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no-droids · 4 years

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gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

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

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

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

Day 5–11:13am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extravagant, magnificent are both words. Floral is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s here… isn’t he?

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

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

This… this is a taunt.

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

“You okay, Nerida?”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naydee smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something catches your eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

—Bong—

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

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

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

One o’clock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes you a second.

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

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

“Ma—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Commotion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crib—he forgot the crib—

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

You raise your voice. “Din?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, well. You could just about fucking cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

***

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

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

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fuzziekins · 2 years

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Disney Say Gay

As much as i love Disney, the stories the tell, the movies they make, and the characters they create, what the company has been doing is not ok. Saying they support the LGBTQ+ community while funding the hate against it is wrong and hurtful to say the very least. I love Disney but i hate and am hurt by what they’re doing. So i’m doing the one small thing i know that i can and know how, and that is art. This is how i am making #DisneySayGay.

Mirabel and Anna are bisexual besties. Anna loves Mirabel’s creativity and everything she makes, so Mirabke made Anna a bi bracelet, hair ribbon, and knitted her a vest to go with her dress. Anna is thrilled and Mirabel thinks she looks amazing. i love drawing Anna but this was my first time even attempting to draw Mirabel let alone anyone from Encanto so there were a few references used for this one. i opted to use an inclusive pride flag as the background, the black and brown stripes representing queer POC and thus giving a nod to Mirabel’s Columbian heritage as well as Anna’s Northuldra.

Belle is showing Ariel this amazing book she’s reading and naturally, Ariel is automatically going into daydream mode and fantasizing which Belle thinks is adorable. When i asked a coworker for suggestions on characters to draw they immediately said Ariel and Belle, and requested a non-binary Belle. Belle’s outfit is a simplified version of Prince Eric’s, the blue collar replaced with purple to better mimic the non-binary flag. Her hair ribbon, however, is meant to be Ariel’s hair ribbon from Kiss The Girl. Ariel’s dress was kept pink to compliment her hair but orange was added in for the lesbian pride flag. i was unsure if a non-binary lesbian flag currently exists or if there’s an official one so instead i incorporated both flags into the background, each Princess’ respective flag behind her partner. The queer chevron flag is also present on Belle’s book cover. (And selfishly, i am very glad the edge of the page cut off where Belle’s hand would’ve gone on the book!)

Naveen told Tiana he’s been with “thousands of other girls” or “just other women”, but he never mentioned the one partner who could always seem to out-charm him and that’s none other than Flynn Rider aka Eugene Fitzherbert. One of my friends mentioned how they could picture Eugene as being bisexual but neither of us were certain who he could be paired with. We ultimately came to decide on Eugene because of his classic smolder which, no, i could never try to replicate. Not that he needs it to win Naveen over, obviously. While both of their outfits are pretty on point for their characters i only colored Naveen’s vest and hat green not only as a nod to his movie but also to compliment the blue of Eugene’s jacket and subtly nod to the mlm flag.

@scarfanon not only requested Jafar and Gaston but specifically said to make them kiss to piss Disney off. Despite my many fanfiction writings incorporating romance, i, a hopeless unromantic (and stereotypical asexual), canNOT draw kissing very well…. Or at all. So instead we have Jafar leaning in to kiss Gaston as he shows off his muscles. Maaaaaaybe imagine Gaston’s arm around Jafar’s waist? No one makes you gay like Gaston, is as gay as Gaston.... Unlike the previous drawings where some changes to the outfits were made, even in the form of color, i liked that Gaston and Jafar were basically a matching couple with the color schemes of their outfits. The goal was to contrast that with the mlm flag behind them.

Just a couple of aroace (lesbians?) with flowers in their hair. Isabela as we learned is not a fan of such perfect pretty flowers, though would have gladly conjured some for her friend. Elsa, however, prefers the more uneven and less perfect flowers. There are so many parallels between Isabela and Elsa. The obvious is that they should rightfully be given girlfriends. i personally headcannon Elsa as a demisexual and/or demiromantic lesbian, and i know many others read Elsa as being aro and/or ace as well. If these two really are on similar journeys then maybe both are under the aroace umbrella as well. Because there are so many ways to identify as aroace i wanted to include the flags in multiple ways. As an asexual who also falls under the aromantic umbrella, i was not only unable to refuse this obvious opportunity but also knew how meaningful and important it was to incorporate multiple aroace colors. The colors of the aromantic and asexual flags are green and purple respectively, as represented in Isabela’s flowers; the color scheme of Elsa’s flowers and dress are a nod to the oriented aroace flag; and the background is an official aroace flag.

🌈

These are only a small handful of identities that deserve to be not only represented but protected by Disney. And so far the company has failed; there is so much more they can do. This may not be much that i can do in the grand scheme of things but i would like to continue doing so if i may. To do what Disney won’t do and to help people feel seen in some way. If anyone has any suggestions please feel free to share. And if this small thing pisses Disney, or anyone else for that matter, so be it. The walkout may be over for now but let’s keep throwing this in their face. #DisneyDoBetter.

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ziseviolet · 4 years

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hey! I've heard some ppl talking (complaining) about how, in the upcoming Mulan movie, there seems to be historical inaccuracy w the clothing?? Personally, I thouht there was; it looks like tang then switches to song for her like,,,big Matchmaker outfit?? I'm not really sure T.T What's your opinion??

Hi, thanks for the question!

Yep, you’re right - the costumes in Disney’s live-action Mulan film seem to be mostly based on the Tang dynasty, but Mulan’s matchmaker outfit is quite different. Let’s take a look at it (excuse the low quality screenshots):

We see that she’s wearing a (rather cheap-looking) one-piece, long-sleeved purple robe with spiraling hems, that resembles the type of hanfu called quju. Quju was popular during the Han dynasty, and wasn’t worn during the Tang dynasty. Below is an image of Mulan’s outfit (left) and a modern quju (right). Aside from Mulan’s strange “sash”, the outfits look quite similar from the waist down:

Once we look more closely at the top half of her outfit, things get weird(er):

First of all, the collars are very loose and open, which would never be the case on an actual quju. Second, she appears to be wearing underneath her purple robe an embroidered Tang dynasty-style hezi (chest cover), which is never worn with quju. It makes her look like she’s wearing a heziqun (hezi dress) under her “quju” - essentially, two styles from two different time periods worn on top of each other. It is, quite frankly, a bizarre look. Below for comparison - quju (left) & heziqun (right):

If you want to see what Mulan actually would’ve worn during the Northern Wei dynasty (the setting of the original Ballad of Mulan), I have posts on that here and here. Popular hanfu brand Qianshan Yuandai also came out with a design that combines Northern Wei style with the color scheme of the original matchmaker outfit:

Another historical inaccuracy is that most of the women in the film wear earrings, which would not have been the case during the Tang, Han, or Northern Wei, as ordinary women only started wearing earrings during the Song dynasty (which I wrote about here):

Still, I’ll give credit where credit’s due - the makeup does portray some actual historical Chinese trends (even though it’s applied badly). For example, Mulan has a red huadian (forehead decoration) and e huang (yellow forehead) makeup, in which the forehead was painted yellow as an early form of contouring:

The matchmaker has two black mianye (dimple-like cheek decorations) as well as two blue xiehong, which are crescents painted besides the temples:

There’s a lot more I could say on the historical accuracy & aesthetics of the film’s costumes, but I’ll just cover the matchmaking scene here. Hope this helps!

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macaronnya · 2 years

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Fresh(?) Impressions (2)

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Hello Enstarries~☆ It hasn't been 24h yet but lucky enough, I'm a master procrastinator so here's the next part with UNDEAD already. This whole series is probably more like me talking in an echo chamber but that's also alright. I couldn't eternalise my first thoughts from other games, which is quite a shame. So this will be a nice memory to look at when someday the game ends and enough time has passed for my opinions on them to have changed. I sure hope that that someday is still very far away.

Anyways here's my last post about Trickstar, if you're curious enough and want more info about me and enstars. And the next one as well, if I'm committed enough to continue.

|Prev| |Next| See above ⬆️

DISCLAIMER!: Everything said here is for entertainment purposes only and not meant to attack anyone. This is not an accurate description of any characters but my subjective rambling for fun, so please don't take it too seriously. (Just to be safe, I'm kinda scared of elite idol fans) Also, you will hear me mention other games a bunch of times bc I'm that bad and uncreative at explaining and I'm still grieving A3!EN's shutdown. Eng is my 2nd or 3rd language so you might see weird spelling or grammar. I like to think I'm pretty decent, though...

Without further ado....Let's Ensemble!☆

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Ah yes, the sexyish bad boy group. Military aesthetic once more but make them goth. All their uniforms are slightly different from each other but still cohesive, which is nothing groundbreaking but I just wanted to mention I love stuff like this. And these outfits in general. Really cool stuff. Also, everyone has different gloves. Purple is my fav color so I might be biased. Their songs are more rock 'n roll with a lot of guitars, which isn't exactly my go to genre but it's nice to listen to it sometimes. Melody in the Dark & Valentine Eve's Nightmare are my favs. They also sing with these oldies microphones, which is cool but looks a bit funny when they gotta take the whole thing to switch places. Surface aside, they're all much sweeter than their image leads on?? Like, I was surprised upon reading their Ep.1.

7.5/10 - I like them a bit, mainly for their color scheme but I think I'll like them for more as well

Rei Sakuma

I thought he was some mysterious flirt, who will tease and entice you to do flirty stuff but he's actually a nice old vampire next door. His vocabulary and tech knowledge may be from the 19th century but he drinks his respect women (& tomato) juice 👍I know he sleeps in a coffin and has a younger brother who hates him for some reason, so there's something he may have fucked up....He's also very pretty. Possibly one of the prettiest one out of the whole cast. His voice is very attractive as well, sounds like melted chocolate.

8/10 - i like him, he's pretty, polite, lives with a distinct lowkey flair, this card is amazing

Kaoru Hakaze

Flirty boys often make me weak. Not bc I actually fall for their flirting but I like what hides beneath that. Be it trauma (Ikki, Amesia), shyness (Inigo, FE:Awakening), dorkiness (Impey, Code:Realize). I knew instinctively he's one of them and his panicking monologue Ep.1 that lasts for ⅓ of the time was my proof. I don't think he's christian (like smn else) even though he has a cross necklace here. It would fit more with Rei's vampire package but whatever. He seems easy to fluster, which is just the cherry on top. His voice is also nice, melodic and sweet but only like 65% chocolate.

8.5/10 - Cute but hot as well, I wonder what more he hides

Koga Ogami

Wild and rowdy. I know he jumped on poor Anzu on her first day. Imagine falling on your face bc of some rude dog boy on your first school day smh. I used to mistake him for Izumi and vice versa. Similiar hairstyle and haircolor, though his color scheme is warmer. Idk why he insists on being taking the saying lone wolf so literally but if it works 🤷‍♀️ He really went at it during Nightless World's MV with his guitar. Surprised he composes but somehow also not. I guess, he's just very creative and passionate, hence his wolf persona.

6/10 - he's not average but also not that interesting

Adonis Otogari

What a gentleman. He reminds me of Guy (A3!) what with him being rather stoic and looking slightly intimidating but is actually quite caring. And he might have important parents in his homeland? Maybe it's not that special tho, considering he's attending a private academy and looking at the rest of the cast....He's probably the tsukkomi from his unit. Might have the patience of a saint. I didn't expect him to have such a deep voice and it felt a bit off at first, but maybe that's just bc I was still playing A3! and there's another character with the same VA, who's quite different. This is the second time I see this VA in an idol franchise, the idol in question is Gaku from Idolish7. His unit's vibe is also similiar. I forgot to mention it but FORBIDDEN RAIN is an absolute banger as well.

7/10 - I look forward to getting to know him better

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Conclusion

This group is one of the more normal units, I think, which is pretty telling of the other ones. Overall on a more favourable side. I dig their costumes and voices.

Reading their Ep.1 made me question whether I suddenly shifted games or smth. Especially Kaoru's??? He's so funny panicking and being all "I'm usually so much coolee why is she so cute? 😣". Rei's manner of speech and the library made me think of these isekai manwhas on the rise. Adonis was suddenly talking about world disasters (ain't that hitting close home) and his guilt of not being of more help and slight desire to just stay in safe Japan but ultimately not regretting helping his land. And Koga is struggling to find his individual self after finally finding a place to belong. Like, what is this tone shift from Trickstar!? I guess, this is a sneek peak to what we will see more of in future events and character development? Do characters have that here?

Anways, feel free to comment whatever and share some thoughts. Until next post!~☆

#ensemble stars #enstars #I think I slowly get how formatting works #macaron rambles #UNDEAD

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 3

Here is the next chapter! Yay!

Words:5500

Warnings: mild swearing, possessive Ivar (maybe?), mild sexual tension, hint of violence

Series Masterlist

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius

"Korítsi, one of these days I'll convince you to take a day off." (Greek: girl)

Kari smiled as she re-tied her ponytail. Glancing over at her boss, she replied. "You would miss me too much. Besides you know I like working here."

The woman shook her head. "You need a life outside of working- friends, a lover, anything besides this studio."

"You just like listening to drama."

"I'm happily married with my dream job; I need you ladies and your drama to keep me entertained.

Kari could only laugh along with her boss. Lydia Hansen was the best boss she could ever have asked for. The woman was in her mid-thirties, settled in life and always happy with a smile on her face and a kind word to share. She also had a mischievous side where she loved listening to the drama of her female workers, many coming to her for romantic advice or to vent about relationships.

Lydia leaned forward in her chair, putting an elbow on the desk beside her as she watched Kari. Even under the fluorescent lights, Kari thought the woman looked beautiful with her naturally tanned skin, short black hair and strong Mediterranean features. Kari could not help feeling like a used ragdoll next to her.

"Why don't you come in at nine tomorrow morning, I can open the studio."

Kari turned around after grabbing her purse from her locker. "Tonight is date night for you and Nels, which means several glasses of wine and you naked in your bed. If your stories are to be believed. So I'm guessing you don't want to be here at six-thirty tomorrow morning. Really, it's fine. I don't mind opening. I do it often enough."

"And that's the problem. You've opened the majority of the time the past two weeks."

"It's only until Sasha comes back from her family's funeral." Kari reminded her.

"Fine." Lydia huffed, then pointed a finger at her. "Then you're taking time off. I'll bar you from coming to work if you try to sneak in."

"What if I want to come for classes?"

"No. I'll kick you out of my studio. Do your yoga at home. By the skies above, you are a yoga instructor yourself. Just pretend to be teaching but alone….and at home!"

The brunette smiled at her boss, knowing all of this was because Lydia actually cared for her employees. Both their physical and mental health. "No promises. Tell Nels 'hi' for me. See you tomorrow."

"Go do something fun for once!"

Kari walked out of the office, chuckling. She waved to a coworker as she passed the front entrance before stepping outside into the late afternoon sun. Checking the time on her phone, she tossed it into her teal hobo bag and slung it over her shoulder, making her way towards the bus stop. In her black leggings, sneakers and purple racerback tank top with Whole Wellness Yoga Studio printed on the front, she could not help but feel slightly out of place as she walked the streets. Though no one gave her a second glance, she always felt like a fraud as she passed others by. The location of the yoga studio she worked at was certainly in the more affluent part of the city, and it showed by the manner of businesses in proximity and the looks and clothing of those who passed her by.

At one time she had worn expensive clothing, never paying attention to price tags, but those days were in the past. Although she adored working at the yoga studio, it barely made ends meet. Lydia mentioned once promoting her in the future to a manager, which came as a surprise since Kari had only been working there for just over a year. For now though, she was content with life. Happier than she had been in a long time. Even if her life seemed boring to others, only focusing on work and what the next book or TV series to enjoy was. It was her life, her choices.

For a brief second, she paused in her walk, thinking she had heard someone call her name. Which was highly unlikely since, truthfully, she hardly knew anyone in this city. With a mental shrug, she continued on, enjoying the feeling of the sunshine on her exposed skin.

"Kari Larsen! Don't you ignore me!"

The sudden scream made the brunette freeze in place, stunned and slightly terrified. Hesitantly, she turned, scanning around to see who had yelled for her attention. Luckily, it did not take long to notice the tall, blonde wearing the thigh-high boots and white, boho dress waving like a mad woman as she leaned over the short half-railing, separating the sidewalk and the restaurant's seating.

Smiling, Kari made her way back towards the woman, who beamed at her. "Gyda! When did you get back?"

"Just yesterday. I know I say this every time but jetlag is a bitch." Gyda sighed dramatically, though her eyes twinkled in mirth. Leaning against the half-railing, she towered over Kari. On a good day, she stood just under six feet but with the short-heeled boots today, she peered down like a goddess from Valhalla surveying the lesser mortals.

"I don't know how you do it." Kari shook her head, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.

"Eh, you make it work." Gyda turned and peeked over her shoulder for a second before looking back at Kari. "What are you doing? Just get off work?"

"Yeah. Heading home."

"Do you want a ride?" She offered, tapping a finger along the railing.

Kari could feel the stares of the other patrons sitting outside and the wait staff, most likely wondering why someone like her was conversing with Gyda. Awkwardly, she toyed with her trusty diamond stud in her earlobe. "Not this time, but thank you. I'm sure you want to get back to your friends."

"It's just some of my many siblings and Torvi."

"Oh, you'll have to tell her I said 'hi'."

Gyda was a regular at the yoga studio when her schedule allowed. As a freelance writer, her schedule was chaotic at the best for time. Lately most of her works had been commissioned for traveling magazines, so her time coming to the studio was sporadic based on when she was in the country. It was through the studio that Gyda and Kari met. They would occasionally exchange pleasantries before or after Kari's class or in passing. Their friendship solidified only after Gyda found Kari standing at the bus stop in the cold rain months ago and offered to give her a ride home. They had met up a handful of times so Kari could hear all about the latest places Gyda visited and see the pictures she took, satisfying her own travel-wandering soul, sealing their friendship.

And through Gyda, Kari met Torvi. Though both women were at least ten years her senior, she enjoyed their presence and conversations. Torvi only came occasionally with Gyda as her guest to the yoga studio. At first, Kari was surprised when she learned they were sisters-in-law because of how close they seemed. Yet she found it refreshing, since most of her experience with family was tense to say the least. It was nice to know her own family's tendencies were not the norm.

"I will." The blonde exclaimed, her smile widening. "Oh! Do you want to meet Bjorn? I know you've heard Torvi and I talk about him enough that it's funny you haven't met him yet."

"Oh, I'd hate to interrupt…."

"Shut up. You're meeting him. Come on, I'll let you in through the main door, meet me over there." Then she spun on her heel and sashayed away, garnering a few lingering looks from nearby patrons.

If there was one thing Kari learned over the past several months of knowing Gyda, it was that the woman was head-strong and always got her way. So with an amused roll of her eyes, Kari headed around the restaurant to its main entrance just off the side of the busy sidewalk. The restaurant screamed money and prestige, something Kari learned both Gyda and Torvi had in spades. It was unnerving at first but their welcoming and kind presences help alleviate Kari's fears of being viewed as less.

Sure enough, Gyda stood waiting for her by the door. Chatting like a bird, she slipped her arm through Kari's and led her past the shocked waitstaff. The restaurant was even more impressive inside than how it appeared from the street. It was modern with a sharp black and white color scheme, tasteful and exquisite photos on the walls, and dark wood tables and chairs. Kari figured the price of a meal here was similar in cost to her monthly rent.

Gyda led her to a table that was outside in the sun, but partitioned from the street by the half-wall railing she had leaned over earlier to get Kari's attention. The brunette quickly counted five people already sitting there, apparently carrying on a lively conversation if the laughter meant anything. Before she could get a good look, Gyda directed her towards Torvi who reclined next to a man with an imposing physique and a long, blond, braided ponytail in a smart suit.

"Kari, this is my brother and Torvi's husband, Bjorn."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Kari smiled politely, taking his outstretched hand in a handshake.

"Likewise. So, you are the famous yoga instructor these two go on about?" He asked, with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "I must confess, I find yoga a peculiar activity but with it helping Torvi's flexibility while we…."

Torvi smacked his shoulder, making the men around the table laugh. "Ignore him, Kari. I don't know why I bring him out in public."

"Hey!" He pulled her closer and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. "You love me."

"Mmm…. most days."

At that point, Kari looked up to peek at the others sitting at the table, ready to greet and then head out. Except the first thing she saw was a pair of stunning blue eyes that captured her gaze. Unable to move or look away, as if he was physically restraining her with only his gaze, her heart soared and stomach dropped simultaneously.

It was only when Gyda started to introduce the others at the table that she ripped her gaze from his, all the while feeling his eyes never leaving her.

"Let me introduce these other assholes quick. At the head of the table is Uncle Floki, and the two idiots across from us are Bjorn and my half-brothers, Hvitserk and Ivar."

Hvitserk greeted her with a flirty smile on his boyish face; while the strange-looking man, Floki, just gave a single nod in acknowledgement.

"We've already met," Ivar said with a wicked smirk, letting his eyes blatantly trail over her form while he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, "isn't that right, kitten?"

Kari hated how just from the sound of the pet name, her heart beat increased traitorously and a flush rose to her cheeks. It brought to mind how his hands gripped her hips, caging her to him, how his lips and tongue caressed her skin, the peak of pleasure that crashed over her without warning...and about all the ice cubes and make up she had to use to get conceal the marks and hickeys he decorated her skin with. "Um, yeah, sort of. I…. I didn't catch your name though."

"It's alright. I can't blame you as we were otherwise…. preoccupied." The blue-eyed devil teased, either uncaring or not noticing the inquisitive looks from the others at the table. It was unfair how striking he looked in a simple black t-shirt, showcasing his broad shoulders and muscular arms that were award-worthy.

Mortification was the best description of emotion causing Kari to further flush but also avert her gaze to the food-laden table. For some reason she figured the likelihood of her ever meeting Ivar again was slim to none. Clearly they ran in different social circles and really they had no reason to bump into one another. Apparently universe, fate, whatever decided her life was going too well and decided to throw a curveball at her. Then to make matters worse, here he sat arrogantly and alluding to what occurred between them in front of his family.

It had not gone unnoticed by her that Gyda mentioned Ivar was her half-brother, making her a Lothbrok too, even if she did not go by that last name.

Kari peered around the table, a polite smile on her face in a poor attempt to mask any further revealing thoughts. "Well, it was lovely to meet you all but I need to be going."

"You sure you don't want a ride?" Gyda kindly offered again, already reaching over to grab her own purse. "It's not a problem."

"No, stay. The bus should be here in a couple minutes. Your food is getting cold."

Gyda opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to reconsider and instead gave her a quick embrace. "Ok, I'll stop by the studio this week and we can catch up."

"I'll hold you to that." Kari returned the hug; her body tingled as if bugs crawled all over skin making her want to flee the restaurant even faster. With a hurried "goodbye" to everyone else, trying to avoid Ivar's penetrating gaze, she headed out of the restaurant. With the looks she received from the waitstaff and patrons, she quickened her pace, feeling like an intruder in the lavish establishment.

Soon as she stepped outside, back onto the busy sidewalk and warm sun, she inhaled a deep breath. A part of her felt awful for how quickly she ditched Gyda, who had only ever been kind to her. Truthfully, she had wanted to meet Bjorn because of the stories both Gyda and Torvi shared.

All of that had been eclipsed by the sight of the man she had made-out with over a week ago in that dark club…. Ivar Lothbrok.

Never aloud would she admit how often she thought about him since their encounter. Yet she knew it was best to stay away from him, ever if a part of her fought the notion. It would be safer, for both of them.

Now suddenly coming face-to-face with him, her emotions warred within her as to how she should feel.

Her feet hurried along the sidewalk, worried she would miss her bus because of her detour in the restaurant….and maybe a piece of her needed to put distance between herself and the handsome, cocky man that plagued her thoughts. At the crosswalk, she practically bounced on her toes, willing the light to change color faster. Her mind whirled with the new information of Gyda's relations. Could they still be friends? It also answered her unspoken question of where the wealth came from that Gyda and Torvi were accustomed too. The Lothbroks may not be a household name but it was certainly known in the business world, especially since the many sons had stepped up and expanded its empire.

Without warning, a firm hand grabbed her upper arm, whipping her around. A shriek stuck on the tip of her tongue at the unexpected action. She turned to be greeted by a stunned pair of eyes and open mouth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else." The flustered man said, retracting his hand from her and rubbing his beard with it self-consciously. "No wonder you didn't answer when I called…. I thought you were ignoring me. Are you OK? I'm so sorry again. "

She placed a hand over her chest, heart hammering almost painfully. The man appeared so concerned about scaring her, it was endearing. "It's fine. You just startled me, I guess I was thinking too hard."

He shuffled his feet for a moment, looking down at them before looking up again. "I'm Daniel, by the way."

"Kari."

"You headed, ah, to the bus stop too?"

A genuine smile touched her lips as he sided up next to her amongst the crowd of others waiting to cross the street. "Yeah, actually. Just got off work."

"Hey! What a coincidence. I plan on going home, eating whatever is in my fridge that doesn't have mold on it yet and sitting on the couch watching TV for at least the next three hours."

"That sounds amazing. I may have to steal that idea."

He turned to face her, placing his hand on her shoulder, and stared at her in mock seriousness that made her giggle. "I give you full permission, no need for thievery. And don't eat something healthy, it's a perfect night for gluttony."

Before she could respond with her own quip, someone grabbed Daniel from behind, throwing him to the ground. Bystanders barely made it out of the way as Daniel just caught himself on his hands and knees.

"GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!"

Kari stared in horror as Ivar loomed over Daniel, fists clenched and eyes blazing. Everyone nearby drew back, creating a wide circle and warily watching the fight that was threatening to happen.

"Ivar, stop!" Kari tried to move between the two men but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back behind him effortlessly.

Daniel hesitantly got up, scraped hands held up in surrender. "Sorry, man. I swear I wasn't trying to make a pass on your girl. Just making conversation."

"Sure. Now fuck off and don't let me fucking see you around her again." He seethed; the words spat out from between clenched teeth.

Eyeing Ivar as if he expected the man to suddenly attack him again, Daniel started walking away in the opposite direction, casting occasional glances over his shoulder.

At this point the light for the crosswalk turned green and those bystanders waiting began to move, all the while still leaving a wide berth around Ivar and Kari. Though she tried to ignore them, she could not help but catch a few looks of concern and pity directed towards her.

Pulling away from the arm still around her waist, Kari made to cross the street when Ivar grabbed her wrist.

"Where are you going?" He demanded, lingering fury coloring his tone.

"My bus is just up there. I need to go or I'll miss it."

"No, I'm giving you a ride home."

"What? No, I don't need…. I told Gyda it's fine."

He scoffed, relinquishing his hold on her wrist. "I'm not doing this for Gyda, now come on."

"No, really, I…."

"It wasn't a suggestion."

Equal parts dumbfounded and angry, she looked back up the street only to see the doors of the bus closing. She closed her eyes for a second, begging for patience and understanding. What she really wanted to do was ignore Ivar and walk away, find somewhere to wait for the next bus. But if Ivar had followed her from the restaurant and was now demanding he give her a ride home, she figured he would not be beyond dragging her over to his car, or whatever he rode in, and continuing to make a scene. It made no sense why he would follow her to offer a ride or attack a random man. She wondered if this was the Ivar Lothbrok that her friends warned her about.

Deep down, she found herself still wanting to be around him again. To see if the man she met at the club was the real him or just a mask…. plus, she hated to wait for the next bus. There was a creepy lady that liked to sit next to her and tell her about the latest escapades of her many gerbils or the newest “friend” her adult son brought home for the night.

"Fine." She stated, turning back to him.

"Good girl. This way."

Silently, she followed him back towards the restaurant and down the next street to a luxury Mercedes car. In her mind, she decided that just because she was getting a ride from him did not mean she had to be friendly. Her plan was to ignore him and stare out the window. Hopefully that was enough of a hint to leave her alone. He was the one who chased her down to give her a ride. His infuriating actions may have spurred her pettiness to supersede the wisdom of ignoring him, especially knowing he was a Lothbrok.

The driver held the door open for both of them to slide in. The bench seat was spacious with a detailed leather interior and that unique new card smell. Another time, Kari may have loved to ride around in a vehicle like this, pretending to be a celebrity or someone important. Now she just wanted to get home. Even if that traitorous part silently ogled him, an arm’s length away from her.

"Where to, sir?" The driver asked once he took his seat in the front.

Then with an arrogant smirk, Ivar rattled off Kari's address.

Kari's plans to ignore him flew out the window. She stared open-mouthed as he leaned back in the seat, brace-covered legs spread out obnoxiously. The first real trickle of fear since meeting him danced up her spine.

"How? I mean…. are you…. stalking me?"

He laughed, cocking his head to the side, to eye her lazily. "You're harder to track down than most people. No social media really. Pay most things with cash. It's like you're trying to hide something."

She gulped, the revelation he could find out all that about her so easily was unnerving. But his last statement hit a little too close to the truth to bring her comfort.

"But it wasn't too difficult." He added brazenly, apparently ignorant of the anxiety his prior statement caused. "And now I found you."

"Why? I mean… why were you looking for me?"

He stared at her, those predatory eyes prying into her soul. She shifted awkwardly, wishing to be free from his gaze but unable to tear herself away on her own accord. Caught in his trap, his web, all she could hope for was mercy. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted down to view his lips, the memory of them against hers at the forefront of her mind…. even more than the anxiety still skating on her nerves.

In an instant, he reached over and hauled her across the bench seat and into his lap. A squeak flew from her as she abruptly found herself sitting sideways on his legs.

As her mind raced to figure out what to do, and honestly how to feel about this, his lips descended on hers and all prior thoughts vanished. His tongue invaded her mouth, forcing hers to comply, demanding attention. Without hesitation, she gave in. Her hands traced his sideburns and the braids on the top of his head. No matter how many times she tried to forget his touch, his kisses, it haunted her. Now having his lips on hers once again, she found even her memories were incomparable to the actual feel, of his lips, his hands, his breath, his body, his scent. It all drew her in like a beacon, directing her to her greatest desire and darkest temptation.

"All I can think about is you." He murmured, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. "Fuck…. how good you taste, how good you feel…. I could barely focus on work."

"Ivar…" she moaned, feeling herself melting under his touch. As he pressed kisses along her jawline, a quiver ran through her but instead of feeling ashamed like before, she tilted her head to expose more of her neck. Normally so reserved with physical touch, for some unexplainable reason, she felt safe enough to embrace her wanton side with him. Somehow, she knew he would not make fun of her actions. Perhaps it was because of his reaction when finding out her virginal status. All she knew was his touch, his very presence, drew forth a side of her previously unknown while making her feel safe.

His hands gripped her with an almost possessive hold. "Gods, I want you." He groaned against her pulse point, the sound wicked with the sheer desire infused in it.

And for some reason, those three words broke the spell holding her hostage to him.

She froze. Slowly she leaned back to stare at him. The truth, the confession, tasted like poison on the tip of her tongue.

"I…. I can't." She whispered, hating how weak her voice sounded.

"What are you talking about?"

"I won't…. I'm not having sex with you."

What lust and tenderness towards her vanished in the blink of an eye. His hands that had been caressing, now gripped painfully. Eyes that beheld her as a goddess, now threatened to cut her without remorse. The very air between them threatened to catch fire with a single spark due to the tension.

"Why not? Cause I'm a cripple?" He snarled at her like an enraged animal. "You'll kiss me and let me get you off but you won't fuck me? Or did your friends tell you who I am? Is that it? Now that you know who I am, you're going to run away?"

"No, it's not… no, I don't think I'm the kind of girl you'd want." Tears welled in her eyes, both from fear and the physical pain he was causing with his forceful grip.

"And what the fuck does that mean? You know me so well, huh?"

That poisonous truth dripped off her tongue once again. How could she tell him that if he truly knew who she was, he would reject her? It was not even a question but a fact. It was better for both of them to stay away, to never see one another again. How twisted was her truth, how deceptive was she in the face of a man known for his violence. Even as her innermost being begged to let go of her past self and embrace this…. embrace him.

"I'm nobody. I'm boring. I don't have money or influence. I just am…. You'd get tired of me in like two days." She took a steadying breath, her hands fiddling in her lap as to avoid his piercing gaze. The lilac color on her nails was starting to chip at the edges, redirecting her attention for a brief second. Even if all she wanted to do was run, avoid this conversation like the plague, she knew in a way, she owed him the truth. Her next words came out in a rush, otherwise she knew they would never pass her lips. "And I don't want to have sex until I'm ready and with someone who cares about me."

She wondered if this was the spark to set him off. How quickly he would reject her, push her off his lap, laugh in her face for her orthodox ideal, call her frigid like others before. Mentally, she prepared for it, even if every time the words were still a dagger to her heart. This time would be no different.

What she did not expect was after almost a minute of painful silence, for him to gently grip her chin and turn her head to face him once again.

"Go on a date with me."

She balked. "What?"

He stroked her cheek, his hand that had been gripping her thigh, most likely leaving vivid bruises, now created soothing circles. It was his voice that shocked her the most. What had been harsh and unrelenting in cruelty now was soft and gentle. "Let me take you out. I'll even follow your damn rule of no sex. Though I know you want me just as much."

"Ivar…."

"You can't deny it." He taunted, with a devilish grin, "You like the idea of me touching you, bringing you pleasure, showing you what you've been missing with my fingers," teasingly, he glided his fingers along her inner thigh, close to her core, "and my tongue," he licked the shell of her ear before whispering the next part, "and my cock. Tell me you haven't thought about it."

Her breath hitched with each movement of his, his filthy words making her wet without her conscious approval and the cocky bastard knew it. "I…. please stop…." She tried to plead, only to make him laugh.

"Stop lying to both of us."

"Please, don't do this. I just can't."

"Why not?" Jaw tense, he regarded her with a look of pure hunger but also exasperation. "Give me a damn good reason."

"It's better if we don't."

He leaned back fully in his seat as if examining her. That devious and deadly gaze pinned her, reading her very thoughts and secrets. Beneath it she felt vulnerable and naked, something she detested. She tried to squirm out of his lap, to put necessary distance between them. His hands only tightened on her, keeping her restrained in his lap.

"It's not…" he started then stopped to lick his lips. And there it was, a glimpse behind the mask, that vulnerability she caught a peek of when they were at the club, "...because I'm a cripple?"

"What? No, not at all. That doesn't…. no, you're beautiful." Soon as the last word left her mouth, her absolute shock at his question morphed into humiliation. Both of her hands flew up to cover her face, burning with embarrassment.

"Beautiful, huh?"

"Shut up."

He chuckled, running his nose along the column of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine. "And you still won't go on a date with me?"

Cautiously, she eased her hands from her face to meet his amused gaze. "I'm sorry." She replied with a shake of her head.

He eyed her as if trying to suss out more of her secrets, head tilted to the side and eyebrows furrowed slightly. After a long moment, he smirked. "Alright. We'll see about that."

"What?"

"You heard me. You'll change your mind eventually. I can be very persistent with something I want."

With a push of a button on a nearby console, loud music filled the air but he did not release her. Instead, he continued to stroke her back or legs as he gazed out the window. Every time she tried to squirm out of lap, he would tighten his grip on her hip or thigh, silently demanding she remain. Finally, she gave up and relaxed against him, enjoying his soothing touches and the warmth of his body.

Ivar Lothbrok was the most complicated man she had ever met. Just in the past hour, she witnessed him go from cocky to murderous to sensual and now dare she even say…. charming. It baffled her that he purposefully sought her out, even if it was stalker-ish. That he wanted to go on a date with her, knowing she would not put out at the end for him. Her image of him and the one painted by her friends were so vastly different…. she wondered which one to believe. Not that it truly mattered, since they would not be seeing each other after this. She could not open that door. It was better this way.

She was disheartened when they reached her home. The way their bodies fit perfectly together, how comforting his touch and presence was, it was unnerving and intriguing. A small part of her wished the drive was longer so they could continue remaining in this bubble of illusion. That she could soak this feeling up just a bit more, for something to hold onto when she was alone. How life could have been between them if fate was different.

The driver pulled up the luxury car in front of the unoccupied, short driveway. With no car there, that meant her roommate was not at the townhouse. Probably for the best, since if Alana had seen Kari getting out of a vehicle with Ivar, she would have lost her shit.

"Come on… tonight." He whispered into her ear, entwining their fingers, those exquisite eyes begging for her to change her mind. "Let me take you out, kitten."

"I can't…. but we can be friends... if you want."

Soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. What kind of stupid thing was that to say? She needed to stay away from him, she knew it. But seeing that last hopeful gleam in his eyes and the despair that replaced it as she told him 'no' once again…. it was too much.

A cocky smirk slowly spread on his lips, like he knew something that she was not privy to. He laid a kiss on the back of their entwined hands. "If you say so."

Carefully, he helped maneuver her off his lap, and out of the vehicle, his hands grazing over her hips and thighs quickly. She turned around and raised an eyebrow, for him to only stare at her in an innocent expression. Instead of being upset, like she should have been, she just rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to keep the smile off her lips.

"Um, thanks for the ride."

"Yeah. See you soon…. friend." With a teasing wink, he closed the door and a second later, the vehicle pulled away.

She watched the car drive away and wondered why the word 'friend' left a sour taste in her mouth.

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #modern ivar #ivar x ofc #ivars heathen army #ivar romance #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #vikings ivar #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x oc #hvitserk #floki #gyda #torvi #vikings bjorn #mzwrites

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bikiniarmorbattledamage · 4 years

Photo

Queen of the Spiders Re-Covered

We decided to try our hand at a combined redesign, where each of us picked a character in the same picture and redesigned them. And we thought this image, the cover of an old Dungeons and Dragons adventure called “Queen of the Spiders” would be a good candidate (blame for throwing it at us goes to @theoldhack).

This is where the infamous drow race is introduced, where I guess they were just... evil women of color. 😬 Unfortunate. We decided to make them purple-skinned like they are in more modern lore.

At first, Icy thought the “queen” in the title referenced the lady in the middle there, but it’s actually one of the names for Lolth, the spider goddess whom the drow venerate, so.... We’re sure the drow on the cover are important mini-bosses somewhere in the adventure, probably, maybe.

Full write-up and close-up images under the cut.

What’s-her-Face on the Right

Just gotta say that it’s a huge pet peeve of mine when (usually male) writers write a matriarchal society as, air quotes, “sexually liberated,” otherwise known as “an excuse to draw them in lingerie because I can’t imagine women’s bodies not catering to me personally in any scenario, while still drawing men in full body armor.” Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

Okay, so.... I’m not sure what she’s supposed to be... besides a swimsuit model, which maybe the drow do have. Is there a quest where the players go to the underground beach to play underground beach volleyball? Cause if not, why is she like that???

I decided to make her a mage (this was a 1st edition book, so that’s all we got). I ended up changing.... everything, really. I think the only thing I didn’t change was her nose shape. It’s not my fault though, the redline for her original pose was an unsalvageable eldrich nightmare.

I gave her a more confident pose, more comfortable magic-user-friendly clothes (with the spider motif, cause spider god), and even different hair. The original hairdo just wasn’t doing it for me. I wanted her to look cool enough to have her own illustration in the book. She even has a little magic flame (mostly cause I didn’t know what to do with her hand lol)!

Her hair didn’t quite turn out how I wanted it to, but overall, I think it’s a good redraw. She’s got lots of fun shapes, an actual color scheme, and an attitude. What else do we need?

-Icy

Queen/High Priestess Crotchleg

The composition was so awful that I had to actually largely re-do it by changing the third lady’s position from right to left and recreating large parts of the throne... some of which ended up covered by the main drow’s dress anyway (probably for the better).

Speaking of which, boy was she hard to fix without just throwing everything away and starting over! First of all, the way she sits on the throne seems like a product of an alien who never experienced what a chair is... which might also explain the throne’s uncomfortable-looking design. I actually ended up giving it a bigger seat and more lumbar support.

The pose, of course, got changed to something less concerned with showing off her immaculate Brazilian and more with looking comfortable and intimidating in the authority position. I also noticed her neck was disturbingly short, so I moved her face a tiny bit up. Now her spider crown is more of a tiara than a hat. And she got a golden choker to match.

A lot of questionable physics of how she actually sits got covered up by roomy, relatively simplistic clothes I gave her. Maybe I’d consider something more elaborate if the rest of the painting didn’t require so much fixing. What matters is that it’s not a painted-on swimming suit anymore. I’m overall satisfied with the design of her top and the spiderweb skirt. Hopefully the golden spider jewelry (the legs are thin chains!) gives it some regal feel.

The original shoes were quite stylish, but looked neither comfortable nor matched the fashion sense I went with for the character (also didn’t match the angles at which I redrew legs). So I ended up giving her sandals with golden ornamentation, matching her gauntlets. Sorry not sorry for half-assing the legs. One has to prioritize while on a deadline*.

I’m generally happy with the results, considering the sheer scale of changes we had to apply to have it meet BABD standards for positive example.

~Ozzie

*Icy sobbing in the background

#redraw #redesign #stream redesign #character design #costume design #Dungeons and Dragons #fantasy #drow #RPG #tabletop #evil is sexy #image #D&D #DnD #bikini armor battle damage #bikiniarmorbattledamage #BABD

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sassyhobbits · 4 years

Note

....tinder au??🥺 not to rush u ofc! but i’m having a rough time in school right now and an update would really make my week better🤍

you sent this ask at just the right time! i just finished it up! sorry for the lack of writing. school is also giving me a rough time rn as well! but!!! we will persevere!!!

also im a little buzzed so i hope this is coherent

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3

~~~

Rowan didn’t really enjoy dressing up, could go his entire life without attending another large, social gathering. And yet… he had let Aelin convince him to take her to a wedding.

He had forced himself into his nicest suit because Aelin told him to. He sensed that this was something he didn’t want to argue with her about, so he did it with minimal complaint. He figured that it wouldn’t be that bad in the grand scheme of things, and the open bar was certainly a perk.

Not to mention, Aedion would be there well. In fact, Rowan was on his way to his coworkers apartment where he would meet up with the rest of them before heading to the wedding. Apparently, Aedion got roped in as well. His and Aelin’s family were old friends with the groom’s family.

Rowan checked his watch as he climbed the stairs, ensuring he wasn’t late lest he give Aelin a reason to be cross with him. It seemed he was making good time.

Rowan knocked politely, the door swinging open quickly and revealing a surprisingly well-dressed Aedion, who was nursing a bottle of beer.

“Hey man,” he said, clasping forearms with Rowan. “How’re you doing? You want a beer?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Rowan stepped into the apartment, lingering in the living room as Aedion slipped into the kitchen. The room was decorated simply, but it was clean. His eyes caught on a few old photographs, picturing what must have been a young Aedion and Aelin together, smiling smiles too large for their little faces.

Aedion reappeared, handing him the beer.

“I can’t believe Aelin conned you into this,” Aedion commented, leaning against the back of the couch. “But, I gotta say, I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Is the company there gonna be that bad?”

“Yes. But I also know Aelin’s doing this to piss off her ex. And I was never a big fan of him. I think it’s going to be funny.” Aedion finished off his beer, glancing at the clock mounted on the wall with a sigh. “Those girls are gonna make us late. Lys! Are you nearly done?”

“You can’t rush perfection!” Lysandra’s voice called from upstairs.

Aedion shook his head fondly with a playful chuckle, clearly used to waiting on the girls.

They chatted casually until Rowan was finished with his beer. It was then that a door opened from upstairs, followed by feminine laughter and the clicking of heels.

Lysandra descended first, looking perfectly elegant in an emerald slip dress that brought out the green in her eyes. She tossed her raven hair over her shoulder as she caught Aedion’s eye, sending him a bright and loving smile.

Rowan barely heard the two of them complimenting one another, all thoughts flying from his head at the sight of the woman walking down the stairs.

Aelin looked stunning, though Rowan knew stunning wasn’t really strong enough of a word to describe her in this instance.

She wore a golden silk dress that hit just above the knee. The conservativeness of the length was offset by the way it hugged each and every curve, as if it had been sewn on to her body specifically. Thin straps held it over her shoulders, leaving her toned arms bare. Aelin’s hair had been straightened and left hanging freely in a gleaming sheet down her back. It was then that Rowan realized how rarely he got to see her with her hair down. When Aelin was working or working out, it was always tossed up in a bun or a ponytail. It suited her. She wore a necklace, and it wasn’t until she got closer that Rowan was able to see that the pendant was a golden sword. It was strangely fitting.

She was slipping something into her clutch, barely even noticing Rowan until she nearly walked through him. Her eyes snapped up, the stunning turquoise color brought out by her eyeshadow look. Her gaze traveled from his feet to the top of his head, assessing and nothing more.

“You clean up better than I expected,” Aelin said simply.

Rowan wished he had something witty up his sleeve, but seeing Aelin in that dress had left his mind in shambles. He was only able to grind out a curt, “Thanks.”

She held his gaze for a moment longer, leaving Rowan to wonder what was going through her head. Before he had much more time to ponder it, she swept away, grabbing a jacket by the door.

“So, is everyone ready?” she asked.

“In case you didn’t notice,” Aedion drawled. “We were all waiting for you two.”

Aelin ignored the tiny quip, smoothing down the sides of her dress. “Well then, let's get going. We have a wedding to attend.”

…

The ride to the venue was uneventful. Aelin sat in the back besides Rowan while Aedion drove them all. The car was filled with friendly chatter back and forth, pop music droning on in the background.

Aelin tried to stop herself from sending sly glances towards Rowan. He looked good tonight. Really good. Rowan was hot on a day to day basis, something that not even his drab PT uniform could hide. But tonight, all cleaned up and dressed in something nice, Rowan was unfairly handsome.

Her only solace was knowing that he was checking her out too. Aelin knew she looked amazing tonight. Part of it was for herself, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that part of it was to gain Rowan’s attention. She had been successful in that endeavor.

Aelin wasn’t stupid. She knew Rowan found her attractive just as Rowan knew she found him attractive. They had been ready to go out and probably bang until they realized that they were coworkers. Aelin had agreed to keep it professional, but she would be lying if she said that she didn’t want something more with him.

Soon enough, Aedion was parking the car outside the venue. They filed out, Aelin smoothing and straightening her dress, a sort of heaviness in her gut as she looked towards where the ceremony would be held. Although she was excited to see Dorian, and happy that he had found love, she was less than excited about seeing Chaol again.

The scent of pine and snow surrounded her just as Rowan came up to her side.

“You ready?” Aelin asked him, to which he gave a stiff nod. “Good. Don’t embarrass me.”

Rowan scowled, but held out his arm for her regardless. Aelin took it, stepping close to his side, trying to ignore how nice the warmth of his body felt against her own.

It was time to get this over with.

…

The ceremony was simple yet beautiful. Any idiot could see how in love Dorian and Sorscha were with one another. Aelin had only met the bride on a few occasions, but she liked her. Sorscha looked stunning in a flowy gown that made her brown skin glow.

Aelin pointedly ignored Chaol even though he stood right by Dorian the entire time. Instead, she looked at the maid of honor, Yrene, who her ex was now dating. Through talking to Dorian, Aelin had learned that Chaol and Yrene had met through Sorscha. Apparently, the two women worked at the same hospital and were close friends.

Yrene was a beautiful woman with kind eyes. Aelin knew in her gut that she would like her once they got to talking. Perhaps they would find time to chat through the night.

The ceremony ended with a sweet kiss and the happy couple going off to take some photographs. For the guests, it was time to cocktail.

Rowan, at least, was playing the part of a boyfriend well. Without complaint, surprisingly. He held her hand as they went towards where cocktail hour was being held, a steady presence. He even chatted with her, asking her questions about how she knew Dorian. When she whispered snide comments about other guests, he even laughed a few times. It was… nice, she supposed. She was having a good time with him.

Lysandra and Aedion were swept up by Dorian’s parents, leaving Aelin and Rowan by themselves.

The more they drank, the more comfortable they became. It was easier to laugh, easier to forget why they had put distance between them to begin with. They had been pretty good at avoiding conversation with others to begin with, but Aelin knew it was only a matter of time before they crossed paths with someone.

“So what do we say if someone asks how we met?” Rowan asked as they grabbed another drink from the bar.

“We tell them the truth,” Aelin deadpanned. “Sexting on tinder.”

Rowan choked on his whiskey. “We cannot say that.”

“Fine. We can be boring and say we met at work.”

Rowan laughed, and Aelin realized how much she loved the sound. She liked how it softened his normally stony face, made him appear younger, lighter. She could get used to seeing him like this.

They turned from the bar, taking a few steps into the crowd, only to come face to face with the reason Aelin had dragged Rowan along to begin with.

“Aelin,” Chaol Westfall greeted, offering a shaking and awkward smile. “Hi.”

The smile that had been painted on Aelin’s face faltered slightly. She had been enjoying her time with Rowan so much she had forgotten why she had wanted him by her side to begin with.

“Chaol,” Aelin said, smiling tightly. “It’s good to see you again.”

Yrene was on his arm, looking stunning in a deep purple dress, curly hair loose and voluminous. Her honey eyes were bright and kind as she smiled at Aelin.

“You too,” Chaol said, before motioning towards the woman beside him. “This is Yrene. My girlfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Yrene greeted, reaching out and shaking her hand. “I love your dress.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ve been looking at your shoes all night.” Aelin put a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, pressing herself to his side. “This is Rowan.”

Aelin watched carefully as they all shook hands and greeted one another, carefully studying facial expressions and body language. She had wondered if this would be awkward and tense but… it was normal.

Aelin and Chaol had ended on terrible terms, treating one another like actual shit. She remembered the insults thrown, the glares when they happened to be in the same room. But maybe… maybe they had gotten better. Maybe some time and distance had eased away the worst of the anger and toxicity. She didn’t look at Chaol and feel bad anymore she felt… nothing.

But she could tell that Chaol had Yrene and he cared very much about her.

And Aelin had…

Well, she didn’t really have anyone but…

She looked to Rowan, and for once didn’t try to avoid the longing that swelled in her chest. She wished she had him.

…

Aelin sat down at her table, sipping at a glass of champagne and watching the people on the dancefloor sway slowly to the soft music playing.

The rest of the evening had gone by smoothly. Aelin enjoyed the time she spent with her friends, getting to see Dorian again even though she couldn’t steal much of his time. All and all, it had been fun.

The night was winding down, people filtering out slowly, but there were still those who lingered for a few more dances. Dorian danced with his new wife, both looking at one another with so much love Aelin could feel it from where she sat. Lysandra smiled and laughed and Aedion twirled her around. Chaol held Yrene to his chest as they swayed slowly, lost in their own world.

Aelin sighed and rested her chin on her palm, watching them all move.

There was the sound of footfalls coming her way, stealing her attention from the dance floor. She looked up and found Rowan standing before her, looking to where her gaze was just focused but glancing back at her with a raised brow.

“Do you want to dance?”

Aelin blinked in surprise, sure she had heard him incorrectly. Rowan didn’t seem like the type of man who enjoyed dancing but… the offer hung there.

“You don’t have to,” Aelin said softly. “You did your part.”

“I can tell you want to dance. So, let’s dance. It’s almost time to go anyway.”

Aelin hesitated a beat, studying Rowan’s expression carefully. She didn’t want him to do anything he was uncomfortable with, yet his face showed nothing but sincerity. Rowan held out a hand towards her, brow raised as if to say Well? Are you coming?

A hesitant smile found its way onto Aelin’s face, but she accepted his hand, letting him guide her to her feet. Rowan led her to the center of the dance floor, placing a polite hand on her hip, the other clutching her own. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Aelin could have sworn time stopped. Maybe she had imagined it, but she was almost sure she saw a flash of the same longing she felt in his eyes.

They began to sway slowly to the music. It was a little awkward at first, but as time passed and the notes rang out, the tension lessened. They moved closer and closer to one another, until to a stranger they might have actually appeared to be a regular couple. It felt more natural than Aelin expected it to.

As the songs played, they kept sending one another shy smiles. Aelin wasn’t sure at what point she rested her head against Rowan’s chest as they danced, but she never wanted that moment to end.

It was a shame that the reception was inching to a close, that the night of being close to Rowan would end. It was a shame that, come the morning, they would go back to being strangers once more.

But, for tonight, Aelin was content to pretend.

#tinder au #rowaelin #my writing

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sokkasangel · 4 years

Text

i hate you

bucky barnes x f!reader

summary: bucky & the reader hate each other, but could the misunderstanding finally end when bucky gathers his nerves during a mission with her?

warnings: mild angst

word count: 800

a/n: this was really fun to write; i hope it’s not too short!

masterlist

“you have to dance. now.”

the voice of steve rogers rang in both yours & bucky’s ears. you scratched as the small metal disk in your ear. you always hated these. as soon as the sentence ended, the small orchestra overhead started tuning their instruments. the rest of the party-goers looked upward to the balcony where the sounds drifted from.

for a mission, you had to admit this was one of the most beautiful missions you had been on. the sounds of the cello & violins blended perfectly, & their tunes bounced effortlessly throughout the ballroom.

the trims of the room were gold, as were the various columns dotted about the space. it reminded you of the various pictures you had once seen of russian palaces. the tables & chaises near the walls matched the gold & white color scheme of the place. however, the men & women’s attire stood out. the men wore suits of maroon, navy, or black. you noticed how each of their shoes shined as you could see your reflection in them. & the women stood in every color imaginable. deep scarlets, purples, pinks, royal greens, & so on.

you had been gifted a baby blue lace gown for this particular occasion. you had joked that tony made it, even though it was made by a familiar tailor. it was long sleeve reached the floor, hiding both your heels & the dagger strapped to your shin. the many sheer layers of the gown gave it an angelic look, yet not scandalous. it was perfect.

your partner, bucky, had been dressed in an all black, three-pieced suit. his hair had been slicked back in a low ponytail, but you could see a few strands escaped. he wasn’t the ugliest in the room, you thought.

you & bucky had never gotten along. maybe it was because you were opposites, or maybe it was just simply a grudge. neither of you knew. but from the first moment you met, not one smile was shared between you.

you thought he was a menace to the team. he avoided everyone, barely communicated, & helped when only necessary. it made missions longer, & life at the tower strained. the atmosphere was uncomfortable when bucky was around.

you didn’t know this, but he thought you were an annoyance to the team. he always heard you talking from two rooms over, stepping on toes. he thought you needed to be quieter, or at least out of people’s business. you were always trying to solve problems.

so being paired together was maybe the worst thing imaginable. it was actually forcing the both of you to spend more time together than you ever had before. & when steve told you both you were going undercover as a couple, you shuddered.

a night with a basically silent jerk. great.

& you were expected to socialize & look like a loving pair.

“both of you dance. now.”

it’s just a job. it’s just a job. it’s just a job.

you turned to bucky, who had been awkwardly standing next to you the entire evening. he kept his eyes on the ceiling & his hands in his pockets.

he looked at you like he’d never done before; however, it was the first time he actually looked at you that night, though. he had a small glow in his eyes you had never noticed before.

it’s probably just the alcohol.

you held out your hand, wanting to get this over with. one dance & you were safe. bucky took it as he rolled his eyes. as the music started up, you placed a hand on his shoulder, & his hand rested on your hip.

it was uncomfortable but as the dance continued, you two fell into a nice rhythm. you did overhear once that bucky had been a pretty decent dancer back in the ‘40s.

the dance being performed by the various couples about the floor was simple: some swaying, a few spins, a switch of sides. easy enough.

a minute or two passed by. not one word or glance was shared between you & bucky.

“y’know,” you started. “a dance is usually filled with some conversation.”

“then start one.” bucky’s head remained turned in the opposite direction from yours.

“well, in situations like these, the gentleman is supposed to start talking first,” you whispered in his ear.

you both parted. bucky remained tied to you by one hand as he spun you. as you turned, you took in the people around you. your target had not yet arrived. then the two of you came back together, only this time facing one another.

“okay,” bucky tilted his head with this word. “you are the most stubborn, irresponsible, annoying, selfish...”

you were stunned. he kept listing & listing awful words as you stared in disbelief. sure, you two disliked each other, but it was a silent agreement. a contract never to be discussed. your jaw hung open. you told yourself to close it before anyone noticed.

“... nosy, disgraceful, &... &...”

this made your jaw drop open again. bucky? stuttering? he alway made a point to be punctual & precise around you, never making a mistake. he wanted to prove he was superior in every way.

“& beautiful...” he avoided your eyes then.

what?

“... & humorous... & k-kind.”

you noticed the music was slowing, the song was coming to a close. a few couples actually had parted from the dance floor.

as the cello notes grew deeper & deeper, bucky pulled you into a dip, thus breaking the conversation. if you could call it that. he held you only with his metal arm, allowing you to fall right above the marble floor.

he then lifted his free arm, slowly & hesitating. he reached for your face, but he seemed scared. like you would break.

his fingertips brushed your cheekbone. it brought goosebumps to your arms. after brushing a few strands of hair past your ear, he rested his hand on your cheek. it was warm, & it felt... comfortable?

you couldn’t believe you were letting bucky do this. it was like you were paralyzed; you couldn’t refuse. but at the same time, you didn’t want to.

with this hand on your face, he pulled you back up. your faces were closer than ever. you could smell the shot of whiskey he had when he first entered the ballroom.

just as slowly as he reached his arm up, he leaned in closer to you. when his eyes closed, yours followed in suit. what? why?

your lips touched & the goosebumps came back. it was soft & gentle, yet passionate. this made your heart feel full & as if it would explode.

but you hated bucky. how could he make you feel this way? how could your feelings of him change in five minutes? was it even possible?

your head was buzzing with questions but they disappeared as bucky kissed you again. with impeccable timing, he pulled away as the last note concluded.

“always wanted to do that,” he smiled.

“wh-“

“told you the dress would work,” steve’s voice came back loud in your earpiece.

#x reader #marvel x reader #marvel masterlist #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #avengers #avengers x reader

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thecandywrites · 3 years

Text

Blood For Gold Chapter 22

Woo, let the healing begin matters to be set right!

Thanks to @kriskukko for again, letting me borrow her regency era orc art and her regency era troll art too! Let’s bring Count Javyn Jabire back in shall we? And see what he thinks about all of these changes and let Sierge reflect on his own behavior and not let him get off the hook so easily.

@punkhorse96 you’re gonna love it!

Blood For Gold

Chapter 22

“So what kind of wedding did you have in mind?” You asked Demsey at dinner.

“Whatever kind of wedding you want, if you want to go full Dorierran, I will happily comply and pay for whatever you want. I want you to be happy and satisfied with everything. I know the Morrigans tried to make you as “English” as possible. So especially since your family is here and your friends are here and even more are coming in, you make it however you want it to be. I’ll happily submit and concede to anything you want, as long as we get married, the when and how and other details don’t really matter to me. Your marriage to Edward was all about him, This is your wedding, it should please you above all else. To hell with everyone else and their expectations, if they don’t like any particular thing, they don’t need to come.” Demsey reassured you.

“Really?” You asked as your tears glassed over your eyes.

“You mean that? You’re not just saying that to…” You began, almost afraid to believe him.

“No I absolutely mean it, this is your wedding and you’re marrying me for love, it should be exactly how you want to be.” He insisted.

“Thank you.” You thanked him before you announced to the table of what Demsey just told you and how you wanted it to be as Dorierran as possible before you changed your plans, how you were going to use the moura temple in London, instead of the church of the Voyambi’s choice as Demsey had no qualms about informing and insisting to his parents that because your marriage to Edward had been “his way” how it was only right that your wedding to him be all yours and that it should embrace you and your family and heritage and asking you to sacrifice anything was completely out of the question which his mother took as a surprise but the more she thought about it, the more “right” that became.

“Oh Zax and Axal, invite the Raymonds, Axal, I want you to enjoy my wedding with Ramsey, Octavia and Drina by your side. Yalin and Charlotte have always been genuine and I know that Zax will want Charlotte to be there too. I think since they were generous and hospitable with us, that we should be the same with them.” You told Axal and Zax who both teared up but their smiles were beaming.

“Thank you, I didn’t know how you felt so I wasn’t even going to ask.” Axal admitted.

“Me either.” Zax added.

“Well they’re kind of like family at this point and I want this to be a small, private, family and very close friends kind of affair, so of course they should be invited. But that also goes for you Demesy, you should invite your friends too.” You urged him.

“I will, I plan on having Javyn Jabire be my best man, he’s been my closest friend since we were boys.” Demesy smiled.

“Well in that case, will any of you be willing to help Demsey with his wedding suit? It needs to be gold because my wedding dress is gold because in the Hanging Garden Quarter which used to include the Sultanate Quarter and the Shiek and Shah Quarter, the bride and groom wear matching color schemes, I got some fabrics in from Dorierra that should help because I don’t know if the unstitched suit that was already made to go with it will be big enough for him.” You asked hopefully.

“Oh absolutely, after dinner, we can go back to your house to get it all and then we can spend all day tomorrow making him a suit, no worries.” Leumeni reassured you as the other male members of your family eagerly agreed to help as well which made you practically glow with gratitude.

“Thank you.” You thanked them gratefully.

After dinner though you made a stop at the moura Masai Temple and inquired about using it for your wedding as you were happy to see the same people who had been at the Kamoba battle as the band and orchestra also played music here at Masai Temple as they were all happy to see you marry the man who had the balls to kiss you in front of not just Royalty but all of gentry as you immediately made plans and orders for a “Sirerinna Wedding” later in the week for when they had the availability which would be in only five days which they assured you was more than enough time to put that kind of wedding together, because sometimes they usually only had a few hours notice but they were impressed that you had enough self control to wait a whole five days for it which made you and your family laugh.

They assured and reassured you that a lot could get done in a matter of days and that they would take it as a privilege that you, the Violet Viper would be married from Masai Temple as they asked you what colors you would like as you happily told them gold, turquoise and purple which for them made a lot of sense as Demsey happily paid them their asking price for it all and then some to make it ‘extra special’ which they happily accepted as Demsey, just by the looks of the entryway of the temple, he was in awe of it’s splendor and he didn’t need to see the rest of it to know that he was in for a treat to be married from here and after that, you took note of the moura dress shop- Corasura, that had a whole back room full of moura wedding attire that could either be bought or rented but because it was so late, it was decided that if the party needed anything, they would come in the next day to pick what they wanted or needed from there.

Then you brought everyone back to your house and went through all your trunks and got all the supplies you wanted and all the other items had been put with your wedding things for your future groom, whoever he might be as you noticed that there was already so much in these trunks that your family had put in here when you had left home two years prior, they were basically a wedding in a box, or in this case, three boxes or trunks in total, one of items for the groom, one for the bride and the last for the couple and the ceremony. Even the powder for all the white and gold henna was in there, only needing a special water and oil mix to mix it up and set it up to paint you head to toe with it along with other members of your family along with a copy of a henna design book, the most illustrious and amazing copy of the book available.

But Demsey of course refused to actually see your wedding dress because he wanted to at least honor that tradition and not tempt fate and superstition by seeing the bride’s dress before the wedding itself and wanted to wait until he saw you in it walking down the aisle. Which you couldn’t blame him for, even though he was informed that you weren’t going to be walking, you were going to be dancing down the aisle, your whole bridal party would be because that was traditional for a Sirerinna Wedding.

But Leumeni, Coravien, Storren, Brima, Zax, Axal and Rian as well as your hier father’s sons all took notes about the shade of gold and the more intricate details of the dress so that when they helped make Demsey’s wedding suit as well as their own since you had dozens of bolts of yards and yards and yards of fabrics of all kinds, enough to make all the men in your family as well as Demsey’s proper Dorierran wedding suits. Your brothers wanted to make especially sure they would have the same details on Demsey’s clothes as well as their own so that he would match you in an exquisite manner as they took all they could and asked you about what traditions you wanted to keep as you repeated that you wanted the quintessential “Sirerinna Wedding” which in marinai and in Dorierran culture meant ‘true love match wedding’.

The Sirerinna Wedding was reserved for when a bride would settle down for good and it would hopefully be the last wedding of her life and it wasn’t just because you were already pregnant, but that you felt it in your bones that this is what it should be and you were so happy and relieved and thrilled that Demsey was ok with all of this and was essentially, just along for the ride of it all and was embracing all of you, including your family, your home and your traditional culture before all the men in your family and friends departed so they could get to work tonight at the Voyambi’s house which the whole Voyambi family were more than happy to have them although they did insist that all of the gentlemen uphold the rules of decorum and decency which they were all happy to agree to.

The next day the Bellafonts, the Raymonds and the Voyambis met your family back at the moura dress shop, Corasura as all the Bellafont, Voyambi and Raymond women along with Jane, were fitted with traditional Dorierran Hanging Garden wedding celebration dresses as they marveled at them and happily traded them for the bolts of fabrics from Dorierra and charged only a small fee for the actual seamstresses to sew them together and to tailor the other dresses to the ladies and especially once they saw the unstitched wedding suit and actually pinned it to Demsey, found that only needed just a few more inches on the sides as your brothers showed what notes they had taken of your wedding dress and repeated that the two match together before Count Javyn Jabire came into the shop at Demsey’s instructions in the letter Demsey had penned and sent to him the night before.

“Count.” You greeted happily, seeing him again, he had been there for the Kamoba battle and had of course bet on his friend and when Demsey had caught sight of him had talked with him during lunch while you and your family were talking with the Royal Family.

“You still sure about this?” Javyn questioned as he stood on the pedestal and got fitted for his own wedding suit.

“Absolutely, there is no doubt in my mind.” Demsey grinned.

“And this doesn’t seem too sudden for you?” Javyn questioned as the tailor made his measurements and walked away to write them down. .

“Nope, actually,” Demsey began as he gestured for Javyn to lean his way.

“She’s already with child, my child, time is of the essence.” Demsey revealed in a low whisper before putting his finger to his lips to keep that revelation a secret.

“Ah, I see, you celebrated her victory in style did you?” Javyn couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“Something like that, a gentlemen never…” Demsey began.

“Oh I know, I know, I would never say anything anyway. But congratulations on both counts then.” Javyn offered amiably as this suddenly made a lot more sense to him.

“Then I take it that the saying is true that ‘mouras have been bred to be irresistible’.” Javyn teased as Demsey made a series of noises and facial expressions of agreement.

“So this couldn’t be helped then?” Javyn noted.

“No it could not, thankfully.” Demsey beamed happily.

“Well I’m happy for you and I wish you the best.” Javyn offered.

“Oh just wait, Audra invited several of her friends who are flying in and will be here hopefully by tonight, I saw a troll or two that might catch your eye.” Demsey teased back.

“Don’t bring me into temptation, I can barely keep Lady Wollworth and Lady Castana at bay as it is. I take it Lady Whitesale is not taking this news well.” He furthered.

“No, I don’t suppose she is, that’s actually why you do not see Princess Benyana in the mix. Benny tried to betray Audra and myself to the Whitesales by making up the most egregious lies and did Sierge heinously wrong.” Demsey informed him before he told his best friend some of the more nasty particulars.

“So in my experience, Benny was the outlier, the other mouras are perfectly amiable, it’s individuals like her that give the whole lot a bad name. So I wouldn’t take her and her conduct as an indicator on mouras, if anything, take Audra or Calla as your cue onto the true moura’s disposition.” Demsey reassured his friend before a herd of other customers came into the shop, but they were all new faces to everyone except your family as you and they all hugged each other tightly and received them happily.

“Your housekeeper told us where to find you, here, as you asked.” Jenniverre offered you a fig as they were all still in their riding leathers as you started laughing as you hugged them all and thanked them for coming as they all handed you figs of all kinds as you happily took them and eagerly inhaled the figs in between introducing your friends to the Voyambis and Count Javyn Jabire who stared at the moura troll in front of him in awed wonder because she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen.

Her name was Jenniverre Saphairines, she had the most gorgeous pastel indigo skin which matched with her gold moura marks was a heavenly contrast. Her hair was a gorgeous platinum blonde and the way that leather riding suit hugged her voluptuous body was threatening to send his body into a tizzy because he had never, in his life, looked at a more gorgeous creature in his life.

Meanwhile Sierge was in a similar state, staring at Adrilody. If Benny had been beautiful, Adrilody was exquisite. Where Benny felt like a force like a hurricane, all wild and alluring in her air of danger which had been exciting at first. But she was all together different. Like the calm and beautiful rainbow after the storm. All pleasant and calm and her energy was happy, upbeat and peaceful. She was just...darling and he could tell she was all sweet like honey without the sting of the bees.

“So where’s Benny?” Adrilody asked as she noticed her biggest rival and cousin was not in attendance.

“She left by train to go home last night, she was no longer welcome here.” Your mother informed her.

“Ah, I take it from your tone, she lived up to her reputation.” Adrilody gathered.

“What’s her reputation now?” You asked curiously.

“Oh she’s known as Benny the Bitch now, she’s gone to three different courts to try to court different bachelors just in the last year, and she’s all about the quick fix and the immediate payoff and she’ll burn any bridge if she thinks she can get a better greener pasture at the other end and benefit in any way. She has gotten banned from five different courts in total, she keeps having her grandmother do a purification spell on her so that she can regain her virginity over and over again, she’s lost it, I don’t know how many times now. She only took this invitation because it came with the promise that her rank would not suffer and the super high pay out, because before now, her rank has suffered, does anyone know what rank she has now?” Adrilody explained.

“She tried to manipulate Audra into getting a Dowager status.” Loreiris revealed as all the new comer’s eyes grew wide as they all grimaced.

“She didn’t get it.” You reassured them as they all blew out a breath of relief.

“Does anyone know what she did get?” Adrilody asked.

“Tavnit.” Leumeni revealed with a smug grin.

“Oh thank the gods! Finally!” They all exclaimed as you could only just shake your head.

“What does tavnit mean?” Sierge asked.

“It means “no master” it means that a bride is no longer allowed to be in the bride system because she will do more damage than good and that she is beyond her welcome in it. I know this because I have Tavnit, because of the mourkatili.” You answered as they all gasped, most of them in outrage.

“It’s ok, I’m relieved I have it honestly. It means I’m not a slave to the system. I mean I’m having a Sirerinna Wedding for crying out loud. Don’t feel sorry for me, I’m getting a happily ever after with the love of my life, the system can hang itself for all I care.” You insisted with a laugh.

“Don’t be offended, just be relieved that none of you have to contend with her anymore, but she did leave behind one last victim. Sierge.” You said as you gestured over to him.

“Oh I’m so sorry.” They all offered Sierge.

“Well, like the saying says, ‘when something seems too good to be true, it usually is’.” Sierge commented as he did his best to keep his composure as the others gave him apologetic looks before they went from the dress salon to the moura jewelry shop called Orianna, that was right next door to get jewelry and other accessories for their wedding suits, even though Demsey didn’t need much of anything because your trunk of goodies had already set him up really well for all he needed or even wanted.

“So once we are done here, we have a lot to do, we need to preserve all those figs and then we have henna to do, so much henna.” Your mother suggested once everyone got what they wanted and needed from both stores.

Javyn suddenly, uncharacteristically felt that his business didn’t need much of any attending to as Demsey did all he could from his home office as Javyn did the same, trying to do as much business as quickly as he could from Demsey’s office too, as Javyn asked to come and stay with Demsey for the week since once your henna was done and needed to set, the girls came to apply the henna mixture to the boys and the rest of the Voyambi family after doing Myra Bellafont’s family and Jane and the Raymonds of course.

“So why is it white? I thought henna was usually black or even dark red?” Sierge asked as Adrilody applied it to him as he was more than happy to be in a state of undress, in only his breeches that came down to his knees but was otherwise naked and only hoped she liked what she saw as he had gone through the book and picked the design that appealed to him the most. Of course having to be shaved clean and scrubbed so that the skin was clean and fresh also made a big difference too. He wasn’t wild about losing his chest hair but having Adrilody attend to him, he’d happily go bald head to toe if it meant she’d be the one to do it because having her near was sending him into a tizzy again.

“Because for millenia, purebred mouras could capture light into clouds, long before electricity. Well when mouras would do this in the light of the full moon, they created what’s called “black light clouds” and they’re this most unusual shade of indigo violet purple but more blueish. When all the lights are off but a black light cloud is turned on, everything white glows a light blue and other colors can glow too. The white will make your body glow in the light. Audra is covered from head to toe in it so her whole body will glow, even through her clothes if they are sheer enough. It’s a tradition in many cultures for the women having henna are exempt from any housework or chores or anything for as long as the henna lasts. But the moura twist on this is there’s an aphrodisiac in the henna and it’s a sign of very good fortune if she falls pregnant before it wears off. Like an ink stain on your hand. But since she is already pregnant, she’ll just enjoy all the extra sex regardless.” Adrilody grinned as she focused on her work and did her best to ignore the handsomeness of her subject.

“And why am I being painted in it then?” Sierge asked as he watched her work in awed wonder, she was clearly an artist and it was a great honor to have himself be her canvas.

“Well, that’s another tradition everyone in all the friends and families involved in the wedding party get it done on them, it’s seen as very good luck if a wedding plants seeds of metaphorical love in others who attended the wedding and are wearing the henna get married to others wearing the henna too, we just came from The Palace of Windsor and applied some to the Raymonds and Ramsey, Octavia, Axal and Drina all got matching henna so when the black light turns on, the four of them make up a romantic unit, which here might be untraditional but in Dorierra, it’s not unusual at all, and of course Charlotte got a specific pattern that I also applied to Zax so it’ll show up on them too and even Jane, I did her hands and feet cause that’s all she wanted but Rian got the same so that even they will show up as a couple too. So that part of the tradition is already being played out, so you’re off the hook in that respect, but you are part of the wedding party, closest brother to the groom, so of course you would have a fair amount.” Adrilody explained as she kept looking at the book and then back at her handiwork on his chest to make sure she was still applying this correctly, using the right technique and following the design because if she looked into his eyes too long, she felt like she could get lost in them but she had to bide her time because she had heard from Calla what Benny had put Sierge though and she knew she needed to give him time to heal from the hurt Benny caused and hoped that Sierge wouldn’t be against mouras all together because of Benny.

And Adrilody, believed that the design chosen was indicative of the person and had watched Sierge closely as he went through the book to find a design since Sierge could pick out any design he wanted while Demsey was getting the same exact designs from your mother and grandmother as they painted him with the henna too while also casting specific spells in a chant like song and poem while they did it to ensure that Demsey would never raise a hand to you in anger or say a mean hurtful, cutting remark or let his eyes wander from you and be faithful to you in all things and of course satisfy you in every way he could.

However the design that Sierge picked out was telling to Adrilody. In her experience, men who had been wounded but were trying to tough it out usually got this design. The proud lion’s head showed strength, bravery and regal confidence but betrayed hurt and battle scars.

“So do you want this exactly how it is in the books or do you want any kind of twist with it?” Adrilody asked.

“You know, I really like the design in the book but you’re the artist, take whatever liberties you want, I’m sure it’ll come out better than the book if you do.” Sierge answered as Adrilody smiled happily as she finished the lion’s head and began to work on the mane and no longer needed to look back at the book and went head first in her own unique design.

“So what design do you think you’ll get?” Sierge asked her.

“I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet, I usually do most of mine in a mirror except for my back which I can’t reach but Jenniverre, Calla and Audra are really good at this and Jodhaa and Loreiris are just as much masters at every art including henna as they are the art of wielding the blade. I’m sure Audra especially will give me something awesome, she’s like me, she takes the traditional and gives it a twist and a spin and makes it so much more and so much better than the original. That’s why she’s such a good fighter, she shows great creativity and ingenuity but never at the cost of her own integrity.” Adrilody answered.

“Whereas Benny doesn’t.” Sierge realized.

“Nope. But I hope you won’t use Benny to judge us all and think that because she’s that way, that all of us are, because that’s not true. I mean she’s my cousin for crying out loud and even I am ashamed of her behavior and usually avoid her at home and she may technically be family but she is far from being a friend and much closer to being a foe to me personally, she likes to say that family should stick together but she backstabbed her own brothers in the Kamoba but still demands their loyalty which is wrong. She’s tried to burn me a few times in every sense, that’s why I and everyone else steer clear of her. She’s the exception and nothing like what a good moura bride should be, she takes every bad trait and turns it up to its maximum, thinking she’s being original but sadly she’s just being cliche. She had promise in the beginning but her obsession at being the biggest baddest motherfucker in the room has obviously led to her downfall. Audra was the standard for many good reasons and Benny always resented that she couldn’t reach it and instead wanted to set her own standard. Too bad it was just in the wrong direction. I’m just sorry you got mauled in the process and I wish you were the first and last but sadly, Benny leaves a trail of carnage wherever she goes and I had hoped for Audra’s sake that this place would have been the exception that even Benny would have realized that betraying Audra when she was already being betrayed by everyone around her should have been a step too far, but unfortunately, no. Just be grateful she is now far away and hopefully you’ll never have to see her again, let alone deal with her. Honestly I don’t even want to go back home if she’s going to be there raising all kinds of hell and stirring up family drama and all kinds of trouble trying to put the blame for her own consequences on anyone but herself. Honestly, you dodged a bullet not being bonded to her as did every other guy who she did the same thing to. You deserve better.” Adrilody offered apologetically.

“Thank you.” Sierge thanked her as her words were like a healing balm for his heart that she was painting over.

“Why didn’t you accept the offer to come here?” Sierge asked.

“Because the royal family could only afford for two to come “officially”. Honestly with the communications cut between Audra and the rest of us back home, we didn’t know what to think. First she leaves, then a year later we hear that she’s widowed and has shakan status and then nothing again until only a few weeks ago when only her family was invited to see her but when they called back during the messengerari’s it was the most horrific news until only a couple of days ago when she contacted me directly. A lot can happen in two years. But the chance to come to her Sirerinna Wedding, which in marinai is a true love wedding, like you’re marrying your soulmate, till death do you part, grow old together, kind of wedding because moura brides in the system usually have three to four weddings in their lives and Sirerinna is supposed to be the last, the biggest, most important in her life, it’s the one that counts for everything, none of her real friends would ever turn that down, that’s why so many of us came as fast as we could get packed, we will happily pile onto a bed or sleep in a stall with our griffins for a chance to go to that if it’s for her because we know that she would do the same for us because she has always been the best of friends to all of us and for Benny to do her so wrong just shows how awful Benny is, not Audra. From what she’s been through, it’s the least we can do and to hear what she went through while we were painting her with henna this morning, to hear it directly from her, it was heartbreaking and it’s a miracle she’s alive and she deserves better than she’s gotten so now all of us are just hoping your brother does right by her and treats her lovingly from now on.” Adrilody revealed.

“So are you married?” Sierge asked.

“No, I’ve just entered the system and just got my own classification, I’m actually a few years younger than Benny, I haven’t even gotten any offers yet, let alone get seen by any potentials yet and even right now, my mother is negotiating my proper asking price with the stable masters. But with Benny getting a tavnit status from here and with how badly she did not just you but this whole court because the Raymonds related what she did to the Royal Family who were not pleased at all, they were quite angry actually and from what I heard from Mama Yalin when I was doing this to her this morning, they were talking with the stable masters and when Benny gets home, who knows what kind of punishment she will face. Because you have to understand that every bride who leaves Dorierra, everyone is looking to her to judge her and the whole system by her and her conduct and that’s usually why most brides have to behave in such a way that is above reproach, except for Benny apparently, and because she’s come here and made a muck of it, now any bride who comes through has to be her opposite, they have to be extra good to help overcome and overcorrect the damage she’s done to repair the damage to the moura brides system’s reputation. And those brides, oof, they’re a just a different kind of severe and they’re just on the opposite end of the spectrum and make us out to be perfect, innocent, guileless, nonthreatening saints who would never dream of being clever because clever and conniving are too similar to some and that’s not fair either, because I can tell you right now that if the masters implement that protocol, none of the brides you see now would be welcome back here because all of us are classified as Rissa, which is middle of the road- too clever for the innocents, too soft hearted for intrigue and not sharp enough in wit to survive the most extreme of attacks but too witty for the simple minded and easily offended, like that saying, ‘a jack of all trades is a master of none but better than a master of one’. But my parents have always encouraged me to just be the best version of myself that I can be and at this point I’m just hoping that the right suitor will look at me and just accept me as a I am and not cut off parts of me that are inconvenient or that he doesn’t like, like the way Edward did to Audra, taking a square peg and cutting it to try to force it into a round hole, but Demsey is doing his best to mend the damage and cuts and at least try to glue on all the cut off pieces to try to make it whole again, which helps quite a bit and reassures us a lot.” Adrilody mused as she finished up with the mane of the lion and continued to fill in as she went, letting her hands practically discover the pattern that seemed to bloom in her head as she did it.

Like a writer discovering a story as they write it or an artist or architect discovering a design as they work on it as she scooted closer and let her arm rest on the other half of his chest to help brace herself and her other hand as she seemed to hyperfocus on the task at hand and that was to make Sierge’s chest her own mural as Sierge reveled in the close contact and the feel of her breath on his chest as his imagination was sweetly torturing him of fantasies of either her over him or her under him and bringing her to ecstasy and fantasizing about how much sweeter she would taste.

“Ok, if you’ll excuse me I have to refill, I’m getting low.” She excused herself as she got up to refill her piping bag with more mix.

“So how’s it going?” Jenniverre asked Adrilody in Marinai as she was there at the bowl refilling her bag too.

“It’s going good, he chose the lion, so he’s obviously trying to play it tough, Benny hurt him something deep. To kill his unborn child like it was a weed in a flower garden. That has to hurt something awful, but he’s been giving me free rein so it’s turning out really nicely. I always do my best work when I’m given free rein.” Adrilody answered.

“Mine is half way to falling for me I think, he keeps asking me all these questions about myself and what quarter I’m from and what traditions and culture I’ve been brought up with. He told me I’m his first moura troll he’s ever seen before and I think this mix is a little too heavy on the aphrodisiac powder if he’s like this with just the base work on his skin.” Jenniverre revealed.

“Well if you want him, you better snatch him fast, because with Benny tearing through here and setting this court on fire, I doubt us rissa’s will get a chance to come back, it’ll probably go to the aquiras.” Adrilody reminded her friend.

“Ooh, I didn’t think of that.” Jenniverre realized before she added another spoonful of aphrodisiac powder to the mix both in the bag and in the bowl and another few drops of the liquid pheromones in the carrier oil and another spoonful of glitter and tried to casually stir it in to make it look like she was adding more glitter to the mix before she hastily refilled her piping bag and returned to Javyn as Adrilody had already filled her bag with the mix before Jenniverre “enhanced” it.

“So what do you think you own price will be?” Sierge asked Adrilody curiously as she came back over and settled back into her rhythm of her work.

“Psh, I have no idea. A lot of factors play into the price. But my advice to you is do not try to find another moura bride right now or right after your brother’s wedding, not until you fully heal from the damage of the last. And don’t try to find a better “nicer” version of what you just experienced, because that’s not fair to you or to her.” Adrilody advised him in all seriousness.

“And honestly, look at the service Benny did for you. What Benny excels at is finding someone’s weaknesses and exploiting them and working them like a horse to the plow without any reward of food or shelter or any other necessities but instead their wants in that moment but nothing else which in the grand scheme of things, usually is nothing of real lasting value or consequence. Now that you know your weaknesses as does anyone and everyone else. Work on yourself, build up those weaknesses so that they can never be your downfall again. Because even though your family isn’t saying so, there was still a breach of trust between you and your family. Especially Demsey and even your parents. You’re grown so your father isn’t really permitting your mother from really chastizing or disciplining you for even giving the smallest of half truths to Benny in the first place. You should start by re-earning every bit of trust and respect back from everyone in your friends and family and don’t let everyone put all the blame on Benny and make yourself out to be the biggest victim and shirk any responsibility or any guilt for whatever part you had to play in it. And don’t take your winnings in the Kamoba to do that for you, money can be won or lost as quickly as it rains then shines. And also realize that there was truth in Benny’s criticisms of you too. She wasn’t just saying whatever hurtful thing she could think of. The truth when not paired with tact can hurt someone’s feelings and someone’s sense of self just as much as a lie can. Benny doesn’t mince her words when she doesn’t need to. She can be very direct and brutal in her honesty. So maybe take that to heart too and use that as your stepping stone to rebuild whatever she damaged in you too and then refortify her damage and turn her truths into an inaccuracy. That’s always the best revenge is when a harsh criticism while rooted in the past reality- no longer holds true in the present. Use this to grow yourself and your personality. That would be my advice.” Adrilody suggested as Sierge was awestruck by how profound she was in bestowing such wisdom and realized, she was right, about everything.

He had a lot of work to do on himself to be worthy of a bride like her. If anyone deserved a dowager status, it was the woman in front of him now and while it was true, he was comparing her to Benny, she had a point, that wasn’t fair to her. He really just needed to look at her and see her, not anyone else. Not a fantasy, but the reality and he had a lot to make up for and needed to make this right, because everyone deserved better from him and he shouldn’t have been so caught up in his own sexual pleasure, that he traded in his own family’s trust and respect for it. No wonder Benny went after him first, because he made himself easy prey to her. He practically rolled over and put his own throat in her jaws and had the audacity to be surprised when she bit down.

Once she was done with his chest, she moved onto his back and started humming to herself as she continued to work, pulling elements from many of the designs in the book and blending them together beautifully as Sierge was just happy and content to be her canvas and welcomed the peace that her company brought him before your mother and your grandmother came over to check up on her handiwork.

“Wow, new design Lody?” Your mother appraised as she looked over Lody’s work on Sierge in awe and appreciation.

“Yup, he let me have free rein, so I’m taking advantage, come back here,” Adrilody invited as they came around and they all gasped when they saw the impressive design radiate from the center of his shoulder blades out, like a huge mandela as your mother and grandmother took keen notes of it and looked at each other while giving each other meaningful looks with scheming grins as they each praised Lody for each well executed element of the design as Lody had to refill her piping bag twice now. Although she tried to gather the mix from the outside of the bowl where Jenniverre hadn’t “enhanced” it too much.

“You are blessed to have such an artisan as her to do your henna such as this. It’s a one of a kind work of art.” Loreiris praised Sierge which made both Sierge and Lody smile happily.

“We will have to do the same on her.” Your grandmother whispered to your mother in marinai.

“Don’t you dare.” Lody practically sang out back in marinai, trying to keep her voice and tone pleasant so as not to raise Sierge’s suspicions.

“Why not?” Your mother asked curiously.

“Can you imagine what my mother would think? For me to receive Benny’s damaged leftovers? Benny mauled his heart, mind and soul, I don’t need him thinking I’m a nicer version of Benny and I have enough problems with people thinking that about me as it is. I do not wish to be in her shadow any more than she liked to be in Audra’s. I am my own unique person. And I need my mate, whoever he may be, to see that, not see me as another her or constantly compare me to her either for my elevation or decline. Plus I’m sure Benny was brutal in her truths of criticisms, and they are still truths and I would much rather have an honorable man who would not give his self respect, much less the faith and trust of his family over to an enemy parading around as his lover and confidant for his own sexual release and momentary happiness, I’m sure he had his own motives for doing it and until I know them, I can’t trust him and neither can anyone else, so don’t you dare match my henna with his.” Adrilody repeated with a smile like “fuck you” was written on her teeth and a determined look in her eyes.

“That is true, you’re right, I apologize.” Loreiris offered.

“Thank you.” Adrilody accepted.

“So...I feel like you’re talking about me.” Sierge murmured.

“We are, we are discussing the meaning of the henna you chose and what that means about you as a person. You chose a lion, a male lion specifically. It means regal dignity, power and strength.” Adrilody revealed as Sierge seemed to puff his chest out proudly.

“It also means, that you’ve been hurt and you’re making a show of strength and confidence in trying to remain composed as you conceal your real hurt and that the mane is a defense to keep you from garnering any more battle scars. You have gotten mauled by the wolf so the lion, is an appropriate reaction.” Loreiris deduced.

“Exactly.” Adrilody nodded in agreement.

“Wait, do all of these have meanings like that?” Sierge asked.

“Oh yes, mouras are bred to read into meanings behind preferences which there has been countless years of science and research behind it in Dorrierran custom. Red can mean passion, or rage, lust or danger, it is an extreme color, the color of war and death or carnage or the color of a blush. Depending on the shade or hue. Blue can mean peace, or inaction, even laziness, tranquility or depth. Like the ocean, peaceful one moment but can be caught up in a storm the next. Green can mean life, vibrance, or the other extreme, sickness or decay, like bread mold and gangrene, again, depending on the shade and hue. Black can be mysterious, or deadly, secretive yet seductive because it shows shape but hides intent. White can be lifeless, devoid of life and color just as much as it means innocence and a fresh new start, like a piece of white paper, just waiting to be turned into a piece of art that is the purpose of the white henna, to indicate a fresh new start, it is simply a thick liquid in the bowl, but when used with intent and intelligence, can create works of art, like what is on you right now. Gold can be opulence and all consuming greed. But greater meanings is the symbolism of the patterns and animals chosen as well. A panther is strength true, but lonesome, solitary. A tortoise is slow, but deliberate, and can endure. An elephant is large, with an exceptional memory and strong family ties, but like the tortoise is slower, much more deliberate and cautious but couragous enough to go into war just as much as it is willing to help it’s rider build, moving beams with it’s trunk. An eagle is proud but aloof, a hawk is a keen hunter with great speed, but not soft or comforting. An owl is wise and long living, but detached. A viper is deadly, yet protective and demands respect and will bluff before it bites, trying to warn anything that threatens it. You chose a lion, lions like to hunt in prides, be close to families, they are defensive of their territory and will die defending it. The lion in the artwork is strong, brave, courageous. Who’s strong clean lines invoke respect and admiration. But little creativity or a willingness to bend before they break. But you did not stick to the design in the book but in fact you are open to new designs and change and even now with the softer curves in the lines that Adriolody has given the design, shows she is encouraging you to bend your will and accept that your will has to bend before it’s broken completely. You must yield for now. But will gain your strength back and be stronger than you have ever been before, which is good, you are letting go of some old to embrace new, but you still have a long way to go.” Loreiris sagely explained before she and Jodhaa left to gather the remaining henna for their own designs.

“Holy shit, does she always hand everyone’s ass to them on a platter like that?” Sierge asked Adrilody over his shoulder which got her snicker laugh and nearly snot all over him.

“Yes, be grateful she went easy on you. She has this test, where she hands you a bunch of colored squares painted on thin pieces of wood and asks you to pick your favorites and your least favorites of all the colors. For every color you love yet hate has a meaning and she will outright fuck your mind up with how accurately she hands you your ass and shows you yourself in the most accurate mirror there is- that has nothing to do with your outward appearance. She has taught many this test and what each color means whether that person likes or hates it but once she teaches you the meanings of the colors, she will not read for you again because you’ll of course choose the colors based on their meanings, not on the colors themselves to try to throw the test off, trying to get the best result. She says the best and most honest results are when someone takes it for the first time, thinking it’s just a fun little game.” Adriolody murmured in a low whisper before she finished the design on his back and moved to his arms.

“Would you do the test on me?” Siege asked curiously.

“I didn’t bring it with me, and I doubt anyone else did either. But it’s usually a fun little “game” that is played with the groom before the wedding, and the positive is shared with the groom, but the negatives are shared with the bride so that she is given a heads up so to speak about what kind of man she is marrying and what she should look out for.” Adrilody revealed in a low murmur as his arm was up and she could get a whiff of his pheromones. The henna is supposed to be affecting him, not her. It wasn’t even on her but here she was, thirsting over him. Not only did he look good but smelled heavenly to her too, it was going to be hard for her to fight the attraction once she was painted with the henna too. If only she had met him before Benny mauled him and if only he had met her before Benny. Adrilody reminded herself that once again, it was not her job to heal her cousin’s hurt. And if there was ever going to be any hope for any kind of friendship, let alone a relationship between the two of them, there had to be no confusion, conflict or distraction in his mind or heart, and right now, there was much of all three.

Once she was done she had Sierge stand in front of a messengerari to capture her work, having him slowly turn since her mural in henna stretched all around him and down his arms and was made in such a way so that even when his arms were up or down, they added to it.

“This is your best work yet Lody.” Your mother and grandmother and all the others praised as they looked it over.

“Sometimes when you give a wild horse it’s rein, it’ll show you secret lakes in the mountains.” Jenniverre quoted from one of the holy books.

“So true, she has made you into something extraordinary Sierge. Part of me thinks you shouldn’t be in the bride system Lody, Dorierra needs a talent like you at home to do this to the other brides in the Hanging Garden Quarter if not many more.” Jodhaa complimented.

“Thank you, but now my hands are tired and sore, not to mention the rest of me. I should get back to Mirador with Audra and take a bath and rest. Audra’s henna should be dry and be ready to be washed off by now, I look forward to any art she decides to bestow upon me, Audra also does her best work with free rein.” Adrilody suggested before they left, all the guys trying to stay still while they waited for the henna to dry and to stain their skin and were told to leave it on for at least an hour or two. But Audra’s henna, was supposed to be stay on all day so that when it washed off, she would practically glow.

“That looks amazing Sierge.” Amara and Kiera praised since their henna had been done first upstairs in private and only had it on their hands, feet, legs and chest, so they could still walk around as usual as Callie had wanted practically her whole body done.

“Thanks, hey, can you get Ma’ma?” He requested before they nodded and informed their mother that Sierge wanted to see her.

“Hey, oh wow, Adrilody did an amazing job with this design! I didn’t see it in the book, if I had, I would have requested this one.” His mother Gwendolyn praised.

“Thanks, all I told Adrilody was that I wanted a lion but that she could have free reign on how she gave it to me. And she did a fantastic job. And we got to talk while she put it on me and she made some really good points as she did it. She told me what lions meant in her culture and what they symbolized and she was really accurate. And she made the point that even though I was “mauled” metaphorically speaking by that bitch wolf. It was partially my fault for willingly laying down and offering myself up to be her prey. And I never should have put my own pleasure at the cost of everyone’s confidence and trust in me. I’m sorry. I’ll happily submit to any discipline you see fit.” Sierge offered to his mother who almost burst into tears.

“You should definitely apologize to your brother. And whatever he decides, you should do, since your offense was against him and Audra. You can make it up to her by keeping her condition a secret and make whatever amends she wants.” Gwen advised before Sierge came over to Demsey and did just that, offering a sincere and heart felt apology.

“Honestly, it’s going to take time to learn to trust you with anything again, and the fact that you gave her even as much as you did, means that I now know your price for our brotherly bond, which should have been priceless and it should have been sacred enough for you to never breach it and the moment you had the inkling that she was trying to jeopardize that, you should have backed off and quit her and put as much distance between her and yourself as you could, she had you ignoring the head on your shoulders by squeezing the one between your legs. And now because of your conduct, that put this family’s loyalty and integrity into question, I had Audra’s mother and grandmother literally at my throat, questioning me and my own loyalty and integrity and faithfulness, you saw what happened with Benny’s own brothers, how the moment they knew she was working you, they distanced themselves from her as did Calla and her brothers and Audra. You should have picked up on all of their cues and don’t go running where everyone is fleeing from.” Demesy lectured.

“Yeah, I hear you. I agree. I should have been more careful and read the signs of fire, instead of being enchanted by the glow of the flame.” Sierge answered, quoting from a holy book himself.

“Exactly.” Demsey smiled in relief that Sierge seemed to get it.

“I like the alicorn though.” Sierge complimented, appreciating the art on his brother’s body in turn.

“Thanks, apparently, that’s what Audra got, she’s always been a unicorn in the wild, untamable sense, the Morrigans shot her down and broke her horn, but according to her mother and her grandmother, I helped her up and gave her wings so she can take to the skies and fly right along side me. Which I thought was really sweet.” Demsey grinned as he looked at it all.

“That’s interesting, Adrilody said that all the designs have meanings and Loreiris confirmed it. Loreiris said the lion meant that I’m making a show of strength to conceal my own hurt from the mauling Benny did and, she of course was right.” Sierge revealed.

“Well damn, I wonder what the alicorn means then?” Demsey asked as he looked at it in a handheld mirror since his chest hair and the chest hair of all the guys had to be shaved off and their skin scrubbed to make the skin ready to take on the henna.

“I think Audra will tell you when you see her on your wedding day.” Sierge ventured.

“I know I can’t wait to see Jenniverre, I imagine you’re anxious to see Adrilody too, I wonder if she’ll get anything that matches yours, because Jenniverre said that I picked what she always gets herself, the stingray and that they mean peace and elegance.” Javyn practically giggled excitedly as he appraised his own henna and was delighted that it was such a clean, crisp contrast on his dark midnight blue skin as he just couldn’t stop marveling at it.

“I hope so.” Sierge found himself grinning and quite liking the thought of that.

“So? How was it?” You asked once your family came back.

“Javyn got a stingray, so who wants to put a stingray on me?” Jenniverre squealed excitedly.

“She likes him a lot, she upped the dosage of the isla in the mix,” Lody murmured in your ear in marinai as your eyes grew wide and gave her a meaningful look that she returned.

“Mom, grandma, how about you two do Jenni, I’ll take care of Lody, on my own.” You suggested as you let them take the remainder of the mix to put on Jenniverre so you could mix up fresh henna for Lody.

“So what did Sierge get?” You asked as you mixed it together thoughtfully, making sure it was the correct and was in balance.

“A lion.” Lody answered as she undressed and got into the special henna seat.

“Oooh, yikes,” you sucked in a breath through your teeth with a grimace.

“I mean Benny mauled him bad.” Lody defended.

“True,” you had to admit as you poured the mix into the bag.

“But he did let me have free rein, so I made the most amazing kick ass lion I’ve ever made, I captured it and saved it to the messengerari, here, do you have a hand held one?” She said before you handed what looked like a special hand held mirror as she opened the handle and rolled out the special typer on it and keyed in the code to bring it up.

“Wow! That’s exquisite, I hope you can duplicate it for your book. If that were in the book, everyone would get it, that is amazing!” You marveled.

“Now, please, don’t match it.” Lody requested.

“The shadow?” You guessed cryptically because when reading the meaning of henna designs or colors and their meanings, there was “the light” meaning the positives, and then “the shadows” meaning what was hidden by the light shining upon the object, when one read into the meanings of the designs and one knew the lights as well as the shadows, it helped decipher the meaning and much more importantly the intent of the person you were working with.

“Yup, the shadow.” Lody nodded in confirmation.

“Well do you mind if I still use elements and hints of this? Because this is epic and I want to try to do this justice but I promise I won’t give you a lioness or copy it faithfully, still give you something unique and one of a kind, but can I do a jaguar or a leopard, tiger perhaps?” You asked hopefully.

“Tiger.” She decided.

“Yes! Tiger it is.” You said as you had her keep the picture up to draw from as you worked diligently, trying to copy the style and the details but not the overall design as her own pattern seemed to bloom on her skin as you discovered it just as she had done with Sierge, making her whole body a mural of greater beauty than what she had done, having to refill the piping bag several times over, careful not to make sure the mix was correct and not out of balance.

“So I have a theory.” Lody noted as you were doing her arms.

“I’m all ears.” You answered.

“Because of Benny, I think this court will go to the aquiras, the same way they did in the others she tore through.” Lody murmured quietly.

“And what are you? Did you get your classification?” You asked.

“Rissa,” She answered.

“Did Benny steal the nescia status because of the other maulings in the other courts?” You asked.

“I think so. The stable masters were hoping if the whole family had a disciplinary action, that the whole family would get after her, and we tried, but, like a wolf, she mauled us too and had every excuse in the book and then some to validate her actions. I’ve already seen others come and demand audiences and auditions with my other sisters and cousins, demanding a nicer version of Benny and retribution. Thankfully Mama Chikati saw that they all had revenge and retribution in their hearts and that they meant harm and would not allow us to go to them. She instead happily took the downgrade to keep us from ever being the prey to them, knowing that they were hungry lions, simply looking to devour a poor dog in place of the wolf that mauled them.” Lody confessed.

“Although I’m happy that Sierge chose a lion whose mouth was closed, it showed that he is not actively looking to devour, simply, trying to be stoic while his wounds heal.” Lody noted.

“Now I worry for when the winter comes, I worry he will be frozen in such a state and waste away. Some chill will calm the burn and the rage, but too much will freeze and then burn again. What he needs is the comfort of his familial pride, to heal to recover, but once he is healed, hunt again, but not for the closest, easiest prey. And not to become pray to anyone else. But hunt for a prize of his own. Once he realizes his own distaste for being in the shadows of others, coming into the light, will help, of course seeing you shine in the light, your stripes a sharp contrast to the solid black coat of that bitch wolf, the black will remind him that you are like her in a few ways, a capable hunter, cunning and clever, but never at the downfall of others but purely for the survival of yourself and your den, but that you stand out and don’t wait until dark to do anything, but instead can choose to move in broad daylight and still have stealth, you do as you please, independent from a pride.” You murmured as you continued to use a striped pattern on her skin with gorgeous mini patterns both in and out of the stripes.

“Only you would see the truth of the choice, both in the light and in the shadows.” Lody praised you.

“Well all big cats share similarities, at least you didn’t go full wild dog, or a shark, seagull even.” You laughed, teasing her.

“Oh my god, don’t you dare put any of that on me.” Adrilody cackled.

“People like to say pigeons are rats with wings, nothing compared to seagulls. Those things will bite your hand for the bread and then crap right in your hair.” You barked a deep belly laugh.

“True, although they have no fear, opportunistic as they are.” Lody noted.

“That’s what Benny should be, no black wolf, just a greedy gaul.” You teased which made both of you erupt into deep laughter as you smudged and smeared the henna as you tried to quickly wipe it up and clean it before it stained that way.

But you could see, even in this moment, that Lody was fighting as you couldn’t help but feel some sense of dejavu.

“I remember when I first met Demsey, and there was that first interaction and instant attraction. But being in such a polite society. These English men, they like to think they have such high manners, such polite society. It’s pretty words and a show of civility. But pretty words can hide a silver bladed tongue, it can be the same here as it is in the orientals, where your manners are judged just as harshly. But once you find a gentle man who is gentle in any light or shadow, then you have something special. That’s what Demsey has always been, the same man in every light and shadow, he has the same kindness and affection in his eyes and in his touch in private as he does in a ballroom and never once has his touch ever had any hint of harm. Desperation from passion? Absolutely. Love and tenderness? Always. Respect, admiration and adoration? From that first moment on. First impressions are the hardest to break. Please don’t judge Sierge too harshly. He’s suffered and he is not at his best, but I’d gather close to his worst and the fact that he’s persevering and trying to remain composed, says a lot about his character too and yet you are fighting your attraction because your own pride is incensed on Benny’s behalf. I think if your attraction to him stays with you after the henna wears off and if your attraction to him stays long after the henna because your attraction started before the henna was ever a component. Don’t let Benny put a distaste in your mouth for this place or of him, much less his family because you do not want the same from Benny.” You advised.

“Deal, if he will like me enough to approach me at the stables, and never bring up Benny, I’d consider it.” Lody decided.

“Good.” You grinned.

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ijustdontlikepeople · 3 years

Note

hi there 💛

could you pls explain in-depth the casting for you 5sos x greek gods edit? would love to hear how was that thought process, as a greek mythology enthusiastic 🥺

i really loved it btw !! 💜

Hi! I sure can! I’m glad you like them!! 💜

Apollo was the Greek god of music, healing, and prophecy. Overtime, he also took over the duty of driving the sun chariot that caused the sun to raise each day from Helios. He is associated with pythons because he slew the dragon, Python. He is also gave us, Laurel wreaths as a sign of victory. Apollo was in love with a nymph called Daphne; he chased her for a while until another god took pity on her and turned her into a tree. (Daphne means Laurel). Laurel wreaths became a sign of victory because they were presented to the winners at the Pythian and Ancient Olympic Games. He has many more facets and roles, but these are the ones displayed in the edit or which I see connecting Apollo and Luke.

So the edit has a sun background. Golden ichor (blood of the gods) coming from his eyes. A Laurel wreath on Luke’s head and a python in the upper right corner.

So I picked Apollo for Luke for a few reasons. One, I have a bit of synthestia and they are both gold. Moreover, Luke reminds me of sunshine. Additionally, the god of music makes sense for the frontman of the band. And I feel like healing is also adapt for him, because it’s pretty clear he has healed a lot in the last few years.

Hades was the Greek god of the underworld, of the dead, and riches (specifically under the Earth). (He was not the god of death). His most famous story is arguably kidnapping Persephone, who became his wife. This myth sets up the reason for seasons in the ancient worlds. Persephone is goddess, and the daughter of Demeter - goddess of agriculture- so when Hades takes her to the Underworld she is not dead. However, she eats 6 pomegranate seeds which causes her to have to stay in the Underworld 6 months of the year. Pomegranates and seeds are therefore highly associated with Persephone and Hades. He is also well known for his three-headed dog Cerberus, who guards the entrance to the Underworld. (Fun fact: Cerberus might derive from the Ancient Greek word for Spot! So his dog might be named Spot!) Again this not a full account, but the information important for this edit.

So the edit has dark eye makeup, and a dark dog in the upper right corner. The crown is made of Pomegranate seeds and the background circle is black marble. The border is a generic Laurel wreath because I wanted to find a Helm of Darkness (a helmet that Hades had that made him invisible and maybe incorporeal) but I couldn’t find a good image.

I know this might be a bit of a weird one. Again a bit of my synthestia, both are black in my brain. So how Hades got Persephone is not good (kidnapping is bad) but they end up being one of the most functional couples in all of Greek mythologies. He only has a handful of children and they are almost all with his wife (which is weird compared to Zeus and Poseidon). Michael and Crystal have the most visible and the longest running relationship of any of the 5sos guys. Hades love for his dog is also a connection I see between him and Michael. Also, of all of the guys, Michael seems to have the most side-hustles. He’s making the dough.

Dionysus was one of the “younger gods.” He became a god in a weird way which I won’t get into. He is the god of wine, partying, madness, and vegetation. Occasionally, he was given the epithet “Eleutherios” meaning liberator. His myths generally involve partying turning into wildness, like drunk women ripping a man to pieces. Dionysus is highly associated with grapes, ivy, vines, and drinking cups.

Calum in the edit has eyes of multiple colors. He is against a purple circle surrounding by vegetation. His crown is ivy. Grapes are in the upper right corner.

So these guys don’t match in my color brain. But, of the main 12 Olympians I feel like the partier is the right fit for Calum. He seems like he knows how to have a good time. I don’t think he is crazy (lol) but he does have a bit of temper (not saying a bad or unjustified one). Also, like he seems to spend a lot of time (when he’s livestream or people are posting pictures) outside. I associate him more with the outdoors than any of the other guys.

Last but not least, Hermes. Hermes is the god of travelers, orators, cunning, and commerce. He is the messenger of the gods and a psychopomp. Hermes’ main symbol is his caduceus, a staff with two snakes twisting around. He is also known for his winged sandals and helmet.

I associate Hermes with blue so that’s the running color scheme, though this is not a classics thing. The circle behind him is a night sky because he flys between the boundaries of the Heavens, the Earth, and the Underworld. The crown is blue gems, I wanted to find a winged helmet or even just a crown shaped liked wings to invoke the helmet, but I could find one that worked with Ashton’s head angle. The border is a common Greek motif on pottery.

Ashton is the one, especially in the beginning, who seemed to be in charge of a lot of the business side of things for the band. Or at the very least, in charge of relaying what the band wanted to their business people. Even now, he’s the one emailing the merch company about bad orders for fans. He also does a lot of the bands social media, being the messenger for the band to the fans. He is a “wordsmith of sorts” and the connects him to orators. Ashton is clearly a cunning business man to have had the success he had with his independent solo album. Additionally, in the tour diaries and instagrams he seems to be the one always looking to explore the places they travel to (Cal often being right there with him though).

So yeah. Sorry for this super long answer! I hope it’s okay! I love talking about this kind of thing! 💜

#annie responds #in-superbloom #5sos #5sos x greek gods #classics

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!

A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you. Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

The sky is so pretty. There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky. It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.

You should probably be running. Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk. It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs. Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day. You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow. So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.

You know what your goal is. Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you. Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day. Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob. He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.

That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him? At what point does it stop? You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.

You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance. There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now. You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.

“Excuse me!” It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”

She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile. “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came. “Osiruu is a few hours that way. There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital. I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction. “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view. I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”

So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted. You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then. Which path should you take?

Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her. But then all of a sudden, you remember something.

Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo. Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people. Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring. But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists. The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.

You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be. Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life. You never pictured yourself as the fighting type. When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that. Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.

“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?” You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile. “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”

Your footprints will lead directly there. He’ll find you easily.

“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile. Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend. “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey! I hope we meet again.”

“Do you need any food or supplies?” She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by. “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II. I’d be glad to help.”

Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady? She seems like… you, almost. Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs. You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.

“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet. “Wanna trade shoes with me?”

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible. You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad? Are you just an idiot with no hope? You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes? You’re screwed.

At least there’s food here. Plenty. There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business. Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong. There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.

It’s a lovely tune. You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors. Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic. The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is. Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.

Suddenly you see shoes—yes. Fucking shoes, your salvation. You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many. Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design. It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear. Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.

“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up? And another that’s the same but in men's?”

The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper. His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.

Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder? One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to? That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that. You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.

When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist. There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss. Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.

Alright then. Through the forest, you suppose. You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again. You have a finger point, that’s all you need. Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over. It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.

“Last call for the seven o’clock!” A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach. “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”

The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it. “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.

“Ah!” The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors. He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit. “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”

“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle. “Oh, no. I think I lost my wallet.”

He sighs. “Off the bus then please, miss. Come back tomorrow if you find it.”

You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off. “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”

The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions. “I’m sorry? Please—off the bus.”

“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier. The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them. “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”

“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste. Everyone is polite here, it seems. “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place. Please get off the bus.”

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.

Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self. Eliminate the need for a back pathing. All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers. You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do. You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.

Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink. You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left. You want him to see the sky.

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one. The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all. No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together. You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.

Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches. Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell. It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then. Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.

The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide. The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind. You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds. Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway. How do you lose him?

You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated. Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack. There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick. Sturdy.

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up. Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck. It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.

Oof, this is dangerous. You know it even before you start. The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.

Okay. Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need. You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn. If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?

You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty. You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again. This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.

And it was fun.

You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot. You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.

Water, though. Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be. Water is an eroder. Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.

Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees. You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain. The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it. You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can. It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.

That means you’re… fuck. You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?

It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water. The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall. You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go. With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it. It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found. This… this is doable.

Okay. If you pull this off, you’re a badass. If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation. This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.

You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot. Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.

You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further. Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself. The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet. It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.

“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again. “Answer me.”

You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond. So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak. You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below. “Uh. Ahem. Hello. Yes?”

“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you. “Or something on your side is too loud. There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”

You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about. It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again. You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.

“Are you already on the move?” You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.

“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before. Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something? Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good? It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough. “Ready or not.”

You huff, your tummy going warm. Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to. If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended. You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult. “But I’m… sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.

“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do? This isn’t fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well. Fair.

Stars, you can’t stay here. You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk. You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem. Din is going to hear you no matter what.

“Um. Can you give me a second?” You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this. Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.

“What?” Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.

“I need to… mute myself. Give me like… five minutes.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more. That’s a long way. You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep. Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.

It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths. You have a time limit now, you have to do this.

With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.

It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.

You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.

The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second. The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.

Okay. Okay, fucking success. It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.

“Mando?” You ask, slightly out of breath. “Sorry about that, I’m back.”

Okay, now which way do you go? Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with. As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.

After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you. You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing. “Hello? Shiny?”

“Did you trade shoes with someone?” Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.

“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile. “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”

“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment. “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again? Good idea, but the execution needs work.”

Maker, he’s smart. It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely. Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do. You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today. You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.

Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of. The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right? Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.

You want to go to Nariss. The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance. Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.

“Alright. Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit. You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat. “How’s the baby? Behaving himself?”

“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right. You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.

“You’re joking.” No fucking way, not that little demon.

“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly. “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times. Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”

That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along. He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back. Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change? That has to be it, right?

“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father. “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”

You hear it. The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet. It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.

On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.

“What’s that sound?”

You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees. Shit. “Uh. What sound?”

You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything. Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it? It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is? Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail? Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?

Oh well, too late now. You quickly decide to change the subject.

“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make. “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good. Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm. Doubt it,” immediately comes his low response. Fucking immediately.

“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.

“Are you having fun?” Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction. You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth. Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask. Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have? Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.

“I am,” you say warmly. “Be… be better if you were here, though.”

“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.

You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing. “Psh. Nice try.”

“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.

“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes. He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.

And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours. He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—

“What’s your favorite food?” (“I don’t have one.”)

“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?” (“I don’t like food that much.”)

“What do you mean? Everyone loves food.” (“Not me.”)

“Alright, well um. What’s your favorite color, then?” (“I don’t have one, either.”)

“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.” (“What’s your favorite color?”)

“…Brown.” (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)

—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.

***

Day 1–6:15am:

You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be. Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light. Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them. All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.

Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier. The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.

The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing. If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right? You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time. This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.

***

Day 1–7:06am:

You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road. The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed. You want a city. This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines. Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.

Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows. As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter. “Hey.”

“Holy shit, what?” You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you. You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

Ah. So he got to the bus, then. Okay.

“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile. Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.

“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say. Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult. “Which one of these is yours then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full. “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”

The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.

He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle. Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.

His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.

With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh. Oh stars, you’re tired.

You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains. You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest. You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you—you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.

The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental. It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped. Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes. The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead. Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough. You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.

You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in. It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be. The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own. He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop. He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.

But that only goes so far. You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.

There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think. It’s hard to see. Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders. That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right? Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up? Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…

***

Day 2–12:00am:

Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Wake up.”

It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it. You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy. “Fuck, how’d you—”

“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.

“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more. “Shit. How d’you… mm. Stay awake all the time…”

“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking. “You need rest. I’ll see you soon.”

No—

“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright. Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now. Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are. Things still feel like a dream, somehow.

You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause. “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up. You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it. “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you. You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull. So warm, so gentle. If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest. “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”

“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur. Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect. “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”

“Sure you did. You in another tree?”

You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset. “You makin’ fun of me?” You ask him with a harumph. Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.

“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know. Is that displeasure or not? It’s not immediately clear. Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now? Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it? “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”

“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back. You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright. It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.

“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it. “What’s sixteen times itself?”

You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that. You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember. Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart. Sixteen times sixteen. One forty-four. No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—

You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.

“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh. “I won’t move until you wake up. Go to sleep. You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”

Later, this moment will come back to you. That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six. You don’t even think Din would. You would, though. On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up. You should know this. And he knows you.

But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.

“You promise?” You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.

“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless. He doesn’t have to do this. You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.

“Will you, um…” your expression furrows. How do you say this? You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out. “I’m… not in a bed. I’m outside.”

Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy. You want him to stay. Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.

You don’t need to ask.

“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt. “Sleep, sweet girl. I’m right here.”

***

Day 2–5:34am:

The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck. Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.

You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time. Wait. Don’t panic. Listen.

Breathing. Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black. He’s… asleep.

Din is asleep? Seriously?

You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out. You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen. Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it. Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much. You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box. It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost. Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again. Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.

You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator. This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it. He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back. If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful. He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this. You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up. But… these circumstances are their own. You have to capitalize now, this is your chance. You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight. That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.

You have to find Nariss—you have to. It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him. Now is the time to hide. You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.

The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then. As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy. “Mm?”

“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.

“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act. “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”

“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.

“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head. Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?

“Yeah, I…” He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it. “How long have you been up?”

Op. Not good. “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it. “How long?”

How in Maker’s name? This is impossible. How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him? Can you salvage this somehow? “…Like ten minutes.”

“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak. “That was smar—”

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

Oh. Well. Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways. There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up. Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over. Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?

“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background. It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around. “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though. He walked home barefoot.”

You smack your forehead. “It was just….”

“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle. “Alright, I’m up now. See you when you get here.”

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh. What the fuck was that?

No. Nope, you’re not going to get played. That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time. You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore. You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing. He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it. That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it. Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept. You’re certain of it.

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

Nariss is big. Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected. It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning. Yes, this will work nicely.

As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?

Oh. That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time. If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.

Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion. You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly? Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show? You have to stop worrying about him. He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.

So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving. While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation. You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.

“Do you have some place to stay?” He asks at one point. So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect. He doesn’t need to know. “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”

This catches your attention, though. This is relevant. “What does that mean?”

“It’s expensive?” He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile. “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range. I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks. It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads. We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding. It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”

He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way. Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes. He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think. Someone a little less expressive. This guy… talks a lot.

“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.

“Sanctuary II is,” he comments. “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke. “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle. You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”

“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?” You ask. You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn. It’ll be the first place Din checks.

“Are you a virgin?” He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger. The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that! It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts. Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”

“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him. Good, this is almost over. “Um. Yep. That’s me.”

He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod. “When you get to the city, just go straight through. It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”

Okay, that’s… interesting. You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line. That might actually be a good move. Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you. Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right? He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to. Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him. He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it. Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.

The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly. “Oh, by the way. I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.

The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right. You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store. Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.

Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside. You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms. Oh well, you weren’t complaining. Fancy clothes for free, score.

But now you’re here, and you have the best idea. You don’t need to change shoes, not yet. Why? Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.

You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you. It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories. It’s an eyesore, it sticks out. But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.

It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters. Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.

At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left. I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it. I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.

It’s to your advantage, he said so himself. Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.

And there’s another upside, see. An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now. If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.

Let him know. Let him know exactly where you are. Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling. If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide. He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.

The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night. It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on. It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal. Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

Alright, so this was the best idea ever. This is the shit.

You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you. You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think? No, that must be a mistranslation, right?

You’re also in a robe. Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here. And… and slippers, it’s like a dream. Do people normally wear slippers in bed? You do. Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase. This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.

The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways. You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky. Violent and periwinkle tonight. You wonder if he’s looking, too.

Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.

Day 3–12:00am:

“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair. Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath. Maker, this feels nice.

“You sound happy,” Din comments. Astute, you feel happy. Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here. Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers. You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth. No face, though. Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.

“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance. You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.

“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed. You… miss him. This mattress would feel softer with him next to you. He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it. You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles. Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.

“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Din mutters. “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you. “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding. “Good one.”

You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you. You love him. Literally every single time, he just knows. Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often. Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again. “How do you know?”

“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.

Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today? How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes? A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal? You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.

“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you. “You should be here. I’d make you feel good.”

Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually. Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting. He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him. He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around. The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead. You could all look at the sky together.

Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece. “Are you in an inn?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly. Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie. You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?

“Hm.”

What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible? He read you that deeply from one single word? You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You blurt without thinking.

“Doing what?” He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.

“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?” You don’t even know what to believe anymore. How do you beat this? If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out. His perception is unbelievable.

After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm. “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.” It sounds like he’s smiling.

“I…” your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”

Din lets out a deep sigh. He’s right, that was bad, even for you. “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits. You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step. “I’m nowhere near the city yet. You have time to sleep.”

Your expression furrows and you frown. “Why are you helping me?”

“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?” He tosses back, and you huff.

“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.

“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.” His voice is gruff. You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing. “You should give yourself more credit. I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss. It’s… not good for me.”

The honesty creeping in makes you go soft. It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.” His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.

You say it before you lose the nerve. “I might just turn around and walk back.”

His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache. You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are. People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself. For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.

“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it. You feel so… known, somehow. Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his. He makes you feel loved with it. “Never wants to run.”

You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.

But again. You don’t have to say anything, he already knows. “Give me your coordinates.”

Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip. Oh, stars. You hate that you do genuinely consider it. He could be here, and very soon. With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably. He could take a shower. Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one. You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.

Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together. You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you. Let him come. You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.

It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.

“Are you eating the purple fruit?” You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement. You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him. Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone. You like to think you’re both better that way. Balanced.

“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.

“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?” Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.

“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you. It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it? This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting. Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around. The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.

“You’re alone, right?” You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit. He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.

“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts. His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…

This has a very small chance of success, you already know. “…Do you want to—”

“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you. “We can’t.”

Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless. Should you push it? You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?

“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip. It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach. “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.

“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?

“What are you gonna do?” You whisper to him devilishly. Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down. Stars, your heart is already pounding. You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason. He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire. “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me. Or you could find me before I’m finished. Come make me stop.”

Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to. The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.

You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels. You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.

“Do you want to listen?” You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond. Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing. “I’ll talk.”

Still, nothing from him. Dead silence through the comm. You’re starting to understand. For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice. He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.

You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.

“Hm. If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu. You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.

Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece. “No, don’t even think—”

“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen. “Take pictures.”

He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement. When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy. “…You wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now. “Oh shit, does this holocall? Or is it a video option?”

“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him. “Pick up.”

Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear. “What if I don’t?”

You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious. He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you? Really?

“You sure?” You ask softly, raising an eyebrow. “You’d get to see me, where I am. What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”

The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop. You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all. Did he decline the transmission request? No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before. Why can’t you see him?

“Why can’t I see you?” You ask. You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.

“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath. “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”

Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist? Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?

“Nobody can see me but you?” You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows. You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible. “Can you see… this?” You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.

“Where are you?” Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.

You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more. “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”

“Why?” Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed. “Can you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet. Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that. How do you know he’s telling you the truth?

“What am I doing?” You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.

“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden. Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end. Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.

“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight. Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.

“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit. “Where?”

“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera. Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.

“Where in Nariss?” Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.

“I don’t know,” you say again. Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors. You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop. “But the window is open. And there are lots of people outside.”

“Can they see you?” Din immediately challenges. Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that. You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.

“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him. It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay. Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently. It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth. “Does it matter? I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”

“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?

Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”

“Give me your coordinates—”

“Are you giving up?” You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following. You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.

The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator. Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.

You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself. Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea. No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well. You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place. Is he just that aroused by you? Or is there something more?

“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again. Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.

His deep, shaky breath is so telling. Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back. You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible. You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.

You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do. It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.

“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—

“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell. He’ll be able to see it, you think. The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside. It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip. He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something? You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless. It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you. You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now. You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you. Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples. “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious. “You think—y-you think—”

“What?” You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious. Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops. It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?” He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet. “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there? You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering. He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now. “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh. That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart. He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you. Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word. “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly. Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down. “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid. Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days. I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss. You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it. You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his. He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey. “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not? What have you got to lose? Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways. What’s the worst he can do? Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days. You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you. You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table. It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #smut #reader insert #fanfic #rough day #no-droids #tw: stalking

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