brought out the real shine. Quite literally, too, he waxed the floor.”

You look down and sure enough, the wooden boards are shiny, slightly squeaky against your shoes even. 

“You really went all out, huh,” you say, and Raph sheepishly chuckles.

Smiling, your eyes jump from one turtle to the next until they finally land on Leo, and you slightly clench your jaw at the heat you know is spreading on your face, unable to stop it.

“Well, you deserve it,” Leo says with a grin. 

“Especially after being done with classes,” Mikey adds.

”True, but you guys deserve this too! You’re literally helping people and protecting the city all the time.”

They look at each other and nod in agreement. 

For a second, you think Leo is going to say something, as he gives you what must be the third once-over since you’ve arrived. But he remains silent. You hope your outfit choice isn’t weird…

“Alright,” you exclaim, both to distract from your current thoughts and to fill the silence. “Now that we know how proud we are of each other, how about we start? I’m actually starving.”

— — —

You take the last bite from your brownie just as the credits start rolling.

”Ah, what a classic,” Donnie says with a content sigh, and he and Raph get into an argument about what fight scene from the movie was the best.

You sigh at the delicious treat melting on your tongue, savouring it.

”You like them?” Leo asks from his spot next to you with an amused smile.

”I love them! They’re so good,” you reply, turning to look at Mikey. “Compliments to the chef.”

Since Mikey is the one to usually cook and bake out of the group, you assumed it was him who made the brownies. 

“Actually,” he says as he stands up to stretch, “The chef is right there.”

You look to where he’s pointing: next to you, to Leo. 

“You made them?” you ask genuinely. 

“I mean, Mikey helped,” Leo says with a slight shrug.” But, yeah.”

”He made them for you,” you hear Mikey say, and your head whips around back to Mikey.

”What?” you ask. 

You look back to Leo, who’s giving his youngest brother a panicked glare, while Mikey sticks his tongue out at him. 

Suddenly, the room is silent. Raph and Donnie stopped their discussion and once again, the atmosphere has abruptly shifted. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, as your brain is reeling. Did Mikey just mean what you think he meant? What you… hope he meant? And what was with Leo’s reaction and lack of sassy comeback?

You turn back to the turtle in question and meet his eyes, the slightest rise of your eyebrows indicating you’re expectant of an explanation. All five stages of grief seem to pass over Leo’s face in the matter of a split second, and he looks at such a loss for words that you almost burst out laughing. The fact that he isn't teasing you or dropping some corny one-liner at his brother’s comment to play along, is proof that there’s something else there. Your confidence from earlier that day resurfaces, and as you decide to tease him a little (because those chances are rare), you lean back slightly onto your hands. One quick glance to the side and you realise the other turtles are long gone.

”For me, huh?” you say in a teasing tone. “You wanted to impress me that much?” 

He wants to play along so badly, tease you back. If only he knew that just with a grin and a touch he would disarm you entirely. Instead, he goes the rare honest route, and gives you a short nod.

”I did, actually.”

That’s not the response you were expecting. You slightly lean forward to sit upright again, taking a second or two to word your response properly, unable to tear away your eyes from his.

”Well, you did. But you do know that you don’t need some grand gesture to impress me or make me like you, right?”

He chuckles, visibly relaxing his shoulders, leaning in ever so slightly. 

“I’m just that extra and you know it.”

You hum, bringing your hands into your lap, and you look down at them. You really hope he can’t hear your heart pounding against your ribs.

“And is there a reason in particular you wanted to impress me?” you ask him, voice significantly smaller. 

“As a matter of fact, there is,” he replies just as gently.

Leo’s hand inches closer to yours until his fingertips brush over your knuckles, and it sends a tingly shiver up your arm and down your spine. You involuntarily take in a sharp breath through your teeth and look up at him. You were not ready to be met with the sweetest, most vulnerable expression on his face. All words leave your brain. 

“And?” is all you manage after a moment.

Equally unable to put his feelings into words, Leo chooses the next best thing. By now, you’re both so close to each other that you can feel his breath fanning over your cheek. He quickly closes the gap, and his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft and warm and sweet and for the amount of pining you’ve both endured, it’s not enough.

Your hands travel up to cup Leo’s face, but he suddenly goes “hm!” like he just remembered something and pulls back, holding you by your shoulders. You give him a confused pout; it was just about to get good.

”I forgot to ask: will you be my Valentine?”

That is so massively out of the blue (pun unintended), that you can’t help the hearty laugh coming out of you. 

“A little late to ask that now, isn’t it?” you ask with a chuckle, running your fingers over his jawline.

”You know what they say, better late than never,” he replies with a shrug, leaning into your touch.

You lift your chin ever so slightly to look at him through half-lidded eyes.

”I bet that whoever said that wasn’t in this particular predicament.”

With that, you pull him back to you, kissing him more intensely this time, and he understands. Your tongue meets his, and his kisses taste like chocolate. You only pull back ever so slightly for a moment to take a breather, both of you panting. 

“And for the record,” you say between breaths, essentially whispering the words into his skin. “The answer is yes. I will be your Valentine, if you’ll be mine.”

Finally, he sports his signature smirk. 

“As if you even need to ask,” is all he remarks before capturing your lips again.

One of his hands snakes around your back, pressing you to him, while he balances the weight on the other, leaning you back onto the pillows so he can climb on top of you. 

However long you have the room for, wherever his brothers are… Leo is set on using this chance with you to the fullest while uninterrupted.

— — —

Bonus:

The other turtle brothers have been spying through the crack of the door until you started making out. After carefully closing it, they move a little further down the empty hallway. 

Raph pumps his fist in the air as a sign of victory, Mikey holds Donnie by the shoulders, shaking him back and forth with a silent squeal. But now that the plan worked, and you and Leo are busy… what are they supposed to do?

The three silently look at each other in the dark hallway for a moment, until Mikey looks at Donnie.

”So… you got games on your phone?”

~~~~~

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[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

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

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

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

Day 5–11:13am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s here… isn’t he?

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

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

This… this is a taunt.  

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

“You okay, Nerida?”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something catches your eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

—Bong—

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

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

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

One o’clock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes you a second.

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

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

“Ma—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Commotion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crib—he forgot the crib—

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

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

***

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

[sparring-hyena]

winter.

in which weather can be profound and personal growth is messy.

OR, my own imagining of post-book 2.

-

-

they find each other later. much later. weeks and months later, really, during winter break. although, Poppy guesses, it’s not really winter break if they’ve both graduated and left their days at Belvoire behind them. it’s just winter.

so it’s winter when they find each other, somewhere in that awkward week between Christmas and the new year that doesn’t even feel like a real point in time. there’s snow and belated family gatherings and nights spent alone as a forecasted blizzard rips through the city.

it’s an odd kind of loneliness that settles in Poppy’s chest during that week, like she’s missing something so small yet so important and can’t quite identify what it is. but she pushes on. puts on a smile and pretends it’s all fine as she sits through a belated Christmas dinner with her parents.

and then, only when she finally manages to escape her parents’ brownstone just before midnight, when she steals a few quiet moments for herself in the candy aisle of the bodega that she felt compelled to step into, does she find AJ.

“fancy meeting you here.” the voice is familiar and pokes at those silly little words that have been rattling around her mind for months.

it’s always been you.

she bristles, pretends it’s unresolved hate that makes her react that way, and turns around to face the voice. “AJ.” clipped. neutral. good, no way she’s going to lose to AJ Hughes in the candy aisle of a bodega.

“just can’t seem to stay away from me, huh?”

“i could live a very peaceful life if i never had to see you again.” it feels like a lie coming off her tongue, and that gaping thing in her chest screams and begs her to take it back.

AJ clutches her chest and makes like she’s been hurt, but she smiles through it all and Poppy never wants to think about why she hasn’t stopped thinking about AJ’s stupid smile since graduation. and that stupid declaration. and that god-awful kiss that had left her shocked and speechless and her lips tingling with fiery— whatever.

“doing anything right now?” AJ asks.

“walking away from you.” and Poppy proves her point by turning on her heels and walking down the aisle. she holds her breath firm in her chest as she walks, and only releases it when she hears AJ follow after her.

“first of all,” AJ starts as she falls in step with Poppy, “i know you wanted me to follow you. and second of all” —she stops in front of Poppy, forcing them to stand face-to-face— “wanna grab a drink?”

-

so she grabs a drink with AJ. so what? no biggie.

except one drink turns into two, turns into three, turns into making out outside the bar, which, naturally, turns into fucking in AJ’s kitchen because they couldn’t make it to the bed.

no biggie.

-

Poppy braces herself for the cold and flees AJ’s apartment early in the morning.

she decides that that was the last time. no more running into AJ. no more grabbing a drink because what’s one drink between old university friends? because they aren’t friends, weren’t ever really friends. no, they toed the line between enemies and two people with a complicated arrangement who can’t seem to do one thing right even now!

so that’s the end. for the best, Poppy thinks to herself as she wraps her coat tighter around her body as the wind slices at her skin.

and she feels... okay about that decision. she knows, logically, that not seeing AJ again is for the best. but she also knows, less logically, that her bed is much too large, much too cold when she crawls into it that night.

-

she loses track of the days. gets lost in a dreadfully dull cycle—wake, eat, phone, shower, sleep, repeat. she keeps tabs on all her old friends through their socials, and starts to wonder if they were ever actually friends.

has she ever actually had a real friend?

she likes Chloe’s latest post—a photo of her on vacation in the Swiss alps—and then turns her phone off.

then those four silly words echo in Poppy’s head again.

a lie, she told herself as soon as AJ had breathed them into existence. and it had worked for a while, had tamped down the hope she allowed herself to feel bloom in her chest for just one moment, because she’ll never let herself hope again.

a game just like everything else, she tells herself now as she watches the snow fall from the dark sky.

and then before she knows what’s happening, Poppy’s off her couch and out the door as those four stupid, awful, annoying words chant in her mind.

she had made a note of AJ’s address when she left a few mornings ago. only so she could stay away and make good on that decision to never see her again. so it’s no trouble getting to AJ’s building—modest and nothing particularly exciting.

homey, huh? AJ had said with an air of insecurity as they’d stumbled inside a few nights ago and Poppy had paused their make-out to judge and look and absorb AJ’s new home.

she doesn’t know what to do now that she’s met with the reality of her late night decision. leaving would be wise, she knows, but she just can’t seem to get her legs to carry her away.

she slips inside the building behind someone else who’s too lost in their phone to notice Poppy, and rides the elevator up to AJ’s floor.

she knocks on AJ’s door, softly in the hope that maybe AJ won’t hear it and she can leave unnoticed and pretend this never happened. but then there are footsteps getting closer and Poppy’s heart beat drums in her ears and then the door opens.

“what’re you doing here?” AJ asks, her voice firm and eyes hard.

clearly a mistake coming here, Poppy decides and suddenly she wants nothing more than to be at home curled in her too large and too cold bed.

“i don’t know,” Poppy admits.

AJ nods, glances back over her shoulder into her apartment, and Poppy immediately thinks she’s interrupted something important.

“did you mean it?” Poppy quickly asks before AJ has a chance to tell her to leave.

“mean what?”

“what you said at graduation?”

AJ’s head quirks to the side, clearly trying to remember.

or maybe she does remember and she’s just trying to give you an out. trying to let you down easy.

but the words thrum through her veins and she needs an answer now if she ever wants to be able to carry on with life.

“when you said ‘it’s always been you’ did you mean it?”

AJ continues to stare and for the first time ever, Poppy can’t read it. or maybe doesn’t want to be able to read it for fear of what it will mean.

“did we actually hate each other?” Poppy now asks, desperate to just get some answers and keep AJ in front of her.

“do you think we did?”

“i don’t know.”

AJ nods and clicks her tongue. “maybe you should figure that out before you come knocking on people’s doors at midnight.”

AJ moves to close the door but Poppy’s quick to stop it. “no, no, wait. please.”

maybe she hears something in Poppy’s voice, because AJ pauses, waits.

“i know we didn’t hate each other. i know that. but i just… i wanted to hate you. i wanted to hate you so much and i don’t know why i couldn’t just hate you because your were everything i despised. maybe you know why because you always seemed like you knew something that i didn’t.”

AJ doesn’t say anything right away, and Poppy, for a moment, thinks she’s finally gone too far. that after everything she’s put AJ through, this midnight-doorstep-declaration will be what costs Poppy having AJ in her life. and then—

“i used to think you hated me, way back when we first met. i didn’t care, of course. i never hated you, even then, but i didn’t like you much. but i quickly learnt to see through everything you were throwing at me. i think you subconsciously knew that you needed me because i was so different from everyone you’d met before, i was challenging.”

“you weren’t challenging.”

AJ quirks her head to the side a playful smile pulls her lips up.

“maybe a little bit,” Poppy admits, and admitting something to AJ doesn’t bother her and she realises that it maybe never did. “but it was nice.”

“yeah, i thought so too. we were so different in a few ways and so alike in others. i think that’s why we worked… why we probably needed each other.”

Poppy sits with that for a moment, and thinks that AJ might have a point.

“my bed’s too big,” Poppy says, and she doesn’t know why she decides to admit that. “i just— i think i’m lonely and i think i miss you.”

“you think or you know?”

“i miss you and i need you and i wish i’d done things differently.”

AJ just stares for a moment and then: “a friend of mine is having a party for the new year tomorrow night, you should come with me.”

“really?”

“yeah, really. i think you’d have a nice time if you came and i know i would enjoy it more.”

Poppy’s cheeks turn a little red. “okay, yeah, i’ll come.”

and then they stand awkwardly at AJ’s front door, unsure of what to do next but desperate to not let this moment fade. AJ steps aside a moment later; an invitation, silent in its declaration but loud in the space between them.

Poppy smiles and steps close to AJ. she cups her cheek and says, “Thank you,” before moving inside.

[versadies]

Hey hey!! I've been following you for a while now and I love your work sm aaa

Saw the event, I love soulmate au's 😩‼ as a gemini, may I request a gemini prompt + kaeya? Up to you who the enemy is, I trust you ^ ^

-🦚 @pavo-ocell-me

someday, one day (hc scenario)

penpal: omg hi !! im glad u love my work, i hope this is to ur liking 🙌

prompt: gemini the twins, enemy-lover soulmate au

pairing/s: kaeya x gn!reader

sypnosis: when you thought he was your enemy but is actually your lover.

includes: spoilers on diluc and kaeya's backstory, spoilers on genshin's official webtoon, violence, physical pain, burns, arguing, enthusiastic!diluc (pls take note that its canon that he USED to be like all the other pyro characters b4 his father's death.),

when you first met diluc, it felt like he was your knight in shining armor.

the first time you two met was when you accidentally fell down from your balcony after leaning too much on the railing and diluc managed to catch you bridal-style whilst he was on patrol around the city as a knight.

it truly was romantic– and a near-death experience for you.

so when you found out that his name is imprinted on your wrist, you felt ecstatic, and so did he.

since then, you two were known as the youngest soulmates who had found each other in mondstadt, people admiring your relationship with envy and happiness.

of course, you and diluc were a happy couple. although you would be lying if you said diluc is overall your type, you managed to find yourself falling in love with the man.

when crepus, diluc's father, found out about diluc's once-in-a-lifetime moment, he simply laughs and pats you and his son by your backs with a proud smile.

"by the time my son turns 18, we better make arrangements of your wedding! it's a ragnvindr tradition, after all." he comments eagerly. you honestly weren't sure if the man was joking or not.

it didn't take long before you meet his dear brother, kaeya.

when you find out his brother's name is the same as the one that's imprinted on your other wrist, being surprised is far from your reaction.

"don't worry about it, y/n." diluc reassures you one night as the two of you stroll around the city together. "i'll make sure nothing will go wrong between you and my brother. besides, you always have me, right?"

if diluc hadn't tried what he said, perhaps things would've gone differently than now.

in fear of being enemies with your future brother-in-law, you decided to avoid kaeya like a plague, giving the young man apologetic looks whenever you walk away from his presence.

as much as you're avoiding the man, you couldn't imagine hating on kaeya. every night, you always think of what can make kaeya your enemy. what is there to hate him? he's funny, chivalrous, everything that screams your type of men.

wait.. type?

your heart drops from the moment you started thinking romantic things about diluc's brother, looking behind you to see your soulmate sleeping soundly with a frown plastered on your face.

is diluc really your lover?

doubts started to cross your mind. what if diluc isn't your soulmate? what is there to prove that kaeya is your enemy? are you just overthinking things?

"i can't think about this." you murmured to yourself, pulling up your comforter before laying back down on your bed and try to fall asleep.

"i have a wedding to worry about next year."

just as you said, you did try not to think about the possibilities you have with the two brothers, distracting yourself with tasks and dates with your lover, who's quite oblivious to your problems going on inside your head.

unnoticed by you, you weren't the only one who has been burdened with your thoughts.

by the time diluc's birthday has arrived, the two of you started to get excited from your future wedding, excited to finally marry each other after years of spending your adolescence together.

you didn't expect an inconvenience during diluc and crepus's trip.

you didn't expect crepus trying to save diluc from a monster using something that no one but snezhnaya has ever heard of.

you didn't expect crepus asking diluc to put him out of his misery.

you didn't expect diluc to come strolling back to your shared home with blood stained in his clothing at a late hour.

you never, ever, expected your lover to fight his own brother when he took a visit.

and you did not expect your lover to plan on leaving you and everyone.

"what do you mean you're... you're leaving?" you ask in disbelief, staring at diluc as though he has two heads. "can't i go with you–?"

"no, this journey will be too dangerous for you–"

"this applies to you as well! you're not an immortal or some god–"

"i can do this on my own, y/n." he says with his eyes narrowed. you couldn't help but scoff in disbelief. this isn't the diluc you know and loved.

"but diluc.. isn't this too much? your father... i know crepus's death is too much but, why can't you stay?" you whispered, cupping his cheeks. "what about our wedding? the life you and i planned after your bi–"

"my father died and you're seriously thinking about our wedding?!" diluc forces your hands away from his face, glaring at you. "why can't you understand that i'm trying to find out the truth on this delusion–"

"i do understand!" you yelled out. "i do understand that you want to do this for him but what about monstadt? the knights? what about your brother–"

"HE'S NOT MY BROTHER!" he yelled, lashing out at you as you screamed in surprise when you saw fire in front of you, immediately covering your face with your arms out of reflex.

you didn't notice how your lover's eyes widens on what he did,

you couldn't notice him, not when you're too focused on the huge burns on your arms.

"oh my god..." diluc murmurs, slowly taking a few steps back as he takes a look of what he did, ignoring the sudden presence of adelaide and elzer, who both gasped from the scene.

your eyes starts to water from the intense pain, trying not to cry out and scream your heart out in fear of making your lover feel regret. you could honestly care less on what diluc is doing, all you could think about was the intense burns from your arms.

suddenly, the door was slammed open by kaeya– who was wet from the rain outside.

"what the hell did you do to them?!" kaeya exclaims, running towards you with a shocked look on his face. "i'll take you to the cathedral alright? the sisters will heal you." he whispers, wiping off the tears from your face as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and takes you towards the doors.

before diluc could let out a word from his mouth, kaeya gives him a glare.

"you may hate me for what happened," kaeya says.

"but for celestia's sake, don't ever come to them or call them your lover ever again."

that was the last time you saw diluc.

you eventually find out from the chattering nuns that the man had already left monstadt with no news of when he'll return, causing everyone to pity you and for diluc about what happened.

you were thankful that no one except the nuns found out about the incident of your arms.

throughout your stay in the cathedral, you usually find kaeya beside you, keeping an eye on you with a concerned look on his face. you honestly couldn't imagine what would've happened if the man didn't storm inside dawn winery. would diluc actually try to help you later on and leave? would you have suffered more with your injuries as he stands by watching you in disbelief?

whatever outcome you could think of, your heart ached from them all.

would diluc stayed had he been the one who tries to take care of your injuries?

either way, you knew the man is no longer the one you fell in love with from those years ago.

as years grew by, so did your friendship with kaeya.

although it was awkward from the start, you eventually warmed up to the man who you thought is your enemy, feeling more comfortable with him than before.

the two of you started having careers by then, with you having a successful career whilst kaeya becomes the calvary captain of the knights of favonius.

although the two of you are busy, you agreed to always meet each other at night in angel's share, where you drink the night away and talk about anything that comes out of your minds.

there wasn't a day when you thought about diluc.

thankfully, your burns weren't too severe and is slowly fading away throughout the years. but that doesn't mean the memories you had from it disappeared as well.

ever since that dreadful night, you started having nightmares about the incident, always finding yourself sitting up from your bed with a scared look on your face.

you wished you didn't want to see diluc this way, but you honestly couldn't bare to face him if he ever comes back to the city.

you don't see him as a lover or a friend. all he is to you at this very moment is your nightmare.

your nightmares simply washes away when kaeya comes up in your mind.

whenever you think about your so-called destined enemy, you felt comforted and safe. it was understandable really! you were touched by how he took care of you regardless of you being his "enemy".

however... now that you could think about it, the calvary captain has a lot more common with you than diluc himself. the fact that his brother made you laugh a lot and supported you in many ways made you started thinking that maybe diluc really isn't your destined lover.

your heart skips a beat from the thought of kaeya being your true lover, the smile you wore never fading away.

perhaps when you're finally starting to move on from the relationship you had with diluc, maybe... just maybe, kaeya could be the one you've been hoping for.

you started to sleep more peacefully, excited for the future that awaits.

somewhere in the calvary captain's home, the man is dreaming and hoping of you too.

[skellebonez]

Cotton Tails and Borrowed Time: Chapter 1

Tang knew he was pining for a certain chef for as long as he could remember. How could he not pine for him? He was kind, cared so much about the people around him, even took all of his antics taking his noodles for free (mostly) in good nature! But after a fight with Jin and Yin goes in a way no one planned on something is going to make him have to decide if hiding those feelings from him out of the fear of rejection is worth it.

Before it's too late.

Edited (and planned) with the help of my friend Bucky! Couldn't do this without you!

AO3 link.

Tang didn’t know why he did it.

He wasn’t the fastest or the strongest of their little group. He prided himself on being one of the smarter ones of the group, years of study both as a student and now as a scholar and part-time professor bolstering that pride. But right now, as he leapt forward to push Pigsy out of the way of whatever it was that MK had dodged, he felt…

Very, very foolish.

Tang didn’t feel anything but pain as the attack—a magic blast or something—hit him right in the stomach and sent him straight to the ground. The pain only lasted a split second, before the only thing that hurt was where his body impacted the ground. An all encompassing lethargy—a heaviness in his head that he had only felt once before when a particularly nasty week of studying made him pass out after four days of no sleep—suddenly came over him.

“Ow…”

“Agh, you hit the wrong one!”

“How was I supposed to know Monkie Kid would jump and he would push the pig guy out of the way!?”

“My name is MK, you know this,” MK muttered as the demon twins argued between each other. Ignoring the bickering duo for now, the Monkie Kid rushed over to his fallen friend. “Mr. Tang! Are you dead?”

“No,” Tang mumbled, “But I feel like it.” The scholar groaned as he felt himself being pulled up by someone behind him. Pigsy, his mind managed to fill in. There wasn’t anyone else it could have been. The chef pulled Tang into a sitting position, hands on the other’s shoulders to keep him from falling backward. Tang felt so exhausted all of a sudden.

“Okay, uhhhhh…” MK trailed off, not sure how to respond to that. The kid turned around, attention returning to the two demons. “…What are your names again?”

“WE’RE THE GOLD AND SILVER DEMONS!” The orange one of the two shouted in frustration. He pointed to each of them in turn. “Jin and Yin? You’ve fought us at least twice now?”

MK’s face lit up. “Oooooh, you’re the Speedy Panda guys!” he exclaimed as he finally remembered.

“And! And the calabash!” The blue one—Tang hadn’t been paying attention—added in with a smile. He went to lean on his brother in what would have been a cool villain pose… had they not both almost immediately started to topple over. If he wasn’t so tired, Tang might have felt major second-hand embarrassment at the awkward recovery.

“Anyway, yes! That is us!”

Honestly, if he didn’t know any better he would say that these two weren’t even a danger to anyone except themselves.

“Okay, well, now that that’s settled…” MK said, sounding almost chipper for a moment. And then: “WHAT THE BRICK DID YOU DO TO MY FRIEND!?”

The orange one blinked. “I thought he was your father figure?”

“It was very unclear if Monkie Kid thought of him like that,” the other chimed in. “He—”

“Stop arguing semantics over my choice of words and answer my question!” MK shouted as he gestured wildly to Tang.

“Agh, he’s gonna be fine,” the blue one brushed off with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just a… a… an energy draining curse, not even long lasting. He’ll be fine after a night of sleep for sure!”

There was something in the way that the blue demon said that… Tang didn’t like the way he muttered that, nor the way he looked at the other and they seemed to smirk a bit. But that wasn’t something he was able to really do much about because, whether they were being entirely truthful or not, it seemed the energy that he did have left wasn’t enough to keep him awake. His vision swam as his chin slammed against his chest.

He was vaguely aware of the voice of someone behind him shouting his name, as well as screaming and shouting from in front of him.

~

Darkness.

Darkness and loud sounds and bigness all around him.

Why was everything so big?

So loud?

In the distance he could see someone dressed in white and black.

He didn’t even notice he was running until the world started passing by. His feet thumped against the ground as he rushed forward, moving far too fast and not fast enough.

Why was he running? Why was the other so far away?

When he tried to yell out to the person in the distance, nothing came from his lips.

What was going on!?

Something up ahead made his head snap up. Far away, the figure started to turn towards him…

His eyes widened in recognition.

~

“Pigsy!?” Tang yelped as he sat up quickly, head throbbing as his vision swam. He closed his eyes and pulled his knees up to rest his head on them. Slowly, the dizziness subsided.

Drawing in the breath, the scholar scanned his surroundings. He quickly found that he was in his bedroom. Besides the walls and his dresser across from his bed, the blanket covering him was a pretty big tell. But he had… passed out on the street, right? Had…

Had Pigsy and MK brought him home?

As Tang lifted his head, he couldn’t help but notice that he was still in the same clothes he had been in the day before. At least, he assumed it had been the day before. There was no way it was this bright outside without it being the next day. The sun shone through his curtains like it was the middle of the day. He distinctly remembered yet another demon’s, or demons’, latest scheme to attack MK had been later in the afternoon. Almost to the point of sunset.

Letting out a breath, Tang turned his head. On his alarm clock, illuminated in red lettering, was the time 11:53AM.

“…Shit, it’s THAT late?” It wasn’t the latest anyone had ever woken up, but for him? That was tantamount to someone sleeping until 4:00PM on a Wednesday afternoon. He was never a morning person, but he always made sure to be up and ready to go by 8:00AM sharp at the latest no matter what the day was. “I was out for almost fifteen hours?” he gasped, still incredulous.

He felt… well, outside of his lightheadedness, he certainly felt like had slept for fifteen hours. His body was a little stiff, in desperate need of a shower, but otherwise alright.

Wide awake and ready to go.

…Well, maybe ready AFTER that shower.

It would have been the first thing he did if he hadn’t seen the note next to his clock. A smile formed on his face as he recognized a certain Monkie Kid’s sloppy handwriting.

“Mr. Tang,

I beat up the demon bros and Pigsy is pretty sure they told the truth about the thing they hit you with only draining your energy. You kinda woke up when we got you home and you were acting the way you normally do when you’re tired. Pigsy and I stayed over (he made me take your air mattress—we put it back I promise!) to make sure you were okay.

We tried to wake you up but you went right back to sleep so Pigsy said you were gonna be fine. We set your alarm for twelve just in case so sorry about leaving you home alone!

We’ll be at the noodle shop (or I’ll be delivering noodles and Pigsy will be there) so stop by when you wake up! If you don’t Pigsy said he’s going to come back and wake you up with extra spicy noodles so hopefully that doesn’t happen.

OK BYEEE!

MK

P.S.: Sorry I finished off your milk. I really wanted some cereal for breakfast.”

Tang felt his grin broaden as he reached for his phone. MK was a good kid. He wasn’t surprised at all by the fact that him and Pigsy had brought him home and wanted to check on him. As he sent them each a text to tell them he had just woken up, he couldn’t help but remember that dream.

It was so… weird. Almost like a nightmare but not quite.

And why was Pigsy in it?

Pigsy…

A pink flush spread across the scholar’s face as he realized that the chef had been in his apartment. Had been in his apartment and had carried him to bed and tucked him in too. He could have just thrown him on the bed and gone home, but he had been so careful. And dang, he must have been strong to carry him the whole way back. He knew a lot about Pigsy, but that was a surprise. Maybe—

Tang suddenly shook his head. No! No thinking about Pigsy like that. Besides, it wasn’t like he actually… thought about him like that all the time…

He pinched his cheeks.

Nope!

Shaking his head one last time, Tang climbed out of bed and made his way to his shower. He didn’t stop to look in the mirror as he pushed his hair out of his face and felt a twinge in his head once again.

Hopefully that wasn’t a sign of something. Like a concussion. That would be bad.

~

"What the…?” Tang leaned forward, as close to his mirror as he could get. “Are my lights dying?” He reached up, pulling down a strand of now drying hair. Normally, his hair was a dark brown, bordering on black, but this…

It almost looked a lighter brown in his bathroom lighting.

“Weird. Maybe it’s the new shampoo,” the man muttered to himself with a scowl. “If it had bleach in it and there wasn’t a warning about it…”

But then again…

He turned his head left and right, admiring the color.

It wasn’t half bad. In fact, while he was never one to dye his hair—too much upkeep in his opinion—this shade would be one he would consider doing if he did. And maybe it was just a trick of the light.

“Best not to overthink it,” he muttered to himself, stretching as he brushed his hair back into place and looked himself over in the mirror. He glanced up at the clock. “Okay, lunch hasn’t passed yet! Can’t keep Pigsy and MK waiting!”

~

“Pigsy, I’m here!” Tang announced as he arrived in the noodle shop, making his way over to his usual seat.

“Hey! Glad to see you’re up and about, lunch rush has an early lull before the usual second pick up so I’m making us something to eat,” Pigsy announced. He turned, just having finished chopping some vegetables and dropping them in a simmering pot to boil. “How are you feeling? Any…” the chef paused, doing a double-take. “Did you do something to your hair?”

“Uuuuuuuuh, maybe?” Tang answered. His earlier concern about the color change came back just a bit… but it was tempered by the comforting and familiar smell of Pigsy’s cooking. “I think it was just the new shampoo I got, I probably did something to it I wasn’t supposed to.” He chuckled, only a hint of artificiality in it. “Now! You were making lunch, you said?”

Pigsy’s smile softened, and… gosh, he looked so nice when he smiled like that. Tang couldn’t help but smile a bit himself in return. The chef was so h—

The sound of the shop door opening made both of their heads turn to the side. At the flip of a switch, Pigsy slipped into his usual customer service mode. It didn’t take him long to get the customer’s order ready, nor to get Tang and himself something to eat as they waited for another customer.

They fell into their usual pattern: Tang sitting at the counter as Pigsy checked over his cooking. But while his eyes were focused on the book in his hands, Tang’s mind began to wander. The strange dream. The way he had slept. His hair now that it was brought up by someone else. It was all so… odd. A trio of very bizarre coincidences that didn’t seem right somehow. Nothing felt like it should go together and yet somehow it all felt like a part of a larger puzzle he was missing.

“You okay?” Pigsy asked with a raise of his brow. “You’ve been quiet this afternoon.”

“Oh yeah, just thinking about something,” Tang answered with a shrug. “Weird dream I had last night.”

“Well, after that hit you took for me yesterday I’m not surprised,” Pigsy continued, turning back around to finish cutting up ingredients for his next batch of soup. “That was a pretty nasty fall after. You sure it didn’t do anything else but slam into you? You think it has something to do with your new hair color?”

“Nothing,” Tang replied. “And I sincerely doubt it. What kind of magic or curse or whatever changes just hair color?”

Pigsy hummed in agreement. “Good point. I’d hate to see my number one non-paying customer down for the count.” Despite his words and his deadpan tone, Tang could see the warmth on the other’s face while he said it. “Granted, I think that you love these noodles enough to fight Yama himself to come back. You sure there isn’t something else you love here that keeps you coming back?”

It was a joke, Tang was sure. Just a joke. So logically he joked back. “You also make some of the best jiaozi I have ever had,” he responded. The grin on his face faltered when a thrum of pain—similar but slightly different from before—throbbed in the back of his head. He groaned as he covered his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“Headache?” Pigsy asked softly.

“I think so,” Tang answered after the thrum went away. “It’s come and gone since I got up. Thought I just needed to get moving and get food but I dunno.”

“Normally, I would agree and say that’s the best idea, but maybe you should go back home and get more… rest…?”

The way the other trailed off made Tang nervous.

“Pigsy?” Tang asked, pulling away one hand and moving the other to push his hair back out of his…

He blinked.

“…What the hell?”

“Did the humidity of the shop do that?” Pigsy asked as he leaned forward. A little… too forward, Tang quickly noticed. He absolutely did not blush as Pigsy got just a little too close to his face for comfort… or was he just close enough and Tang was comfortable with it?

“Uh! MAYBE!” Tang said as he jumped up, blushing even more as he grabbed his book.

“You know, uh, maybe I should take it easy?”

The chef looked at him for a moment before he smiled again, that same soft smile but with an air of concern behind it this time. It was amazing. Somehow that was all it took to calm Tang down all over again.

“Yeah,” Pigsy said with a nod. “And uh, check that shampoo just to be safe? It looks good on you, but still.”

“Will do,” Tang said, smiling on his way out.

…Maybe the new hair wasn’t so bad. His hair had never felt so soft before. And if Pigsy liked it…

But maybe it was bad after all. He had no way of knowing if it was an adverse reaction.

And the further away he got from the shop, the more Tang wondered if it was worse than he feared. Hopefully, no one bumped into him on the way home. He didn’t want to have to explain what happened. He didn’t know what was happening! He had no answers, and he was supposed to be the answer guy! Oh, oh, what if it WAS bad? What if it was a sign of something else? He thought back to the night before. Could there possibly be magic or curses that made your appearance change bit by bit?

No, that was silly. There would be no point to something like that, right?

Tang felt his anxiety rise more and more as he began to overthink his predicament. After all, it was just hair! Hair that had mysteriously lightened in color after a shower and over the day had somehow softened immensely. Almost to the point of… not really feeling like hair anymore if he really thought about it…

“MR. TANG!” A familiar voice rang out, and that line of thought was abandoned. It took no time for Tang to turn and see a familiar vehicle pulling up right beside him.

“Hi, Tang! Did you do something to your hair?”

“Oh no,” Tang muttered under his breath, very much wishing that his usual outfit came equipped with a hood of some kind. Or a hat. Or a scarf that wouldn’t make it blatantly obvious he was hiding something. “Heeeey, MK! Mei! Coming back from a delivery?”

“Yup!” MK said as the two of them hopped out of the tuk-tuk. “Bumped into Mei at the arcade on the last one so I brought her back for some lunch.”

“You also just blatantly avoided my question,” Mei interjected with a raise of her brow.

“I absolutely did not!” Tang protested, huffing as he crossed his arms. “It’s just polite to greet you first!”

“Yeah, sure you didn’t,” Mei said with a chuckle, elbowing MK. “Just like you don’t have a crush on a certain chef, ey MK?”

The two chuckled together for a moment, the accusation a familiar one but in this moment…

“NO!” Tang snapped, immediately regretting it in an instant. “I-I… I’m sorry. It’s been a rough morning. Afternoon.”

“Hey, hey! It’s cool!” MK said quickly, waving his arms in front of him. “You’ve never told us off like that before, were we bothering you with our jokes? We can stop.”

“No, it’s okay,” Tang assured quickly, sighing as he rubbed his face. It felt like he’d just been pricked with something the way a bit of his face thrummed in pain. “Like I said. Rough morning. I think, maybe, my shampoo might have done something?”

“That’s not possible,” Mei countered. And there was something in her voice that made Tang concerned. “With your hair color? You’d need to go to a salon to dye it. I know that for a fact. And hair doesn’t get that much softer with the shampoo they have on store shelves. Besides…” she paused. It was the tiniest pause but something about it made that little bit of concern grow into worry. “You might want to worry more about the freckles I just watched form on your face.”

[heyyyharry]

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

.

.

.

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

.

.

.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

[sammygvfslut]

i like you a latte | s. kiszka

Summary: Words cannot espresso how much you mean to Sammy Kiszka.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Hey besties!!! this is my first ever sam fic, and i really hope you guys enjoy it! it’s super cheesy so beware of some tooth-rotting fluff ahead. any and all feedback is appreciated <3

Loud chattering and the sounds of espresso machines hissing and whistling filled the cafe. Every few seconds or so when a new customer walked in, a soft ringing above the door rang. Glancing at the clock, you sighed as it read 7am. Way too early for your liking. You wished to be back in bed under the covers with your cat Joey snuggling. Plus, the cold weather made it even harder for you to get out of bed every morning. Damn you, winter.

“Good morning.” A voice said suddenly, startling you as you slightly jumped. “Whoops, didn’t mean to scare you there for a sec.”

Turning around at the voice, your heart fluttered and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “G-Good morning, Sam! Nope, didn’t scare me at all. I was just uh...focusing very hard and you caught me off guard.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest, his own lips curving and flashing that beautiful grin. God, he made you melt. You took a quick chance to admire his appearance for the day, luscious brown locks pulled back into a low bun with a few stray pieces framing his face, and he wore a slightly oversized brown grandpa looking sweater. He exuded true fall energy today and all you wanted to do was snuggle with him watching a movie while sipping on hot chocolate. “Right. Focusing on what exactly? Staring at the register?”  

“S-Sure. Yes, the register.” Totally not him instead. “Um, I realized it turned off right now and my mind blanked to turn it back on.”

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder as he laughed, his touch leaving a wave of goosebumps to rise out of your skin. “You’re so cute. I’ll leave you to that then, but if you need help trying to get the register to turn back on again, let me know.” And with that, he sent you a wink and turned on his heel away to start on the customers orders.

Alright, alright. So maybe early shifts weren’t as bad as you thought thanks to your insanely charming co-worker. Sam and you had been working together for the past year, and almost instantly you started falling for him. He welcomed you with open arms and he was a great help when it came to your training. Your co-workers were nice too, but Sam took that extra step in making sure you were comfortable with what you were doing. If you made a mistake and were freaking out about it, he somehow knew the way to calm you down. He was too precious and good for this cruel world. And most of all, out of your league too.

With his dashing looks and amazing personality, you just knew there was no way he’d ever feel the same about you. Except, any time you’d voice that thought to any of your friends at work, they’d tell you you’re crazy and that he likes you too. Apparently they caught on to the signs more than you did, which wasn’t a shocker considering that you’d have no clue if a guy was interested in you unless he blatantly confessed. So, trying to figure out hints was completely pointless for you.

“Uh oh, she’s deep in thought,” one of your friends/co-workers, Danny, teased. He also happened to be Sam’s best friend, and current band mate since the pair are in a band with Sam’s older twin brothers. “I bet I can guess what, or who you were thinking about.”

“Don’t even say it,” you warned with a finger, “He’s literally four feet away from us—”

“So?” Danny rolled her eyes with his arms folded. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel? Come on, it’s been almost a year now. What’s the worst that can happen if you confess?”

“He can hear me.” You stared blankly at him, shaking your head. “Absolutely not though, Danny. I will not embarrass myself from the humiliation I’d have to face from his rejection.”

Danny groaned frustratedly, placing his hands on both your shoulders and shaking them. “You’re so hopeless! Y/N, how many times do the guys and I have to tell you he likes you too!” He raised his voice a little louder than necessary which accidentally caught the attention of almost everyone in the cafe. Sam included unfortunately. Danny’s eyes widened, silently cursing under his breath. “Carry on, everyone.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Danny wasn’t lying when he mentioned about the guys agreeing that Sam likes you too. Every time you came over Josh’s apartment and Sam was there he’d find any little excuse to have his arm around you or teasing you constantly. You’d shake it off that he was just treating you like a friend would, but of course the guys would disagree with you.

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Danny told you sternly, “But for now, and don’t make it obvious, but Sam’s looking at you.” A mischievous grin spread across his face as he winked and stepped to the next register before greeting a new customer and taking their order.

Heart pounding out of your chest, you slowly looked over your shoulder in Sam’s direction. You saw his head quickly turn and finish off the drink in front of him. Your cheeks burned at this and tried taking deep, slow breaths to calm yourself down. Didn’t work much, but as a new customer waved and told you their order, your breathing turned back to normal.

On the other end of the counter, Sam was currently freaking the hell out from what he heard a few minutes ago between you and Danny. He didn’t mean to, but he also wasn’t that far from either of you. Plus, Danny wasn’t the best at keeping his voice low. He had a strong feeling he knew you were talking about him, and for that reason alone he overflowed the cup he was pouring into and made a mess. He cursed under his breath and wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head.

You caught sight of this and rushed to his side, grabbing a cloth from under the sink and started wiping the sticky counter. Sam was certain his cheeks were tomato red from his embarrassment, making a complete fool of himself for not paying attention to what he was doing. More so focusing on your conversation and your damn smile from earlier. You weren’t the only one here with a crush.

“T-Thanks, Y/N.” Sam chuckled nervously, throwing the cup in the trash and tossing the drink pitcher he held in the sink. “I’m normally not this much of a dumbass.”

“I’m not too sure about that one, Kiszka.” You teased lightly with a grin. “It happens, don’t worry,” you assured. “I’m just glad it was cold tea you spilled and not steaming coffee. I’d hate for you to get a third degree burn. That happened to me once, don’t recommend it.”

“Didn’t I drive you to the hospital for that?” he asked. “I think that might’ve happened a few months ago.”

Your eyes widened at the memory. “Oh shit, you’re right. God, I’m still so sorry I had to drag you into that.”

Sam shook his head, lips curving and cheeks no longer flushed. “For the hundredth time, stop apologizing about that, Y/N. You know you can count on me for anything, so of course I didn’t mind driving you to the hospital. I remember even blasting some ABBA on the way over there so you’d have something else to focus on instead of the pain you endured.”

You smiled at the memory. “Didn’t we also go out for ice cream afterwards?”

He nodded, lightly rubbing his arm. “Yeah, it was a lot of fun. I mean, I always have fun when I’m with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his last few words, blinking slowly. “O-Oh.”

Oh? That’s all you have to say? Nice one, Y/N.

Sam’s heart dropped. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t talking about him after all. Maybe it was Danny or one of his brothers that you had a crush on and he was mistaken about it. He wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole right about now. Being anywhere but here sounded splendid to him.

“Y-Y/N, I—“

“Ihavefunwhenimwithyoutoo,” you muttered all too quickly, and poor Sam barely even understood what you said. He didn’t have the chance to ask you to repeat yourself because you quickly walked away to the back and he was left with a tug at his chest, frowning.

Within the next few days after Sam’s tea spill, literally, things between you and him became...awkward. Something went off in him to become even more clumsy than normal and forget everything he’s ever known when you’re near him. He’d get flustered, stuttering a lot, messing up orders, dropping dishes, and nearly tripping all the time. He hated it so much and wished he could just muster up the courage and apologize for being such an idiot and confess his feelings to you. Even during your hangouts with the guys, Sam and you wouldn’t interact as much and honestly you were well aware you were being super childish and immature about the situation. Sam did too, and he needed to snap the fuck out of it.

The next few days at work Sam would ignore Danny’s little side comments about his immaturity and continued working in silence. For the rest of his shift he didn’t talk much to anyone other than the customers. He wanted to talk to you when he had the chance, but then he’d quickly back out and walk the opposite direction.

He couldn’t figure out why it was so futile for him to just grow a sack and tell you he likes you. He’d never gone through this struggle before. Then again, as cheesy as it sounded, the other girls he’d asked out in the past couldn’t compare to you. Never in a million years, and maybe he was too afraid that he didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.

Nearing closing that same day, it was only you, Sam, and Danny. The flow of customers died down and not many people came in towards the end of the night which you were grateful for. It finally gave you the chance to relax a bit and start cleaning things up ahead of time so you wouldn’t have to stay after. Joey and a nice warm bath were waiting for you at home.

While Sam decided on working the register and you and Danny would clean, he grabbed your arm and led you into the back.

“What are you two still doing not dating each other or talking?! It’s been way too long now, Y/N. And since it’s only us three tonight, you have no other choice. Come on, I know you can’t take this any longer, and he can’t either. I can take over the register for a bit while you and him talk.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating his offering. As incredibly thankful as you were for his help, you were also scared shitless of the possible outcome. Perhaps it was finally time though that you say fuck it and say what you needed to. You couldn’t go on for any longer to keep your feelings bottled up inside. Maybe, just maybe he might feel the same way, and by God you hoped that would be the case.

Inhaling, you nodded slowly and made your way back to where you were. Your eyes searched for Sam and saw he was busy making a drink, except there was no one else here besides you, him and Danny. It could’ve been a drink for him, so you shrugged this off and went towards the sink to start washing the dishes.

A few moments later, Sam cleared his throat from behind you. “H-Hey Y/N, so um, I know the créme brûlée latte is your favorite, and I thought I’d make you one. You seemed really stressed and busy today and I wanted to try to cheer you up. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart swelled at his generosity and your cheeks burned as you felt his gaze burning into you, his palms soaking from nervousness. “Sam, you didn’t have to do that for me.”

He shrugged casually, a small smile on his lips and his cheeks tinted a light pink. “It’s okay, I wanted to. And I uh, tried my best on the art. Hope you like it.”

Raising a brow, your gaze dropped on your cup and your eyes widened as you saw what he was referring to. A small coffee cup with the words I like you a latte around it.

“It’s true,” Sam chewed on his bottom lip while running his fingers through his hair. “I really like you Y/N, and I’m so sorry for acting like such an idiot these last few days around you. I don’t know what came over me, and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you much either.”

Setting your cup on the counter, you took a step closer to him and cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb softly against his soft skin. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Sam. I’m sorry for not talking to you too, as well as for making a fool of myself. I tend to do that around someone I like.”

Finally, the realization dawned on Sam as a wide grin pulled at his lips. “Glad we’re on the same boat.”

“I-Is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked shyly, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you.

You giggled. “You don’t even have to ask, loverboy.” You playfully rolled your eyes and cupped his other cheek before connecting his lips with yours.

A smirk pulled at Danny’s lips as he glanced at the two of you, shaking his head. Josh and Jake owed him $20 now. 

It was about damn time that Sam and you finally espresso’d your love for each other. 

tagging these lovely folks bc they helped inspired me and their work is amazing <3 @godlygreta​ / @flowervanfleet​ / @dharma-divine​

[ssurveycorpss]

to the dearest anon who requested 3 letters for eren before i was struck down from my blog like hephaestus was struck down from olympus: i dont remember exactly which ones they were? but i'm pretty sure it was these three. im so sorry anonnie. (if youre seeing this, send an ask confirming/correcting me pls <3 i wanna make sure i got your request correct!) also this is the last one i received so if you requested something please send it over this way instead of my old blog.

hc game

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He is so very affectionate. Eren feels like he needs to constantly remind you he loves you. It makes him feel safe and comforted, plus Eren has like... an excess of love for you that he needs to get out and the easiest way to let it out is by hugging and kissing you. Kinda like a dog when they run around because they haven't been walked.

Everyone knows you two are together because he is no stranger to PDA. The only people he kinda tones it down in front of is Mikasa, Historia, and maybe Annie (this annoys Armin to no end, he has to watch Eren snuggle you and do all this embarrassing stuff and the most Mikasa has to see is hand holding). He still tells every story of his love life to Historia though, and in exchange he has to listen to her talk about how cute Ymir is.

Honestly his affection levels start to go down the longer he knows you because he learns to become more subtle. Like when you first start dating he's throwing an arm around your waist and clinging to you like a koala while you study so you can pay attention to him (except he's not a koala he's a 6 foot something ripped dude and he's heavy!!!! And annoying!!! Bro chill!!!!!) but once you guys have been dating for a while he can just lay his head in your lap or be near you while you study in silence. He still loves you he's just less loud about his affection, more subtle and personal.

Eren likes routines and normalcy in his relationships. If you guys always hold hands to go to the dining hall for lunch, he expects you two to do that. If you forget he is freaking out. Kinda like how no matter how much he loves Jean he acts like he doesn't. The guy is like a brother to him but he feels like it's weird for them to stop bickering.

Also has a tendency to brag about you. Social media posts, casual conversation, showing someone something on his phone and making sure to unlock it in front of them so they can see a cute photo of you two, bringing up "my partner did-" in every conversation. Lowkey annoying but at the same time everyone finds it cute.

Kinda off topic but he is so annoying about you not saying I love you back or calling him like bro or anything that doesn't denote affection. If he says I love you and you don't say I love you back he will act like you stabbed him right there. If you call him bro or dude (he makes an exception sometimes if you kiss him after you say it because that is not like... bro, bro, that's like, bro [romantically]) he will not respond. He is your lover! Treat him as such. It also helps him stay grounded in the fact that you love him back.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Always there for you, no matter what you need. Selfless in his own very Eren way, which usually includes excessive amounts of impulsiveness and stupidity.

"You like so and so? Well why haven't you told them? I'll tell them, they like you back I just know it!"

You have to rush to get him to stop because he does not think before he acts. He tends to think in the long term which can be really irritating, but it's also quite adorable and honestly 99.9% of the time it works out, disregarding a couple bumps in the road.

Will listen to you talk about things you like even if he doesn't care for them. He finds it kind of his duty.

Good at keeping promises, he just takes a long time to do them. If he promises you french fries you'll get them it'll just be like 3 years later.

If you are Eren's friend and you like him don't even try to like... guess if he likes you back because he does not change at all when he starts to crush on someone. If you relationship starts off as flirty and he decides he doesn't really like you as much as he thought, he still flirts with you, it's just joke flirting now. If you guys start off as normal friends and he falls for you, he'll never try to flirt with you or anything. His life is already hectic enough, so he relies on his friendships and relationships for a sense of serenity. Despite this he has a tendency to fall for his friends so he's got it real rough.

Will never confess to you if you guys have a friends to lovers sort of arc. You've got to bear that burden. He can't even imagine losing you or making things awkward between him.

Enemies to lovers with Eren Jaeger means he will call you an idiot on your wedding day and then say I do 4 seconds later.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

god this is my shit

I feel like I'm just a broken record at this point but he's so passionate in his kisses. Like his love for you is all flowing out at once and he cannot stop it.

Kinda like fireworks. Fast and loud and colorful and one after another.

Teeth clacking. If you wear glasses they're gonna poke him. Awkward nose bumping that he laughs about before kissing you on the nose to make it all better.

He's kinda a rough kisser but it feels anything but rough. Like he's not particularly gentle with you or anything but it doesn't hurt at all it's just a lot all at once. Also he's a biter. They're not hard or painful bites but like he will chomp you on the neck while kissing you.

Likes neck kisses, literally just sit in his lap and let him nibble and kiss your neck while he hugs you really tight and his day is complete. Also likes kissing you on the lips but that's just a given. Those two are his go-to spots but honestly he will kiss you anywhere. Your chest, forehead, cheeks, thighs, stomach, whatever. He's not picky.

Likes to lay his head between your thighs and lean over and kiss them or blow raspberries on them.

Often says "I just wanna kiss you right now." or "Kiss me, dummy." or "Gimme kith." So so kissstarved help the poor man.

When you first start dating he tries to like plan out how to have an amazing first kiss with you and then it's just like completely ruined by his adrenaline and impulsivity. Like he was gonna take you out for dinner, walk you by the pier, kiss you by the moonlight, yada, yada, yada, but actually he just like got really excited at winning in an arcade game and went for it.

When he forgets to shave his stubble is so scratchy but unless you seriously get annoyed with him he will not stop kissing you just to shave you just have to deal with it. The more you complain the more he will bother you with it. He tends to stay clean shaven though.

Even as he grows "less affectionate" the longer you guys are together he will still take solace in kisses, they just become a bit slower and longer. He still has his moments of his inner fire sign coming out to just smother you but he's mellowed out quite a bit as you guys continue to be together.

EREN JUST REALLY LIKES KISSES OKAY I REST MY CASE

[angelguk]

omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant  communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence. 

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?). 

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut. 

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow. 

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up. 

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead. 

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled. 

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt. 

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to. 

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head. 

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way. 

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too. 

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks. 

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside. 

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone. 

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed. 

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance. 

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his. 

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head. 

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces. 

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck. 

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away. 

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

[sirisuorionblack]

Professor Lupin

Professor!Remus Lupin x Professor!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Hey! Could I please request a Professors AU with Remus? I melt over the idea of him reuniting with someone from his school days when they both become professors and potentially a shit ton of pining from our boy Prof. Lupin ☺️ ty lovely!!! Xxx

Warning - none that know of.

A/N I hope you like it @cherrycolakxsses! Had so many doubts to post it but this I finally out. It's quite lengthy and might feel rushed at the end. Sorry!

"(Y/N) (L/N),” Professor McGonagall’s voice tore through the music blasting inside (Y/N)’s office. Does it set a bad example? Definitely. Does she care? Maybe.

“Old habits die hard, Professor,” she said, extinguishing the candlelight on her desk that's been lit since last night when she was going through a few papers. McGonagall chuckled at that.

The two of them walked down the corridor to the great hall for breakfast when Professor McGonagall said something, “Who do you reckon is going to be this year’s Defence Professor?”

“The dementors?” (Y/N) asked, looking genuinely confused.

McGonagall glared at her, “I wish you weren’t a professor, I could have deducted points,”

“Professor Slughorn would have been mad at that,” (Y/N) chuckled.

Professor McGonagall smiled at the fond memories of her past colleague complaining to her about “unfair deduction of house points”.

“But tell me a plausible guess of who might be this year’s Defence professor,” she insisted, a small smile tugging on the corner of her lips.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes, “What are you planning, Minnie?”

The said person rolled her eyes at the nickname, “Well, I will tell who the Professor is - Its Remus Lupin,”

She could see the young professor straighten, staring at a spot on the ground as her thoughts ran wild, mind flooding with memories of a certain familiar Gryffindor.

“Oh,” was all she could muster.

“He will be joining us tomorrow,” McGonagall said carefully, looking intently at the girl before her.

“What!? Tomorrow?” she said, her eyes blown wide.

“Yes, and I except for him to have a good welcome,”

“You think I would be...mean to him?”

“What are you two still in your fifth year?”

“Oh come on, Minnie! Don't do that!”

“I should give it to the two of you, it was rather hilarious,”

“What is hilarious in watching two fifteen year olds duel!?”

“You will know it,”

That night (Y/N) rolled on the expanse of her bed, wanting nothing but the face of the Gryffindor to just disappear and allow her to sleep but all she could think about was him. She wondered if that same high school crush was turning, she wished not.

“Welcome, Remus,” Professor Dumbledore greeted him with a wide smile as Remus looked around the Headmaster’s office. He had come here only a handful of times and every single instance was just not the best.

“Hello, Professor,” He said, smiling politely.

After the introductory chat, Dumbledore said, “Well, come on, then, let me introduce you to the rest.” Remus smiled awkwardly as the Professor clapped him on the back.

Remus stopped dead in his tracks as Professor McGonagall and another young woman walked in. He immediately identified her, it was (Y/N) (L/N), his once upon a time arch-nemesis. He clearly remembered her 16 year old self, a bright smile on her face as she spoke to him rationally for once, settling everything, that contrasted the taboo of students with green robes having cold look.

(Y/N)'s smile slipped as she saw him, he was extremely thin and malnourished but he did have a smile on his face that compensated for everything else.

“Hey,” she said, mustering the smile back and outstretching her hand.

Remus coughed as he managed to break out of the trail of memories and shook her hand, “Hello,”

“Ms (L/N), can you please accompany Mr Lupin to his office?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, professor,” she said without giving it another thought.

“Do you remember this place?” (Y/N) asked with a smile as they reached a deserted corridor.

Remus barked a loud laugh, “Oh, how can I not! Wasn't this the place where we charmed the water balloons to pop right above your head?”

“Yep, it was the very same place where the epic duel happened, the time I had almost won,”

“But you didn't,”

“And neither did you,”

“I think - what was his name? - Liam Holloway! Yes, he ended up in the hospital wing,”

“That's what you get when you try to get in between a duel,”

Remus chuckled, “One of the reasons that was epic because that's when they saw Hogwarts’ most silent people have a fully-fledged duel,”

"Oh, yes! But honestly, to this day I have no idea how it started,"

Remus chuckled, "It was because the water had drenched your potions and charms essay "

"My potions and charms essay? Remus," (Y/N) dissolved in a fit of giggles, "Oh goodness,"

"What?" Remus asked, a smile spreading its way on his face. He waited for her to calm down.

"Professor Slughorn had looked at me pitifully the next class and then said I didn't have to hand in that essay and Flitwick did too. I hadn't done either of their essays that time. And when they told me that I was so confused as to why they did,"

Remus' jaw dropped as he looked at her incredulously, giggles still escaping her lips, "And I being the nice person I was, I wrote that essay for you and had James put it "discreetly" into your bag. Wait, that green bag was yours, wasn't it?"

"That was you!?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"Oh, Merlin, I thought it was Snape for some odd reason and I was being good to him!”

“Should I be offended?”

“I dunno, I am sorry,” she wiped the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes with the amount of laughter she did within the few minutes.

Remus watched her as she smiled and looked around, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence.

“This will be your office,” (Y/N) said, opening her arms wide open at the entrance, “the terms start in a couple of days and then-” she grinned at him.

Remus was slightly distracted by the tank that stood at the side of the room, perhaps it was a fish tank; it was empty so he had no idea about the use of the tank and the thought of buying a fish for it ran high.

“No, honestly, the kids are great!” she said proudly, misinterpreting his silence.

“Are they?” Remus asked as he looked around his new office.

“Yes! I mean they are so lovely and sweet and just amazing, unlike some,” she said pointedly.

Remus chuckled, “What are you insinuating, (L/N)?”

“You know exactly what I am insinuating, Lupin,” she said, smirking.

(Y/N) squeezed Remus’ arm, watching his eyes turn glossy as he looked at the boy seated at the Gryffindor table laughing with his friends, resembling a lot like Remus’ late best friend.

He sighed and looked away. Soon, Professor McGonagall engaged him in a conversation, as though sensing the situation long ago. He spoke to her, a subtle forced smile on his face though all he could think about was his friends at the age of fifteen running along the corridors hollering and howling with laughter as they did so, and (Y/N).

“Good morning, Professor Lupin,” Remus heard as he walked through the corridors of Hogwarts - his once upon a time home, where he laughed and found friends and people who loved him, people he loved - he turned around to find (Y/N) grinning at him, “You know, I never thought you’d be a Professor,”

“You think I don't have the capability?” Remus asked, his eyebrows scrunched in offence.

“No, I mean you were after all the brain behind those petty pranks,” she said, grinning at him, “Do you think I didn't notice those “secret” whispers?”

“You-how?” Remus asked.

(Y/N) froze, biting her lips to prevent the blush from spilling onto her cheeks, “That doesn't matter. By the way, I must say, that prank on Snape where his hair was neon green for a week-?”

“That was epic and you know it,” he cut in.

“Yes, I know, Lupin, let me finish, will you? The part of the reason why it was because I did something,” she smiled cheekily, looking at him through her lashes and making Remus’ heartbeat cease and he felt as though the air in his lungs were knocked out.

Remus blinked, looked at her and asked, “What?”

(Y/N) chuckled, “Yes. The potion was to turn Snape’s hair a shade of purple, it was quite nice on him I must say but it wasn't - how do I put it, um,” she snapped her fingers in the air trying to find the right word.

“Humiliating?” Remus suggested.

Her eyes widened as she chuckled, “No, more like embarrassing?”

Remus smiled, “Alright,”

“So, I had mixed a neon green solution I had stored for, well...you,”

“For me!?”

“Yes,” she said with a giggle.

Remus blinked, “Why would you do that?”

“Um, good question but remember I hated you at that period of three months,” she said, shrugging.

“Well, now?” Remus asked, tilting his head slightly and staring at her intently.

“What now?” she asked.

Remus looked away from her striking orbs and at the sea of students, “You know, do you still hate me,”

“Nah,” she said and proceeded to mumble incoherently.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all,”

The two of them fell into the depths of awkward silence, struggling to get back. Students who passed the greeted and smiled, giving (Y/N) an opportunity to break the silence.

"What are you planning to do in your first class?" (Y/N) asked.

Remus had brainstormed the past night. He wanted something that would make his first class a good one, an opportunity to teach the students all while taking a place in their heart and getting to know them. Remus believed that a student would like the subject if they liked the teacher.

"I thought of doing some theory part or something like that," Remus shrugged unsurely.

“Theory? On your first day?” She looked at him as though he was an alien, “Wow, Lupin, I thought you were genius,”

Somehow, as she muttered those words Remus felt a blush forming on his face, perhaps because she thought he was a genius (which he was), or it was embarrassment.

"You could do like practical like, I dunno, something cool," she said, waving her hands wildly.

"Um, what is cool?" Remus said, blankly.

(Y/N) stopped, gawked at him and left forward, shaking her head, "Do whatever you want, Lupin!" She yelled.

"Hey, hey, wait! (L/N)! HEY!" He called after her, watching her go without another glance at him, "And there she goes. Great, Remus, scared the girl away,"

"You did a boggart!?" (Y/N) exclaimed, the evening Remus had come into her office uninvited - definitely startling her - and boasting about what he taught that day.

"Yes," Remus chuckled, "Neville's boggart was Snape, you know,"

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped, "Wait, I, oh my goodness, his worst fear is Snape?"

"Yeah," Remus mumbled. (Y/N) fell silent as her eyes connected with his, both of them drawing deep breaths. She got lost into the depth of his eyes, concentrating on trying to find which colour they adorn - green? brown? amber? - it would take her years to find out.

(Y/N) coughed and looked away, breaking herself from...whatever she was put into.

"Um, uh," Remus shifted on his feet, one hand stuffed into his pocket and the other scratching his neck, "Would you - um, perhaps we could, I mean, if you want to-" Remus stopped his stuttering and took a deep breath, "We could take a walk? Like just down the-"

(Y/N) chuckled, standing up and crossing the desk. She grabbed the jacket that hung on a stand in the corner of her office. The coat was an obnoxiously dark colour of green that made Remus scrunch his face.

"What?" She asked, narrowing her eyes, "You don’t wanna come?"

Remus grinned extremely widely, and snatched his coat, stumbling to join her pace.

The two of them walked down the corridor to the black lake, their surroundings cold, the chill air swishing their cloaks yet the two of them felt warmth seeping into every inch of their body.

"You do know that it's way past curfew, don’t you?" Remus tried to joke. The keyword being - tried. He was bad at that, he was bad at flirting, he was absolutely terrible with girls.

But to his utter surprise, (Y/N) threw her head back, laughing, "You do know that we are Professors, don’t you?"

"Well, it’s my first day," Remus shrugged.

"Oh, now about that again - did you really do a boggart with your students? Really? In the first class you wanted them to show their fears?" She said, glaring at him.

Remus shrugged and looked around, his eyes catching the moon, it was waning gibbous, 7 days due to full moon. He was finally back at Hogwarts for the full moon. 16 years later.

"Remus," (Y/N) laid her hand on his arm. He suddenly whipped his head to look at her, the movement adding to their close proximity.

Remus froze. Her eyes. They were captivating to him. They shined under the moonlight, her eye colours modified into bright, shining ones. He fell into the mysterious depth of her eyes that pulled him closer, quite literally.

Both of them did not know when but soon their lips connected in a messy kiss but it was perfect for them. Their hands manoeuvred until hers were buried into his brown curls and his arms wound around her waist, pulling her closer. Remus tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

Kissing under the moonlight, what a cliche, yet, Remus Lupin wouldn't want it any other way.

[inadaydream99]

The One Where You Can’t Be Kept Apart

A/N - Thank you 🥕anon for sending in this request and another brilliant idea! I really hope you enjoy what I have come up with ☺️ Also, I was unsure with how to end it, so it took me a little longer to write than usual 😂

Disclaimer: This is inspired by the Friends episode ‘The One With the Memorial Service’ and is in no way my own original idea. I have also used some direct quotes from the episode for the purpose of keeping some fidelity towards the plot.

You huff, folding your arms across your chest as Soobin begins to interrogate you. He’s only been at yours for a few minutes and you’re already tired of him. You get that he’s trying to look out for you and do as you asked of him; which he’s taking incredibly seriously. But is it really necessary for him to pay you a visit sporadically, just to see if he can catch you out?

It’s like he doesn’t trust you. Not that you blame him really, I mean you’ve just broken up with the love of your life, Yeonjun, and asked Soobin to make sure you don’t have any contact with him because you don’t trust yourself to keep away. But just because you have very little self control when it comes to Yeonjun, doesn’t mean that you need to be watched so often.

It’s been about two weeks since you and Yeonjun broke up after being happily together for just over a year. The reason being that you both realised you wanted different things for your future. Things that, even after much debate, neither of you were willing to compromise on.

It had always been your dream to fall in love with your soulmate and get married. Ever since you were little you’d indulge in your fantasy and act out these magical weddings with your friends. You, of course, always played the bride.

Now, Yeonjun has never been opposed to the idea of marriage. He just doesn’t see the point in having this big, expensive wedding. In his opinion it’s a waste of time and money. He would just be happy to elope.

And that’s the main issue that broke you up. You’d been so distraught over the idea of not having the wedding of your dreams, and Yeonjun stubborn in his views, that you’d come to the agreement that if you can’t agree on this then you’re not meant for each other.

From the second he received the news from you crying down the phone, Soobin had barely left your side. He’s been the most amazing friend to you and done everything he can to help you through this break up. And that’s exactly why you feel guilty for finding him annoying right now.

“I know you’re hiding something (Y/N).” Soobin mumbles, more so to himself than to you, but you hear him clearly none the less. “Who’s shoes are these?” He suddenly quizzes you, holding up a pair of dirty black trainers. Ok, so they aren’t the most fashionable shoes ever, but they are comfy and you have lost any motivation to put effort into your appearance right now. All you can seem to focus on is your heartbreak.

“They’re mine.” You deadpan, your sensitivity making it difficult to not be offended. And Soobin really should have known better because if he’d taken a second longer to look at the shoes he’d realise that they are too small to belong to Yeonjun.

“Oh, sorry.” He utters softly, placing the shoes neatly by the front door once again. You watch as he snoops his way around your apartment, in and out of rooms unsatisfied with his lack of finding anything.

That is, until a knock on your front door sounds. You casually make a stand from the sofa where you had previously been slouched, still sulking over Soobin’s insult over your shoes.

“Wait! I’ll get it.” Soobin calls out to you, hurrying past you. He practically pushes you away from the door; not that he intends to, he’s just oblivious to his actions in the moment.

“It’s just the takeout I ordered.” You sigh, throwing your hands up defensively.

Soobin shoots you a frown before turning the handle and swinging the door open.

“Oh my, what are the chances!” You pretend to be shocked, hands flying up to cover your mouth upon the disappointed look Soobin sends you when the door reveals Yeonjun. “7 billion people in the world and they send Yeonjun to deliver my food!” You continue, hoping that you sound believable enough. Though it’s unlikely with the way your best friend has been doubting you from the very second you asked him to help you keep away from Yeonjun.

Soobin simply rolls his eyes at your terrible acting, turning expectantly to look at Yeonjun for an explanation to his presence.

“I’m sorry, but when (Y/N) called I just couldn’t keep away.” His head hangs low, ashamed of his weakness for you… and for getting caught.

“How’d you even call him?” Soobin gawks at you, seriously confused as to how you found a way to contact Yeonjun without having access to a phone. Yes, Soobin had confiscated it first chance he got. But you have to admit that the time away from your phone has been quite nice.

“FaceTime on IPad.” You mumble sulkily, reluctantly admitting how you’d managed to go behind Soobin’s back. You’d hidden it from him so your parents could at least contact you if they needed… or so you’d convinced yourself.

“iPad, of course! I should have known.” Soobin shakes his head, scolding himself for not having realised sooner.

“Soobin, if (Y/N) and I want to see each other, then we should be allow-”

“This doesn’t concern you Yeonjun.” Soobin interjects Yeonjun’s justification. It’s not that he wants to be rude to Yeonjun, or that he doesn’t like him, it’s just that if he allows this then he’s failed at being a good, supportive friend to you.

“Oh really, maybe I was confused considering the mention of my name.” Yeonjun sasses back. “What I was saying was, why can’t we be friends?” Yeonjun, determined to finish what he wants to say, continues. You notice he doesn’t look at Soobin as he speaks, only you. And the pleading look he sends your way makes you melt.

“I guess there’s no harm in that.” You shrug, trying to not show your true emotions as you observe the wide smile that spreads out across Yeonjun’s face. You really had missed his smile so much.

“Well ok then. If you’re just hanging out as friends then I can join, cause I’m your friend and Yeonjun’s friend too.” Soobin announces and you stifle your laughter when you notice Yeonjun grimace at being called Soobin’s friend.

“I guess.” Yeonjun mumbles reluctantly as he is finally able to enter your apartment properly.

The three of you sit on the sofa, Soobin forcing himself in the small space between you. It’s awkward. No one knowing what to say first to break the silence.

“So how have you been?” Yeonjun is the first to speak, leaning around Soobin to see you.

“I’ve been good, thanks.” Soobin answers as you open your mouth to speak.

“And you?” Yeonjun chuckles now beginning to find Soobin amusing. His gaze is focused intently onto you, eager to finally talk properly with you after so long apart.

“I’ve been better.” You force a small smile.

When you’d initially contacted Yeonjun and invited him over, you’d been so desperate that you hadn’t given it any thought as to how you might feel when he’s actually here. It’s a lot more difficult to see him than you expected, and you know it’s just your overwhelming emotions talking, but you’re still in love with him.

Despite wanting nothing but to cave in and get back with Yeonjun, you remain strong and fight the urge. You don’t want the same things as each other. And the more you remind yourself of that, the more you are able to convince yourself that breaking up was the right thing for the both of you.

“I’ve missed you.” Yeonjun admits. You stare into his longing gaze, your heart racing as you see the sincerity pouring out of him.

“I’ve missed you too.” You whisper, not trusting your voice. You can feel your eyes well up as the words tumble from your lips without thought. Although, it’s true, you really have missed him with all your heart.

“You know, on my way over here I saw a pigeon throw up and then a rat ate it.” Soobin quickly jumps in and changes the moment as soon as he senses the mood getting too serious.

“I still think about you everyday. I mean it’s kinda hard not to when everything reminds me of you.” Yeonjun chooses to ignore Soobin’s obvious attempt at stopping your conversation.

You aren’t sure how to respond to him, so overwhelmed that you feel like the room is spinning.

“Ok, I’m gonna head to the bathroom.” Soobin stands from the sofa. “But I’ll be quick so don’t try anything.” He warns, waving his pointed finger between the both of you before he leaves.

“Look, I’m not going to ask to get back together because I know we want different things.” Yeonjun takes the opportunity to finally say what he’s wanted to say the whole time. “But just to be with you one more night…”

“I want that too, but isn’t that gonna make it too hard?” You try to reason.

“It can’t be any harder than the last few weeks…” And yet, Yeonjun’s words seem to make more sense than you’d like.

“If I’d known the last time I saw you would be the last time, I would have stopped to memorise your face, the way you moved. Everything about you. If I had know the last time I kissed you would be the last time, I never would have stopped.” You’re left speechless by Yeonjun’s confession. Seemingly frozen in shock, your mind blank of all thoughts.

“Kiss him, you fool!” Soobin jolts you out of your daze as he rushes back in to the room.

“Huh?” You scrunch your brows in confusion at your friend. He’s done a complete 180 flip after hearing Yeonjun’s speech.

“Didn’t you hear him? If you don’t kiss him, I will.” You stare at him in shock. This has got to be some sort of test, right?

Except Soobin’s expression is completely serious. You cast several quick glances between Soobin and Yeonjun, observing how the latter sends you an almost pleading look, probably silently begging you to not let Soobin kiss him.

Soobin must be serious about telling you to kiss Yeonjun, because he’s willingly encouraging you. And that’s what finally makes you give in, instantly closing the space between you and Yeonjun, your lips moulding perfectly together in a passionate kiss.

You both pull apart breathless, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes.

“I knew you’d be here!” You jolt apart when the door swings open and slams against the wall.

“Who is this?” Soobin questions, confusion clouding his features.

“It’s my friend Beomgyu.” Yeonjun sighs. “I asked him to keep me away from you.” Yeonjun directs the last part towards you.

You simply giggle at him, half still elated from your kiss, the other in amusement.

“Hey, I’m doing that for (Y/N).” Soobin beams.

“Well you’re not doing a very good job. What’s with all the kissing!” Beomgyu sasses back.

You cast your gaze back to Yeonjun when Soobin and Beomgyu begin bickering back and forth, too invested in their arguing to pay attention to either of you.

“Want to get out of here?” You whisper to him, wide grin on your face when he nods and grabs your hand; both of you sneaking out without being noticed and quickly rushing away to make up for lost time.

“Hey, where’d they go?” Soobin suddenly notices you’re missing.

“Ugh, we blew it.” Beomgyu grumpily mutters, defeatedly throwing his hands in the air.

“I blame myself.” Soobin shakes his head in disappointment.

“I blame you too.” Soobin sends Beomgyu a glare in response.

[thedaredevilsgirl]

Hi! Can you do one where Tom Holland and Reader are dating but they hit a bump in the road halfway through the relationship when the reader and Tom get into an argument over how the Reader is getting a bunch of hate from Toms fans, not to mention, she’s been stressed out bc Toms fans are coming to the ER,where she works as a Trauma Surgeon, and are causing chaos and Tom gets pissed at her saying “it’s not like it’s my fault but since you’re getting so angry you don’t have to worry about them anymore because we’re done”. The reader gets sad and goes to a close friend, Sebastian Stan, and they end up sleeping together. She finds out she’s pregnant and Tom calls her saying he didn’t mean what he said and they get back together, she tells Tom that she’s pregnant with Sebastians baby and he tells her that he won’t go anywhere, that he’s not mad, and that he wants to be with her for forever and that he’ll be by her side through it all. I’m sorry if this is confusing or super long :(

Broken Heart

Warning: Very angsty.

Word count:1152

A/N: I apologize for the delay in answering your ask dear and thank you for being patient.

Part 2

You are angry and sad.

You had to leave your job through the back door for fear that someone would stop you if you left through the main entrance, someone scratched your car, and you had to listen to a lecture from your boss because of the little commotion that was going on outside the hospital because of you.

As soon as you got into your car, you let the tears fall and a cry of agony leave your body, why did it have to be so hard? Couldn't you just love someone in peace? Would you have to put up with it for the rest of your life?

You still remembered the day you met Tom two years ago, a time when everything seemed so much easier.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

You were working in pediatrics at the time. You walked into the office and saw a boy between your 12 or 13 years old with his arm in a cast, you smile at him kindly before speaking.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and you?"

"I'm Paddy" the redheaded boy replies returning the smile shyly.

"Hi Paddy, where are your parents?" He asks seeing that he was alone there.

"I came with my older brother, he went to the snack machine".

A man enters soon after with several packages of snacks in his hands.

"Paddy, I didn't know which one you would want so I brought all kinds" as soon as his gaze meets yours he drops all the packages on the floor "Sorry, I didn't know the doctor had already come in".

"It's okay" you say laughing.

"I'm Tom, his brother".

"I know who you are, I've seen a movie of you" you say smiling as you analyze Paddy's arm.

"So you're a fan" he tries to flirt.

"No, but I watched it with my best friend, you probably know him"

"Do I?" He asks suspiciously.

"Yes, Sebastian Stan"

"He's your best friend?"

"Yeah, quite a while actually, he said something about you a little star having two assistants and drinking boxed juice" You laugh as he blushes "don't worry, I know he was just joking"

"Yeah, he and Anthony love to make jokes with me, it's funny except when it makes me awkward around pretty girls" he flirts.

"Well Paddy your arm is almost fully healed, I think we can have it out by next week" you say smiling at Paddy.

"Thank you Dr.Y/N" the redhead smiles.

"Just Y/N please"

Paddy leaves the room first but Tom is still there looking at you in amazement for some reason.

"Since we have a friend in common, maybe you could meet me later for coffee, or dinner maybe" you chuckle at his attempt to take you out.

"Sorry Mr. Holland, but I don't go out with my patients"

"But I am not your patient, Paddy is, I am just the chaperone".

"You have a point, but anyway I think the rule applies to chaperones too" you smile.

But Tom didn't give up, he called Sebastian asking for her number and tried to win her over every day since he met her. He said he had found his soul mate as soon as he walked into that office. And everything was so easy with him, at least until now.

•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•

Most of the relationship was kept secret, you both thought it was for the best, you liked your private life and Tom knew that some of his fans could be very aggressive and he wanted to protect you from all this, but a month ago pictures of Tom kissing you leaked in the media. It took less than five minutes for the hate messages to fill your Instagram, last week you had been followed by a paparazzi and after today it seemed like everything was really falling apart.

You saw Tom's car in front of the building where you lived and you are thankful that you at least had his no to comfort you at that moment.

"Hi" you say in a low voice as you walk into your house.

"Hi honey" he gets up to hug you "Hey what happened?" he asks when you start crying on his shoulder, he sits down next to you on the couch holding you in his arms.

"Your fans invaded my work today."

"What?" he asks to make sure you understand correctly.

"I'm surprised it's not already all over the gossip sites" you say angrily "Since lately they love to invade our privacy".

"Honey, you have to understand that the life of someone famous, I know it's terrible, but we have to learn to deal with it and get over it".

"Your fans scratched the word bitch on my car.

"They just love me too much," he replies.

"Your fans come into my work to curse me, they scratch my car, they call me a bitch" he stands up angrily "And you're saying they did it out of love? What kind of love is that?

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?" He gets angry too.

"Dramatic?" You shout, "I almost got fired because of that little show of theirs, and I'm being dramatic?

"If you can't accept my fans, you can't accept me," he shouts.

"Oh my God, did you stop for a minute to listen to yourself? It has nothing to do with accepting them or accepting you, it's that a lot of them are hurting me" she says between tears "Do you think I like seeing people on the internet judging what I eat or wear, telling me I'm too fat and too ugly to be your girlfriend? I love you, I love you very much, but this," she says referring to her fans, "is going to destroy our relationship.

"Then maybe we shouldn't have a relationship" he says in a lower voice.

"What?" She asks startled.

"This is hurting you, so we should end it, so you won't have any more pain" he gets up from the couch and avoids looking at you.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"I'm sorry Y/N, but yes, I am breaking up with you."

You sit in silence for a few minutes, absorbing his words, get up from the couch angrily and look at him.

"Since we're breaking up you better take this" he plucks the necklace from your neck and throws it in your face, it was a small gold heart necklace with his initials engraved on it, he had given it to you on their anniversary the same day he had said he loved her for the first time.

"Y/N..." He tries to say.

"Go away" he doesn't move "GO AWAY NOW."

He sighs, takes out your house keys that he had and leaves them on your desk before leaving your house.

You collapse as soon as he leaves, picking up the phone and dialing the number of the person you knew would support you unconditionally.

"Tom and I broke up" you speak as soon as he answers "Sebastian, I need you..."

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (6/15)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A glimpse of your past - and an honest conversation.

Warnings: a little fluff, Spencer talking about his time in prison (spoilers), a lot of angst

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: please don’t hate me. gif not mine. 

Series Masterlist

previous part

"This is the best birthday present I've ever gotten”, Spencer grins as you walk together through Griffith Observatory. It's already evening, but it doesn't feel like you've been here all day. Around every corner there is something different to discover, exhibits to see, new things to learn, and Spencer is almost like a child, so excited is he. He can't keep still and when you stop at an exhibit, he trips from one foot to the other.

"I'm glad you like it here”, you smile as you sit down at a table at the Café at the End of the Universe. You're glad he's enjoying the trip, even though you had to fly here for it. Los Angeles isn't exactly close to D.C., but you wanted to give him something he liked that you could experience together, and a visit to Griffith Observatory seemed fitting.

The view you have from your seat is breathtaking. Los Angeles is at your feet. It's a beautiful view for a beautiful day and you're glad you're here with Spencer. "What did you like best?"

He doesn't even have to think hard before he has an answer. "The Once and Future Griffith Observatory”, he grins, and you roll your eyes.

"But that's only because Leonard Nimoy narrates." You have to grin, too. Spencer is a little transparent, which makes him incredibly endearing.

For a few minutes, you sit together in silence, enjoying the last rays of sunlight on your skin. The silence between you is anything but awkward. Ever since the beginning of your friendship, you've been able to sit together without exchanging a word, enjoying the moment without it getting weird. And although the dynamic between you has changed a bit and you've grown closer lately, it hasn't changed.

"I know you're not into all that stuff”, he interrupts the silence at one point, and you avert your gaze from Los Angeles to look at him. He runs his hand through his hair so that it falls slightly into his forehead, and the reddish glow cast on him by the last rays of the sun makes him look so incredibly handsome that you have to swallow. "Did you like it, too?"

You nod vigorously. "I don't know much about it, but you showed me that the science of the stars can be fun even if you don't look completely behind it." You want to reach across the table and take his hand, but you don't dare. "And I think it's nice to be here with you."

You can't pinpoint exactly when your friendship changed. Since you started working at BAU, you had hit it off and become fast best friends, and you value his friendship very much. But lately you see him in a different light and you can sense that he feels the same, but neither dares to make the first move. Two idiots who have a crush on each other and don't want to admit it.

A few moments later, the sun disappears behind the horizon and Spencer gets up from his chair. "Come on, we have one more thing to do." Carefully, he pulls you from your seat and before you know where he's going, you're there. Even though it's Saturday night, there aren't many people at the observatory, so you can stand in front of a large telescope without waiting in line. "We've heard so much about the universe today, but I want to see the stars with you before we go."

You hesitate, but Spencer tells you to look first, so you take a peek through the telescope. Except for the bright stars, the view is pitch black and deep. A cluster of stars looks very familiar. "What constellation is that, Spence?", you ask, making room for him to take a look himself.

"That's the little bear”, he replies, letting you back up to the telescope so he can explain further and you can look at the stars. "In Greek mythology, the little bear is actually a son of Zeus and a nymph. Or rather, Zeus turned the child into a bear so that the bear wouldn't attack his mother, the nymph, who also became a bear." You look at Spencer. "And then Zeus hurled them both into the sky. Pretty unrealistic."

"I think it's very realistic for a Greek god to turn a mother and child into bears and then stick them in the sky as stars”, you grin, and he gives a short laugh. "Thank you for knowing such things. I find it interesting when you explain things." You smile at him and glance up at the starry sky again. "Do you want to look through here again? The view is phenomenal and breathtakingly beautiful."

"It is indeed”, Spencer replies without taking his eyes off you.

The look he gives you now is one of sadness and pain. You don't see it, but you feel it in your back as you make you both a cup of coffee each. As you turn and place the cup on the kitchen table in front of him, he averts his eyes.

The silence between you is unbearable and only then do you really realize how much everything has changed. How much you have changed. Sitting together in your kitchen in the middle of the night feels as forced as it actually is, but neither of you is ready to get started. For as confusing as the last time has been for you, you know full well that this conversation will either raise more questions than it clears up, or it will be goodbye. And you're not ready for the latter.

You put your hands around the warm cup and realize how cold you are, even though the heating is turned up. Goosebumps come over you and you try to shake the cold shiver off your back as inconspicuously as you can, but the small movement doesn't go unnoticed by Spencer. He looks at you, and as you meet his gaze, he no longer seems sad or pained. Spencer looks lost, and there's nothing you can do to get him out of it.

"What have you been up to for the last year?", he asks you quietly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I've been here and there. Been working a lot”, you answer, and it's probably the only truth you can tell in the conversation. For the past year, you've really been working, around the clock, but you can't explain to him what exactly you've been doing. And you're also glad he's not asking.

"So you're a professor in between now?", you ask at one point, and he nods mutely.

"Yes, I have to take thirty days off for one hundred days that I work, and I'm teaching during that time."

"Do you enjoy it?", you ask, even though you know the answer. Spencer has always loved teaching other people and sharing his knowledge, which is why you've always secretly thought he'd enjoy teaching.

"Well, a lot of the students just come to listen, which is kind of a shame because the topics are really interesting. Luke said they just come to gawk at me, but I don't think so."

"You're the only professor who talks about crime and everything, but who's also been to prison. I can well imagine that a lot of young women find that very hot." You smile at him and he weakly returns it. When he doesn't respond to that, you keep talking. "I probably have no right to ask about it, but I'd like to know what you've experienced in prison." You take a sip of your coffee. "I can tell it's changed you a lot."

His fingers tighten a little around the cup as he answers. "Prison isn't the only thing that's changed me." To others, his comment would have certainly come off wrong, resentful and bitchy, but not to you. Spencer is simply telling the truth, and that's what the conversation is supposed to be about. You're supposed to be honest with each other, at least within a certain framework that allows you to be as honest as you can. "It really wasn't easy. I became friends with a former FBI agent - Calvin Shaw. He gave me tips on how to survive in prison. Which didn't help much. I tried to help a friend, his name was Luis, by telling a guard that he kept getting beat up by a certain gang, after which they almost killed me." It comes so easily to his lips, but his posture shows that this has not passed him by without a trace. His shoulders are tense and you fear the cup will break, he's clutching it so tightly. "I was supposed to help smuggle drugs in, but I refused, whereupon they beat me up in the laundry room and slit Luis' throat in front of me." He pauses for a moment, as if he needs to sort out his thoughts, and takes a deep breath.

"I wanted revenge, so I poisoned the drugs, hoping it would kill them. But they were just the distributors. Five people got poisoned by it, including Shaw." You can hear he's not proud of that, and your stomach tightens. His hands shake, which is why he lets go of the cup and folds them in his lap. "The jail got into lockdown, but Tara did a cognitive interview with me that didn't do much good. My trial was delayed, and I was really afraid I was going to die in jail. When Shaw and the others were released from the infirmary, Shaw got back at me. He knew I was responsible for the tainted drugs, and he tipped off the others that I was FBI. He said to me I wouldn't see it coming, but they didn't want to put me in solitary either. So I whittled down a knife and took Shaw's hand and stabbed myself to make it look like he did it."

Your gaze moves from his face to his legs, and there you see it. A small scar that you certainly wouldn't notice if you didn't know it was there. Tears well up in your eyes. Not even for a brief moment, did you doubt your decision to leave then, but now you wish you had stayed with him then. You would have helped him, stood by his side. You blink away a tear before it can run down your cheek. "And then?"

"Then at some point I was discharged. The team did everything they could to get me out of that hellhole, and for that I'm very grateful. Otherwise, I would have been murdered in there for sure." He shifts the cup of coffee from one hand to the other. "Look, I don't want you to disappear again. I really don't, but this can't go on like this either. We can't seem to stay away from each other, but we're just arguing and it's not doing either of us any good."

You have a few more questions about his time in prison, but you keep them to yourself.It's clear from him that the subject is closed for him, and you don't want to force it on him. So you just nod.  You wouldn't leave Spencer again for any amount of money. It nearly killed you the first time, and for sure you wouldn't survive it a second time. "What do you suggest?"

He purses his lips into a thin line and starts to tap his foot. "I don't know if I can forgive you for leaving then. It was too painful for that. But I think that maybe, somehow, we can get along. We might even become friends again."

"I'm sorry I left then, Spencer. And I don't expect you to forgive me, I have no right to, because after all, I'm the only one responsible for this situation here”, you confess, running your hand through your hair. A nervous gesture that you seem to have picked up from him. "I'm very grateful to you for not wanting me to leave, even though I've caused you so much pain. I don't know what I've done to deserve this, but I'll do everything I can so that we can live together to some extent. And I hope that someday we can be friends again."

A smile spreads across his face. "Thank you for being honest with me, Y/N. I think this conversation is good for both of us. And it was pretty overdue, don't you think?"

You tighten your mouth into a thin line. "Pretty much." You take the last sip of coffee before rinsing off both cups and putting them back on the top shelf. Your shirt slides up a little, exposing the tattoo on your ribcage.

"You have a tattoo?", asks Spencer as you sit back down. "What did you get?"

You hesitate. "Nothing in particular. Just a saying I picked up a while back."

To this, Spencer doesn't reply, and silence returns. Only this time, it's not as stifling as it was at the beginning of your conversation.

"I should go”, Spencer says eventually, and stands up. He puts on the rest of his clothes and you accompany him to the door. Indecisively, you stand in front of each other. How do you say goodbye to someone you love?

"I'd like to kiss you”, Spencer confesses, and your heart skips a beat. "But that wouldn't be good. For us." He spreads his arms and you fall against him for a moment, hearing his heartbeat one last time before he pulls away from you and smiles weakly at you.

Sometimes you don't even notice a goodbye right away. It happens quietly, creeping, slowly, more painful than a quick goodbye. It goes to your bones, tears at your heart, blinds you. You can't look at Spencer as he speaks, because you know that the goodbye you were afraid of is here now.The glimmer of hope you've carried with you for an entire year is quietly extinguished, the embers cease to glow and the smoke clouds your senses.  For a year, you held on to the fact that you would eventually find each other again. You prayed, hoped, and pleaded for it. The thought gave you comfort as you lay alone in your bed wondering how he was doing and what he was doing. And now it's over. Standing in front of you is Spencer. Spencer, who was in prison. Spencer, who's been through so much. Spencer, who might be your friend again someday.

"Someday you're going to make someone very happy”, you whisper, hoping he doesn't notice how your voice breaks.The pain spreading through you is too intense, and you wrap your arms around your body, afraid to crumble.  But you really wish this for him. You want him to be happy, to find someone he can love as unconditionally as you love him. Someone he can trust blindly. Someone who will not leave him.

Spencer smiles at you and opens the door, but before he leaves, he turns to you one last time. "I have one last question." You look at him and wipe the back of your hand under your nose. "You said it's hard to leave someone you love." He gives you one last look. "Did you leave me because you didn't love me anymore? Or did it have another reason?"

Inside you are screaming at him that you could never stop loving him. That everything you did was for him. That you almost died when you left him and turned your back on everyone. But you can't say it out loud. It was part of the deal. A deal that not even Emily knows every detail of. As you answer him, you die again inside. "I didn't love you anymore, Spencer. I'm sorry."

-

You'd love to never leave your apartment again, but that's not an option. You'd like to call in sick, but that would be a bad start to a someday-friendship, and you don't want Spencer to realize how much this goodbye has destroyed you. You suffer silently, not even telling Emily about your conversation, but trying to let others notice as little as possible how you're really feeling. Work distracts you, and that's a good thing.

When you're alone, it's harder. The pain is unbearable. Loving someone, and losing that person, is the worst pain you could have ever imagined. Your nights are plagued by nightmares, your days are filled with distractions. You try to somehow come to terms with the fact that Spencer would never be yours again, but you had hoped for too long that one day you would find each other again. But that wasn't going to happen. Spencer left. And it's your fault.

After a while, you stop waking up screaming in the middle of the night. You haven't gotten used to the pain, but it's a constant companion now, almost a friend, and you don't try to block it out anymore. You are no longer afraid of the nightmares, because even when you wake up, they are real. You find that you can neither escape nor resist, and so you accept your fate and withdraw so deeply into yourself that you lose yourself.

The emptiness in your head spreads throughout your body and the biggest hole is your heart.

next part

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[phoenixyfriend]

For your suddenly omegaverse au what exactly happened? Like I think obiwan and Anakin hop over from cannon verse to omegaverse but I am unclear on if there already existed obiwan and Anakin in omegaverse. Did they die early or do they just not exist or are they just not force sensitive and therefore not a part of the order? Is there still a sith conspiracy around Anakin?

Context: Original Post, Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom, Soap Operas

So, from the original post:

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse

Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don’t exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood.

To clarify: There has never been an Anakin Skywalker in this AU. There has never been an Obi-Wan Kenobi.

They don't know this for sure when they land in the AU, though. All they know is that the Jedi have no record of either of them. They figure, well, maybe they just got lost in the shuffle. Anakin wasn't found until he was nine, after all, and that was only by great coincidence.

The rest of this post has almost no mention of the omegaverse elements, FYI.

Warning: References to the Tusken massacre, explicit sedation and isolation of a mentally unstable individual threatening violence.

I don’t want to make light of institutionalization and involuntary holds, but Anakin is a character with a history of violence talking about repeating such an act, and that’s... a bit of an extreme case.

------

It's not that hard to convince the Temple to let them run a mission that lets them stop by Tatooine or Stewjon. Anakin cares a lot more, so Tatooine it is! Obi-Wan can tell there's something sketchy going on with Anakin's particular anxiety about this, but he rolls with it. Anakin was very specific about the timing for some reasons, and at this point, it's easier to just let it all play through.

They go well after the whole “congrats, you’re omegas... somehow,” thing has happened, a month or so before Geonosis would have happened. Obi-Wan has managed to help the council sabotage and delay the Separatist side of the war enough that they’ve gained... maybe a few weeks, maybe a few months. Just a little more time to keep a few more people alive. Nobody’s reached out to Kamino yet, and Jango isn’t staging a failed assassination to draw someone in, either. They’ve bought enough time for Anakin to spend his vacation time checking in on his mom seeing if he exists here, and Obi-Wan can go with him.

They get to Tatooine. They wander about, and Anakin doesn't actually explain where they're going, but takes them straight to where the Lars farm is. Obi-Wan lets Anakin tell him that it was the Force that led him to the right area. Anakin can sense that his mom is in there, and Obi-Wan chalks up the relief from his former padawan to 'she's here and we don't have to look for her.'

Anakin is... panicking. Just a bit. What if he shows up and it turns out this reality's Anakin is off doing something completely unrelated and she realizes he's the wrong person? Or what if she doesn't recognize him and he calls her Mom anyway? What if he fucks up and says something stupid or just starts crying on her? She'll think he's insane.

Obi-Wan... takes over.

Anakin stays hidden, listening. Obi-Wan knocks on the door, and asks if there's a 'Shmi Skywalker' in residence. Someone in town mentioned her. He explains that he has a young friend of about twenty years--they're not sure, exactly, because the friend doesn't know his own birthday, but it's about there--who happens to be a Skywalker, and they're trying to see if they can reconnect him with a parent. They don't have much to go off of other than the surname... the Shmi that lives here wouldn't happen to have ever had any children about that age?

No. She hasn't had any children of her own blood, actually, her only child is her stepson, but she'd be happy to meet this other Skywalker, if he's in the area. It's always nice to find family, and connecting with those that were separated from you is a big deal on Tatooine. She's not going to look a gift bantha in the mouth.

(Cliegg, dear, put down the rifle.)

Obi-Wan promises to let his friend know, bids them goodbye, and goes to find Anakin.

Anakin is having a bit of a breakdown.

As one does.

Anakin insists that they stick around for a bit, that they do what they can to protect the farm, because that's his mom, even if she's not really his mom, and Obi-Wan can tell there's a Lot Going On here. He assumes it's because Anakin's upset his mom doesn't know him, which is a little irrational on account of their two options being "Anakin doesn't exist (and so Shmi doesn't know him)" and "Anakin does exist (but Shmi doesn't know this Anakin, so she still doesn't know him)," but Anakin's not a very rational person.

Obi-Wan thinks tamping down the current crisis is probably a little more important than chastising Anakin's attachment issues, mostly because Anakin's hands are shaking, and he's looking a little wild-eyed, and like. Obi-Wan's not great at dealing with Anakin's many and varied emotions, but he's learned at some point when it's best to just... roll with it Until There's Less Risk of Stab or Sobbing Laughter.

He helps figure out some minor fuckery with the Force to hide the family in the homestead behind them from visitors, and to warn them to hide when someone comes by. It’s not a lot--mostly just meditating and asking the Force for a helping hand--but it’s nice.

Except, well, Anakin keeps fidgeting. He keeps panicking. He has them coming back almost daily for a week, always too scared to talk to his mom but insistent on protecting her, and always looking at the calendar. Obi-Wan wants to get back to the Temple, but whatever the actual hell is going on with Anakin is too big to just ignored.

A specific day comes and goes. Anakin is a mess of jitters and nerves, and finally Obi-Wan asks just the wrong (right?) question, and... they visit Shmi.

Anakin says they can talk later, he just wants to see his mom One Last Time.

(Obi-Wan is getting more and more worried, but he sits through the incredibly awkward meeting between Anakin and his alt-universe mom, watches as Anakin has no idea what to say and almost cries, and Shmi just kind of lets him do that and Beru--a sweet girl, Obi-Wan thinks, and very practical--tells him that this is all very normal for reunited slaves.)

(Obi-Wan wonders if maybe there’s some stuff Anakin never told him about how being a slave affected him.)

(Obi-Wan had thought they’d moved past most of this, but..)

The meeting ends. There’s hugging.

They get back to the ship, and Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin fall apart. Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin cry and scream into a pillow, hyperventilate and nearly punch a hole in the wall as he rages about how it was all for nothing! Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin break into a million pieces in a way he’s never seen before.

Obi-Wan gets a confession.

Anakin tells him about the Tuskens.

It’s not an easy conversation. It’s not a short conversation, either. Anakin’s full of pain and misery and rising guilt, talks about how he’s been asking himself if it would be easier to keep his mother safe if he just killed them all now, except Obi-Wan would know, and be disappointed, and sure the Chancellor had said that they were little more than rabid animals, but Anakin doesn’t think he can kill the younglings again when his mom is still fine, and--

Obi-Wan sedates him.

He wants to say that he’s not proud of this, but... Anakin isn’t well. Anakin isn’t well in a way that is currently, specifically, revolving around doing extreme violence. Anakin is talking about going out and committing a slaughter as preventative maintenance.

Anakin stays sedated until they get back to the Temple, and he’s put in Force-suppressant cuffs--Obi-Wan quietly tells them to use something that can’t be sliced or taken apart by a droid specialist, and to avoid collars because Anakin was a slave for nearly a decade, and has a lot of traumatic associations--and in an isolated room.

It’s not a cell. Not technically.

He can’t just leave, though.

Obi-Wan hates himself for it, just a little. He doesn’t want to be doing this, not to his padawan, his brother, his son, but... a massacre. Even the younglings, he’d said.

(“He said he didn’t think he could do it again,” Obi-Wan mutters, half to himself and half to the mind healer that asks for his rundown of the situation. “I think he knows it was wrong, but...”)

(But he still did it, of course.)

It’s... better than Obi-Wan feared, but worse than he hoped.

Anakin is emotionally unstable. He has been, for a long time, but he’s usually functional. When the mind healer isn’t directly poking at his worst wounds, Anakin can more or less pass for... not okay, necessarily, but no worse than anyone else in the war had. He can say the right words. He can do a joint meditation. He can talk about philosophy the way a Knight that’s taken all the right classes does.

But part of Anakin still holds to the idea that the Tuskens deserved to die.

“This is my fault,” Obi-Wan whispers, more than once, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “I should have...”

“He was an adult,” says Mace, who isn’t Mace, not the one that Obi-Wan knows, but a newer friend, one that’s still figuring how to act around him. “Young, but still an adult. He made that choice.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer. Things aren’t that simple.

“The timing can’t have been a coincidence,” Obi-Wan mutters to himself, later on, but in the same spot, and the same position.

The Quinlan of this universe shrugs. He knows Obi-Wan better than most, right now. Psychometry’s helpful that way, and sharing Obi-Wan’s heat hadn’t hurt. “Seems likely. You said Sith were involved and setting traps, and a kid like yours, with that much power and trauma... ripe for the molding.”

Obi-Wan whines, and then catches the noise and stuffs it back down, locks it up tight with the other ‘instinct’ things he doesn’t like to think about having. The sound already has Quinlan shifting closer, and the smell is... intended to be comforting, he thinks. Reacting to his own distress, which he’s probably just pumping out right now, because he still doesn’t know how to--

“Can I help?” Quinlan asks, and Obi-Wan lets him.

Someone gets through to Anakin, maybe, or he just lets himself be ground down, or Obi-Wan’s entreaties that he can’t teach Ahsoka until he understands his crimes get through. He won’t be trusted around the clones until the Jedi can trust him to do the right thing, they inform him.

“I wouldn’t hurt the clones.”

“Nobody’s going to believe that until you understand your crimes and truly, actually feel remorse for them.”

There wasn’t a crime, technically. Not in this universe. That tribe is still alive, here, unknowing of the fate they escaped by dint of Anakin talking himself down from committing another slaughter.

(He tells the mind healer it’s because Obi-Wan was there.)

(He might have done it, he says, if he hadn’t thought Obi-Wan would be disappointed in him.)

(He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion, that Obi-Wan’s opinion is worth more than the horror of what he might become.)

“We’re going to keep an eye on anyone talking to Palpatine,” Shaak tells him one day, after Anakin’s been mental instability hold for two weeks. “We don’t know for sure how far the similarities extend from your universe to ours, but given everything else you’ve been right about...”

“That bad?” Obi-Wan asks.

Shaak grimaces, fangs glinting in the light. “I want to believe we’d have never allowed a child into such a position, but I can’t know what political leverage may have been used in your dimension... whatever reason was had to put Skywalker in those rooms, we know the consequences now--”

“What did he do to my padawan?” Obi-Wan demands, because Anakin won’t even tell him that. Anakin hasn’t mentioned Palpatine since they left Tatooine. Not to Obi-Wan.

“Nothing physical,” Shaak manages. “But the lies he told and the suggestions he planted... it’s good they haven’t met again yet in this life. We’ll all be keeping them far apart.”

He wants to take solace in that. “Why do you know before I do?”

“Skywalker values your opinion,” she says. “Only yours. He doesn’t want you more disappointed in him than you already are, so much of what is relayed to the council as a matter of security goes no further, but this was deemed necessary to share. He agreed to it, if you worried we’d broken his confidence.”

Anakin’s therapy would normally be entirely private.

Anakin’s therapy would normally not be in response to confessions of mass slaughter.

He hasn’t asked to be let out, which Obi-Wan hopes is a sign that he realizes at least subconsciously that he was in the wrong. The mind healer says he could have been released under watch by a Master probably a day or two after he arrived, but seems to be drawing some kind of comfort in knowing he couldn’t hurt someone even if he tried.

Obi-Wan is Anakin’s emergency contact. His next of kin. His healthcare proxy. Anakin has a right to privacy, minor as it is in such a situation, and everyone recognizes and treats him as an adult, but... Obi-Wan learns as much from the mind-healer as he would have back when Anakin was actually a child.

“He trusts you to make the right decisions,” the mind healer tells him, careful and unassuming. “He has... a lot of conflicting opinions about many things, including the order, the coming war, the nature of human reproductive dynamics, the Code... but he seems keen on the idea that you are his best reference on morality and ethics.”

Oh, good, more horrifying responsibility.

“He’s better,” the mind healer tells him. “I want to get him out of here before he starts going stir crazy while still relying on the perceived safety as a crutch for his mental health. And he--”

“He’ll be staying with me,” Obi-Wan says, heavy as anything. “I know.”

“Well... there’s a war coming,” the mind healer says. She offers a thin smile when he looks at her. “I don’t want him going out, but it makes him feel useful, gives him a direction for the aggression, and... the Council is adamant that we’ll need him as much as we need you.”

It’s true.

“Did he tell you why everyone called him the Hero With No Fear?”

“No.”

“Ask him.”