#no more work & studies just hunting food & sleeping in the sun

[dcxdpdabbles]

Passion for Fashion Part 2

Danny glances around the room, initially supposed to be the living room, but Dan had quickly turned it into a studio. He had fabrics stacked everywhere, random clothes designs pinned to the walls, and various-sized mannequins scattered about with half-finished projects.

"It looks like Joann Craft's store exploded in here" he grumbles side-stepping into a half-finished gown dress and ducking under rows of fabric swatches that Dan just has to hang across the whole house by color because they help him visualize.

Or some nonsense like that.

Frankly, Danny was starting to suspect Dan had developed a new ghost Obsession now that grief no longer blinded him, and he knew Clockwork made it deliberately fashion design.

He is a bit unsettled that Dan's tunnel vision mirrors his parent's obsession with ghost hunting. Is it a ghost Obsession thing or a Fenton thing? Even Jazz can't get sucked into her physiology studies, so he had to remind her to sleep and eat. Eventually, Danny will find his own tunnel vision obsession. He just knows it.

Ducking two more times to avoid the shades of blue and green, Danny follows the barely visible pathway to where Dan is likely working on the first suit for the competition's first catwalk.

The first round of the competition was a mere selection round, where contestants were all brought into a large room and given a sketchbook, pencils, colors pencils, and reference books. After the surprise judge gave them the theme of household pets, they were to design two male and female outfits within an hour. Dan had entered the testing room like a man sent to the front lines.

Danny hadn't been needed for that round, so he explored Gotham, stopping to eat the famous Batburger. The food was far tastier than Nasty Burger, and he felt like he was betraying his city by how much he savored the Joker fries.

He did notice the way everyone was staring at him, much to his shame, just as he was licking his fingers clean. He scrambled to leave as a few teens whispered, gesturing to him.

He had been in Casper High to know that usually meant insults, so when a pretty blond girl stood up and started for him, he made haste to get out of there as quickly as possible.

He met up with Dan- with a carryout bag because he wasn't a monster- and found the other had blown the competition out of the water. His designs were first in the selection round, and Dan's head got three sizes bigger that day.

It's strange how used to living here he's gotten. It's been a month and a half, and yes, people still stare at him a lot, but it's not like Danny isn't used to being called a freak, so he ignores them all. Dan tried to stay inside the house as much as possible, rarely leaving his fabrics, but Danny felt restless being indoors all the time.

Amity Park is a small city, with most of it being open space and grass he felt strange being surrounded by a loud, crowded city like Gotham. He often wandered about trying to find something new and fun, though that was hard to do once the sun started setting.

He found being outside at night was a terrible idea the first time a trio of men attempted to shove him into a van.

Thankfully, Danny had been bored enough he recreated some of his parents' gadgets, and the three men had been stunned by his Fenton Tazzer wristband before they had opened the van door. Then there was that time a group of toddlers tried to mug him. He had been trying to find a park or something when seven kids- couldn't be older than twelve- all creeped out of the shadows holding knives and bats and demanded he gave them his wallet.

Danny hadn't meant to, but it was so bizarre he had bursted out laughing. He was so used to ghosts that the sight of little kids trying to be threatening was so historical that he couldn't stop laughing. He also forgot to breathe for a second since coming to this world. His body needed less sleep, less food, and got less tired, which was a plus on their wallets.

Danny laughed so hard he fell to his knees, shaking with jest.

The kids scattered at once, a few shouting, "Joker venom!" he was left chuckling to himself. After that, he got up and went home, the occasional snicker slipping from his lips.

Dan had thought it was hilarious, too.

Despite the time they have been here and Danny's many outings, they haven't really interacted with anyone else. Danny had never been one to have positive memories with socializing, and Dan frankly disliked humans too much to want to be around them.

With nothing to do but wander during the day and practice his model walk, Danny quickly got into the habit of tinkering with various machinery. At first, he needed to rebuild his parent's weapons and ghost gear- something he had been able to do since he was seven- then he shifted to building whatever popped into his head.

From robotic prosthetics to a TV projector, Danny filled the hours with some eclectic in his hands. Otherwise, he looked around Gotham and took pictures of the architect because it was Sam's entire aesthetic. How could he not try to capture this place for her?

Dan had been researching through the house internet- thank the ancients the house came with the service- and found various styles he liked experimenting with. Due to his ghost abilities, he worked faster than the sewing machines and was dishing out whole outfits in matters of days instead of the months they usually take.

He has even been walking around in whatever Dan chose to make for him since he thought it would get him used to being seen in something not his usual style. He can't afford to lose the fashion show simply because he got awkward. That would ruin his plans to help Batman and get home.

His wardrobe now varied from what Dan called "eboy", "skater" "K-pop" "casual chic" "haute" and "streetwear". Personally, Danny preferred the streetwear since it was more often than not baggy.

He had a lot of people staring at him when he walked around in Dan's clothes. Danny hopes he doesn't look as dumb as he feels.

"Danny, come try this on!" Dan shouts, snapping Danny out of his thoughts. He gestured to a black and navy blue three-piece suit that took Danny's breath away.

"Wow, Dan, it's gorgeous."

"Duh, I made it brat." He gestures to the vest, which Danny can see painfully embroidered swirls of black, purple, and a few white strips. It did not take him long to recognize the Magellanic cloud resting on the right side while the left is a mirror design in black, carefully blending into the blue. The pants, jacket, and shoes were a nearly jet-black cloth that somehow looked like a liquid even when standing still, but what tied it all together was the black cape draping over the right shoulder. It was pinned in place by a metal piece shaped like a Sirius Star. "The first round is space theme, and lucky for us, I was obsessed with NASA as a kid."

"No, but honestly, can I keep this afterward?" Danny asks, reaching out to rub his hands on the fabric. "Wow this is soft"

"It's satin, of course; it's soft," Dan snorts. "And sure, if we win, it's yours. I don't care what happens to the clothes after I make them."

"How long did this take you to make?" Danny asks, turning it around and sporting more accurately placed constellations of the satellite galaxy. It was like a picture made of fabric, curling from the right to the back of the vest. He'll have to take the jacket off at some point to show that part off.

"Three days. Without sleep."

"That's insane Dan"

"No, you know what's insane? This place has different beauty standards. It's all about the goth and emo kids here. A few Victorian lads, too. Or frankly, a straight-up twink is hot."

"What?" Danny's brain buffers "That can't be right. I was bullied and so were my friends for looking like that."

"Trust me, the ideal body kept coming up as I researched fashion trends and ideas. Nerds are in here. "

"W-what do I do with knowledge?"

Dan's eyes flashed a dangerous green. "You put it to use on the walkway. This suit is designed to show you off, and the best part? It's your natural body; no need to highlight beefed-up muscles or a wide chest like Dash."

"Oh my ancients....Am I hotter than Dash? Then the top A-lister?"

Dan grins. "We got this competition in the bag."

Across Gotham, Tim is scrolling through GothamLive- the favorite plate form of all Gotham, beating even Twitter- and he's surprised to see it covered by the target of their latest mission. He's back at the cave running coms since he got dosed in fear toxin on the last big fight. It was not too bad but Bruce didn't want him doing anything too adrenaline-inducing for a least a month.

He would argue, but even he knew his hands still sometimes shook when he trained. So he was on comm duty listening in to all his family as they moved about Gotham.

It was a quiet night with only three muggings and one car thief so far, but Bruce wanted everyone connected just in case.

Tim figured he could check in on the meta twins and found Danny everywhere on Gotham's online platform.

People have been spotting him strut around Gotham looking drop-dead gorgeous, and everyone near their age group who was attracted to men was losing their minds over Danny Fenton.

Tim found a few of him in skater clothes and felt his face get slightly warmer. Okay, they are right. Danny certainly paints a pretty picture, but that's worrying.

A pretty meta? He could be snatched up by the worst of Gotham soon.

Tim will have to get close to keep an eye on him. You know, for the target's safety.

Dan is his identical twin, which means there are two beautiful boys out there. Tim thinks, checking over the twin's house location. It's thankfully on the outskirts of Gotham, where it's not exactly safe, but it sure as hell isn't Crime Alley. They should be okay as long as no one finds their home.

He choked on his coffee when a picture of Danny dressed like a K-pop star casually lodging on a chair drinking a coffee appears on his dash. Yeah, he can see how the guy ended up in modeling if he could make poses like that naturally.

"Red Robbin to everyone, we may want to keep an eye on the Fenton's. Don't want them taken by traffickers."

"Danny Fenton already fought off a kidnapping:" Jason responds in seconds with a slight sneer. His elder brother has always hated traffickers and rapists the most. " Some idiots tried to escape me by going into the Outskirts and saw Danny. They took their chance only to be taken out by the guy's tazer disguised as a bracelet."

He sends the family a photo of the incident, and Danny's unimpressed look at the three screaming men makes Tim's lips twitch. Maybe Gotham wasn't so different from Santa Prisca. Only someone used to danger so often found would be kidnapers annoying, and that island wasn't exactly the safest place to be.

Their mother died to get them out, after all.

"That's not all. He's also fought off three different gangs, none of the big players but enough to raise some brows," Babs adds, displaying a gang of Crime Alley kids running from a laughing Danny, a group of men and women wearing the red scorpion marks running from a laughing Danny and a second group of kids- slightly older but not older than Danny- all backing away from the ice Danny had encased himself in. "The first two he tricked into thinking Joker was about, and the last one he just froze himself until they got tired of shooting and went away."

"What about the other one?" Bruce asks.

"He doesn't leave the house, but he's been very active online. Mostly, he's looking up fashion articles or trends. Recently, his search is nothing but "What are twinks, and why are they hot?". I can't tell if that's a culture difference or if Dan is just weird."

"They are not trained," Damian says, an undertone of curiosity in his voice. "But they can defend themselves well and truly know their craft. Dan's designs for my animal theme challenge were exquisite. I will be commissioning the black German Shepherd suit he made. Ace and I will look divine at the next gala."

"I kind of want the bird dress," Steph cuts in with a chirp. "I know it's not purple, but it looked cool in concept. What bird breed did he pick for it?"

"It was the Lovebird," Damian answers. "Somehow his design was both elegant and accurate without seemingly childish as the bird it was based on."

Tim wonders if Damian may start to develop an interest in fashion or if he just appreciates drawings as an artist. "So should we be worried?"

"No. Fenton has unwillingly gathered too much attention online. People will notice if he disappears. Traffickers don't go for people that are easy to recognize." Jason sighs. "For now, they're safe, but not if Danny keeps wandering around like an easy target in those tailor outfits. He looks rich, even if it's only lower first class. That will attract a lot more muggings."

"Someone will have to get close to them-"

"I can do it!" Tim shouts, cutting off Bruce, then shrinks into his chair in mortification as the family chat dies. Trying to sound less eager, he hastily adds, "You know, since I'm benched. Light work to befriend the Fentons."

"Smooth Tim." Cass laughs over the coms with his other siblings snickering in the background, and sinks into his chair.

After a moment, Bruce sighs, "Alright, Tim, you can befriend one of them, but not until your turn to judge goes by. I don't want people claiming a conflict of interest there."

Hell yeah! Tim got the job!

"Of course, Bruce."

"And no flirting."

"Spoilsport"

[beewolfwrites]

Permission - Part 2

Request: 

Omg PLEASE do a sequel to your latest fic 

I'm not the anon but a second part to the last request would be nice:)

As requested, here’s a part two! It turned out longer than expected, but I hope you like it! (Also sorry for any typos/errors/clunky sentences, I haven’t had time to proof read it)

________________________________________________________

Ever since you followed Kuina and Chishiya to the Beach, your life had changed drastically. There was no longer a need to hunt for food, no wondering whether you would be attacked in your sleep, no concerns about finding enough bottled water for a shower. Although the Beach was far from the utopia it was made out to be, the perks often outweighed the negatives. Plus, you had two new friends now… sort of. 

Kuina was her bright, bubbly self, helping you find your way around the hotel and introducing you to Ann, Tatta and several friendly faces. However, Chishiya was a little different. He barely paid any notice to you, and when he did, he had the uncanny ability of insulting you with just one cold glance. 

You avoided working with him directly during games - a difficult feat because for some unfortunate reason, the executives had decided to throw you into the same group over and over again. You even went out of your way to avoid walking past his room in case you bumped into him. That was, until one unfortunate incident in the kitchens. 

At such a late hour, everyone was either outside at the pool party, skulking around the bar, or hidden within their rooms. And you would have been too, if not for the hunger gnawing at your insides. Your game earlier had been brutal, and after seeing so much blood in one sitting, you weren’t exactly hungry. It was only later into the evening that your stomach finally started to protest. 

Sneaking out of your room, you crept down into the hotel kitchens, hunting for a snack. The kitchens were lined with shelves upon shelves of dry foods, tinned goods, instant ramen, bottled drinks and so much more. The thought of anything heavy was enough to knock you sick, and instead you gravitated towards a pack of cookies, munching on them without really looking at the label. Only to realise that it was a fatal mistake when your tongue burned hotter than one thousand suns. 

‘My god’, you coughed, spitting the cookie into a spare napkin that you’d picked up from the counter. ‘What the hell are these?’ 

You flipped the packet around. 

Wasabi cookies?! You scanned the front just to make sure you hadn’t misread it. What kind of psychopath makes wasabi cookies?

‘These are better.’ 

Jumping out of your skin, you turned. Chishiya was lurking against the wall, a yellow sachet of cookies in hand. How long had he been here? You hadn’t heard him enter. Unless he had been here this whole time. 

‘I’m fine with these ones.’ You clutched the packet tighter to your chest. 

‘Suit yourself,’ he said. ‘Though your face suggested otherwise.’ 

It was tempting to eat another cookie just out of spite, but there was a chance you would end up eating your own words instead, and that wouldn’t do. 

‘I don’t need your advice on cookies,’ you stated, staring him down, even if it didn’t have much effect. 

He tilted his head, studying you. ‘You’re bitter about something.’ 

‘No, I’m not.’ 

‘Then what?’ He paused, eyes lighting up a fraction. ‘Ahh, I see. You’re upset that I haven’t spoken to you much.’ 

‘That’s not true.’

All it took was one raised brow, and you both knew that there was no point in lying. 

‘Okay,’ you gave in. ‘But it’s not about that, it’s…’ Why was it so hard to articulate your thoughts in his presence? The words seemed to evaporate before you could speak them. ‘I just don’t understand why you were the one who brought me here, but now you won’t even speak to me.’ 

Seeing you getting riled up must have been hilarious to him, as a smile crept over his face. ‘I didn’t realise I was under some obligation to speak to you.’ 

‘You’re not.’ 

Wait… wait just a minute. 

God, how was he doing this? You’d backed yourself into a corner, and now he had you right where he wanted you. 

‘So you don’t want me to talk to you?’ he asked. ‘Harsh, but I understand.’ 

That wasn’t what you wanted. That wasn’t what you wanted at all. You began to interject, however Chishiya wasn’t listening. He sauntered out of the kitchen, ignoring you entirely. 

As you discovered over the next few days, Chishiya had taken ignoring you to a whole new level. He wouldn’t even look you in the eyes, and whenever he approached you and Kuina, he blatantly ignored everything you said, looking at and only speaking to Kuina. 

This man was cold, awful, and oh-so-clever. It shouldn’t have bothered you that he was childish, because yes, if you were honest, his behaviour was like that of a ten year old. 

But it did bother you. It bothered you greatly. 

You weren’t sure why, and it didn’t make any sense - none of these feelings did. But you were left with an overwhelming sadness, and an awareness that your presence was very much unwanted. Especially as you had another game lined up, and of course, Chishiya had been assigned to the same car as you. As always. 

And because Lady Luck was a cruel mistress, the small car had you squished up next to Chishiya, forced to withstand one another’s company. He was still so stubborn, refusing to acknowledge you even when you asked him to shift over so that you could fasten your seatbelt. 

In the game itself, he was worse. It was only a measly Three of Clubs situated in a veterinary clinic, but he had found a way to make your presence null and void. The game itself took place across several examination rooms where players were split into pairs, having to complete tasks to find the key to the door before the timer ran out. Once it did, the door would be locked forever and the room would fill with poisonous gas. And yes, predictably, you were forced to work with him. 

He didn’t seem to need you, matching up the x-rays of an otter’s anatomy with ease and unscrambling a code to reveal clues. It was only when the final clue led to the discovery of a dead rabbit that you cracked.

‘Please, won’t you let me help?’ You watched as he picked up a scalpel. You had just three minutes on the clock, and no response from him. ‘I can do anything you ask. Whatever you need, I can help—’

‘No.’ 

Even though he was apathetic, uncaring, and totally disinterested in your presence… 

‘You actually spoke to me.’ 

‘Don’t distract me,’ he said, coldly. 

His hands were bloody as he sliced into the rabbit, reaching into its stomach with his fingers. 

There’s just one minute and thirty seconds left… 

‘Chishiya?’ 

He pulled out the key, dripping blood over the floor as he walked to the door and slid it into the lock. The lock clicked, and he wrenched the door open. When you hesitated to leave, Chishiya held the door open with his foot, frowning. 

‘Are you coming or not?’ 

That same question. 

You hurried to the door just as creak of a gas valve opening sounded from the vents on the ceiling. Shutting the door firmly behind you, you both wandered out into the waiting room where the rest of your group had agreed to meet. 

Their door was still closed, and a slight nervousness welled up inside you. ‘Do you think they made it?’

‘Who knows?’ 

You sat down on one of the comfy chairs, relieved that you had survived again. It’s true that you hadn’t done much, but that was only because your partner shrugged off any attempts you made to help. 

‘Are you happy now?’ Chishiya asked suddenly, catching you off-guard. Your eye cracked open, wondering what he meant as he stared at the other group’s door. 

‘Happy about what?’ 

Your question was drowned out as the door opened to reveal the other members of your group. And with that, the conversation had closed. 

You didn’t pester him any more as you walked back to the car, and this time, you made sure to sit in a seat far from his. It’s not as if you could force someone to spend time with you, or even like you for that matter. And besides, there were others at the Beach you could socialise with. 

But still. 

If only you knew what you had done wrong, whether you’d offended him somehow. Once the car pulled into the hotel, you waited until the others had left before you spoke to him again. 

‘Hey, Chishiya?’ He looked up, bored. ‘Don’t worry about being in games with me anymore. I’ll speak to Mira.’ 

You didn’t stick around to hear if he replied, and hurried inside, avoiding the ongoing party out in the courtyard. Heading straight upstairs to the executive’s quarters, you knocked on the door to room five. 

Nothing. 

You knocked again, louder this time. 

‘Were you looking for me?’ 

Mira appeared at the top of the stairs, her black skirt sashaying around her pale ankles. Her gaze was warm, but laced with a razor sharp edge. 

‘Apparently you’re the one who decides on the games rota?’ 

‘Hmm.’ She leaned against the wall. ‘I am. Was there a problem in your group tonight?’ 

‘No,’ you began, trying to avoid spilling too much information. ‘Well, yes… kind of. It’s complicated.’ 

A whisper of a smile crossed her lips. ‘One teammate in particular?’ 

This woman, is she a mind-reader? 

Mira, despite her calm, feminine appearance, had a strange ability to read people as though she knew their darkest secrets. It was no wonder she was a Hearts specialist. 

‘I don’t want to be partnered with Chishiya,’ you said. ‘We always end up in the same group, but he hates me. It makes it harder to finish the games.’ 

Mira looked faintly surprised and faintly amused all at once. ‘I see. Well, that is curious.’ 

‘Curious?’ 

She took a step forward, her dark eyes glinting. ‘That Chishiya is definitely a strange one. Even I have a hard time reading him,’ she said. ‘But he asked me himself if he could be grouped with you permanently.’ 

What now? 

Your stomach dropped. This was insane. It was bizarre. And it just didn’t add up whatsoever. ‘That can’t be right. He won't even speak to me.’ 

Mira hummed, thinking carefully. ‘You poor thing. How cruel of him.’ 

‘Do you think it’s possible to be put in a different group?’ 

‘Before I do anything,’ Mira said, ‘I think you both need to have a talk. Why don’t you go and find him? He’s usually in his room.’ 

You tried to interject, but Mira waved lightly and disappeared into her room, leaving you standing aimlessly in the hall. Yes, you could go and talk to him. But that would mean going to his room and actually confronting him about this. Mira turned out to be useless in helping you, and you genuinely didn’t know what to do. 

I guess I’m really going to have to do this… 

His room was only several doors away from Mira’s, as being an executive, he had landed himself with the luxury suites. You trudged over, lingering outside and trying to muster the courage to actually knock. 

I can do this! 

Your fist was raised above the door, ready to pounce, when a voice sounded from inside. 

‘Come in.’ 

Your heart thumped in your chest. 

No going back now. 

You entered, immediately locking eyes with him. He was sitting on the bed, as if he had been expecting you this entire time. Had he known that you were out there? If so, how? 

‘Erm… sorry for barging in.’ The silence was too awkward. ‘I’ve just spoken with Mira.’ 

‘And?’ 

Why was this so difficult? Why did he have to be so difficult?

‘She said I should speak to you first before she changes anything,’ you mumbled. ‘She also told me that you wanted to be grouped with me.’ 

Chishiya didn’t look shocked or shaken. Actually, he didn’t seem to care at all. ‘That was Kuina’s idea.’ 

Oh…

‘It was, at first,’ he added. ‘Kuina asked me to join your first game with the Beach. It was my suggestion to be grouped with you permanently.’ 

Wait, so he did want it?

This man, it was like he was enjoying having you on tenterhooks. ‘I don’t understand why. You hate me.’ 

He made a huff of amusement. ‘It’s not fun, is it? Being ignored by someone.’ 

Your jaw dropped. 

Seriously? 

He did this to be petty, to make your life a misery? But his tone of voice, it was as if you had done something horribly wrong and he was punishing you in the cruellest way imaginable. What could you have done wrong? 

Chishiya leaned forward, his expression betraying just how much he enjoyed your discomfort. ‘Did you think I hadn’t noticed? You purposely wouldn’t speak to me during the games. This is probably the first time you’ve ever come near my room. You avoided me in public. And then you told me off for suggesting some cookies.’ 

The penny dropped, and the realisation came crashing down around you. He had noticed all along, the fact that you’d been avoiding him. And this was a retaliation, of sorts. 

‘I admit, I like my own company,’ he said, slyly. ‘But that was a little too much, don’t you think?’

You couldn’t find the right words. ‘I didn’t… I only did that because I thought you were avoiding me.’ 

‘Maybe I was... initially.’ 

You felt both furious and stupid at the same time; your anger at him simmering just beneath your cool exterior, and your anger at yourself for not realising sooner that he was just playing with you. Was there even a solution to this? Maybe, like Mira suggested, it was worth talking through and agreeing on. 

‘I’m glad you don’t hate me,’ you said, trying to be the bigger person here. ‘But next time we’re in a game, don’t just take over everything. I don’t want to put my life in someone else’s hands.’ 

Especially not someone as dangerous as you.  

He weighed up your words, nodding slowly. ‘Fine. Just don’t get in my way.’ 

As annoyed as you were, you couldn’t hold back a smile. ‘I won’t,’ you said. ‘So long as you don’t get in mine.’ 

‘And you need to stop moving around in the car,’ he added. ‘It’s annoying.’ 

‘Stop sitting on the seatbelts then.’ 

His eyes lit up, just like they usually did, except something was a little different. The coldness had melted away, and for the first time ever, you actually began to see a different side to the man whose icy presence had caused you so much pain. 

[brickmvster]

Adaptation [Ellie Williams]

Synopsis: Ellie wakes up one morning to find that she is showing symptoms of infection but her sanity remains in tact. While navigating the cruel and dangerous wilderness outside of Jackson, she must learn to adapt to the changes that are rapidly affecting her, and the sense of newfound isolation that comes with them.

Tags/warnings: minor canon-typical violence (non-graphic), minor injuries, guns, body horror, post-canon, ambiguous/open ending, suicidal ideation (extremely brief), angst, kind of a character study, not beta read

Word Count: 13k+

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Firstly, a HUGE thank you to the artist who's fanart inspired me to write this! They are @/teamashina on Twitter, and here is the link to the amazing work of art that gave me this fic idea: here. Ellie showing signs of infection but remaining sane is their idea! They have so much fanart relating to this concept and it is all so cool so please check it out.

I also took partial inspiration from the Korean television show "All of Us are Dead." In that show there is this concept of "human zombies" which are people who have been infected but do not go insane and also have side effects; those side effects are incorporated in this fic bc I just thought it was really cool :)

This has been proofread, edited, and revised, but not beta read, so if any grammatical/spelling errors still managed to slip by me, I apologize; they all belong to me, if there are any.

I really hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

This has been crossposted on ao3.

Side Note 1/10/24: apologies for adding x reader tags, as this is not an x reader fic, but I just wanted to give this story more exposure ❤

After Ellie had visited the farmhouse one last time, she was then completely on her own.

Ellie craved stability. In the middle of nowhere, where danger loomed around every corner, she missed having a roof over her head. Shelter was often hard to come by and Ellie found herself sleeping in less than ideal places – an abandoned car that was dirty, cramped, and cluttered, or if she was lucky, maybe she’d come across a small, nearly picked-over convenience store. She was exhausted, walking with heavy steps due to frequent tossing and turning and being woken up by the slightest of noises, most of them imagined. Sometimes, whenever she closed her eyes, she dreamt of her small room back in Jackson; she imagined the feeling of her soft mattress and thick blanket, the warm glow of her fairy lights, her comic books scattered across the table. It was almost as if she was really there, and everyone that she loved was still in her life, and she got to see them everyday. But when the sun peeked over the horizon, and Ellie was stirred awake, the mirage once again faded into the darkness, just out of reach. 

Ellie found herself residing in a travel van stuck on a lonely highway after walking on sore feet for several hours in a randomly chosen direction, hoping to stumble upon something, anything worthwhile. Most days were uneventful and never caught Ellie by surprise. Food wasn’t readily available, but Ellie’s hunting skills had been honed and sharpened by that point and wasn’t much of a challenge for her. On the more exciting days, infected wandered a bit too close to the van, leaving Ellie to take care of them swiftly and quietly. Often it was one or two, but sometimes they came in larger numbers. Ellie still had her beloved switchblade with her that she cleaned and took care of to the best of her ability that became her best friend when a group of runners decided to pay her a visit.

Ellie's run-ins with infected didn't always end with her leaving unscathed, though. The bite on Ellie's arm, partially hidden by her tattoo and the chemical burn, was now accompanied by a plethora of other bites, including one on her shoulder and a couple on her other arm; But they were nothing but mild annoyances.

Ellie would say she was doing fairly well, even if it didn’t look like it. Her hair was on the longer side and fell into her eyes a lot. She had lost a significant amount of weight, as her food supply wasn’t as steady as it once was and some days she would be unlucky on her hunting trips. She adjusted to only having eight fingers far more quickly than she initially thought she would. She could still hold her weapons just fine and her accuracy didn’t change too drastically. She was still alive and breathing; even if she felt and looked like shit, that’s what was most important. 

There wasn’t much at all that could be done for entertainment. She still wrote and drew things in her journal, almost having filled up every page. She had to start using the backs of pages now.

Her journal entries were usually fairly short. There was nothing very interesting to document in her life, after all. She had been writing more poems, though. They were also short, many of them unfinished. But sometimes she was able to better communicate her feelings through a few words and single sentences.

Her drawings, though, were more frequent. It was mostly random objects or something that caught her attention while hunting or simply walking outside for fresh air. Maybe it was a carcass being picked at by a flock of birds, or random, lost objects that once belonged to a person, now forever buried with overgrowth. Other times she drew her memories. Dina and JJ. Joel. Jesse. These people were all gone but she felt they had to be immortalized in some way.

Although Ellie knew she might have been better off than others, she could never stop thinking about the place she once called home. The people of Jackson weren’t trigger happy like the WLFs or a fucked-up, sheltered cult like the Seraphites. They were accepting, willing to take anyone in with open arms. Surely they would welcome Ellie back, right?

She felt that she had waited long enough, and there was only one way to find out.

When Ellie woke up one morning, ready to pack and head out for Jackson, she made a discovery that stopped her in her tracks. 

She sat up in the small space of her bed, staring at her arm in shock, confusion, and fear.

Her arm was partially covered in a hard fungal growth, and it had effectively torn through the fabric of her brown flannel. It was only a small section of her arm, and it just barely covered part of her fern tattoo. She touched it, wincing in advance as she anticipated pain, but she felt nothing. Frantically, she felt her face and her legs, feeling for the same growth, but it seemed to only be her arm. Ellie wasn’t sure how to process the slight changes that her body had undergone overnight. Was her luck finally running out? Was her immunity only temporary? These were all questions that polluted her mind like oil to water. 

There wasn’t much Ellie could do other than brush it off – even though turning into a clicker was not something one could necessarily forget about as if it was a minor inconvenience. 

The whole day, Ellie kept stealing glances at her arm to see if the growth would spread, but it remained in that one area. When she had sat down to eat dinner, she pulled out her journal, flipping through countless pages before eventually opening it up to a blank page, pencil in hand as she chewed on two-day old rabbit.

What’s happening to me?

I woke up this morning and saw something had happened to my arm. There was fungal growth. It scared the fuck outta me.

What does this mean?

My immunity couldn’t have just disappeared yesterday. If that was the case, I would’ve woken up a runner. It seems like my body has just completely skipped the earlier stages of infection. It takes… a fuck-ton of time to turn into a clicker. Why am I turning into one in only 24 hours? I don’t know what to do and I’m terrified. I tried breaking it off. But it’s so damn hard. Harder than it looks. It’s sturdy. Being covered in this might feel as if you’re wearing a fucking suit of armor.

We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

And tomorrow brought, well, even more surprises. Unpleasant ones. 

When Ellie had awoken, the growth had spread to more areas of her body rapidly. Small sections of both of her legs were now covered in the same growth, as well as her other arm. Much to Ellie's horror, when she had felt her face, she was terrified to know that the growth had finally reached her face, too. It was protruding from her cheek in a way that may have looked like it should have hurt, but once again, she felt nothing. From her discoveries yesterday she knew that she wouldn't be able to remove them and yet she tried anyway, bending and twisting and manipulating the tough fungal plates using all the strength she could muster. But to no avail.

Ellie spent the day much like how she spent yesterday, only significantly more perplexed. She had hoped that yesterday was just an awful dream, and that when she woke up the next day her arm would be clear and only her tattoo would remain. 

Ellie tried to make sense of this, but couldn't, no matter how long she sat and thought about it. She wasn't twitching erratically or moving in any way an actual infected person would, which she thought was a good sign. But something she did notice was how her senses had seemingly increased in strength.

She first noticed these changes when she was sitting at the table, scribbling away in her journal like she usually did. But the sentence she was currently writing was cut short when suddenly her stomach began cramping in unbelievable pain. 

It was so terrible that she had fallen out of her seat, clutching her stomach tightly, tears welling up in her eyes. She was convulsing, nausea overcoming her, the room spinning. She genuinely felt as if she would die right there on the floor if she didn't devour something, and quickly . 

The leftover rabbit meat that she had stored away in a cabinet somewhere had become extremely potent; what usually had no smell began producing a scent that was like nothing Ellie had ever smelled. It smelled so good, almost too good, and Ellie tried her damndest to get up so she could retrieve it. It was a struggle, as she could barely stand on her feet and every time she tried she just ended up back where she started. But through enough persistence she succeeded. She ran to where she stored the rabbit meat, keeping it wrapped up in a clean cloth. Her eyes widened as she saw that she only had a single strip of meat left. She ate it, so fast that she could've choked and she nearly bit off her fingers. But it wasn't enough, and she knew it wouldn't be enough. The pain within her stomach continued, so she stumbled over to the bed, bumping into the edges of things on the short trip there. She collapsed onto the bed, the sharp, unwavering pain rendering her motionless.

Ellie weeped and sobbed, thinking to herself that death would be preferable in this moment. Right as she began contemplating it, her gun just out of reach in her bag, she passed out before she could do anything.

____

Ellie's eyes had fluttered open for the second time that day. When she had woken up, the sunset was filtering in through the windows of the van. She had been out for a while.

Fortunately, the pain was gone. Ellie needed to hunt; she was completely out of rabbit meat now. But she was far too weak and felt exhausted from what she had experienced earlier. Her throat was dry, but she had no water either.

She had just enough energy to get up and grab her journal before returning to the warmth and comfort of her bed. She decided to just stay curled up in bed for the rest of day, having been pushed to her limits just a few hours ago.

She opened up her journal to where she remembered writing a new entry. She read it curiously, wondering where she left off. 

The fungal growth has spread. It's all over me now. It fucking sucks, to put it lightly.

It feels kind of itchy. Not enough to be awful, but just enough to be slightly annoying. Still no pain, though. I tried breaking it off again this morning knowing that I would get the same results.

I can't see what I look like. There's no mirror in this damn van. But I imagine I look hideous. 

I don't understand why this is happening to me. All of this has got to be some fucking nightm

The spelling of the last word was left unfinished, and Ellie was immediately reminded of the pain that had overwhelmed her in that moment. She slammed the journal shut.

Ellie thought about writing another entry, but instead, she laid back down, closing her eyes. All she wanted was sleep. The fungal growth made some sleeping positions uncomfortable, so she opted for simply lying on her back, letting out a tired sigh.

Sleep never actually caught up to her, though, as she heard the sound of voices from outside.

The voices were loud and clear, not coming from outside the van but from a distance. Ellie was startled at the fact that she could hear them so clearly from seemingly so far away and could even differentiate the tone of each voice – a woman and a man. She remained still, wondering if they were just wanderers. 

It was impossible to try to sleep then, because all she could hear was their conversation. She picked up every word.

"We've been walking for ages and haven't found anything."

"I'm sure we'll find somewhere to hole up eventually. We gotta keep searchi-"

"Hey! Look up ahead! Is that a van?"

"Holy shit. Let's get closer and check it out."

Ellie had immediately raised up in bed, grabbing her bag that was right next to her and unzipping it with great haste. She reached in and grabbed her pistol, reloading it swiftly. She stayed where she was, keeping the weapon firmly grasped within her hand. She listened closely to the people's footsteps, continuing to listen to the words exchanged between them (not that she had much of a choice because their voices were so goddamn loud– her hearing had drastically improved).

"You think there's anyone in there?"

"One way to find out." 

"We should knock." 

"Or we could just-"

"Let's knock, Travis. If someone is in there we could get shot on sight." 

"Fine."

After several minutes, Ellie could tell that they were right outside the entrance to the van. She kept her finger gently resting on the trigger, completely still, like a snake silently waiting to attack its prey. She could hear every thump of her heartbeat in her ears.

Then, she heard another sound. The sound of knocking. It was heavy and loud, the person making their presence known. The deeper voice of the man had asked a question from outside the door.

"Is anyone in there?" 

Ellie didn't respond; not right away, anyway. She slowly got out of bed, coming just slightly closer to the door, keeping her gun trained in that direction. Fatigue was still coursing through her, but she used what little strength she had to keep her arms steady and her gaze focused. After clearing her throat, Ellie replied.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice calm but firm.

There was silence on the other end for a few minutes before the woman responded. 

"We don't want any trouble. We've been walking for a while and we need someplace to rest. I'm Kathy, and the voice you heard before is my husband, Travis." 

Ellie remained silent. Travis spoke up again. 

"Please. My wife is pregnant." He said, his voice wavering. 

Ellie sighed, lowering the gun, but keeping it within her grasp. She weighed her options, feeling conflicted with the choices presented to her. Ellie wanted to invite them in, The van was a small space, and it would certainly begin to feel claustrophobic with the addition of two people, but she was vehemently against the idea of sending them walking again. Ellie had so much blood on her hands from taking away so many lives on her journey for vengeance, but now, with her violent history behind her, the least she could do was help people when they needed helping. But Ellie was also fully aware of what she looked like at the moment; these people probably wouldn’t want to be around her for very long. They may even shoot her on sight once she opens the door. She walks like a human, and talks like a human, but her body took on a drastic transformation, one that would definitely cause people to look at her differently. People were going to fear her and Ellie was going to be even more isolated than she already was. 

She had only been living out of the van for a few weeks; it was only just now starting to feel like home. But she knew the choice she had to make. The choice she wanted to make.

Ellie must've been silent for too long, prompting Kathy to speak again. 

"Please." Was all she said, her tone hopeful. Ellie took small steps toward the door, unlocking it, before backing up again. Her finger was still just barely brushing against the trigger of the gun as spoke, her voice just barely loud enough for them to hear, “come in.”

They didn't come in immediately. Ellie imagined that they both must've been taken aback by being invited in and expected to be shooed away. But, after only a couple of minutes, the door was opened, the hinges emitting a loud, telltale creak.

Kathy and Travis had stepped inside the van tentatively. When their eyes landed on Ellie standing across from them, Travis wasted no time in slinging his rifle off of his shoulder and pointing it directly at her.

“What the hell – you’re – you’re infected–” He stammered, eyes wide, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Kathy had defensively pulled out a pistol from a holster that was attached to her thigh, but she wasn’t aiming it. Instead, she merely looked at Ellie, eyebrows drawn together in bewilderment. Travis had stepped in front of her protectively, but Kathy immediately stepped aside him again, placing a hand on Travis’s rifle and gently lowering it. Travis’s eyes snapped to his wife, and he raised an eyebrow at her, as if silently questioning her. 

“It’s okay, Travis. Relax.” Kathy said in a soft-spoken yet firm voice. Travis couldn’t seem to take her advice, shoulders still visibly tense, his fingers gripping his rifle tightly as if the weapon would grow wings and fly away. Nonetheless, he didn’t try to retaliate, and he let his wife try to take control of the situation. But he kept his eyes trained on Ellie carefully, prepared to strike if the situation ever called for it.

Kathy continued to speak. “I’ve never seen someone like you before. You look like a clicker… but you’re not… y’know, batshit crazy.” She said.

“I don’t know what happened. I can’t– I couldn’t explain it to you. But I promise I’m not… a threat.” Ellie responded. 

Travis scoffed. It seemed like he gave all his might to stay silent but eventually caved in and spoke anyway, much to his wife’s distaste. “Bullshit. Just because you may be walking and talking like us doesn’t mean anything. You could still just suddenly snap for all we know.” He replied. Kathy placed a gentle hand on Travis’s shoulder, but the glare she had sent him was anything but gentle. Travis could only laugh in response, as if what he said was something completely absurd and not within the realm of possibility. 

“Why are you looking at me like that, honey? Do you seriously feel safe around her? We need to go somewhere else.” 

Kathy immediately shook her head. “No. We’ve been walking around for hours. I’m fucking exhausted, Travis! I’m not going back out there. I’m not.”

Travis gave Ellie a quick up and down, disgust written all over his face. “I’m not sharing this van with her. She is a danger to us all. You’re pregnant, and I can’t risk anything.” 

“And you’re gonna make a pregnant woman walk some more ?” 

“Goddamn it, Kathy, we don’t know what we’re working with here!”

Kathy crossed her arms in growing frustration, her jaw clenched as she tried to remain level-headed. Ellie had gotten enough of their bickering and moved to the bed to retrieve her backpack. Travis’s eyes had quickly bounced to Ellie the second he saw her movement out of the corner of his eye. Kathy turned her head to observe Ellie as well, and they both fell silent. Ellie could feel their eyes boring into the back of her skull as she holstered her gun and put her journal inside her backpack, zipping it closed. She felt her back pocket briefly, just to make certain that her switchblade was there. Lastly, she grabbed Joel’s tan leather jacket from where it had been haphazardly thrown on the bed, hastily putting it on. When she had everything she needed, she turned around, yet again meeting eyes with the married couple who watched her every move. It was almost as if they were waiting for her to twitch.

Ellie cleared her throat. “The van is all yours.” she firmly stated, leaving no room for disagreement, making her way toward the door. Travis didn’t waste a second moving out of the way of the door, but Kathy was hesitant; she stayed standing where she was as if she was tethered to the floor, looking at Ellie pitifully. Her lips were fixed in a slight frown and her expression could only be read as sympathetic. Ellie mustered a barely noticeable smile, hoping to extinguish any feelings of sorrow that Kathy was feeling. 

Kathy stood in front of the door for several minutes before finally moving to the side, joining her husband. Ellie sauntered toward the door, her footsteps heavy, but before she left, she glanced at the married couple over her shoulder one last time. Kathy had waved at her, returning the same smile that Ellie had given mere seconds ago. Her eyes then migrated to Travis, who’s expression was dour, large hands still clutching his gun; Kathy had holstered hers long ago.

Despite the situation that Ellie found herself in, she could only feel content. The travel van that she was just beginning to call her home was no longer hers, but she didn’t feel sorrow when she had to part with it. Ellie’s conscience was put at ease knowing that she had just helped a couple, soon-to-be-family, find somewhere stable and mostly secure to settle down in, even if just for the time being. 

She stole one last look at the van, before focusing her attention on the imaginary path ahead of her – but she had only taken a couple of steps before she heard the door of the van swing open once more. She turned around, being greeted by Kathy, who was holding a handful of granola bars with an apologetic smile. She waved Ellie over, gesturing for her to come closer. Ellie obeyed, silently walking over and looking at her curiously.

When she approached, she held out her hands, waiting for Ellie to accept her offering. "Take these," she said, voice firm. "It wouldn't be right for us to kick you out and not give you a, uh…. parting gift, of some sort." She spoke.

Ellie shook her head. "You didn't kick me out. It's okay, really," she glanced at the granola bars in Kathy's hands. "And you should keep those. Any kind of food is hard to come by all the way out here." 

Kathy sighed, eyebrows furrowing in bubbling impatience. Suddenly, with confident strides, she walked behind Ellie and unzipped her backpack, stuffing the granola bars inside. "Exactly, which is even more of a reason to give you these." She said as she closed up the backpack. When she was facing Ellie again, she let out a series of chuckles upon seeing Ellie's look of defeat, standing there with her bag just a little heavier.

Ellie adjusted the straps of her backpack as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Thanks. That was, uh… really kind of you." 

Kathy absentmindedly rested her hand on her protruding stomach. "It was the least I could do." 

There were a few beats of silence that passed between the two women as they looked at each other, sharing glances of mutual acknowledgment at the fact they would be parting ways. Kathy gave Ellie one final grin, waving once more and waiting half a second for Ellie to wave back, before heading back toward the entrance of the van. Ellie continued to stare until the door was closed shut.

Once again, that familiar feeling of loneliness had reappeared as she looked at the road ahead of her, walking forward into the unknown. 

She wasn’t sure where she was going, she was simply letting her feet take her where they wanted to go. Ellie wasn’t in any rush, either, walking casually as if she was taking a stroll in the park. On either side of her was nothing but forest, the trees tall and imposing, the leaves moving gracefully in the breeze, seemingly breathing as if alive. There were plenty of broken down cars alongside the road, and the occasional animal that would always scurry away once they picked up Ellie’s scent. 

The sky was still a captivating blend of oranges and pinks, but it was noticeably getting darker. There was a slight chill in the air, causing Ellie to wrap Joel's– her jacket around her body more securely, tucking her hands inside of her arms, trying to keep them warm. She was grateful for the granola bars that Kathy had given her, having devoured two of them earlier along her journey. If only she had water to wash everything down; the assortment of nuts and oats not doing much for her already dry throat.

Surprisingly, she hadn’t encountered much trouble during her walk. It was almost unsettling, how barren the world around her was. Ellie observed her surroundings closely, her eyes moving a mile a minute as she anticipated an ambush, whether it be from people or infected. She was tense, ready to pull her pistol from its holster at the slightest of sounds. But the journey remained relatively peaceful. It was a stark contrast from places like Seattle, where Ellie couldn’t go anywhere without a Wolf or a Scar ready to ruin her plans. For the first time ever, even if only momentarily, being alone was not a miserable experience for Ellie, but a tranquil one. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the calming amalgamation of nature’s sounds and the sound of her feet softly hitting the pavement. It was during this moment that fatigue was settling within her aching bones, her gait gradually becoming slower, her eyelids getting harder and harder to keep open without effort. Ellie briefly considered curling up on the side of the road, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she was startled awake by the sound of loud and penetrating voices hitting her ears.

Her eyes shot open, looking left, right, and behind her, before realizing that the voices were coming from up ahead. She heard the sound of a group of men conversing with one another before she actually saw them.

“I’m fucking starving. I could eat a horse.”

“We’re all hungry. Just stop complaining, for fuck’s sake.”

“We’re in shitty shape, man. No food. No shelter. Barely any water because your dumbass drank it all. Y’know, I think it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Are you two really bickering right now? Shut the fuck up, Jesus.”

It was mostly dark now, so she quickly turned on her flashlight, but the light was dim and barely helped her with seeing a few feet in front of her. A curse word fell from her lips, knowing full well she didn’t have spare batteries. She thought it would be a better idea to conserve what little light the flashlight was producing, clicking it off. 

The group of men had come into Ellie’s view eventually, and she noticed that they were all heavily armed, with a dog keeping close to their side. Ellie removed her pistol from its holster, gripping it securely. It took several minutes for the men to notice her, but when they did, they stopped for a few long seconds, exchanging words with one another, their voices barely above a whisper. Little did they know, Ellie’s hearing had bettered significantly, and she was tuning in to every sentence.

“That woman looks pretty fucked up. I say we leave her alone.”

“She’s got a backpack. It might be worth searching.”

“Let’s just focus on getting where we need to go-”

“It’s four of us, one of her. We can take her out easily. Let’s get closer.”

Ellie’s finger was now resting on the trigger of her gun. She continued walking closer to them, slowly closing the distance between them. One of the men leading the group spoke first.

“Hey! You there! You alright?” He shouted. He was clad in all black, a shotgun being held in his grasp. 

Ellie didn’t respond. Once again, she began observing her surroundings, searching for a potential escape route. Ellie realized fairly quickly that her best bet would be darting off into the forest if she wanted to lose them. The second man who was walking beside the leader nudged his arm to grab his attention, a sickening smirk resting on his lips. He was carrying another long gun; a rifle. He muttered something else to the man in charge, which obviously did not go unnoticed by Ellie.

“Is she deaf, or what?” He said with a chuckle. The leader only glared at him, effectively silencing him as he returned his attention to Ellie. The distance between her and the men was shrinking, and Ellie, not wanting to immediately provoke them, began walking backwards. She had passed a clearing into the forest on her right side, and decided that she would make a mad dash through the trees.

The leader provoked Ellie once more, this time, his voice much less friendly than before. “Where are you going? We just wanna talk. Maybe we could help each other out.” 

On the surface, his request sounded innocent, but by the sinister smiles plastered on his henchmen’s face, to the overall intimidating nature that they all shared, Ellie had put two and two together. 

But, in typical Ellie fashion, she gave them all the finger before sprinting into the clearing, narrowly avoiding gunshots, the harsh and piercing sound of bullets firing clashing with the gentler sounds of the natural world around them.

With only the moon illuminating Ellie’s path, she had a difficult time trying to see exactly where she was going, noticing a large branch on the ground just a couple seconds too late, tripping over it and landing on the ground. It was during this fall that she also noticed there was a steep incline, steeper than she thought it was, and she was sent rolling down a small hill. She was stopped by a large, thick log, rolling into it and feeling the pain shoot through her shoulder. 

Ellie was effectively winded, frozen on the ground as she tried to recuperate, breathing in and out through her nose heavily. Adrenaline had long been running through her veins, giving her just enough energy to power through the intense pain in her shoulder to stand up. She blinked a few times, her vision spotty; and once she was able to see the environment around her clearly again, she soon realized that her gun had fallen out of her hand some time during her trip down the hill. Panic hit her hard like a bucket of cold ice water as she fell to the ground again, knees digging into the dirt as she pushed away fallen leaves, feeling for the cold metal of her pistol. The men were surely chasing after her and she knew her gun was around here somewhere .

As if matters couldn't get any worse, Ellie picked up the telltale sound of groans and clicking in the distance that never failed to send chills down her spine; and the sounds were very quickly getting closer. 

When Ellie had finally found her pistol, she hastily brushed off leaves and dirt, but before she could even make her next move, there was a horde of infected already shambling toward her from behind, snarling and feral. Ellie was stuck in a crossroads, not wanting to turn her back on the road – but the infected made themselves the more immediate problem. Ellie could see them getting closer and closer. She raised her arm, releasing shaky breaths. She took one step back – stepping on a large rock and losing her footing.

When she felt herself falling to the ground again, a loud shriek escaped her throat, followed by a string of profanities. The infected were right in front of her now, and there was no way Ellie could get back up in time to defend herself.

“She ran in here!” She heard one of the men shout. Ellie shut her eyes tight, believing that her fate had already been sealed, waiting to either get torn apart by the runners or shot to death by the men. 

But neither happened.

The infected had completely surrounded her, but they weren’t attacking. No, they weren’t even looking at Ellie. They seemed to be attracted to the sound of the men shouting, looking around frantically, groaning and convulsing, completely animalistic at the smell of fresh meat. Ellie looked up at them from where she was still lying on the ground, complete and utter bewilderment coloring her features. They weren’t interested in her.

Ellie stood up, slowly, brushing herself off. All of the runners had glanced at her and were aware of their presence, and yet they never touched her; she might as well have been a tree or a rock with how disinterested they were in her.

When the men finally caught up, out of breath and red in the face, they looked ahead, immediately noticing the hoard. But they also noticed Ellie standing directly in the center of it.

One of the henchmen’s jaws practically dropped to the forest floor, watching the sight in front of him in disbelief, fear chilling him to the bone and keeping him frozen. All of the men shared a similar expression, and Ellie could only chuckle at how their eyes comically popped out of their heads.

“Look, everyone.” Ellie spoke to the infected as if they were old friends, feeling a newfound power. “Fresh meat.” 

As if on cue, the runners attacked the four men before they could regain their wits and aim their weapons. The runners wasted no time in digging in, the men screaming in unimaginable agony – until they weren’t, and only the sounds of aggressive chewing could be heard. The dog that was with them had sprinted off into the forest, and Ellie watched the fluffy animal disappear into the distance before refocusing her attention on the runners and their feast.

While the runners were eating, Ellie approached the corpses, checking their pockets (she had to push some runners out of the way, to which some of them would grumble angrily before deciding to snack elsewhere). She took whatever ammunition she could find, stealing the rifle and shotgun as well, both weapons fortunately having been equipped with shoulder straps for easy transportation.

One of the henchmen, who was in the middle of having his leg devoured, had a map in his pocket. When Ellie unfolded it, she gave it a quick once over and realized that it was a map leading to Jackson. Ellie wasn’t sure where she was, but according to the map, Jackson was merely miles away. Not exactly close on foot, but just knowing that the place she once called her home was somewhat nearby took her by surprise. Her plans on returning to Jackson had effectively been turned upside down after the transformations that her body had undergone – but she pocketed the map anyway. Besides showing the location of Jackson, it also displayed nearby restaurants and convenience stores, which could definitely be worth scavenging.

She let the runners finish their meal, walking a little bit further into the forest and sitting down on a tree stump to catch her breath and process everything that had just occurred within the last several minutes.

She turned on her flashlight, removing her backpack from her shoulders. The dim lighting was just enough for Ellie to locate her journal within the bag. She pulled it out, as well as a pen, and opened her journal to a fresh page. She felt the need to document the changes that were happening to her body to better understand everything that she had been experiencing.

Before she began writing, though, she reached into her bag once more to pull out a granola bar. After unwrapping it, she finished it in just a few bites. She threw the wrapper to the ground and finally put her pen to the paper.

Okay. I totally just fucking cheated death just now.

Not only are mushrooms growing out of me, but I have superpowers too, apparently.

I can hear peoples’ voices from miles away as if they’re standing right next to me. I can smell everything around me – the grass, the soil, rotting animal carcasses… I could even faintly smell those guys who tried to kill me before I even saw them. 

I also feel hunger more intensely than the average person. Whenever I get hungry, I get these god awful cramps that hurt more than any other kind of pain I’ve ever fucking experienced. Thankfully, though, I haven’t felt the desire to eat human flesh. Not yet, anyway.

The craziest thing, though, is the fact that other infected don't even pay attention to me. Like I’m not even there. They get close to me, but they aren’t hostile. I still can’t believe it. 

When all this shit started happening to me, I thought I was some kind of monster. But all of these… symptoms of my infection… are actually proving to be kind of useful. I’m conflicted.

I’ve never felt more alone. There’s nobody else going through this but me. I wish I had answers. I wish

Ellie stopped mid-sentence when she felt a cold nose poking her hand. Startled, she retracted her hand, but her nerves were quickly calmed when she noticed that it was the dog from earlier. He was a beautiful golden retriever, although he wasn’t very golden anymore because of how dirty he was. A small grin broke out on Ellie’s face, and she reached her hand out, hesitant, anticipating aggressiveness, but the dog didn’t growl or bare any teeth – instead, he sat there patiently, tail wagging as he waited to be pet. Ellie did just that, running her fingers through his slightly matted fur. Pets were never really Ellie’s thing – but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t thoroughly enjoying the furry friend’s company.

“Hey, buddy,” Ellie said softly. “I thought you had run away.”

The dog just continued to sit there, staring up at Ellie with big, round eyes. Ellie’s heart was warm at how truly and undeniably adorable he was. In a world full of ugly people, infected and non-infected alike, this wide-eyed golden retriever that was currently resting his head on Ellie’s leg, satisfied at receiving affection, was a reminder that not everything in this world was ugly.

An idea had popped into Ellie’s mind, causing her to momentarily pause the headpats that she was giving. The dog whined, nudging her hand. Ellie giggled at the feeling. 

“Wait just a moment, buddy. Are you hungry? I got something for you.” Ellie said.

She closed her journal and put it back in her bag, the pen acting as a bookmark, mentally making a note that she would finish the entry later. She then pulled out the very last granola bar (it was chocolate free, Ellie noted).

The dog’s ears perked up at the crinkle of the wrapper. When the granola bar was free from its plastic sheath, Ellie placed it in the palm of her hand, holding it out to him. The dog sniffed the bar curiously, briefly looking up at Ellie as if asking for permission to eat it. Ellie smiled. “Go on. It’s all yours.” She muttered, and as if the dog could understand her, he gobbled up the granola bar in one bite. 

While he was chewing, Ellie glanced at the dog’s neck. She noticed that he was wearing a collar. She reached out and grabbed the silver pendant, holding up the flashlight in front of it to read the engraving. 

“Your name is… Otis? God, who would name you Otis?” Ellie spoke in an amused tone, a laugh bubbling out of her throat. 

After the touching moment, silence had befell the both of them briefly. Otis’s head had returned to its resting position on top of Ellie’s leg, and Ellie absentmindedly continued petting him as she stared off into space. It was nearly pitch black outside if not for the moonlight and Ellie didn’t feel entirely comfortable continuing her journey on the road without being able to see her surroundings very well – it seemed like another ambush just waiting to happen. But Ellie didn’t seem to have much of a choice; sleeping in the middle of the forest didn’t seem to provide a lot of safety either.

The gears in Ellie’s mind were turning as she considered her options. But she was suddenly stirred by her thoughts when Otis had run off into the distance, and Ellie had immediately missed the warmth of his head on her leg and the feeling of his fur between her fingers. She sighed, getting up and slinging her backpack on, her muscles sore and aching from the events that had transpired just moments prior. She could especially feel the pain in her shoulder now that the adrenaline had dissipated. She knew without even having to look at it that there was definitely a pretty black and blue bruise that had formed.

Ellie stood up from the tree stump, stretching her limbs, before making her way back to the open road.

She didn’t get very far, though, when she heard two loud barks. She froze in her tracks, a smile almost immediately breaking out on her face when she turned around to be met with Otis again. She kneeled down and opened her arms, to which Otis ran into Ellie’s embrace happily. 

“Are you gonna leave me or not? Make up your mind, little guy.” She asked playfully. Otis barked again, and Ellie put a finger to her lips as if Otis could understand what that meant.

“Quiet, boy. We don’t wanna attract any unwanted attention, yeah? I’m still pretty worn out from earlier, aren’t you?” Ellie questioned with a lighthearted chuckle.

Otis allowed Ellie to pet him a few more times before removing himself from her arms and scurrying off again, but this time he stopped just a little bit ahead of Ellie, staring at her with those big, round eyes. His tail was wagging behind him excitedly. Ellie cocked her head, much like a confused animal would, returning the eye contact with Otis.

“What is it, boy?” Ellie asked. Otis trotted only a tad further into the distance before stopping again and turning his head to look at Ellie once more. 

“Ah, I see,” Ellie began. “You want me to, uh… follow you?”

As if trying to answer her question, Otis barked again. Ellie immediately kicked into gear, following the dog just to get him to stop making noise.

“Okay, okay.” Ellie said.

Ellie followed Otis silently, wondering to herself why she was even following some random dog in the first place. You should be back on that road, Ellie thought. This is a complete waste of time.

Ellie sighed, considering turning around and leaving the dog for good as it seemed like he just wanted to go on a stroll, until she saw something just up ahead. A cabin.

Otis had led Ellie to shelter.

A grin that stretched from ear to ear appeared on Ellie's face, her eyes widening in surprise. She called Otis over and showered him affection, endless praise spilling from her lips.

"You're the best, aren't you, boy? I'll take this over a fucking travel van any day." 

Ellie slowly walked up to the cabin, Otis following close behind. From what she could see outside, she noticed a warm, faint glow emanating through the front windows, perhaps from a fireplace or a lantern.

Removing her pistol from its holster, she knocked on the large wooden door. It didn’t open immediately, which Ellie had expected. Instead, she heard a muffled voice from the other side. 

“What do you want?” She said curtly, her voice stern. Otis’s ears perked up at the sound of the person’s voice, her tail wagging in eagerness. 

“I don’t want any trouble. I, uh… I need somewhere to sleep for the night.” Ellie replied. There was silence on the other end for several minutes as the person was seemingly contemplating. The silence stretched on for so long that even Otis had become impatient, letting out high-pitched whines. Ellie placed a comforting hand on his head, rubbing gently.

Ellie sighed, tiredly running her other hand through her unkempt hair. “Please… I just need someplace to rest-”

Her sentence had abruptly ended when the door had finally swung open, and she was met with the barrel of a gun being pointed directly into her face. In mere seconds, Ellie raised both of her arms, her gaze shifting from the weapon to the woman’s steel gaze. She looked to be no younger than Ellie, or possibly slightly older, and she had long, dark hair collected into two braids that complimented her olive skin tone. She was clad in white jeans (that were definitely whiter when we're brand new) and a forest green blouse, a black jacket over her shoulders. Ellie noticed that her eyes had widened considerably, as she was visibly bewildered by Ellie’s appearance. 

“You– You have fifteen seconds. I suggest you leave.” The woman threatened.

“I’m not infected! I know what this looks like, but please-” Ellie started, but the woman only stepped closer to her, the pointed gun in her hands never wavering for a second, to which Ellie subsequently took a small step back. 

“Bullshit.” The woman spat. 

“I swear .” Ellie replied. She could see the woman’s eyes rake across her skin as she observed her closely. She had fallen silent now, and Ellie could tell the woman was mulling over a decision in her mind. While she was taking those few minutes to contemplate, Ellie spoke again.

“Look, I can’t explain– this whole situation,” Ellie said, gesturing to the fungal growth that covered her body. “But I won’t hurt you.” 

The woman still kept her contemplative gaze, but her eye contact with Ellie was broken when she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye. When the woman looked down, that’s when she noticed Otis, lying patiently next to Ellie’s shoes, her head resting on the top of her paws. The woman’s hand began to shake as she finally felt her resolve crumble, and with a sigh, she lowered her weapon, stepping aside to make room for Ellie and her furry friend to come in.

“Get inside. Quickly.” She said curtly. Ellie didn’t hesitate, walking into the woman’s residence with hurried steps, Otis following behind her. 

When Ellie had come in, the woman poked her head outside once more, looking left, and then looking right, before shutting it closed and locking it behind her. Ellie briefly watched as Kennedy grabbed a nearby chair and placed it under the doorknob.

Upon being welcomed inside, Ellie took several moments to observe her new surroundings. Ellie could tell she was in the middle of a living room, noticing a couch, recliner, and a glass coffee table among other things. There was a fireplace in said living room, the sound of the fire crackling resonating throughout the small space and basking it in a warm, orange glow. In front of the glowing fire was a small throw pillow and a blanket that had been folded to create a makeshift mattress of sorts, as well as another, slightly smaller blanket folded on top. Ellie removed her jacket, already beginning to feel quite warm, the heat of the fire having effectively filled the entire room. She wasn’t sure how long the woman would let her stay for, but she was going to enjoy every second. After placing her long guns on the table, Ellie made her way toward the fireplace, sitting down in front of it and holding out her hands. Otis had the same idea, taking his spot next to Ellie. 

The woman was still standing by the door, gun in hand, but her finger wasn’t on the trigger. She watched Ellie closely, her eyes raking over all the parts of Ellie’s body where fungal growth could be seen. The woman still chose to keep her distance, as she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the mysterious stranger.

Ellie felt a pair of eyes on her back, and she turned around to be met with the woman’s stare. Ellie wasn’t surprised in the slightest that the woman seemed to be put off by her presence. She didn’t question her blatant discomfort and opted for making light conversation instead.

“Thanks. For letting me in.” Ellie started. She wasn’t really expecting a response, so she turned her back toward the woman again, her mind wandering elsewhere as she observed the burning wood. 

“No problem.” The woman replied, much to Ellie’s surprise. Ellie turned back around and saw that the woman’s eyes were no longer cold and sharp but instead much warmer, softer, a glint of curiosity hidden in them. Her voice had also lost its sternness, her words coming out much lighter. She opened her mouth to speak again. 

“I’m Kennedy.” She said. Ellie repeated the name in her head, even though she’d probably be asked to leave after a couple of days and would never see her again. Regardless of how long she would know this woman, she couldn’t think of a reason to not share her name as well.

“Ellie.” She said simply.

Kennedy gave her a small, barely noticeable grin of acknowledgement. After the exchange of names, they were both quiet for a few minutes as the both of them tried to move past the initial stage of meeting someone. Kennedy remained rooted in front of the door, leaning against it and holstering her weapon. Ellie was in the middle of running her fingers through Otis’s fur, watching the tufts of golden blonde poke through the space in between them, when Kennedy decided to break the ice first.

“So… where did you come from?” She asked. Ellie knew that Kennedy probably had more pressing questions at the tip of her tongue, more than likely relating to the fact that she was covered in bites and had mushrooms emerging from her skin, but wasn’t ready to ask. At least, not yet.

“I stayed in an old travel van a few miles from here. It was shitty but better than nothing.” She replied. Kennedy nodded, listening intently.

“I see… so you walked all the way here, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Ellie said. She cleared her throat. “What about you? How’d you even find this place?”

Kennedy chuckled softly. “Before I came here I was with a group of people. We were living out of some grocery store. Got separated…” she trailed off, staring at the hard wood floor beneath her blankly. Ellie sensed that she had begun reliving some kind of unpleasant memory, but before she could say anything about it, Kennedy shook her head, as if trying to dispel the sudden thought. 

“We, um, got separated, and I ran off in a random direction. I guess I just got lucky… coming across this.” She said, gesturing to the cabin itself. 

“Real lucky.” Ellie added. Kennedy nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah…” she said quietly. 

Suddenly, she stopped leaning on the door and walked toward Ellie, grabbing a backpack that had been placed on the recliner on the way, before sitting down next to her on her folded blanket. She still left a considerable amount of space between them.

“How long have you been staying here?” Ellie questioned. 

“Only for a few days. I actually plan on leaving tomorrow morning, though.”

Ellie perked up at that. “Where to?”

“A place called Jackson.”

Ellie fell silent, feeling a familiar tenseness in her shoulders. Her stare was blank as she looked ahead at the flames in front of her. 

“Jackson?”

Kennedy looked at Ellie quizzically. “Yeah. You heard of it? Had a friend tell me that they had food, clean water, shelter, electricity, a decently sized community… seems like a great place to stay. It could be a rumor for all I know, but I had to find out for myself.”

“I know about Jackson,” Ellie replied. Kennedy looked at Ellie in surprise. 

“Are you from there?” She asked excitedly, eyes shimmering with hope.

“I, um… know about people from there.” 

A smile had broken out on Kennedy’s face upon hearing this information. She scooted closer to Ellie, and whether it was a subconscious or conscious action, Ellie wasn’t sure.

“Would you happen to know if it’s nearby? All my friend told me was to keep heading north. At least, that’s what she heard from other people.”

Ellie’s eyebrows had furrowed slightly in confusion. “She didn’t give you any landmarks, at least?”

Kennedy shook her head. “No..” she said.

“So you’ve just been wandering around, hoping and praying to some higher power that you’re going in the right direction?” Ellie couldn’t hide the amusement in her tone nor could she fight the smile that was tugging on the corner of her lips. Kennedy also found herself sporting a mirthful expression in response to Ellie’s blatant teasing.

“Listen, a lead is a lead, okay? Now, do you know if Jackson is close by or not?” Kennedy asked, suppressing giggles that threatened to bubble from her throat. 

“You really are lucky, then. You’re not too far off. But, uh,” Ellie thought about the map that she found earlier. She grabbed her backpack, opening it up and pulling out the folded piece of paper from inside. She handed it to Kennedy.

"This might help you out." Ellie said.

Kennedy could only gawk at the piece of paper, effectively being stunned into silence. She stared at it for a few long seconds as if she thought it was going to vanish from Ellie’s hand. She accepted the map, looking at it in awe. 

“Holy shit. How did you find this?”

“I guess I… got lucky?” Ellie replied, echoing Kennedy’s words from earlier, to which Kennedy let out a genuine, hearty laugh that shook her whole body and even had Otis poking his head up in curiosity, disturbed by all of the sudden ruckus.

Ellie noticed Kennedy’s wide smile, mirroring the expression. Kennedy’s laugh was truly contagious, and the infectiousness of the sound had spread to Ellie, causing a few chuckles to escape her throat.

Eventually, Kennedy had calmed down, feeling a little out of breath from the exertion that comes from having a good laugh. 

“Thank you, Ellie. Really.” Kennedy said. “I’m… glad you found me when you did.” 

Ellie shrugged. She felt that same warmth she felt when she helped the married couple just mere hours ago. “Don’t mention it.”

After tucking away the map in her backpack, Kennedy began rummaging inside for something else. She found what she was searching for eventually, pulling out a tupperware bowl full of clean cuts of meat. Ellie wasn’t even fully aware of how hungry she actually was until seeing it, and Otis was now giving Kennedy all of his attention, automatically equating the bowl in Kennedy’s hand to something to do with food.

“Please excuse my lack of hospitality,” Kennedy said, teasingly. “You must be pretty hungry, huh? Here, you can have this.” She outstretched her arm and offered Ellie the bowl of meat, to which Ellie gladly accepted and tore open the lid in the blink of an eye.

“Thanks,” she said. “A lot.” 

Kennedy chuckled. “It’s not a problem. Oh, and there should be enough in there for the dog, too.” She said.

Before Ellie dove in and had a few strips herself, she took out some pieces of meat to give Otis. Otis ate them happily, tail wagging against the rug. Once Otis was satisfied and taken care of, Ellie ate the remaining pieces, so hungry that she was eating faster than she intended to but she didn’t really care all that much. The meat was bland, like she expected it to be. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to at this point. She still devoured the meat anyway, too starved to give a damn.

There was a comfortable silence that had fallen over the both of them as they sat in front of the fire. Ellie didn’t realize it until now, but she missed being in the company of somebody else. She missed having someone to have a conversation with, and for once, it was nice to feel truly safe. In the travel van, she always found herself peering out of its few windows at the slightest noise. There was obviously no one around to speak to; to befriend. 

She thought she had gotten used to being alone. But Kennedy made her realize that she was far from truly accepting her loneliness. Ellie didn’t want the sun to rise, because then that meant Kennedy would leave; and her worst fear would become true once more.

But she knew she couldn’t talk Kennedy out of her trip. She wouldn’t want to, anyway. Ellie knew that Jackson would be a far better place for her than in a small cabin out in the middle of the woods.

“I want to ask you a few things.” Kennedy’s voice pulled Ellie out of her mind. 

“Ask away.” Ellie said. She braced herself.

“So. You’re immune.” Kennedy didn’t phrase it like a question; more like a statement, to which Ellie nodded. 

“Yeah.” 

“When… when did you find that out?”

Ellie sighed, taking some minutes to compose herself. “When I was 14.” she replied, silently hoping that Kennedy wouldn’t pry for more information after that.

“Shit. You were so young.” Kennedy said. Ellie nodded.

“Can I… touch it? I won’t hurt you, will I?” Kennedy inquired. It had caught Ellie a little off guard, but she was thankful that Kennedy wasn’t asking for more details about how she got her first bite, so she didn’t mind. She held out her arm, and Kennedy had reached out her hand but she hesitated. She met Ellie’s eyes, once again asking for permission non-verbally, to which Ellie simply nodded.

Kennedy’s fingers slowly touched the fungal growth on Ellie’s arm. She did the same thing Ellie did when she first got it, tugging on them and attempting to twist and bend them. Kennedy’s expression was that of innocent curiosity as she continued to feel Ellie’s arm. She glanced up at Ellie occasionally, checking for any signs of discomfort, but Ellie only sat there patiently.

“They’re so hard,” Kennedy observed. “And it doesn’t hurt?”

Ellie lightly shook her head. “No, I promise. It’s itchy sometimes. That’s about it.”

“I see. Man, it’s crazy to see these things up close. Can’t really get close to a clicker.” Kennedy said. Ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, the sound resembling something of a chuckle. 

“I didn’t think anyone like you even existed. I wonder if there’s more immune people.” 

Ellie quickly shook her head. Kennedy noticed the slight movement out of the corner of her eyes. She was finished analyzing Ellie’s arm, meeting Ellie’s gaze. She was quiet, allowing Ellie to elaborate.

“There is no one else.” Ellie said softly but with finality in her tone, her eyes filled with sincerity. 

“There has to be. I mean, people could be hiding it or something. It’s not like they can just going around telling ever-”

“There is. No one. Else .” Ellie interrupted, her voice coming out more stern then she intended it to. Kennedy was effectively silenced, and Ellie watched the hope dissipate from her eyes as she leaned back, hugging her knees to her chest and staring off into the fire. Ellie mentally cursed herself for being the one to suddenly shift the mood.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Ellie said. 

After a few beats of silence, Kennedy sighed. "It's okay. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

Ellie was quick to distinguish any ounce of self-blame that Kennedy was feeling. "You didn't. I didn't mean for it to come out the way." 

Kennedy gave Ellie a small smile. "It's alright, Ellie. Let's just move on, yeah?" 

Ellie nodded, wordlessly agreeing. She cleared her throat. 

"So, anyway… you wouldn't happen to have anything to wash this down with, would you?" 

Kennedy once again reached into her bag and pulled out a canteen. She shook it, and she frowned when she heard that there was very little water left. 

"This is all I have. But you can have the rest of it." 

Ellie was quick to decline. "No… you'll need that for your trip tomorrow-" 

"Please." Kennedy insisted, a faint grin resting on her lips and a finality in her tone that Ellie just couldn't say no to. She accepted the water, nodding her head as a silent thanks. 

She wasted no time in chugging the remaining water that was inside the canteen, eagerly lapping up every last drop. Otis stared at her curiously, whining to get Ellie's attention; but Ellie had already emptied the canteen. 

Ellie looked down at Otis apologetically, petting the top of her head for compensation. “I’m sorry, buddy.”

Kennedy frowned while observing the interaction, immediately being kicked into action. She grabbed her gun and reached out her hand to take the canteen. “I can get some more water. The nearest lake is a bit of a walk, but-”

“It’s alright,” Ellie started. “I’m sure he can make it through the night.”

“You sure?” Kennedy asked. Ellie nodded.

“Okay.” She replied, sitting back down in front of the fire.

With an audible yawn, Kennedy laid down on her back. Ellie continued sitting upright, staring emptily into the fire.

“Aren’t you tired, Ellie?” Kennedy asked. Ellie just shrugged.

“I’m fine. Just… thought I should keep an eye out.” She replied.

Kennedy chuckled at Ellie’s paranoia. “Hey, we’re safe here, I promise. I’ve been alone here for a while now and you’re the first person to find this place.” 

Ellie would be lying if she said that she wasn’t beginning to feel the exhaustion overtaking her. Aside from the fact that she had quite the tiring day, many of the nights she spent in the travel van were sleepless ones, and all those missed hours of rest were certainly catching up to her. She could feel it in the way her bones ached with every slight movement, and how her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute. Even Otis had fallen asleep before her, lying on his side, his chest rising and falling slowly. The fire wasn’t helping, either, only adding to her fatigue as the fire’s warmth encompassed her body like a thick blanket.

Ellie sighed, ultimately making the choice to listen to the signals her body was giving her. 

Ellie started to lay down, grabbing her backpack to use as a pillow.

“Wait,” Kennedy said. Ellie froze, turning her body around to see what Kennedy was up to.

Kennedy took the blanket she was lying on top of and unfolded it, placing it on the floor in a way that would allow Ellie to lie on top of it as well. 

“There. So you’re not sleeping directly on the floor.” Kennedy said with a smile. Ellie gave her a barely noticeable grin in return as a silent thanks. 

When Ellie had laid down comfortably, Kennedy grabbed a second blanket of hers and covered the both of them with the soft fabric. There was just enough of it so that the both of them could fit under it comfortably. Kennedy was lying on her back, her hands behind her head, whilst Ellie was lying in the fetal position, facing away from her. There was a comfortable silence that fell between the two of them. Ellie’s eyes had fallen closed, and she felt the looming presence of sleep creeping up to her–

“Ellie.” Kennedy whispered. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.” Ellie replied. 

“I just… have more questions I wanna ask you.” Kennedy said. Ellie could have simply told her to ask them tomorrow, but she hadn’t had any kind of company in what felt like an eternity, and she knew that Kennedy would be leaving as soon as the sun rose, so she gave Kennedy her full attention.

Ellie turned her body around, still remaining in a position akin to the fetal position but facing Kennedy. Kennedy adjusted her position as well, now facing Ellie. There was still a decent amount of distance between the two of them, but they were much closer together now. For anybody else, the close proximity would have probably caused some level of discomfort, but Ellie didn’t find herself shying away.

“Shoot.” Ellie said.

Kennedy cleared her throat. “Um, so… can I ask what happened to your hand? I noticed it when you first came in, but I didn’t wanna bring it up at the time…”

Ellie was silent.

“You don’t… have to answer. Or tell me the full story. I’d hate to make you uncomfortable… again-”

“I got in a fight, and the person I was fighting… bit them off.”

Ellie could see Kennedy’s eyes widen and her eyebrows raise even in the darkness of the room. “Holy shit. They… bit them off?” Kennedy repeated, disbelief evident in her tone. Ellie nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah,” She said quietly. 

“Well, I hope you won that fight. Did you?” Kennedy asked. 

“Sure did.” Ellie lied. Kennedy didn’t suspect otherwise, chuckling at Ellie’s answer. 

“Hell yeah.” Kennedy responded, a light grin resting on her face. Shortly after, though, the grin quickly faded.

“Oh and… sorry about that.” Kennedy added. 

Ellie shrugged. “I’ve… gotten used to it.” She replied.

“Having only eight fingers… what does it change for you?”

Ellie was quiet for a moment as she thought about her answer. “Well, uh… holding guns felt a little weird, but I figured that out pretty quickly. I’m not left-handed, which is a good thing I guess, but… I think the thing I’m upset about the most is that I can’t play guitar.”

Kennedy let out a barely audible gasp, but Ellie picked up on it. “You play guitar? Or, um… played?”

Ellie nodded. “Yeah. Did… did you?” She asked.

A wide smile broke out on Kennedy’s face, stretching from ear to ear. “Yeah, actually. I played guitar for years. Even had one of my own, back when I was with my group. But when we got attacked, I had to… leave it behind.” Kennedy’s voice began to shake. “I miss playing so much. It really just… took my mind off of everything, y’know? Felt like I was back with my friends and family… sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Almost subconsciously, Ellie reached out her hand, gently placing it on Kennedy’s arm.

“Losing the one connection to your past… I get it. And I’m sorry.” Ellie said softly. 

Kennedy didn’t say anything in response, the sound of her occasional sniffles filling the silence of the room. 

“Y,know,” Ellie began. “When you get to Jackson, you might be able to find a new one.”

“A new guitar?” Kennedy asked. Ellie nodded. 

“Yeah. The people there trade stuff all the time, you might get lucky.”

“Maybe…” Kennedy trailed off. 

When silence befell the two of them again, Ellie took that time to roll over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Subconsciously, she scratched the area of her arm where the fungal growth was located. 

“When you get to Jackson, what are you gonna do?” Ellie inquired, curiosity lacing her tone. 

“Let’s see,” Kenney said, releasing a sigh as she contemplated her answer for a moment. “Honestly? I just want to be able to settle down and start over. I wanna create a new life for myself. Meet new people.” She explained. 

“I’m sure you’ll be able to do that.” Ellie replied.

Slowly, Kennedy’s wistful expression morphed into one of confusion. “Why don’t you… come with me?” She asked.

Ellie stiffened, sitting up and resting her forearms on her knees. Almost immediately, Kennedy sat up as well, maintaining eye contact with her despite the fact that Ellie was now zeroing in on the fire in front of her. 

Ellie found herself picking at the fungal plates on her arm. 

“I can’t.” Ellie said, after a few moments of heavy silence.

Kennedy’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why can’t you? I mean, do you really wanna stay out here?”

Ellie shrugged. “No one in Jackson would want me around when I look like this .”

Kennedy’s eyes briefly went up and down the length of Ellie’s body like it was her first time seeing the fungal growth on her skin. “Give them enough time, and I’m sure they’ll get accustomed to it. I mean, I did.”

The chuckle that was emitted from Ellie’s throat was a humorless one. “Some people might get used to it. Other people won’t. They’d only feel unsafe around me… and I don’t want that.”

“But you’re not a threat–”

“I’m not going back, Kennedy. There’s no place for me there anymore.”

Kennedy scooted closer to Ellie. “Anymore?” She asked, subtly urging Ellie to elaborate.

“I… used to live in Jackson. For quite a while, actually.”

“Why did you–”

“I don’t wanna get into why I left. I just want you to understand. I can’t go back. I don’t even want to go back. Not right now, anyway.” Ellie said with finality in her tone.

Kennedy nodded, a deep frown etched into her features. She began fiddling with a loose string on the blanket.

“I’m sure the people there miss you.” Kennedy said. 

“For all I know, they probably think I’m dead. Or at the very least, they’re not concerned with me anymore.”

“But you’re not dead. And there is still time for you to–”

“You can’t convince me, Kennedy. I’m sorry.”

“Right. I understand.” She said quietly.

With a sigh, Ellie began putting out the fire. “We should sleep.” She said, abruptly ending their conversation there. 

It took a few minutes to put the fire out, as Ellie carefully observed the flames and waited until they had completely dissipated. When no embers remained, it left the room mostly pitch black, with the exception of a few rays of moonlight filtering in through the curtains. 

Ellie and Kennedy both laid back down atop the blanket, turning away from each other. 

For the first time in a long time, Ellie slept peacefully throughout the night.

—-

The next morning, Ellie woke up to the sound of a door closing gently. 

Kennedy had come from outside, with Otis coming in shortly after. She held two deceased rabbits in her hand. 

"Morning." Ellie said. Kennedy threw a smile in her direction, placing the rabbits in front of the fire. Ellie quickly noticed her rifle that was slung over Kennedy’s shoulders.

"Morning. I went ahead and took Otis out to use the bathroom and to get some air – and sorry I, uh… stole your rifle, but hopefully this can suffice for breakfast. Do you… know how to skin a-"

"I got it. Thanks." Ellie replied. 

“Awesome,” Kennedy said. “Just so you know… there’s a freshwater lake right behind the cabin. It’s roughly a 20 minute walk. I recommend boiling it before you use it for anything. Obviously there’s plenty of wood around for the fireplace.”

“Okay.” Ellie replied simply. She noticed that Kennedy was about to put the rifle back down where she found it, and quickly halted her movements, to which Kennedy glanced at her in slight confusion.

“Keep it.” Ellie said. Kennedy seemed taken aback.

“I can’t just-”

“Is your pistol the only gun you have?”

Kennedy paused, but then nodded. “Well… yeah, but-”

“Then please, keep it. You never know when you’ll need a backup. I’ll be fine without it.” Ellie said. She then grabbed her backpack, rummaging inside for a few minutes before pulling out a couple of packs of ammunition and handing it to her.

“Here.” Ellie said. Kennedy humbly accepted the ammunition and the weapon, giving Ellie an expression that could only be read as grateful, before going to retrieve her bag off of the recliner. She pulled out the map that she had hastily thrown inside before slinging the straps over her shoulders. She picked up her gun from the table and holstered it, and threw the strap of the rifle over her shoulder, making her way to the door. But she didn't leave immediately, instead pausing in front of it and turning around to face Ellie. This time, the expression on her face was one Ellie couldn’t quite read. Kennedy stared at the ground for a few moments, almost as if she was contemplating if she really wanted to leave. 

"I guess this is where we part ways." Kennedy spoke solemnly. Ellie gave a small nod, remaining silent. 

A sigh blew past Kennedy's lips. "I take it you still haven't changed your mind?" 

"No. I haven't." Ellie replied. 

"I figured, but I just wanted to make sure." Kennedy said, chuckling humorlessly. "Well, Ellie, before I go… I think it'd only be right to thank you." 

"For what?" 

"Well, for starters, giving me a map so that I know where the hell I'm going,” She replied with a grin. “And… for last night. It's been a long time since I had a conversation with someone. It felt nice." 

Ellie nodded in silent agreement. "Yeah. It did.”

Kennedy’s grin stretched into a smile. "You stay safe out here, okay?" 

“I’ll try.” Ellie responded, a smile of her own creeping onto her features. 

Kennedy shared one more meaningful glance with Ellie before turning around and slowly turning the doorknob. Otis had rested his head on Ellie’s knee, eyes fixated on Kennedy as he watched her leave. As Ellie ran her fingers through his fur, a sudden but sorrowful realization had dawned on her.

“Wait.” Ellie said, and Kennedy was only halfway out of the door when she had stopped in her tracks. 

“Do you think you could take him with you?” Ellie asked, gesturing toward Otis. “There’s no way I’d be able to provide for him out here. Jackson will have everything he needs. Pets were never really my thing, anyway.”

A grin reappeared on Kennedy’s face as she nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll take him off your hands.”

“Thank you.” Ellie replied. Kennedy made a short, clicking noise with her mouth, getting Otis’s attention. She gestured for him to come toward her, and like the obedient dog he was, he did just that, trotting over to her while wagging his bushy tail. At that moment, as Otis sat next to her feet, Kennedy seemed to have suddenly remembered something.

“You know, I can’t believe I never asked what his name was.” She said, chuckling incredulously. 

Ellie couldn’t suppress her own chuckles as she thought back to the moment she first found out the dog’s name just last night. “You’ll laugh when you find out what it is.” She said.

“Surely it’s not that bad,” Kennedy replied as she kneeled down to read the dog’s collar. When she had read the name, sharp laughter escaped her throat, just like Ellie had predicted. Ellie found herself laughing with her, while Otis just sat there, completely unaware that the two humans were poking fun at his name.

“Otis?” Kennedy spoke after her laughter had died down. “Man, I can’t say I’ve ever heard that one.”

“Me neither.” Ellie said, a light smile on her face. 

“But,” Kennedy spoke, running her fingers through the dog’s fur affectionately. “I gotta say, it suits him.” 

Ellie gave a small nod. “It really does.” 

When silence dawned on them again, the air around them felt different. Ellie knew that Kennedy couldn’t stick around for much longer. There was a pit that was settling in the bottom of Ellie’s stomach at the realization that she would be alone again. 

“Can I… walk you out?” Ellie asked. Kennedy nodded fervently.

The two of them, plus Otis, walked back outside. Ellie decided to lean against one of the wooden beams on the porch as she watched Otis and Kennedy descend the small flight of stairs and head toward the road. Kennedy stopped after a few steps, though, turning around to face Ellie one last time.

“Do you think that we’ll… cross paths again someday?” Kennedy questioned. 

“Maybe.” Ellie said.

“That’s better than a no, so I’ll take it.” Kennedy replied, grinning playfully.

Suddenly, their departure didn’t feel sorrowful anymore – instead, it felt hopeful. Ellie believed that this would be a new beginning for the both of them.

“See you, Ellie.” Kennedy said.

“Goodbye, Kennedy.” 

With one final wave, Kennedy clicked her tongue again to alert Otis to follow her, and the two of them began their long journey to Jackson.

“You’ll make it to Jackson in one piece, right?” Ellie called out. Kennedy whipped her head around to briefly glance at Ellie. 

“You can count on it.” She replied, giving Ellie a salute. 

Then, her eyes were back on the path ahead of her. 

Ellie watched as Kennedy and Otis got farther and farther away until she could no longer see them. When they had completely disappeared into the dense foliage, Ellie’s gaze wandered elsewhere. In the few minutes that she took to properly observe the life around her, she was struck with something.

 In a world where the overall human population was left decimated, and small towns and large cities completely ruined, there was still so much beauty in the wilderness, and Ellie couldn’t deny that. There was something so profound about the fact that while everything else succumbed to the fate of a lethal fungal infection, mother nature endured. Inside of that old travel van, Ellie never noticed just how vibrant the trees were, and how tall they stood. There were squirrels and rabbits and birds going about their day without a worry in the world.

She may have lost everything. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t start anew. 

There were changes that her body was undergoing, ones that she didn’t fully understand. But Ellie knew that just like every other living thing in the world, she would adapt.

She heard a voice in the far back of her mind:

You keep finding something to fight for.

And fight, she would.

[briar-craft]

Change is a beautiful thing

Another beautiful day in Alola was about to begin. The cool nighttime air was starting to warm up as the hot rays of the sun began washing over the land. While Zubat and other dark and ghost pokemon began making their way to the cover of nearby caves or just under trees to wait until the next evening, Pikipek and other daytime pokemon began venturing out to start the day to hunt for food. Filling the air with life and noise.

In a room on Poni-Island's resort nestled by the newly built Battle Tree lay two men under the covers together. Champion Trainer Red started to stir once little beams of light landed on their eyes, while Gym Leader Green gave a soft whine, burying his face into Red's chest to hide from the day, "Five more minutes," he grumbled sleepily, tightening his hold on Red to keep him from getting up.

Red gave an amused huff, giving in and letting Green indulge himself for a bit longer under the comfort of the bed and covers. For some reason it made him think to back when they were just about to start their pokemon trainer travels. Back then, it was him that woke up late unless he had an alarm set. He always enjoyed getting as much sleep as he could so he could be energized for the day. A part of him wondered when that changed before Green sighed, moving to look at him, a smile creeping on his face, his eyes sparkling at being indulged in such a way.

He frowned a bit though, he must have caught the last expression Red had and was about to question it before Red shook his head and kissed the other's forehead. Green huffed a bit at him, "Fine, keep your secrets," he said before kissing his cheek, "Morning Red, hope you slept well. Better go get breakfast before the good stuff is gone," he mentioned as Red returned his smile and nodded.

"Ugh, I know there's work to be done, but being in such a warm place makes it feel more like a vacation than work," he grumbled as he moved to get out of bed, Red doing the same and fixing the bed while Green went to wash up first. Pikachu and Eevee had been snuggling together on the little bed that was originally Pikachu's before Eevee just made herself at home beside him.

Another thing that was very different from when they were kids. If anyone had told either him or Green that they would be living and traveling together as a couple, they would have laughed at whoever it was and Green would have called them ridiculous. Even Pikachu and Eevee probably would have huffed at such a suggestion after they started their travels. But now both pairs were inseparable, so much so that Green has to ask for an exception for Eevee to be with him so that she could be with Pikachu, otherwise she would headbutt him for sending her away.

"Hmm? When exactly did we start dating?" Green asked to clarify Red's question as he swallowed his toast.

They were at the cafeteria where people of the Battle Tree ate together before the challenges of the day. Sitting together at a booth where they were out of the way and had a beautiful view outside. The question that Red's hand made had caught Green off guard before he pondered it seriously, his hand idly moving around the rest of his french toast on the plate to soak up the syrup.

"Well, after we met up in Unova, we started mending our relationship since you went to Mt. Silver," Green muttered, doing the math in his head, "We were somewhere in Kalos where you admitted you like me more then a friend, but I needed some time so you went back home. It was then that I realized that I liked you too, I always had and that was a source of jealousy, not of you but for you from how Gramps had always praised you. I finished my studies and came back, but I guess we never really made it official, we just started going out together either to train or study pokemon or work on our duties and one day you just crashed at my place in Viridian and just never left since," he sighed at not being able to pinpoint an exact date for when they started as a couple.

'It's alright, don't be too hard on yourself. I'm no better for having to ask in the first place.' Red assured him after making sure he was looking at him to read his signs, 'All that does matter is that we are together, and we're happy together, right?' he smiled softly at seeing Green become more flustered at all the soft talk. Before he would huff and tell him that it wasn't a big deal when really being soft in public made him anxious so it took some time to get to this point. Sure there were times when Green would practically show Red off and internally Red was flustered, but Green was always so confident and smiling at those times since he was in charge of the situation.

The conversation fell to the wayside as they had to finish and get ready for the day's challenges. During the intervals Red didn't have a battle, he would go to watch Green either in his own battles or just talking with others. Another change he's seen between them though most people wouldn't be able to see it. Green always had a confident air about him, but when he was younger it was overbearing, challenging, and sometimes just downright condescending. He had several enemies because of his personality. Now though, his confidence gives him a sort of sagely air, he was confident in his abilities because of the years of experiences he went through. Giving advice to trainers who ask for it, encouraging them to make their own path through life.

Red meanwhile was always mute. It wasn't that he couldn't talk, it's just that he always had the belief that actions showed more than words could ever convey, probably from his father before he disappeared. Back then he was hyper and ready to take on the world. To explore every nook and cranny, to discover every corner of this pokemon filled world.

And then Team Rocket happened.

Sure, Green had intervened with their plans a couple of times, but Red had sought them out to invoke justice and to help those that Team Rocket had targeted. And that had painted a target on his back.

What really terrified him was what he discovered on Cinnabar Island in the abandoned pokemon mansion. The notes of experiments, and then seeing the product of those experiments in the form of Mewtwo a powerful pokemon that could have easily destroyed the whole of Kanto.

So after the championship, being announced of who he was and where he was from, he couldn't take the thoughts that clouded his mind of Team Rocket finding and using those close to him. His Mom. Green. So he took his team to Mt. Silver in hopes of making himself so strong that no one close to him ever had to be afraid of threats again.

He faced his first defeat after training for three years on the mountain by an ordinary trainer, not even someone from Team Rocket. He had planned on staying even longer to push himself and his team when a Pidgeot brought someone to the top and he suddenly was on the ground, his cheek hurting from a punch by the other boy. Not many would believe that Green Oak, the gym leader who loves to show off how cute Eevee is, was that strong to knock someone else on their behind at the age of fourteen but he was. Green had to literally knock some sense into him to get him to stop hiding and explore the world, rather than just their tiny region of Kanto. So he did just that. Going from region to region to better himself and his pokemon. Learning to reconnect with them as living beings rather than just a fighting team.

His eagerness turned to a questioning silence. The fire in his eyes had tamed. During the first few years he was stiff and cold like he was still on the mountain, but Green had always called him each night to make sure he was doing alright in whatever region he managed to get to.

Now a days he was doing much better. He was more relaxed, but could never be as eager and happy go lucky as he once was. It made him a little sad, yes, but it means that he could always strive to do better at least a little each day, and he knew that with Green with him, it made it all the more worth it.

The day seemed to drag on. Some people mentioning how Red seemed to be distracted. Green heard, but knew better than to try and push when they were working. Once the Battle Tree was closed for the night, Green suggested they take a ride over to Malie Garden after a quick dinner and take some time off the next day. "After all, while we were put in charge of the Battle Tree, we aren't going to be here forever," he pointed out.

Red agreed happily, going with him to have a quick Charizard ride to the island over to get to the garden. They grabbed a take away dinner of malasadas to enjoy on their walk, and it was beautiful. Some of the statues were a bit gaudy in Green's opinion, but Red never really thought of fashion or styles so he was content to listening to him ramble about what would make it look more elegant. They watched some of the pokemon exploring the grass or relaxing by the ponds' edges. Soon, they made it to the pagoda where they sat to enjoy the nice evening air.

Green chuckled a bit as they were sitting, Red raising an eyebrow to him in silent questioning, "Just think about it, right now everyone back home is probably just waking up while everyone here is just getting to sleep. It's just something fun to think about. Then again we'll have to get used to that time zone again when we head back," he explained.

Red nodded, it was true with the time difference being so different. He knew a little Eevee who would be pouty about having to change when she slept again, but he chuckled along with Green at the thought. "Green..." he murmured, and instantly Green's attention was on him since he rarely ever spoke out loud, "We've been through a lot, together and apart. You pushed me to be my best, even if it meant you were overlooked. But, to me, you're the best out of everyone in the world. Sure, I trained a lot, but you had the passion and the skill to enjoy what you did. I became a coward, but you pulled me back into the world. You never let me give up." he said, feeling the pounding in his chest as he spoke so much.

Soon though, he moved to kneel in front of Green, taking his hands in his, "You're charismatic, brave, always willing to learn more. And, I want to see you become so much stronger and happier in both battles and yourself. And, the best way would be this," he said sincerely and quietly, soon taking out a box as green as the one in question's namesake, opening it to show a beautiful engagement ring. The form was simple, but it held beautiful color shifting gems set in the middle so that no side looked the same, showing how beautiful and powerful a small shift of change could be.

Before he could even ask, Green had tackled him to the ground, tears streaming from his eyes as he kissed him, smiling happily as they parted, "Heh, I've been waiting for you to ask, of course I'll marry you," he said, his voice shaking from how emotional he was both from Red's words and his action.

Red laughed lightly, smiling as he held Green close after helping slip the ring over his ring finger, letting him admire it as Red admired him.

Yes, things had changed from when they were kids. And change was a beautiful sight.

[guideoftime]

▴ — @puxrlunae ;; Amaron & Sheik. ❛ can i kiss you? ❜

   He’s had a lot of sleep in the last bit of time he’s spoken with Amaron. First in their bed and then–however long he got to sleep after passing out on Kasus. Truthfully, he feels a bit more emotionally stable after sleeping. It certainly made things a lot easier to carefully tuck away all of his emotions, to not feel like he was on the verge of snapping and crying which wasn’t a great feeling to have. When Sheik left that conversation with Amaron, he was very much retreating, surrendering in a way. 

   He had heard him play the Ocarina, who taught him the Song of Healing Sheik has no idea. But the song was the second thought to everything else that flashed through his mind. Amaron had said, as one of the first things to Sheik, that he can’t handle the sound of the Ocarina. He remembers that conversation, because he had offered to hang the harp up–at least around him. And Amaron had explained it wasn’t music in general, just the Ocarina. And that instrument had been locked in the library, in the same drawer they kept the mask. Sheik’s seen it, had looked it over curiously, had studied it a bit since it was so very different from the two he remembers seeing Link use. 

   Then he tossed it away and left it at that. The last thing he ever wants is to cause Amaron more trauma. 

   And again, he finds himself looping in a place where he thinks he understands something about Amaron yet he finds he doesn’t. A place where he doesn’t know if he should ask questions, if he can ask questions, if it’s fine to draw attention to something. So he doesn’t, because it’s safer. 

   Which leaves them awkwardly moving around each other. 

   Sheik, who had missed work sleeping and that was never something he has ever done, ended up having to send a message to the Castle he wouldn’t be in for at least a couple of days. He rarely uses his time off, it won’t kill them to not have him there for a few days. He then finished cleaning up the library and then went to make Amaron food. Because for the love of Hylia even if he has to sit on him and piss him off Amaron is shoving food and water in him. Sheik is not making emergency potions because his husband is stupid. 

   So a sandwich is made, a cool cup of sun tea is poured and Sheik hunts Amaron down. Which, surprisingly, wasn’t actually that difficult. He must have been taking a break from one of the many projects he informed Sheik he had going on, between hunting Cuccos, and wordlessly Sheik shoves the food in his hand. There is a silent threat of being sat on, and Amaron doesn’t want to test if Sheik will actually do it. 

   Because he will. 

   And then he lets his gaze roam across the other’s body, checking for injuries, physical or otherwise. There’s a rip in the blue tunic which has him frowning softly, nimble fingers tugging on it gently as he tries to remember if he has the proper thread to repair it. He doesn’t think he does, he might have to ask Kasus to go to the store for him. His gaze moves a bit higher and a there’s a startled half swallowed laugh that slips from his lips at the sight of the cucco feathers in his hair. 

   “Ah, hold still.” 

   He pushes himself up and gently slips his fingers into Amaron’s hair, tugging the leather band that kept it up off. He slips it onto his own wrist and begins picking the feathers from his hair, letting them flutter down to the ground. Anju is so very lucky that Amaron hasn’t offered to fix her coop for her. Since if he did that door would probably never open. The thought brings a soft smile to his face and as he beings working a braid into Amaron’s hair he hears the very quiet, very soft question that was asked. 

   A soft breath and Sheik slides his gaze toward Amaron’s own eyes before looking back to the hair. He finishes the braid, gets the band back in his hair and then slides his hands down to gently take hold of Amaron’s face. A kiss is placed on his forehead, soft and light, before he pulls back. 

   “Eat. Drink.” 

[storiesabouthumanandthings]

Punk Rock Princess

Chapter 29

A week later, Misha announced at dinner. “I have studied all the medical records I could find and understand and I have a better idea of where to start.”

Sonja interrupted excitedly, “Where are we beginning?”

Misha continued, “Well first we need a secluded area to perform the act. To be honest, I am not sure how this will work still. I mostly use my power to shape metal, not people. Because of this, I am not sure how this will feel. From Olivia’s story, it might hurt but that may have been because she was already in pain. It would be best not to draw unneeded attention to this plan.”

Isabelle thought for a moment, “There is a guard station on the edge of town. It is rarely used. It was used during wartime but for the most part, it has been abandoned. Would that work?”

Misha juggled the idea in her mind, “That may work, not too far but should be secluded enough. Now how to get there without being noticed.”

Olivia raised her hand, “This is where I come in. I am used to disguising myself. I will dress up Sonja and Isabelle and sneak them out. Misha will borrow a horse and cart to take us to the station.” Misha nodded.

Isabelle spoke up, “Why can’t we just go normal? I have been into town many times. It isn’t a strange thing to see me or Sonja in town.”

Olivia pointed at her, “That may be true but you would normally have a guard with you. Even with a guard, for the queen to be out on the edge of town, late at night, would raise suspicions.”

Isabelle began to argue but realized there was no way she could leave without questions being raised. “So what is the plan then?”

On the evening, everything was set. Olivia pinched some clothes off a drying line during the week. Once the cart was procured, Misha stocked it with provisions to last a month, just in case. Isabelle learned that the station had been checked that week to insure there was no one squatting in it and it was still in good repair. During a dancing lesson day, Isabelle feigned a twisted ankle. She stated she was going to retire to her room. She ordered that any food be left by her door. On that evening Olivia dressed Sonja and Isabelle in a shirt and pants with a coat that had a large hood. Olivia dressed herself in her regular disguise and Misha walked out to the cart as normal. Upon leaving, one guard did stop to question them.

Misha answered, “Me and a couple boys from the tavern are going out for a hunt. Expect our return in a couple of days if the hunt goes well, a month at most.”

The guard made notes and let them go on their way.

Once they were out of the guards earshot, Isabelle spoke up, “Is it really this easy? To sneak out?”

Misha shushed her, “Please don’t speak until we are at the station but yes.”

Oli spoke with a deep voice, “As they see it, we are just another number on a list to be checked. They have more important things to check on then a group out on a hunt.”

Sonja whispered, “Why can she talk then?”

Misha shushed again, “Oli can speak because HE knows how to speak. Now enough talk from you two.”

The sun had set a bit before they arrived to the station. Sure enough, it was empty. There were cots but they weren’t in good condition.

“Might be sleeping on the floor,” Misha announced. Once the supplies were in, Misha and Olivia moved a table into the middle of the main room. “We will do it here. Isabelle and Olivia will stand guard at the door if you wish.”

Sonja thought and shook her head, “I need Isabelle here for emotional support and I need Olivia to determine if what I’m feeling is ok.”

Misha nodded and barred the door, “When you are ready, lie down. For tonight, we will focus on just hair removal. If this goes well, we will move on to the hard parts.”

Sonja nodded and laid down on the table. She squeezed Isabelle’s hand as Olivia watched from the other side and Misha stood over her head. Sonja nodded again to Misha and the process started. Misha’s hands began to glow and she placed them over Sonja’s face. Sonja tensed and squeezed Isabelle. Isabelle looked to Olivia for comfort.

Olivia placed a hand on Misha’s forearm to have Misha stop for a moment, “Are you okay? How does it feel?”

Sonja’s eyes watered but she kept laying down, “It feels like a soft ember. It stings pretty bad but I will survive. Please continue.”

Misha nodded and continued well into the night.

The following morning, they all woke up early like they normally would. After groans and yawns it was decided that breakfast might as well be eaten and then the rest of the day was to just rest and eat more.

Moments after they started breakfast Isabelle became curious and looked at Olivia. “So how did this start? With you sneaking out?”

Olivia blinked at the sudden question. She acted aloof and shrugged, “It just did. Misha understood me and it grew from there.”

Isabelle pushed, not happy with the answer, “But how? Why? Did no one question how a single woman suddenly had a child?”

Olivia shook her head, “No. I don’t know what Misha told the town but it was generally accepted that she adopted me. Most likely from the Rocker Village due to my purple eyes, from someone who couldn’t care for a child.”

Isabelle nodded. “That explains how your relationship works but why?”

Olivia shrugged, “That is more a question for Misha.”

A drowsy Misha spoke up, “You were just a child who needed help. Only a heartless monster wouldn’t have helped.”

Olivia gestured to Misha, “There is your answer.”

“But why were you there? Why weren’t you in the castle?”

Olivia stiffened, “I wasn’t wanted there. So I decided to leave. I thought I was spotted and hid in the forge as Misha was closing up. It was dark and I knocked something over. Then she found me.”

“Wait, wait. I need you to back up. You weren’t wanted? What do you mean you weren’t wanted?”

Olivia looked away and was quiet for a moment, “I guess it is something like with Sonja. I was wanted until I was born. Once I was born, they realized something was wrong with me. My parents never said anything but I knew they didn’t want me. I scared the staff. Everyone doted over my sister and ignored me. One day, I just realized I wasn’t wanted. So I walked out.”

“And no one stopped you?” Olivia didn’t answer. Isabelle hugged Olivia tight and began crying into Olivia. “I am sorry they made you feel that way. It was so wrong.”

Olivia just smiled awkwardly and patted Isabelle’s head, “It’s fine. I am used to it.”

Isabelle looked up to Olivia with angry tear stained eyes, “But you shouldn’t be. You just shouldn’t be used to being ignored.”

Olivia wiped away the tears, “I’m fine. It’s okay. Really. You made it better.”

Isabelle blinked confused, “What did I do?”

“You are the first person that I ever met, besides Misha, that knew I was cursed and still asked me to stay.”

With a yawn, Isabelle pulled Olivia closer, “You said you were worried of being banned from Bford kingdom. Should that ever happen, you could always stay with me.”

Olivia laid her head on top of Isabelle’s, “I know. Thank you.” Olivia was quick to fall asleep.

First             Previous               Next

[no-droids]

Promise Me (It’s Yours)

Part Eleven of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10K

Warnings: OMFG might be the first chapter of rough day to not need any warnings, can you believe it?? I mean of course there’s language, a splash of smut, and just the briefest reference to suicide, but pretty PG-13 this time my guys I apologize

A/N: I’m sorry I know people show up for the smut but I was feeling soft in this Taco Bell parking lot so here this is, I hope y’all like it.  I guarantee none of the math is correct but please go with it

***

You jerk awake to the sound of whimpers.

It’s late.  The bonfire is nothing more than glowing coals, and your back is resting against a scratchy log instead of a long, comfortable chest.  You blink rapidly, trying to figure out where that noise is comi—

The kid.  Fussy in his crib, his gasps starting to turn into quiet sobs.

“Hey,” you murmur, aiming for soft and comforting, but the sleep sits right in the middle of your vocal cords and splits your voice in half, making you sound like an exhausted demon.  Weirdly enough, it seems to chill him out (did a demon actually teach him how to choke people without touching them?) and you sit up to blearily look around.  Where’s Din?  “Where’s—” you rub your eyes and squint around once more, “—where’d your dad go, bug?”

The clearing is bare.  The field is, too—no path, excluding the one you three made on the hike here.  Nothing in the distant forest, and the black duffel bag sits somewhere near your feet.

Alright, no worries, maybe he just… went to take a leak or something.  Really… oddly far away.  That’s fine.  Sometimes humans have to do that—maybe he has a.  A shy bladder.  Or something.  You’re totally fine.  The kid blinks back at you through equally tired eyes, his head tilting as he seems to be taking cues from you right now in the absence of his father.  You both should just try to go back to sleep…

Or you can wait up for him.  That sounds like a better plan.  Don’t panic, just trust him.  Give him the benefit of the doubt, it’s the least you can do.

You take a second to look around again, still coming up empty.  It’s dark out, but the moon is suspended high in the sky.  The fire doesn’t even give off much light anymore, just dying embers.  Your eyes scan the ground again, catching on the black bag at your feet.

Was that there when you went to sleep?  No, the last person who had it was Din, and he was sitting over there, in front of the boulder behind the kid’s shield.

You blink down at the stationary bag for a few more seconds, studying it like it’ll spill all of its secrets if you glare hard enough, but then something sparks in your memory.  Something odd, something you only noticed for a second last night.  There was a red light that reflected off Din’s helmet when he reached into the bag for food earlier, wasn’t there?

You think back on it, try to isolate the hazy memory.  If it was a laser sight, you would’ve recognized the bright beam and panicked, but you didn’t.  It was unfocused, dim.  Flashing.

Had… had Din brought a tracking fob with him from the Crest?  But why?

Maker, it’s like your mind knows it should speed up but it’s still too stupid to actually do it.  You should… you should check the bag, right?  Just in case… you don’t know.  You’re being ridiculous.

You reach out to catch the dark bag nonetheless and then unzip it, rifling through it for a particular item you figure should be in here somewhere.  Food, food, more food…

Somewhere…

—It’s not here.  No tracking fob here.  No red light to be seen of.

Had you been imagining it?

No, you determine after a second.  No, because you remember thinking it was odd—you specifically noticed it, clearly recognized it but didn’t contemplate too much into it at the time.

Alright, no worries, maybe he… maybe he went on a quick little hunt while you were both sleeping.  He must’ve gone back to the ship to grab his armor and guns and then set off.  That’s fine, there’s more food in the bag.  He said he’d be here when you woke up, which most likely means morning.  Right?

Cool.  Cool cool cool, you can wait until morning.  You can just settle back down against the log right here and find a comfortable position—there we go—and just wait for the sunrise, wait for the inevitable return of your missing party member.  Party leader, arguably.  He’ll come back, he always does.

Your body begins to relax, even though something still seems… strange about this.  Like there’s something important you’re still missing.

… The field is bare.

You instantly sit up and turn back to study it in the moonlight, study the single path you left on your way here.  You remember hiking at least… a grand total of two hours to get here from the Crest, maybe?  Granted, you took quite the detour, but that just means he would’ve carved a distinct, new path on his way back—

Would he… would he really go on a hunt without going back to the ship first?  Would Mando truly venture out—without telling you—to go collect a quarry without any weapon on him whatsoever?  Any piece of armor besides a helmet?

Does that seem right to you?

Fuck, you suddenly feel wide awake, and the baby starts gasping out troubled cries again.  You push yourself up to your feet and stumble around the dying flames to go comfort him, dropping to your knees next to the reflective sphere.  Your head stays on a constant swivel as you quiet him, brushing the pad of your thumb along his wrinkled forehead and shushing him as you keep looking out at the breezy field of grass, trying to see if you missed anything.  

Fuck, maybe you’re just overreacting.  What direction is the ship?  Which way did you…?  You think back, trying to piece together limited information of what you can remember about today.  Glancing back down at the log you slept on and then the path leading away from the clearing, rapidfire calculations start going off in your head.  No, you realize after a second of frantic thought—no, the sun would’ve—if you walked…

Eventually, you’re able to pinpoint a general idea of where the ship should be, and if you’re right, then he definitely would’ve left a new path to get back to it.  You don’t like this.  It’s out of character for him.  It sits too weird with you, and the kid rarely starts crying unless something is bothering him.

Alright, alright, don’t panic.  Din is a professional.  He must’ve left on purpose—you would’ve woken up if there was any sort of struggle, or even just an exchange.  Odds are, he grabbed the tracking fob and just… went to go get the quarry.  

Without waking you.  Without telling you.  Without bringing anything else with him.  No armor.  No guns.  Just the fob.

Some strange sense of dread begins to fill you, one that feels all the worse when there’s no clear explanation for it.  You won’t pretend like you’re an expert, but to a Mandalorian, that seems like it could be considered suicidal, wouldn’t it?  What reason would he have to do this?

The field continues to wave, undisturbed, in all surrounding directions except one.  You look over at the clearing leading to the dark forest, the treetops too thick to let anything but traces of crystal moonlight through.  If he left… he’ll have gone that way.  The only direction that wouldn’t leave a path.

Okay.  So there's a decision that needs to be made.  You can either stay here, in the middle of this wide open field until the sun comes up, and hopefully he comes back by then.  Or… you could.  Go check if something went wrong.

The forest is gorgeous from here, you can see that.  Thick treetops, drifting gently in the breeze, steady and quiet and picturesque.  Admittedly, you can also see a haunting, looming nightmare of darkness warning you to stay away from whatever it’s hiding.  This is an unfamiliar planet.  You know it’s safe, this is the most isolated sector and Din said practically no crime happens here, but.  He also said he’d be here when you woke up.

Hang on, wait.  Something catches in your peripheral.  There—right on the other side of the kid’s crib, you see—

A glove.

… He left the glove.  Whether on purpose or by accident, Din left his glove.  The one connected to the vambrace, the one that houses all his controls.  

The one that houses the comm link.

The piece of armor is already in your trembling fingers before you realize you even went to grab it.  Anxiety, stress, dread—you don’t know which weighs on you heavier while you slowly rotate it in your hands, trying to understand what’s happening right now.  He left his emergency communicator.  The only chance you have at contacting him unless he decides to come back.

Panic suddenly constricts in your chest, and you make your decision blindly.  The kid continues to squeak out little whimpers as your arm sinks down into the leather and you pull the gauntlet up almost to your elbow, flexing your fingers inside the fabric and feeling your heart beating in your throat.  The controls are fairly basic, it doesn’t take much time to figure out which button he synced with the hovering sphere, which command he uses to lock the two locations together.

“Chill out, kiddo,” you whisper, doing your best to calm your own raging uncertainty.  Conviction is key, you think.  You made your decision.  Not wanting to waste any more time in case something went awry, you sling the bag over your shoulder and set off in the direction of the trees, feeling… woefully underprepared for whatever may potentially face you.

The forest is quiet as you finally make your way past the first few trees marking its beginning, or end, and you need a second to blink and adjust your vision.  It’s dark—if you thought it was dark when you awoke, it’s nothing compared to this.  The treetops are thick and barely allow any moonlight to pass through their dense leaves whatsoever, just bits and pieces scattered here or there.  There’s no path, no trail, just nature.  Fallen logs, moss, rock and boulder formations you have to avoid.

You shush your agitated ward again, wanting to control yourself because you’re getting the kid worked up into baby battle mode with no visible threats to see.  He reads energies—he’s capable when he wants to be, when he deems the situation fit.  Right now he’s quieted somewhat but he’s still on high alert, recycling your inner panic outwards until you feel the air shifting around you, an… unexplainable phenomena you can’t even describe properly.

Well, you figure.  If anything, he’s far more dangerous than any weapon Din typically carries with him.  You tend to forget, most of the time.  He’s never hurt you, no matter how boisterous the tantrums sometimes are, and you find yourself very rarely thinking of him as anything other than an innocent, helpless baby you’re tasked with protecting.  Though it appears that most of the time, he’s been the one protecting you.

What are you saying?  There’s no need for protection right now, you’re simply searching for your absent ally.  You’re not being brave—no matter how quickly your heart is beating or how much your hands are sweating, you’re not being brave because bravery implies facing something you fear.  You have nothing to fear, it’s nothing more than an abandoned forest.  A backdrop for your endeavor.

Though… though now that you think about it, this setting looks eerily similar to one you’ll have seared into your memory forever.  The forest on Corellia.

You will the thought away with a frantic shake of your head.  Naboo is safe, Naboo is safe—it’s not like Corellia.  It’s not crawling with people desperate for food and credits, desperate enough to resort to kidnapping and slave trade.  Naboo will economically prosper no matter what threat befalls the galaxy, its industry comes from tourism and resorting.

You stop for a second, needing a breather.  Just for a second.  You haven’t been walking more than fifteen minutes but the terrain makes your feet hurt.  Sure, there are clearings between trees and the ground isn’t complete overflowing with obstacles, but they’re still present.  The scattered rocks dig in under your shoes and some of the bushes you pass by have sharp leaves or thorns—but it’s the sprawling root systems that prove to be the worst.  They crawl across the ground like they can’t decide whether they want to be part of it or not, and more than once you stub your toe on a hidden tube arching a few inches out of the mossy soil.

A part of you almost has to remind yourself that you’re here because you’re looking for somebody, rather than being trapped here trying to evade something.  The adrenaline and fear are starting to get the best of you, make you too antsy, warp your senses.  You’re deep in the forest now, but not enough to feel the wind disappear yet—you can still hear it rattling around above you, leaves slapping against each other, branches creaking as they tower over you.  You almost wish it were quiet.  You don’t feel comforted by the breeze anymore, it doesn’t feel like an ever present reassurance as much as it does a burden that masks the noises you could otherwise be hearing.  The snapping of twigs that could potentially be there.  The crunching of leaves under feet that aren’t your own.

So.  You should probably admit now that this was actually a horrendous idea.  Because you’re fucking stupid for not realizing this earlier, but.  Din ventured into this hellscape to find a quarry, did he not?

A… wanted criminal.

Shit.  What the fuck.  That’s a hell of a fucking thing to register this late, isn’t it?

You can turn around, you figure.  You can turn around right now and head back to the campsite—actually, that sounds like a great idea.  You should do that.

You spin around and begin retracing your steps… which, you figure out about five minutes later, is an impossible feat.  None of your surroundings look familiar—or shit, maybe it all looks familiar.  Like… trees.  And fucking rocks.  Trying to distinguish landmarks is almost impossible now, and there’s no way to tell which direction you’re going with no visibility overhead, no celestial body to guide you.

You don’t immediately panic, not until you (quite literally) stumble upon a small stream of water flowing through some stones under your feet.

Well, okay.  That’s not good.  Okay, well, no, you suppose that could be good.  It’s water—it’s a landmark, sure, the tiniest little landmark you've ever seen, but that’s exactly the problem.  You’ve never seen it before.  Which means you’re most definitely not going in the right direction.

At this point, the only option you have is to turn around again.  Maybe you can unintentionally make the same series of stupid mistakes once more to start you right at the beginning.  The kid is still glancing around in his cradle, making sure no harm comes to your useless ass, but then you freeze when you begin to hear something in the distance.  

It’s an unfamiliar sound—a deafening one, even from this far away.  Long and echoing, a giant chorus of… something.  Something you’ve never heard before, something you can’t place.

Your heart is thundering as you walk closer to the source of it, moving slowly and cautiously forwards and having no clue what it could possibly be.  It doesn’t seem to amplify much as you travel closer, which means it must be a ways away still.  It’s terrifying nonetheless—the anticipation, how sweaty your hands are, the way you’re very aware of the muscles in your stomach for some reason.

The baby coos softly at your side, but the suddenness of the gentle noise nearly makes you jump out of your skin.  You gasp and look down at him for the first time in what feels like ages, clutching at your chest, but then—

—then footsteps rush you from behind and something grabs at your shirt.

You react completely on instinct, your body nearly throbbing with adrenaline as you whip around and launch a mean jab aimed at the dark silhouette behind you.  It slams directly into his solar plexus hard enough to bend him in half and ripple through your whole arm with the blowback.  Your other fist pulls back and instantly goes for him again, but he just barely manages to jerk his arm up and block it in time—

And thank the Maker he does.  Because you were just an inch shy from colliding your knuckles against the side of his head in your wild stage of panic.  The one currently covered in devastatingly strong, shiny metal, the helmet just barely visible in the dark forest.

It’s like it doesn’t even register with you—you’re already going to hit him again when Din’s hand hooks around your arm and he yanks you forwards.  Your body slams into his and then he’s wrapping himself around you and holding suffocatingly tight.  Everything inside you still wants to struggle against him, gasping into his shoulder as your heart continues to gallop with terror no matter what your logic tells you.  But he holds harder than steel and the sound of his voice eventually returns to you after a moment, repeating harsh words at you through a familiar vocal filter.

“—me, it’s me, it’s me, I’m right here, stop it, stop it, stop—”

You blink desperately against black fabric, letting the familiar scent, touch, and embrace bring you back down again.  He’s so solid—has such a strong hold on you, absolutely no give to be found, and the devastatingly tight embrace manages to quickly settle you.

But he doesn’t wait long.  As soon as you stop fighting him, he releases you in favor of grabbing your shoulders and shoving you out at arm’s length, frantically jerking the helmet up and down your body and twisting you back and forth while he looks.  Your arms dangle with the inspection and you readily let him move you around like a rag doll, not having enough sense to register anything beyond safe.  You’re safe.  Everything seems to exist in a box right now, far away and yet compact at the same time.  The visor snaps back up to your face and you blink dazedly up at him.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately tell him, voice pitched high and awkward, “woah, hah—whew, ahah—I’m sorry, I-I’m just—“

His fingers hook at your chin and he pulls it up, tilting your head back and forth, allowing the small patch of moonlight beaming through the treetops to catch the water in your eyes.  It glints in shameless betrayal, and you try unsuccessfully to blink it away despite the damage already being done.  Din drops his arm and you lower your chin without the platform propping it up.

“You just—you just—” you gasp out, delayed relief suddenly filling you and making your voice wobble dangerously, “—y-you went on a hunt but you left your armor.  You left your guns, you left everything.  I didn’t know—what could’ve happened, I—why’d you do that?  W-Why—why didn’t you t-tell m—”

He wraps his hand behind your head and pulls you into his chest once more, not saying a single word.  This hug is just as tight as before, just in a different way.  He still uses it as a way to calm you and it still squeezes the air from your body, but this one doesn’t feel like it’s entirely for your benefit anymore.

It takes you a few more seconds to realize his hands are trembling.

You go to pull back, but he tightens, anchoring you to him.  “What’s—” you gasp against the fabric covering his shoulder, “—what’s wrong?  Are you okay?  Where’s the quarry?  What’s—what’s making that sound?  Are we safe?”

Din takes slow, shallow breaths, and you hear it almost too well with your ear shoved against his body.  Little by little, he loosens his grip on you.  Both of you are still panting by the time you’re able to wrench back and look up at him.

Bare, shaky hands push your hair back away from your face, eventually coming to rest framing both of your cheeks.  They’re warm and strong where his fingers wrap around the bend of your jaw, securing you in place, and when he speaks, he sounds like he’s been through hell and back.

“Don’t ever,” Din whispers brokenly, tugging a little bit to make sure you’re listening.  “Don’t ever—ever run away from me like that.  Ever again.  Understand?”

You stare up at him, wide-eyed and dumb, unmoving.  Is that what he thinks?  That you were trying to… to run away from him?

“I—I wasn’t running,” you immediately stutter out, blinking rapidly at him and trying not to let the confusion show on your face.  “I’d never run—I-I told you I wouldn’t—” 

“I came back and you were gone,” he breathes, his quivering thumbs brushing along the height of your cheekbones.  “I—my kid, he was gone, everything was gone, I-I…”  The helmet shakes back and forth the slightest bit, and then he drops his grip to clamp down on your shoulders, clearing the fragile turmoil from his throat and hardening his tone.  “Listen, you can’t do that—you can’t take my kid and just… just disappear like that, please, promise me you won’t do that agai—”

“You disappeared,” you accuse with a whisper, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you.

“Promise me,” he urges, shaking you enough to make your head bobble just slightly, and the quiet plead of his voice through the modulator compels you to acquiesce without a second thought.

“I promise I won’t disappear,” you vow to him, unwavering and earnest.  “Now promise you won’t, either.”

Din stares at you for a moment, his body tense and completely stationary.  He’s still breathing heavy though, his chest rising and falling hard enough for you to count.  One, two, three…   Seven.  Seven whole breaths, before he finally responds.

“I promise,” he eventually declares, before taking a step forward and crowding you, pulling your shoulders in and slowly tilting his helmet down until it rests against your forehead.  The cool metal feels like ice on your burning skin—but you ignore it and allow him to get as close as he can possibly be, to hold you tight and keep you there.  “I promise,” he goes on, “that if you ever—that if something ever happens to you two, and you just… just vanish on me like that again—then I’d—I’d…”

And then his next words steal the air from your lungs, wipe your head clear of any thoughts whatsoever—the hushed, vehement sincerity in his voice.  Yet… calm.  Certain, composed, and with purpose.  Almost as if he could only get you to understand one thing, then he would want it to be this.

“Then I’d tear this whole galaxy apart to find you,” he tells you quietly, tightening his hands on your arms and swearing an oath to you.  “Both.  Both of you.  I’d—I’d never stop.  I’d rain hell.  Tell me you understand.”

“I… I understand,” you finally murmur, and Din quickly pulls you to his chest and wraps himself around you once more without another word.  His fingers tangle in your hair and encourage you to rest your face in the crook of his neck, so you do.  Even though his helmet jabs uncomfortably at your cheek like this, you do your best to just settle down and breathe him in, bring your hands up to rub at his back and wait for his heart rate to slow.

Eventually it does.  It seems like it takes ages, but eventually he's able to unwind his large stature from around you, letting you have a bit more of your own space.  He doesn’t take his hands off you, though—his palm drags down your elbow and catches your bare hand in his, gently tugging.

“Let’s go,” he says quietly, beginning to lead you… somewhere.  Probably out of the forest and back to the ship, but you don’t question it and completely forget about the low rumbling still echoing in the distance.  You follow directly behind him and away from the mysterious sound, the fingers of your right hand still laced with his left, knowing there are far more important questions to be asked.

“Din,” you whisper, but he doesn’t need anymore prompting.

“I thought I’d be quick enough,” he admits, pulling you along by your hand.  “It’s barely been a couple hours.”

You stay silent and focus on your feet, letting him go at his own pace.  More than once he plays bodyguard, standing in front of wickedly sharp branches while you and the kid pass, and there’s never anything said beyond a quiet ‘thank you’ every time he does it.

“I’ve…” he says after a while.  “I’ve been doing this job for awhile.  And there are things… things you learn.  Quick.  Ways to predict people, ways to get in their heads.  Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry.  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.  Watch your feet.”

You blink and stumble over a hidden root nonetheless, trying to keep up both physically and mentally.  Din tightens his grip and catches you by your elbow.

“This one was like you,” he goes on, pulling you up and leading you forward once more.  “Wasn’t trying to run.  Just wanted to spend his last few months hiding out on the most beautiful place in the galaxy before he got caught.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?  Why’d you go in the middle of the night?”  You whisper, not upset anymore.  Just trying to understand.  “You couldn’t have waited until morning?”  But Din just shrugs.

“I didn’t want to remind you.”  His sentence is short and stunted, yet serves to answer all three of your questions without providing any information beyond that, the unspoken sentiment barreling forth and smashing into you full force.  He didn’t want to remind you.  He wanted to leave while you were asleep and then return before you woke up, never letting you remember that responsibilities exist beyond this gorgeous planet for the time being.

You’re a bit shocked, to be honest.  In hindsight, though, you suppose it makes sense.  Din was the one who navigated to this sector, kept the bag out of your reach the whole day.  If the kid had decided to wake up just an hour or two later, he would’ve been back by then, and you would’ve never known any different.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, and a wave tiredness suddenly grips you.  Fuck.  Too much thinking.  “The quarry went willingly, they always do when their last wish is to chase down a pretty landscape.  Nice guy.  Found him camped out by a giant—”

Din suddenly goes oddly quiet, and you’re too exhausted to push it.  You’re starting to drag a little bit.  You woke up in blind panic and have been on edge ever since, and now that you know things are okay, your body just wants more sleep.  The trees blur as you keep moving forward, zoning out and knowing you likely have another few miles of walking before you’re back.

You almost trip over him.  You don’t even notice he’s there until you nearly run into him.  In your defense, the only visible part of him is his helmet; the clothing is too dark under the thick treetops to see anything else.  Still, it takes you a second, and you blink down at Din’s crouched figure in front of you, blocking your intended path.

“Up,” he turns to mutter over his shoulder when you ultimately fail to comprehend.

…There’s no way.

Hesitantly, you lift one of your knees to his side and feel his arm firmly hook under it.  Emboldened, you lean down until your forearm can wrap around the front of him, and then you do a stupid little bunny hop along the curve of his spine.  Din easily catches your other leg before rising up.

He bounces you higher on his back once he’s upright, and you’re automatically resting your chin on his shoulder and clinging to him, your heart filling with butterflies as he begins trudging forward.

It’s… oddly comfortable.  As long as you keep your arms wrapped tight around his chest, you can bury your face into him and drift in and out.  He goes out of his way to keep you as level as you can possibly be, trying to soften his steps so your jaw doesn’t bounce on top of him while he steps over fallen logs and ducks to avoid low hanging leaves.

Later—you’re not sure how long it’s been, his voice comes through the modulator, ringing with your ear pressed against the helmet no matter how quiet he tries to be.  

“How’d you know I went on a hunt?”  He asks, and there’s a soft reservation in his tone, as if he doesn’t really want to speak but needs to ask you anyways.

“Mmm?”  You slur into the fabric stretching over his shoulder, probably drooling on it a bit, too.  “Hmm?”

His voice increases marginally in volume, but still maintains a gentle undertone that lulls you into relaxing deeper.  “You knew I left to look for the quarry—how?”

“Fob,” you tell him tiredly, not having much energy to spare the words.  “Wasn’t in the bag.”

You’re too out of it at this point, it takes a moment to realize Din has abruptly slowed down.  “How’d you know there was a tracking—”

“You’re… reflective?”  You ask, though you don’t really know why you’re asking.  “S’to your detriment.  Sometimes.”

That seems to stun him somewhat, halting him in place for the time being.  The biggest response it gets from you is the tiniest little eyebrow twitch inwards, wondering why the steady movements of your transportation seems to have temporarily stalled.  “How’d you know I left my armor?”

“Hmm?”  You ask again, not really hearing him.

“Hey, stay awake for a second,” he bounces you and you groggily mutter something under your breath that even you can’t comprehend.  Din glosses over it while you blink your eyes open.  “Tell me how you knew.  You didn’t go back to the Crest.”

You drag your head off his shoulder and squint around, looking around at the edge of the forest and the flowing grass beyond and trying to think with your stupid, tired brain, really needing to focus on the question.  “…No?”

The curiosity in his voice can’t be masked, not by him nor the filter through which it’s processed.  “So how did you know I left my armor on it?”

“You would’ve left a trail,” you shrug. “The grass is tall.”

“I could’ve just taken the path we made earlier,” he eventually proposes, still completely motionless in the middle of the relatively sparse number of trees leading to it.  “Gone back to the ship exactly the way we came.”

“Y’could’ve,” you admit with a yawn. “But the ship is that way,” you lazily raise your arm and point a good fifty or so degrees to the left, and Din follows his own outstretched gauntlet you’re still sporting around your hand with the visor.

“I’m impressed,” he finally says, shifting you on his back but perfectly content to keep his feet rooted to the spot.  “I didn’t think you had a good sense of direction.  You know where the Crest is on this planet but not when we were on Canto Bight.”

You snort a laugh.  No, no you have no such thing—you got lost as fuck in this forest.  A good sense of direction counts as a solid survival skill, and you’d say you still very much lack most of those.  Besides pulling water out of thin air, you can’t claim to know much of anything at all in that department.

“Mmm.  No, that was just—“ you shake your head.  “Y’know, jus’ some… panicked?  Math?  That’s all.”

“Panicked…” Din repeats slowly, “…math.”

You nod, frustrated that he’s still not moving, clearly waiting for you to explain your rapid, chaotic thought process from earlier.  Still, you do your best for him, trying not to slur your words too much.  “We… walked towards the sun this morning to get to the field.  I remember, because your shiny ass was blinding me the entire time, what must’ve been like.  A whole fucking hour?  At least.  And… and then we walked a little less to get here, forty-five minutes probably, then me ‘n the kid watched the sunset leaning up against that one log, which was at a solid angle—little more than fifty degrees to the right from the path.  You could’ve retraced your steps from earlier if you really wanted to, but taking the shortcut would’ve shaved off about...” you snuggle your face into his shoulder deeper for a moment and think really hard about it.  “Thirty minutes?  Or an hour round trip.  Give or take, since the kid slowed us down.”

He still doesn’t move, and you huff quietly, feeling like you’re on top of a stubborn blurg that just can’t be fucking bothered.  Should you squeeze your legs around his middle?  Will that work?

“You… went on a hunt, sweet girl,” Din finally says, bluntly, after way too long of a pause.  He sounds vaguely impressed for reasons beyond that of your comprehension right now.  “In your own little… panicked way.  How does it feel?”

“Unsuccessful,” you breathe, burying your forehead into his shoulder once more and blinking your eyes shut.  Too much thinking, too much thinking.  You need to sleep.

“You were on the right track,” he hums, bouncing you up and setting off again, and you can’t help yourself.  It’s completely involuntary, tumbles out of your mouth without thought.

“Craziest bounty hunter in the guild,” you slur, and Din doesn’t give you even a shred of the laughs that deserves.

“I should make you walk just for that,” he threatens instead, though he does no such thing.  He just keeps leaning forward in a position that can’t be comfortable for him and lets you fall asleep on his back, holding you tight to his body as he finally breaks out of the last trees and continues hiking through the familiar field to go back home.

***

You rouse twice.  Once, when hands allow your legs to slowly slide down a firm body and settle on solid metal.  He spins around to catch you before you can collapse, and then slowly eases your exhausted body down to the floor.

A bare hand cradles the back of your head until that finally settles down, too.

The second time, you can’t quite be sure of.  One of those moments where you’re barely conscious, drifting to the point where everything around you could be part of your dreamscape, where you can’t trust your own ears or mind to differentiate between what is real and what isn’t.  All you’d need is a single person telling you this didn’t actually happen and you’d accept it without question.

Pacing.  Quiet footsteps moving back and forth across the floor as you sleep, pausing every once in a while to stand in front of your slumbering figure.  Something unintelligible is mumbled as he walks away, the hollow thunk of boots clambering up a ladder.  Engines rumble to life under your ear, and gravity gently pushes you deeper against the flat metal supporting your body.

The footsteps soon return and start to pace around once more.

***

“Hey,” a quiet voice murmurs, your shoulder rocking back and forth slightly.  “Wake up.”

You blink your eyes open to a familiar visor looking down at you, his hand quickly leaving your shoulder and brushing a gloved thumb across your cheekbone when he sees you’re awake.  “Mm?  Din?  Wha’s—” you glance around you at the dark hull of the Razor Crest, before blinking your tired gaze back to him, “—s’going on?  Wha’ time s’it?”

“Late,” he whispers.  “We’re in the air.  I had to wait until the kid was asleep, but I want… I want you to see something.”

“What is it?”  Still blinking blearily, you sit up, but then Din grabs your hands and keeps your momentum going until you’re slowly dragged to your feet.  What you do when you’re standing upright doesn’t really qualify as standing or upright—you just sag against him with exhaustion as he wraps his forearms around your lower back, keeping you pressed tight against him as your ankles drag uselessly against the ground.

“Use your feet,” he reminds you quietly, and you harumph in a grumpy response.  Maker, you want to go back to sleep.  You’re sure you tell him as much, but he just shushes you and encourages you to hold yourself up, letting go while you steady yourself but hovering his palms a few inches away from your arms just in case.  “I want you to put my helmet on.”

“Excuse me?”  You ask him, swaying slightly and rubbing one of your eyes, not feeling amused.  “Is this some kind of… power trip?  Or something?  Because you’ve spent the last few days literally beating me up, I’d assume that would be enough for y—”

“I let you beat me up,” he grumbles under his breath.  “How are you ever gonna take a punch if it hurts you that bad to just throw one, sweet girl?”

“I’ll punch first,” you respond groggily, trying to move forwards so you can lean on him again, but being stopped by a firm grip on your shoulders.

“I know you will,” he mutters, letting go after a second to brush your hair away from your squinty eyes.  “Listen, I want you to put my helmet on, okay?”

You nuzzle your head into his leather palm and hum, giving it some thought.  “Are you gonna… turn on the light thingie?”  You clarify, not being able to remember what the setting is called, and he nods.

“Yes,” he tells you very seriously.  “There’s a… stars, a ‘noise thingie’ that I’ll turn on, too.  You won’t be able to see or hear for a little bit—you’ll have to trust me.”

“Is this for sex?”  You blurt as soon as the thought occurs to you, and Din sighs heavily, letting his head drop to his chest in exasperation.  “Like some sort of a… sensory deprivation thing?  Because if so, I can like—I mean I can get into it.”

“If I say yes, will you put it on?”  He tries, and.  Well, that question shouldn’t wake you up nearly as much as it does.  You blink at him, actually registering the sight of the mirrored visor this time.  Your gaze drops to see he’s back in full beskar regalia, his body looking even larger and broader with it on.

“Oh,” you say quite suddenly, remembering the question.  “Oh.  Shit yeah, I will.”

He shakes his head.  You’re getting better and better at reading him—becoming more fluent in helmet, one could say—and this head shake says he can’t believe he’s actually surprised that worked.  “It’s not for sex,” he tells you immediately, deadpanning the delivery even more than he typically would.  “Will you still put it on?”

You look at him blankly, wondering why this is even happening.  He said you’re in the air right now, and there’s… something he wants you to see?  Whatever this is, it’s spur of the moment.  Something he felt the need to wake you up for, but likely won’t push if you decline.

“Yeah,” you nod, “'course I will.”

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up slightly in the dim hull so he can watch.  Since they already want to do so regardless of the gentle command, your lids readily dip shut and you wait patiently as his touch leaves you for a moment.

You’re already sagging a bit by the time one of his hands returns to your cheek, and then plush lips press gently to yours.  The sigh you give him is completely involuntary—aching and quiet and longing as you let it go right in his mouth, your expression narrowing with concentration.

But he’s quick.  He leans back before either of you can get lost in it and reminds you with a gorgeous, rumbling baritone, “You’ll have to trust me.”

You nod in confirmation and soon his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head.  This is the second time around he’s done this—and you suppose if you couple that with your still lazy demeanor, the silent darkness that comes along with it doesn’t bother you as much as it did a few months ago.  The padding still grips your cheeks and you still feel disconnected from your surroundings—even more so now than the last time he put it on you—but it’s welcoming, in a way.  Giving you a reason to cling to him and tilt your head with the unfamiliar weight, breathing slow and easy while isolated in your own little pitch black world.

Oh Maker, you could probably fall asleep again just like this, so long as he keeps holding you up.  But Din has other plans, clearly.  He eases you backwards, continues to walk you back and back and back some more, and you have no problem just going with it.  He’s strong, taking almost all of your weight and somehow instinctively knowing how to hold you so that you’re fully supported no matter how you’re positioned.  He shifts you to one arm at one point, does something with his free hand that you can’t really figure out but aren’t really bothered by either.

He guides you both a few more steps backwards, and you start to wonder how long the hull actually is.  But then he suddenly grabs you tight—tight enough to make your eyes pop open to the black void in front of you and panic slightly, before he tilts you back even more and suddenly the ground is dropping out from under your feet, the air rushing silently around your entire body.

Okay, now you full-on panic.

He doesn’t let go, thank the stars, even when you scramble up to straddle and cling to him, heart clanging hard against your sternum at his fucking audacity.  The jet pack?  Are there just no fucking rules anymore?

Sure enough, the thrusters kick in and he’s good enough with the phoenix to counteract the gravity shift as much as possible, making it a gradual thing instead of a rapid change in motion.  You’re almost confident you would’ve slipped out of his grip and gone slamming to the ground had he not done the preventative maneuver.

Regardless, you’re gonna fucking kill him.  You’re going to murder Mando and get your own bounty puck, one with your name on it.  It won’t end well; everyone after you will have a personal vendetta considering you offed one of their own.  If you survive the confrontation then you’ll likely get taken to mine spice somewhere for the rest of your miserable life, probably Kessel—that is, assuming he doesn’t kill you first, within the next however many minutes.

And oh, he seems like he takes his sweet fucking time, hauling your fuming, decapitated ass along on a late night joyride.  Every second he continues to allow you to fly in blind, deaf isolation is another butt whooping you’re vowing to give him, and it pisses you off even more that you can’t even express your righteous fury because you can’t let go of him.  You’re a parasite in midair, clinging to his metal body while he slowly descends, navigating you both down until you feel his boots finally meet solid ground.

You carefully reach for the ground with one foot and try to feel it with your tippie toes just in case he’s somehow tricking you, until Din drops you down and your feet mercifully meet dirt.  As soon as you find your balance, you shove an open palm against the metal of his chestplate in anger and Din quickly catches your wrist, the beskar shaking slightly under your hand like he found the whole thing rather humorous.

You don’t have much time to fuss.  He spins you around and then his hands settle on your shoulders, and for some reason… you only notice it now.  The fabric covering your torso and legs is gradually becoming damp for some reason.  You can’t feel any real splashes of water—no raindrops or anything, but it gets worse and worse the longer he holds you steady in front of him.

His hands eventually drag down your arms and elbows, until they’re catching your wrists and slowly pulling both of them up.  Din cradles the backs of your hands as he presses your palms against the cold metal helmet around your head, and then he gradually begins to pull it up, and—

—Loud.

You stop for a second.

… Tears spring up.

Din keeps pulling.

What starts out as a dull hiss continuously amplifies as the beskar slowly lifts, growing louder and louder in volume until it’s a deafening, violent, thunderous roar.

Yet still, you don’t open your eyes.  You just… listen to it.  Let the sound of it fill your heart, the same sound you caught earlier in the forest but now amplified exponentially, almost surrounding you with reverberating white noise.  Your whole body is practically drenched in water by the time you finally open your eyes and blink through the heavy mist.

He said no oceans, and he was right.  It isn’t an ocean—it’s… something so unbelievably beautiful that you don’t even have a name for it.  You don’t want one, not really.  There isn’t a name that would be good enough.  It’s easily—by and far, in your measley handful of decades of existence—the most majestic thing you’ve ever seen.  A gigantic, enormous cliff dwarfs you on three sides, with tens of thousands of tons of water arcing over their sharp edges and plunging into the rocky lake below.  

The cloud of droplets ricocheting from the base of the jaw dropping cascade is massive in and of itself—easily taking up a good quarter of your field of view even from this distance away.  The shore sits close enough but the spectacle is still somewhat distant, remaining an untouchable heaven, a gorgeous lake separating you from it and rippling with waves that settle to lap at the sand.

The rest of the setting comes later, after you’re able to process the main event.  You’re in the middle of the forest from before—familiar colossal trees wrap around the shoreline and vibrant shrubbery blankets the edges of the falling water, evergreen and fed by a constant nourishing mist.  The sun is also beginning to come up.  You can’t see it yet, but you can see the way the sky is starting to gradient itself from a starry midnight blue to pale lavender, the first rays beginning to peak over the treetops.

You feel yourself take a few, slow steps forward, but leather catches your hand from behind and gives it a firm squeeze before you can move completely out of reach.  You don’t even have to look back at him to know what it means.  The sentiment transfers seamlessly—be careful, he says, before dropping it and letting you continue forth.

Reaching the shore brings even more beauty to a backdrop you didn’t think could get any better.  You have to carefully step over—oh, heavens—small, transparent crystals tinted every color you can imagine to reach the water, sparkling under the gently lapping waves.  They’re like thin, flat shards of glass, and you know that if the sound of the falling water wasn’t so deafening, you’d probably be able to hear the muted crunching noise they make shattering under your boots with every cautious step.  Jagged edges and multicolored powder is all that’s left in your wake, no matter how careful you try to be.

You almost don’t want to move since they’re so delicate and everywhere, probably blanketing the entire floor of the lake, but you push forward with purpose until you’re just close enough to squat down and dip your fingers into the cool water.  It’s crystal clear and reflects the lightening sky with every gentle ripple and disturbance.  You study the pieces of glass as the repetitive waves distort their shape, the colorful shards turning to smooth, round pebbles the closer they are to the water.  A large green one catches your eye—circular and comparatively tiny, but standing out amongst all the rest.

You pluck it from the shore and let the almost perfectly round emerald sphere roll around in your palm, scanning the shallow water once more.  Then, ah—there, you reach out and grab a slightly larger, heavier, unassuming brown one that you have to hold up to the gradually rising sun to see its sparkle.  It’s got harder edges and feels rougher in your hand but you like it that way.  You like that there’s a bit of a warm amber at its center when the light hits it right.

Perfect.  Taking another moment to study your choices, you eventually end up finding a gorgeous, slightly pearlescent piece that sits just between the size of the other two in your collection.  It’s tinted a pale, off-white amongst a sea of color and there’s something gentle about it that speaks to you, something that feels right about the gradual sloping curves and how it sits in your palm.

Carefully pocketing the three pieces of fragile glass and rising up, you glance back to see Din standing there, helmet on once more and frozen right where you last left him.

He looks… awkward, almost.  Holding his hands behind his back, all his weight shifted to one foot while the other twists back and forth against the ground just slightly.  Nervous, for some reason.  Feeling unsure of his place.  The posture tugs at your heartstrings, as well as the spectacular gesture, and you soon make your way back to him.

“Where did you… where did you find this!?”  You have to yell over the rushing water once you get close enough.  “I didn’t see anything on the navcomp—”

“—wasn’t—navcomp—” he replies, barely just loud enough for you to hear.  You miss most of it, but you’re able to piece together the gist based on what little you can catch.  “—quarry—isolated sector—uncharted.”

Uncharted.  It’s uncharted, the navcomp wouldn’t register it.  Untouched by millennia of progress.  Plenty of people have probably seen it before, but apparently none of them have ever told anybody about it.  The universe is vast but it’s also old—it’s unbelievable that cartographers have plotted almost the entire galaxy but they still missed something like this.

The roar of the marvel is so deafening, it takes you a moment to realize he’s still speaking

“—nobody—yet—it—” he nods the helmet out at the spectacular landmark, “—it’s yours—you want—”

“My what!?”  You bellow, but he doesn’t clarify or add anything new.  He just spins you around again, extending his arm out over your shoulder to point at the breathtaking view and then dropping his helmet down next to your ear.

“Yours,” Din repeats firmly, resolutely.  Nothing more to be said.

You’re not sure if you’re crying yet, there’s too much water in the air to tell.  All you can do is just instinctively lean all your weight back into his chest and let his arms lace around your body, and you have to blink the droplets away as they start to trail down your forehead and into your eyes.  He keeps you like that until the rising sun begins to reflect off the cloud of mist at the rocky base of the monument, scattering light in all directions and splitting it into a beautiful spectrum that reflects every color.

You wonder if Din can see it.  You wonder if there’s a filter on his helmet that isn’t infrared or night vision, where a computer isn’t constantly alerting him to movement or sudden changes in atmospheric pressure.  Just… pure, unobstructed, visible light.  You know there’s probably all sorts of tracking measures programmed in, you know he can zoom and spot a sniper from a vast distance—you know he sees things you don’t.  Things you won’t ever see.  But you also hope the visor isn’t shaded too dark—you hope there’s a setting that works like a one way mirror, if only so that he can also see the beauty of this planet the same exact way you can.

You eventually turn in his arms and take one small step away from him just so you can look at him, and sure enough, the visor is tilted up towards the natural beauty.  Your eyes study every inch of him as if you’ve never seen him before, as if he may as well have taken the helmet off right in front of you.  This is thoughtful.  It’s so fucking thoughtful of him.  For being such a mystery, this right here… this is soul bearing.  It’s not an ocean, it’s a million times better than one and the fact that he not only remembered you telling him something like that, but he actually flew you out here to see it.  It makes your chest ache with an unknown feeling, one you still have trouble recognizing.  It settles down right in the softest part of you, makes your mouth open and give it a four letter name.

You say it so softly, confess it knowing he’s not looking, knowing he’d never be able to hear above the sound of the cascading rapids crashing against the rocks below.  You can’t hear it either, but you can feel it.  The way the word lilts off your tongue, the simple truth in it that’s impossible to hide from any longer.

He glances back at you, before doing a double take.  Gently, Din pushes at your shoulder and urges you to face forward again, to take all of it in while you still can, and yet.

All you can see is him.

His head slowly turns back down to face you, and your eyes keep shamelessly scanning every bit of him, watching the mist droplets chase each other down the reflective metallic curves and contours of his helmet.  Din slowly leans in, carefully eases his arm under yours and wraps tight around your lower back to bring you closer to his side.  You sigh and press up against him, your palm creeping up the damp fabric wrapped around his throat.  The visor doesn’t leave you, even when your temple comes to rest against his pauldron.  No, he just allows the smooth metal covering his forehead to gently touch yours for a moment and hold there.  Both of you tucked away in the middle of a hidden paradise, standing in front of a gorgeous monument crafted by the hands of the Maker himself.  

And, like the two starry eyed idiots you are, neither one of you can seem to look away from the other.

You mouth a silent thank you to him, hoping he can read the heartfelt candor from your lips.  Something tells you your message was received, because his grip tightens.  As if in slow motion, his whole body lazily drops down just enough to scoop you up with an arm hooked under your knees—before Din suddenly rockets upwards.

You squeal and cling tight to his shoulders as he lifts you up higher, and higher—he slowly rises across the considerable length of the lake and closer to the falling water.  You’re already beyond drenched but as he gradually approaches the base of the falling water, it starts raining down and splashing you in buckets.

Once he’s near enough to the powerful, arcing column pouring over the long rocky edge, Din carefully spins around and hovers until his back faces it, which means you can hide your nose and mouth from the splashes against the armor shielding his shoulder.  He slowly rises up the length of the natural landmark and lets you watch the rushing water up close behind the safety of his body, sacrificing his own view so that yours can be all the better.

Eventually the falling waves break and you look down at the broad, gorgeous rapids flowing out towards you, the sun casting its dawning light over their foaming peaks.  Din spins around and you adjust yourself accordingly against his chest, knowing you’ll never have a view like this again.  He flies low along the river and you can see the colorful glass sparkling through the strong, yet completely transparent current.  Soon he levels out and you cling tight to him, burying your face in the soaking wet fabric of the cowl wrapped around his neck and sighing, unable to recall a time you’ve ever been happier.  It swells in your heart and warms your entire body even as it’s drenched in cool water, and you wonder again how he could’ve ever thought you were running from him.  How could he ever think you’d run from him when all he’s ever done is give you wings?

***

The Crest hurdles through hyperspace while Din silently removes his armor and then strips you both of your sopping wet clothes.  You remember your glass souvenirs at the very last second and carefully remove them from your pockets despite your closed eyes, reaching out to hand them to Din without looking.  His palm catches the pebbles with the quiet sound of them clinking together, and you feel him pause for a second, probably studying them as he cradles them in the dim, single fluorescent light he left on.

You feel him leave you momentarily, hear him gently set them down someplace safe without a word.  When he comes back and his warm arms snake around you once more, he lowers you down to the blankets and then proceeds to make the softest love to you he knows how on the floor of his ship.  

A small part of you wishes you were still on Naboo, but somehow.  Somehow, despite the dead quiet hull, it’s better than anything you can remember.

His naked body presses tight to yours, his mouth always open and tasting wherever you’ll let him venture, never letting you forget for a single second that he’s just as bare and exposed as you are.  Your hands take full advantage, feeling everything.  The strong, rippling muscles of his back as he props himself over you, the soft hair curling at his nape, the length of his spine shielding you from the rest of the ship, allowing you the opportunity to pretend you’re somewhere else if you really tried.  If you tried, you could convince yourself you’ve got a mattress beneath you instead of a blanket draped over hard steel.  You could convince yourself your eyes are open while he kisses you, despite knowing it’ll never be allowed.

But… you don’t.  You don’t need to.  There’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

And then at one point, his mouth is between your legs and you see a flash of his forehead on complete accident.

To see it on any other person would be nothing, it would mean absolutely nothing.  It’s not like it somehow makes him anymore recognizable to you—plenty of people share the same exact features, you still wouldn’t know him out of a trillion different faces.  He could walk right by you and you’d never know.  Technically, it’s not even his face—it’s just a small fragment of it.  But to you, the quickest glimpse of dark, wavy locks curtaining over the smooth, golden skin just below his hairline… it means everything to you.  You sear it into your memory, right alongside the sight of crystalline water roaring over an enormous cliff edge.

You never tell him you saw.  He never finds out.

[marvel-and-mischief]

Purple Carnations

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader   Words: 1700 Warnings: eating meat, preparing dead rabbits for eating, nudity but not sexual, a swear word Synopsis: You come across an angry stranger bathing in the river

Purple Carnations: capriciousness

💐

The setting sun could be seen through the thin gaps between the trees, casting shadows throughout the woods you were standing in. Birds were settling into their nests with their chicks and dogs were howling in the distance as you trod silently over roots and tried to stay clear of crisp leaves and twigs that would alert anyone, or anything, to your presence.

You fingered the bow in your hand, clenching and unclenching your hand around the wood and feeling the weight in preparation of its use. The few arrows in the quiver on your back slid against each other when you moved too quickly, it reminded you that you needed to make more after tonight.

The only other sound you could hear was that of the river running along the edge of the woods. The water was calm and you ventured closer in the hope that an animal was taking a drink. It would be an easy catch, you’d be able to get back home before the sky turned dark and the wolves began to roam the area. Luck was rarely on your side but what you saw was more than unlucky, it was downright cruel.

A man was bathing in the shallow end of the river, back facing you and his bottom half, fortunately, concealed underneath the water. You were unable to take your eyes off the silver scars that lined his skin and tense muscles that flexed under his movements. And his hands, they were scarily large as they carded through black, wet hair, and it brought you out of your embarrassing state when you thought of this man noticing you spying on him and using those hands in punishment.

You felt yourself flush and in your haste to quickly disappear unnoticed your foot caught on a wayward tree branch, causing you to squeak in surprise and reach out to steady yourself against a large rock.

“Hey you!” came an angry shout from the river and you knew you had been caught. You spun back around to see the man facing you, his teeth clenched and face twisted into a furious scowl. “You think you can spy on me you -“

“Spy on you?” you scoffed in retaliation, suddenly feeling brave in the face of a man that could definitely beat you in a physical fight. You pulled an arrow out of your quiver and notched it into your bow but kept the weapon lowered, a precaution incase he came towards you. You had the high ground and a weapon that could reach him from afar and that gave you the confidence to answer back. “You must think very highly of yourself, Sir, if you think I was spying on you.”

“Then what were you doing?” He eyed his clothes that sat in a bundle a few feet from where you stood. You caught a shine of silver in amongst the fabrics and you knew immediately that he wasn’t worried about his dignity, he was keeping an eye on the weapons concealed at the bottom of the pile.

“I am looking for my supper,” you wiggled the bow in your hand and gave him a look that said ‘isn’t it obvious?’, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“Says who? You?” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest as if he only just realised he was naked in front of you.

“Yes, says me,” you huffed in frustration.

The man grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move.

“I saw some deer on my route here, a mile that way,” the man pointed in the opposite direction to which you came, “I will be gone by the time you get back.”

Part of you felt bad for making such a fuss about this stranger being here, you didn’t own these woods after all, but the other part of you knew that you couldn’t trust strangers travelling through the path you frequently used and was so close to your home.

You paused a little too long and the mans patience was wearing thin.

“Or you can stay here and continue to watch me bathe,” he growled, and you heard the underlying threat in his words: when I am finished here, I will fight you.

“If I see you again I will not hesitate to let my arrow fly towards you.”

“My knife will be in your back before you get the chance.”

You rolled your eyes at his quip, not willing to argue that an arrow can fly quicker than a knife or that you knew you were closer to his weapons than he was, and left to find your supper.

-

You hear his frustrated grunts before you see him. You crept closer to see the man you had stumbled upon in the river just the day before, struggling to light a fire. The sparks he was trying to create weren’t enough to light the kindling he’d bundled together in front of him, and the more he became annoyed the more he was hitting his thumb rather than the flint in his hand.

You noticed the dead rabbits at his feet and subconsciously licked your lips. Maybe you could both help each other out this night.

“Do you need a fire?” Your question had him pulling his sword from his belt and pointing it in your direction which was, fortunately, far enough away that he couldn’t hurt you with it.

“I am beginning to think you are not just a pain in my ass but also a bad omen,” the man lowered his sword slowly once he recognised who you were.

“I think this is rather good luck actually,” you countered with a small smirk. You crossed your arms and leaned against a tree just as a rumble of thunder sounded overhead.

“What do you want?”

“You have food, I have fire, we should work together to not go hungry another night.”

“No luck with the deer?”

You shook your head sadly. This man hadn’t been lying, when you reached the area he had told you about there was plenty of evidence of the animals having been there, but there had also been proof of people, other hunters that had gotten there first.

The man seemed to be thinking seriously on your offer, looking forlornly at the piece of flint and metal in his hand. Another crash of thunder had him making up his mind.

“We have a deal,” the man picked up his belongings, along with the rabbits, and motioned for you to lead the way.

“It is only fair you share what you caught in my part of the woods,” you failed to hide the humor in your tone but it had the desired effect. The man huffed next to you.

“I do not see anywhere that states these are your woods,” he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. The rabbits in his hand swung into your leg annoyingly, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose.

“What is your name?” you asked just as your cottage was coming into sight over the hill.

“Pero.”

You told him your name and walked the rest of the way in silence.

-

Your cottage was small, only one room with a bed in the corner and a fire that took up most of one wall. Baskets scattered the floor holding everything you had foraged from the woods, mushrooms and berries, plants for medicines, vegetables from your garden.

You headed straight to the fireplace to get it started but kept one eye on your new acquaintance as you got to work.

Pero was studying your little cottage from where he awkwardly stood by your door. With your foot you pushed a stool in front of the fire.

“Sit, get comfortable, ready the rabbits for the fire.”

You thought by giving his something useful to do he would feel more comfortable, and it worked for a while. He skinned the animals and placed them on the metal spit you passed to him and then hooked them over the fire.

“Why does your husband not hunt for you?”

The question took you by surprise. It was obvious you were the only person who lived in this cottage, the bed only big enough for one, hunting for your own food, and bringing him back to your cottage was more than enough confirmation that you were not married.

“Because he does not exist,” you replied bluntly.

Pero reached out to turn the rabbits around but said no more.

“Why does your wife not keep you in check?”

Pero’s dark eyes glared at you.

“She does not exist.”

You pretended to nod thoughtfully, only to receive a huff of laughter from your usually moody friend.

“You are not from this land.”

A thoughtful look crossed Pero’s features as he turned his attention back to the fire.

“I have not belonged to any land for a long time.”

There was a sadness to his tone that you couldn’t help but pity. You hid it well, you didn’t think he would appreciate pity from a stranger.

“Why are you here?”

“Looking for work. You ask a lot of questions.”

“You are the first person I have spoken to in months.”

You found yourself opening up to Pero over supper. He listened in genuine interest as you showed him the many plants you had found in the woods, telling him what each of them did for different ailments. He told you about someone he once knew who could wield a bow better than anyone. You argued with him then, promising to demonstrate what a great shot you were the next time you went hunting. However it went unspoken whether Pero would be sticking around to see that.

You were nervous to go to sleep that evening. Pero was your only friend in a long while and you had a feeling he would be gone by morning. Pero mistook your nerves for his presence in your home, so he crossed the room in a couple of strides and handed you his dagger.

“So you feel safe with me here,” he explained and moved to make himself comfortable in front of the door, covered in a blanket you had given to him.

Pero watched you lit up in the dying flames of the fire, a content smile on his lips as your breathing evened out and you fell asleep. He was undecided whether or not to leave before sunrise, but for now he would fall into the best nights sleep of his life.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @computeringturtle @anu-simps @bts17army

[shinygoldstar]

Midnight Snack

DannyMay Day 11: Midnight

(Also DannyMay Shadow, Scars, Power, Nature, Seasons, Teeth can you find them all?)

Word Count: 2271 (not beta’d. experimental writing)

Warning: mentions of ghost cannibalism, nothing explicit

@floralflowerpower ​ – for that ghost cannibalism post

(it’s 1 am so i’m gonna sleep now. might post on AO3 later)

Edit: AO3 Added!

.

It was mid-October. The leaves are starting to turn yellow heralding the approaching autumn. Danny was happy because that meant the unusually hot weather is almost over. It wasn’t that he’s melting from the heat- quite the opposite, he’s probably the only person in Amity that isn’t sweltering under the sun with his cold core. But due to this exact same reason, his cooler body temperature also drew in water vapor which condenses on his skin, pooling into beads of water dripping down his shirt, making him appear extra sweaty. He can’t wait for the temperature to be cool enough to not change clothes every few hours. Good thing his clothes are purchased by the dozen; no one really noticed him wearing new sets of clothes throughout the day.

.

It was the contaminated fridge foods that disappeared first. No one missed them. At least until they can’t find the mutated turkeys for their annual Thanksgiving hunting event.

.

Danny yawned as he and his friends entered Fenton Works. Autumn is comfy. Just the right temperature where he can wear loose clothing and not be stared at for being underdressed for the weather. No ‘sweating’ either. His mouth closed with a click, a bit too fast on his new fangs. Danny winced. The fangs seemed to have grown longer overnight again. At this rate Danny won’t be able to pass them off as normal pointy canine teeth for much longer. It didn’t hurt but the itch is annoying. Danny took a detour to the fridge, grabbing an ice cube from the freezer and popped it into his mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cubes to take the edge off the itch as they walked down to the basement lab. His parents are at a paranormal convention at a nearby city and won’t be back until tomorrow. Danny and his friends gladly took the opportunity to do their ‘Danny’s quarterly fitness test’.

Danny flipped on the light switch and walked to the center of the lab, transforming into his ghost form. “Okay I’m ready. What’s first on the list?”

Tucker dropped his bag and took out a piece of notebook paper, “Okay, first we gotta do the baseline measurements. Height, weight, temperature, and the ecto reading.” Sam dug through her sports bag, pulling out the measurement tape. She held it against Danny, eyes scanning the tape measurement numbers. “Still the same height.”

Tucker nodded, noting down the measurement in Danny’s health notebook. “Next, weight.” Danny stood over the scale. “Yup, still the same weight too.”  

.

Then it was the ecto-samples that Jack misplaced in the kitchen fridge. Jack warned everyone a few days later (everyone knows to avoid glowing food on normal basis so the delayed warning is mostly just courtesy), but no one could find where it went and assumed it grew legs to join the other tiny ecto-samples lurking as their equivalent of household pests. (No matter how often Maddie tried to patch up the mouse hole it keeps reappearing in the same shape but in a different part of the house as if the original mouse hole got transplanted from its original location)

.

“Lunch Lady’s right. You need to eat more. You’re still as skinny as ever.” Sam remarked as Danny took the thermometer out of his mouth. “76 F. The ghosts keep attacking me all day and night. You’d think my parents would notice when a ghost sneaks pass them while they work in the lab but I triggered all their ghost alarms just by being in the house so they deactivated the system when I’m around. They must’ve kept it turned off during the day too.”

“Tough luck dude. Ecto scan next.” Tucker passed the scanner to Sam while Danny stood still for her to scan. The machine beeped, “Wow 6.8, that’s quite a jump from last quarter’s 5.1”

“Maybe it was from all the ghost fighting I did over the summer?”

.

As the leaves began to fall from the branches, ghost attacks lessened in frequency. Not looking the gift horse in the mouth Danny happily enjoyed the lack of ghost attacks to focus more on his studies. If he did well enough, he might even get Bs for his efforts. He also managed to avoid getting detention for the entire week much to the relief of everyone involved.

.

Two days before Thanksgiving, the Fentons finally remembered their turkeys. But by then it was gone. In a rush, they quickly purchased a pre-made turkey instead. While Danny enjoyed the fact that they’re having a normal family dinner for once, he can’t help but feel like there’s something off about the chicken. As if it’s missing a particular tangy or zingy flavor that would’ve made it richer in flavor. ‘Must’ve been because it’s overcooked.’

.

"Honey? Have you seen the new ecto-samples I placed in the basement lab fridge?" “Again Jack? This is the third time this month. Have you checked the upstairs fridge?” “I-ah was pretty sure I placed them in the correct fridge this time. Must be some no-good thievin’ ghost.” “I’ll set up the ecto-anti-theft, that’ll get ‘em good! No ghost can escape Jack Fenton for long!”

.

*Intruder Alert* *Intruder Alert*

Red lights peppered with robotic voice and alarm noises lurched Maddie into full alert mode. She quickly took stock of her surroundings and tried to wake Jack up. But Jack had his earplugs on and continued to snore blissfully. A loud knock on the door caught her attention. “What’s going on mom?” Jazz’s voice floated through the door. Maddie quickly rose to open the bedroom door, swiftly pulled Jazz in and locked the door. “Jazz dear, try to wake your dad up. I’ll go check on the intruder.” Maddie strode quietly to the door then paused, “Have you checked on Danny?” Jazz bit her lips and looked away for a moment “-ah yeah! Danny’s snoring so loud he can’t hear the alarm.” Maddie twisted the doorknob but paused, hesitating. “He’s fine mom.” Jazz reassures her. “If Danny wakes up, he’ll come here first. I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

The alarm rang loudly in her ears as she walked down the stairs to the basement lab, its loud ringing noise effectively covering up the sound of her footsteps. Reaching the basement floor, Maddie quickly crept over to hide behind the shelf on her left, eyes scanning the lab for the intruder.

The glass jars clinked as a shadow moved about the fridge. A very familiar shadow. That didn’t glow. Maddie turned on the lab lights. “Danny?” she started, carefully walking over to face him, her eyes still scanning him to check if he’s really her Danny. The faint, barely noticeable scar on his eyebrow from his attempt to fly off the tree when he was five is there confirming his identity.

“What are you doing down here-?” Maddie noticed the glowing jar in his hand, “and what exactly are you doing?” Danny hazily stared at her; eyes half-lidded. Maddie snapped her fingers to get his attention. Danny didn’t blink. “He's still not awake, Danny come on wake up!”, she shook his shoulders. “Huh? Wuzzat?” Danny groggily woke up. He blinked in confusion.

Finally aware of his surroundings, Danny looked down at his right hand that still held the glowing sample. “Aah!” Danny yelped dropping the sample, then realizing he dropped the sample, tries to catch the jar, fumbling clumsily. Maddie would’ve laughed if it was anywhere else but in this situation. “Danny, do you remember what you were doing?”

“I was doing my homework and was craving for a good cheeseburger?”

---

“And the half-opened jar of ectoplasm?”

“Pickles?”

---

“Dude are you for real? That was priceless!” Tucker crowed with laughter. Sam leaned away from Tucker to avoid the meat spittle, “Urgh! Gross Tucker! Swallow it before you speak!”

Danny grumbled into his glass of milkshake, “’s not funny Tuck. you didn't see her face. She was about ready to scan me for signs of ecto-possession. Good thing my lie about craving cheeseburger and opening the wrong fridge worked. Otherwise I’d be in big trouble if she scanned me now with my latest ecto-reading. Anyways I'm banned from the lab now.” Danny bit into his burger.

“So what really happened there dude? Did you seriously sleepwalk into the basement lab?”

“I think so? I don’t really remember anything before Mom found me in the lab. Only that I was feeling a bit hungry.”

.

The ghosts stopped coming. Everyone in Amity held their breath when there were no ghost attacks for two weeks straight, then a month. Then two months, three. No ghosts. They let out their collective breath. It might be too soon to hope but for now they will enjoy their ghost-free, perfectly ordinary life. It feels a bit strange to not have ghost related interruptions as part of their daily routine but they didn’t miss the ghost-related reconstruction expenses. The local insurance company employees received a nice bonus for the ghost-free month.

.

By the time March rolled in, Danny is restless. “Guys, there's definitely something big going on.”, he waved his hands for emphasis. “The Fenton portal is still open yet no ghost came through? Not even Boxy since the North District warehouse thing last month. There’s definitely something big going on. I've been taking the ghost-free break for granted for a while now and it helped save my grades but this is too big to ignore.”

“Dude, maybe it’s because you’re much more powerful now? Your latest reading last week is 8.2. None of the ghosts we’ve met so far is above 6 except for Vlad and the Ghost King.” Tucker suggested.

“You might have a point there, Tucker. We haven’t seen any of the ghosts bothering Vlad so far and he’s definitely higher than 6.” Sam added.

Danny frowned, “Maybe you’re right but I just have this nagging feeling that that’s not quite it.”

.

Danny entered the Zone with little fanfare. The area around the Fenton portal looked normal enough, the usual rocks and clouds of debris are still floating around in their usual areas. Danny aimlessly passed through the nooks and crannies, ducking under the endless spiral staircase, not entirely sure of what to look for. The Zone felt a bit quiet today but Danny haven’t been to the Zone that frequently to be certain about it.

.

The Ghost Zone, while still filled with random bits of odds and ends felt empty somehow. It wasn't until he sighted Skulker that he realized he hasn't seen any of the tiny blog ghosts nor the occasional passerby ghosts through his trip.

.

Luckily or unluckily, Danny quickly spotted someone he knew in the distance. As if called, Skulker turned his head towards Danny, then veered sharply to the left and flew fast in Danny's opposite direction, a first for the self-proclaimed hunter to not hunt his favorite prey. ‘Something's not right and Skulker definitely knows something.’ Danny thought.

Danny quickly chased after him; Skulker could never beat Danny at speed chase even at his best, and he won't be winning today's unplanned race either. “Hey Skulker! What’s going on?” Danny yelled over the gap between them but Skulker gave no reply, diving down deep into the reddish forest ravines of the island below. Not to be deterred, Danny did a quick aerial flip, adjusting his flight angle to follow down Skulker’s path. Danny soon caught up to Skulker and launched him into a nearby rock with sticky ectoplasm to hold him still long enough to talk. Skulker ejected from his metal suit but Danny was faster and caught the real ghost before he can escape.

.

(Why is Skulker fleeing?)

.

"Hey Skulker, not hunting me for once?" Danny asked teasingly.

Skulker paled (Danny never knew ghosts can turn pale) and squirmed even more. Danny's smile dropped.

"What’s going on Skulker?" he asked worriedly. “None of the ghosts have appeared in the human world and the Zone looks empty somehow”

Skulker squirmed a bit more but realizing he’s stuck finally said, “Ghost Child, haven’t you ever wondered why the Infinite Realms is never overcrowded?”

Danny frowned, puzzled as to where this leads to. “How is this related to this situation?” Skulker stared at Danny stunned.

“What?” Danny asked, suddenly self-conscious, “-was there something I was supposed to know about?”

Skulker sighed, unconsciously loosening a bit of his tension, “You’re so young. So very young. We Ghosts don’t fade as fast as Newcomers arrive from your world. In the Realms, there's a natural system that keeps the population under control. An ecosystem. There's predator and there's prey. And then there's the Apex Predator. There's a reason why Dark was feared. It wasn't just for his harsh rule. It was because he was the Apex Predator.”

Danny struck at the odd wording, "’Was’? Was that because he got sealed?” Danny paused, “But wait- if he's sealed, he would still be the Apex predator. So how-? Wait. Did I?"

Skulker nodded, "Good you're catching on fast. By defeating Pariah Dark, you have proven to the Realms that you're the best candidate for the Apex Predator. And with the new status comes sets of conducts, one your body instincts know well. You've been culling down the uncontrolled excess from Pariah Dark's sleep quite fast. Your hunger would settle down soon of course once balance has been re-established in the Realms."

“But- How- Wait- What-?” Danny looked down at his hand “Hey Skulker--!” but his hand is bare.

.

Danny’s lips tasted oddly tangy, energized.  

.

.

.

-----

(Skulker might've slipped out of Danny's slack hand while Danny is in shock. Danny might've bit his lips hard enough to bleed. It's not that hard with his new fangs. But this is just speculation...)

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

No Saviors in the Wild Drabble: Compromised.

Hazel eyes opened beneath blood red brows, to the sun trying to force his way through the red drapes. Atlas blinked, feeling more content than he had in years, even more than the ones he had been free. Shani rested her head on the patch of red hair on his chest and his arms wrapped her up safely. Satisfied...

He gasped and looked down at her. The scent of the room was off. He had gone too far last night.. He gently rolled her naked body over and examined her. There definitely was too much of his fur from last night about. He removed as much of it as he could with his hands and searched her body for scratches and/or teeth marks.

He felt guilty that seeing her bare, sepia skin made him want to be inside of her all over again. What kind of monster would be thinking about that at a time like this? At least she had no wounds that he could detect. Some bruises, but considering how strong he was compared to humans, those were actually not as bad as they would've been had he lost control of himself.

Well... Lost more control. He obviously had lost enough to become wolf without realizing. And he couldn't fully remember, so some portion of his power was overtaken by his passion. Had she been afraid? Had she tried to call him back to his human form? Had he actually hurt her?

The thought broke his heart. He sniffed around, trying to determine lingering traces of pheromones. He wasn't sure what exactly he was searching for, but he needed to know that she was really okay. That he hadn't done anything terrible to her when he changed. His smell picked up an aroma that he knew between her thighs.

His nose searched her vulva and he even dared to slip a couple of fingers gently into her cervix and withdrew them to smell. He'd ejaculated inside of her last night! Atlas shook Shani to wake her up and she started, but her eyes softened as soon as she saw his face.

"Good morning, Packmaster," she teased, tracing her fingers across his freckles and acne.

"Shani." He said it so seriously that her smile faded and she withdrew her hand, worried. He lifted his fingers and announced, "I came last night. You're compromised." Shani let out a relieved sigh and she took his hand by those fingers and pulled him. He allowed her to gather him into her arms and wrap her legs around him. His back rested against her front, but he couldn't relax.

"Just, go back to sleep, Atlas. We don't have to be up yet and we had a long night."

"I lost myself and I've endangered you."

"You don't lose yourself. You find other parts of yourself. I wasn't in any danger at all. You respond to your name and everything. It's.. sort of like being inebriated. You don't forget who you are in those moments. You just have a little bit of your inhibitors lowered. And that's not bad. You could learn to relax."

"I can't understand why I should have to explain that this is a bad thing, Shani."

"I can't understand why you think that you know more than me..." He sat up and she whimpered at the loss of his body touching hers.

"Shani. You could become one of us because of this transaction. This isn't like kissing. This is serious! You've seen it happen to other... People like you. People who subject themselves to entertaining wolfen lovers."

"Studies show that statistically, those who obtain wolfen transformations through intercourse are three times more satisfied with their identity than those who were changed by malicious intent or hunting abnormalities," she said. He winced and she strummed his hair. "The reason you hate it so much is because you were transformed through a traumatizing act of violence. You don't have to worry about that with this situation."

"I still have to worry what being like this would mean for you in the long run. You'd always be in hiding, hunted down, having to hunt for food, potentially harm someone else if you lose control and it.. I don't want this existence for you, Shani."

"I live like that now. This camp is made up almost entirely of wolvens and I love them. I do the work that I do to help you all not have to live the way that the world has you living."

"But if you ever get tired, you can always just go back. You can return to society and nobody would have to suspect a thing. You could have a normal life if you ever wanted to."

She looked like she would cry and he immediately felt guilty. "Why would I ever want to return to a society that does the things that they do to you? You think I'd just wake up one day and be comfortable with knowing that people I love are being hunted, enslaved, killed, or tested on? With my history? With my ancestors' history? You think that I'll be cool with just watching from afar, relieved that it isn't me?"

"No... but you don't deserve this."

"Nobody deserves to be oppressed, Atlas. But we are. I am as a human, and I would be as a wolf."

"But, this is worst. I just..." He shook his head, "I want the best for you."

She sighed and settled into his lap, draping his arms around her body. "Then. Let me be happy where I am. Let me enjoy the life I've chosen." She kissed his pimply jawline and rested her forehead against his face. Atlas relaxed. She felt him do so and she shut her eyes again. She was going to go back to sleep. He would remain awake, trying to convince himself that her happiness was more important than her safety.

As though she read his mind, she left him with a thought, "Since we both know that I'm never gonna turn my back on my mission, a transformation would actually be an upgrade to my safety. I mean, just imagine me with my smarts and my spirit, entrusted with your speed and your strength. Who could freaking stop me from creating a werewolf apocalypse, if I wanted to?" That... Somehow helped him to feel better. A little bit.

[sithsecrets]

beside one another | din djarin x reader

The hunt for a quarry takes the Mandalorian and his crew member to a fancy hotel in Canto Bight. The two lie beside one another under the cover of darkness, and the meaning of home comes into sharp focus.

---

3.3k words

Mentions: typical rich people bullshit, people are a little scared of din, a little bit of pining, “there’s only one bed!”, sharing clothes, NO SMUT

---

When Mando tells you that the next quarry’s hiding out in Canto Bight, you can’t help how excited you sound when you ask how long you’ll be staying. He’s his usual stoic self, even in the face of your curiosity, but you do detect a hint of annoyance in his voice as he tells you not to get excited.

“But it’s Canto Bight!” you declare, and the baby echoes your tone by cooing brightly on your hip. “It seems so glamorous!”

“You’ll feel differently once we get there,” Mando states, and then he’s punching coordinates into the navigation system, seemingly done discussing the matter. You buckle into the passenger seat with the baby, settling him on your lap so he gets a good view through the windshield during takeoff. He loves this part for some reason, despite all the rattling and the noise, and he squeals in utter joy like you thought he would.

“At least someone’s excited,” you declare, teasing the Mandalorian for being so grumpy. The man himself says nothing to this, but you’re too pleased with yourself and the prospect of visiting a new place to care.

Before Mando hired you to be his one and only crew member, you’d never really left the Tatoo System. Sure, you’d made a quick trip to here and there, visited a moon or two in your time, but never anything of substance. New places are your favorite thing to collect right now, and you can’t wait to cross Cantonica off your list. You heard stories of Canto Bight when you were little, saw a few holograms of the opulent streets— you can’t wait to see it all in person, even if Mando’s not excited in the slightest. You’re sure it’s different for him, all the traveling and the going to places he’s never been, but the novelty hasn’t worn off for you yet.

The journey to Cantonica is a short one, and before you know it, the Crest is touching down in a sleek, high-class receiving hangar. The landing coordinator sounds like a snob over the comm, making more than one comment about the state of the Crest. But the tone shifts completely once you, Mando, and the baby emerge from the ship, all of the personnel suddenly very accommodating. You’re used to seeing people (the smart ones, anyway) regard Mando with equal parts respect and fear, but this is just excessive. Someone ushers you and the baby out of the sun and into a small office, rushing to offer you a cool drink, and the foreman himself comes out to talk business. The content of he and Mando’s conversation is lost on you, though you do get to watch them talk through a little window.

(Later, you’ll learn that the man let Mando park the Crest here for a fifth of the usual price, but this won’t come as surprise by the time you find out.)

Mando hails a cruiser for the three of you, and then you’re zooming across the dessert on your way to Canto Bight. As the sun slips lower and lower in the sky, the lights of the city become brighter and brighter on the horizon, stoking your excitement. Mando’s minding the baby, so you get to fully enjoy the ride, taking in all you can as the vehicle flies over the sand. Within minutes, sand becomes grass, grass becomes pavement, and then you’re in Canto Bight proper, surrounded on all sides by wealth and luxury. The driver drops the three of you off in front of a grand hotel, and then he’s off without a word, speeding away to pick up another fare.

You, Mando, and the baby make your way inside, and you’re immediately blindsided by the realization that this hotel isn’t a place for you, not really. The interior, much like the building’s exterior, is more opulent than any other building you’ve ever been to, but it’s the people that make you feel like you’re a stain on their carpet. Every single being in the lobby, human or alien, is made up in the galaxy’s finest fabrics and most expensive jewels. They glitter and gleam in the light, and your casual, comfortable clothes looks like rags in comparison. A ball of nervous, self-conscious energy forms in your stomach, the anxiety only made worse by the fact that all eyes are on you. Well, all eyes are on Mando, as they so often are, but you as part of his entourage are subject to scrutiny by mere association. Thankfully, the patrons of this establishment seem more awed than judgmental, but that doesn’t the attention is any less disconcerting.

Before you and Mando can so much as approach the reception desk, you’re stopped short by a man dressed in sharp clothes. His dark hair is perfectly combed and parted, and you catch a hint of expensive cologne as he introduces himself as the resort manager. Mando declines to shake his hand, but you let the man squeeze your palm for a brief moment.

“We need to book a room,” Mando states, trying to use this as an excuse to end the exchange. The resort manager, however, brushes off the attempt with ease.

“That’s already been taken care of, sir.” He gestures towards the elevators with one well-manicured hand, smiling what you can only describe as a customer service smile. “If you follow me this way, I can show you and your companions to your accommodations.”

“We don’t have lines of credit on this planet,” Mando cuts, tone taking on an edge as fishes around for some money. “We just want—”

“Sir,” the resort manager presses, and you have to admire the way he keeps his voice steady even though he looks like he might piss his pants any second, “I assure you that it’s been take care of. Now please, follow me.”

Mando pauses for a moment, staring down this well-dressed, handsome man as if to size him up. But then he nods, and Mr. Manager leads the three of you to the elevators. You ride up up up in a private car, sitting in relative silence the whole way. The manager does most of the talking, asking a few subtly invasive questions about why you’re here— right up until Mando essentially tells him to fuck off. After that, conversation centers mostly around the baby and the amenities available at the hotel, and then you’re walking out into a quiet corridor. It’s not a private floor by any means, but the spacing of the doors lets you know that not many people stay up here. That’s a bit of a relief, at least in your opinion, because the guests here seem rowdy. And drunk. So fucking drunk…

The suite is— Well, the suite is fucking ridiculous, to put it bluntly. It’s four rooms, five if you count the little kitchen area as its own space, and everything is decorated just so. The furnishings are opulent, the upholstery is rich— the ‘fresher alone is bigger than the common area of the home you grew up in. The manager says something about how you shouldn’t hesitate to ask for anything you need, but you barely here him, awestruck in a way by the luxury all around you. Mando sees your escort out, and you can’t believe how casual he’s being about all of this.

“Do—?” The baby makes a discontent noise, ready to be let out of his pram, and you lower him down without giving the action much thought. “Do people always do things like this for you, or…?”

Mando turns to look at you. “Only when they’re scared shitless. As far as all those people are concerned, they’re my next quarry.”

Having received the message, you leave the conversation at that, opting to go and unpack instead of prodding Mando further. The baby toddles about the suite at his leisure, oscillating between cooing at his father and playing on the bed while you work. He’s broken into a basket of complimentary snacks, and you watch as he munches on cookies and chips and a full range of other fine foods. You should probably stop him on the premise of all that ruining his dinner, but Mando’s making noises about going out to do some reconnaissance this evening. With him gone, it’ll just be you and the kid, and you think he can have a treat just this once. Besides, he might crash from the sugar rush, and you could score an evening to yourself in this big fancy hotel room.

“Send me a comm if I’m not here when you wake up,” is all Mando says before he leaves, though he does tilt his head in acknowledgement when you tell him to be safe.

As you suspected, the Child begins to wind down not long after his father leaves, lapsing into a junk food-induced coma with a bag of chips still clenched tightly in his little green hand. You clean up his face and lay him down in his pram for the night, tucking his blankets just so before you click the cover shut.

Virtually alone now, there’s not much for you to do besides bathe and get ready for bed. And so, you do just that, lingering in the bathtub simply because you can. When the water’s gotten too cool for your liking, you climb out and play with the products that have been left out on the countertop, rubbing some expensive lotion into your skin. After that, it’s time to curse quietly to yourself in the bedroom— in all your haste and excitement to pack for this trip, you managed to forget to bring something to sleep in. Mando packed two extra shirts for himself instead of one, however, and you study one of them at arm’s length for a long moment. Wearing another person’s clothes to bed is definitely something you should ask permission to do, that much you know, but… but Mando’s not here, and you need something to wear now. Finally, you slip the garment over your head, deciding that you’ll just apologize later if he gets worked up about it.

Dressed and freshly bathed, your next order of business is to procure some food for yourself. The baby’s still asleep when you get out of the bathtub, so you forgo getting him anything. You do, however, order something that’ll be good for Mando later, something filling that can be eaten lukewarm or even cold when he gets back. Everything is delicious, and you climb into bed full and content.

Even though you’re tired, sleep doesn’t come easily. You find yourself thinking of Mando, and you lie awake wondering what he’s up to— wondering if he’s safe. He’s always doing this, going out for indeterminate amounts of times to hunt his prey, and you worry about him each and every time he’s gone. It’s silly, you know, and for so many reasons. He’s a Mandalorian, for the Maker’s sake— he can take care of himself just fine— and it’s not like he’s yours to fuss over anyway. Sure, the man employs you, but your emotional investment in his safety has grown a bit intense over these past few months. As much as you hate to admit it, Mando’s different to you now, more important than he used to be. The fact that you have feelings for him at all like this is borderline idiotic, but… but sometimes you wonder if he feels things for you too. You don’t have any concrete evidence, your assumptions largely based off of two passing comments and the tilt of his helmet, but still, you cling to the hope that he wants you the same way you want him.

It takes some time, but the sounds of the city do eventually lull you to sleep. You don’t wake again until the early hours of the morning, disturbed by movement in the other room. The clang of Mando’s spurs is a dead giveaway, and you relax as soon as you realize that it’s just him. You try to settle down and drift off again, but you find that you’re suddenly wide awake. So instead, you listen to Mando go about his business, tracking his footsteps from room to room. You hear the shower run in the ‘fresher for a little while, and then a chair scrapes against the floor in the dining room a few minutes after that. The tinkling of a utensils tells you that Mando’s eating the food you got for him, and he must like it, too, because he doesn’t just inhale the plate and move on.

Earlier, after you and Mando realized that the suite only has one bed, he offered to sleep on the couch, and you’d agreed to that. Now, though, you don’t like the idea of him trying to fold his beskar-clad body up on the cushions in the living room. He’s the reason the three of you got this room in the first place, even if he never asked for the special treatment, and you think he’s entitled to at least sleep on the ridiculously soft bed. Still, it’s a presumptuous thing, asking him to lie down with you, and you’re not sure you’re brave enough to do it. You are brave enough, however, to ask him how his surveillance mission went, so you slip out of bed and pad towards the dining room.

“Mando?” you call, voice sounding rather loud in the still darkness. You wouldn’t want to catch him without his helmet on, so you’re giving him a warning.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Mando affirms, and you know the coast is clear by the electronic tinge to his voice.

He’s still sitting there at the table when you turn the corner, and the Mandalorian does seem a bit taken aback by the sight of you. Only now do you remember that you’re wearing his clothes, and two thoughts cross your mind: Will he be pissed with you? Does this shirt even cover your ass properly?

“Is—? You’re wearing my clothes.” Mando is expressionless in the helmet, of course, but the tilt of his voice is indicative of surprise.

You flush, tugging on the hem of the shirt. “Yeah, I— I forgot to pack something to sleep in, and you had an extra one. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” the Mandalorian says at once, cutting you off. A pause, and then he’s much more collected, much more like himself again. “It’s not a problem, really. No big deal.”

You nod at that, and then things are casual again. You ask Mando if he got any good information about his quarry, and he says that he did. He thanks you for getting him some dinner, and you say that it was no trouble.

“The baby’s sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, jerking your head towards the bedroom. “I have him in his pram. I think all the sweets put him in a diabetic coma.”

Mando doesn’t laugh, but the little huff that comes from his vocoder is enough to tell you that the joke landed. “Good,” he says, “I’m glad somebody’s getting some rest.”

There’s a lull in conversation, the two of you looking at one another from opposite ends of the dimly lit dining room. You lean in the doorway, mock-casual as you toy with the hem of your borrowed shirt.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know,” you say softly, finding it difficult to make eye contact with the visor as you speak.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” the Mandalorian replies. “You got in bed first, so I’m not going to make you move now—”

“No, no,” you chide, interrupting him. “I—”

You take a breath, deciding that now is as good a time as any. It’s time to rip off the bandage, and if this goes to shit, you can always chalk your actions up to exhaustion later.

“I mean, you could come lie down in bed too,” you say quickly, fidgeting nervously. “With me.”

Mando doesn’t say or do anything for one long, agonizing moment, and you’re sure you’re going to throw up. But then…

“Do you want me to lie down with you?”

His voice is quiet through the modulator, almost soft in a way, and the sound of it makes something inside you flutter.

“Yeah.”

You’re almost whispering, and you wonder what the Mandalorian thinks of you in this moment, how you look to him standing there in his clothes, asking him to come to bed with you. It must not be an ugly sight in his eyes, because he stands and walks to you, murmuring, “Come on.”

Mando checks on the baby as you crawl back in bed, rearranging the Child’s blankets, giving him an affectionate little pat. The pram clicks closed, and then Mando’s faltering at the edge of the bed.

“I can’t—” His abandons his words in favor of a display, gesturing towards the armor on his body, to the room as a whole. “This isn’t—”

“I know,” you say softly, because you do. The armor makes him feel safe, makes him feel strong, and he won’t be able to sleep if he takes it off in this strange, foreign environment. “Just take your boots off. Or are those made of beskar too?”

It’s a silly joke, but it earns you a little huff through the vocoder nonetheless.

“No,” Mando retorts, tone light. He takes off more than just his boots, unclipping his utility belt before he sits down on the edge of the bed. It takes Mando a minute to unlace his boots, but when he’s done, he finally lies down beside you, not even untucking the blankets on his side.

“You don’t want some covers?”

Mando shakes his head, and you have to admit that his big, beskar-clad body looks out of place in this even bigger, soft bed. You wonder idly if it would be different on the ship, if Mando would take all the armor off and lie beside you there too. You could never ask him to take the helmet off, that would be too much, but if he was on his own turf instead of holed up in some hotel suite… It’s too late to be worried about all of that now, though, so you force yourself to relax and enjoy this moment.

“This place is sort of fancy,” Mando says to you, voice cutting through the darkness, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, but I like the Crest better.”

“Really?”

You nod again. “It’s… warmer. Everything in this city is so cold. The building’s are pretty, and the streets make a pretty picture, but nobody’s supposed to live here. It’s all for show. Very plastic. I see why you weren’t excited to come here.”

Mando says nothing to this, though somehow you know that he’s not taking pleasure in being right.

Feeling bold, you move a bit closer to the Mandalorian. “I’ll be happy to go home.”

“I’m getting the quarry tomorrow,” Mando says, “probably before nightfall. We can be back on the Crest and off Cantonica before it’s time for us to sleep again.”

You like to think there’s a promise in that, an indication of what’s to come, but you’ll just have to wait and see. You’ll just have to hope.

“Good.”

And as your last act of bravery for the night, you reach out across the sheets and grab Mando’s hand.

He doesn’t pull away.

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Hawks x Reader Warnings: NSFW, Apocalypse AU Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4489 A/N: So excited to share with you all my contribution to this month’s bnharem smut server collaboration. I would like to give a big thanks to @candychronicles​ for beta reading this and to @hisoknen​ for introducing me to Fotor. My banner looks so much better now thanks to you. Don’t forget to check out everyone else’s stories here!

If there’s one thing you miss most about the old world it’s the color green. The bright green of trees in the summer, the soft grass you would run through barefoot, the small insects that blend in so well with their surroundings. You haven’t seen any of that in ages. As you run through the woods, all you can see is brown. The moss patterns snaking their way up tree trunks have all disappeared. Dead leaves crunch under your heavy boots and the trees around you are so dry they could catch fire in an instant.

You stop to catch your breath. How long have you been running? Two miles? You’re not sure if you lost the raiders or not. What you do know is that you’re alone, you don’t have much food and if you don’t find a good source of water soon, the oozing cut on your leg will become infected.

You find a tree stump to rest on and take a swig out of your canteen. You’re tired. Your body has never ached this much before. Every muscle is pounding, every crevasse uges to be stretched. As you try to move your left leg, you can’t help but hold back tears. It stings too much. You take the bandana out of your hair and tightly tie it around the slice in your leg. You take a safety pin out of your backpack and secure the cloth. It’s not much, but it will keep pressure on the wound until you can find something to patch it up. You might need to raid someone’s campsite to find a bandage. The thought sickens you. You hate associating yourself with them.

You were the medic of your team, the keeper of all the medicine, bandages and any antiseptic wipes that you came across. Your team members would do the hunting and the raiding and they would come back to base each with an arm full of food and supplies for the lot of you.

Then they started dropping like flies. One of them got sick and wouldn’t get better. Another got an infection that you couldn’t get rid of. You still beat yourself up for his death every time you think about him. One of your teammates went hunting and never came back. Pretty soon it was just you and your team leader. You stayed together for a week. She taught you how to hunt and you taught her what plants were edible and which ones could be used for healing. Then the raiders came and now it is just you.

You close your backpack and stand up. Nothing good will come out of sulking, so you might as well try and make a move on.

As the sun sets, the fiery orange colors swarm across the sky. The moon rises up and slowly comes into view. At least that’s one thing that’s the same from the old world.

Without the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you can feel the stinging of the cut on your leg even more. You limp through the woods at the pace of a tortoise for what feels like hours.

The only food in your backpack is a can of fruit salad leftover from an abandoned grocery store raid. It’s something, but it wouldn’t be enough to subside the growling in your stomach.

A light catches your eye. Smoke rises from the top of the trees. You could go over there and see how many people there are. If there’s only one you might be able to take them on. Two or more could end in a disaster, but if you have the slightest chance of making it out with gauze and a hunk of meat roasted over the fire you might be able to survive the night.

Your eyes squint and you walk forward, trying to get a closer look. You are off your guard when you feel something tug around your ankle and hoist you into the air. You can’t help but let out a small shriek. You are quick to cover your mouth with your hand but you are very much aware that the noise alerted the people near the fire.

“Well well well,” a voice from below you sang. “Looks like I caught a little dove.”

The rope around your ankle is tight. You feel your foot starting to grow numb as the person from below lowers the trap, setting you free.

“Who are you?” You fiddle with the rope but the knot is too tight.

“Allow me.” You look up at the person, the man standing in front of you. He takes out a large swiss army knife and opens the blade. He saws through the rope, careful not to cut you. “Sorry about that,” he says when it’s finally off. “People don’t usually come around here so I’ve never gotten anyone hung up on these bigger traps.”

He extends a hand out for you and you take a moment to study his features. He has messy ash blonde hair that is slightly overgrown. His toned muscles are enunciated by the fact that he is only wearing an undershirt.

You grab his big, slightly sweaty hand and stumble up from the ground.

“Whoa easy there.” His friendly tone of voice hits differently than the other people you have come across throughout your nomadic travels. It’s very soothing, trustworthy. And that makes you worry all the more.

“What do you want from me?” you ask.

The man eyes you up and down. His gaze makes you feel uncomfortable, like he’s eating you up with his eyes.

“What happened there?” He points to your leg and the blood soaked bandana that has begun sliding down to your ankle.

“Raiders.” A one word response that everyone knew meant trouble. “Now answer my question. What do you want from me?” Your voice is sturdy and, in your opinion, threatening.

But the man just laughs. “Trust me, dove. There isn’t much I want from you.” He begins walking back towards his camp site. You watch as he leaves but he stops in his tracks. “Coming?”

--

The man’s campsite was small. A red pickup truck is parked at one end of the clearing. It doesn’t look like it runs anymore. Mud and dirt have been spread along its side to cover up its bright hue.

“So,” the man asks. “Do you have a name?” He is fiddling with the contents in a small lock box as he speaks.

“I’m,” you seath as the pain from your leg begins to get to you. “(Y/n).”

“That’s a pretty name,” the man says. “I’m Keigo. So, (Y/n). Let’s get that cut cleaned up.”

You are confused. People in this day and age aren’t usually nice, especially to stragglers like yourself. “What are you doing?” you ask when you see him come over to you with a cloth soaked in some substance. You pull your leg back out of instinct but your breath hitches again when the stinging returns.

“It’s just an antiseptic,” he says while putting his arms up in defense. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Cautiously, you scooch over to him and rest your leg on a small tree stump.

Keigo slowly pulls his arms back down and kneels on the ground, taking your leg in his firm hand. His hand is warm. It’s big, much bigger than yours, but it has a gentle touch that calms you down as he presses the cloth to your wound.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the stinging.

“Sh sh sh I’m sorry. I know it stings.” He extends a hand out for you to grasp and you squeeze it as he continues wiping the dry blood off of your leg.

It isn’t long before your leg is bandaged up tightly, keeping pressure on the gauze underneath.

“That should hold for a while.” Keigo smiles down at his work and you can’t help but find it a little bit arrogant.

“How did you even get your hands on antiseptic? I was like the medic of my group and we could never find anything more than those shitty wipes during grocery store and pharmacy raids.”

Keigo looks at you with a smirk lacing his face. His friendly eyes are replaced with dangerous ones, ones that cause a hot pit to form in your stomach and travel lower, below your belt. “Let’s just say I have a few dirty tricks up my sleeve.”

“S-so you’re a raider,” you stutter. “You stole that bottle from another person.”

He chuckles slightly and the sound causes goosebumps to run up your spine. “Not exactly, it’s a lot more complicated than that, but believe what you will. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re confused, somewhat afraid, and slightly turned on by the deepness of his voice and the vibrations emanating from his laugh.

“You should stay for dinner,” he says, voice returning to the cheerful and almost goofy tone it had before.

You hesitate, but your stomach growls as if on cue and you spot the piece of meat Keigo has laid out to place over the fire. You let out a huff. “Why not.”

--

Keigo has cut the piece of meat in half. He places it on a hard plastic plate and slides it over to you. It’s juicy but bland. Still, you’re grateful to have a hot meal instead of having to gather berries and edible flowers.

“Is it good?” Keigo asks.

You nod your head, face stuffed full. “Yeah. I haven’t had chicken in so long.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You can’t help but laugh at the fake shocked expression gracing Keigo’s face.

“How did you even catch a chicken? They usually aren’t wandering around in the middle of the woods.”

“Neither are damsels in distress like yourself.” The sly smirk on Keigo’s face causes knots to form in your stomach as a wave of embarrassment washes over you.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a damsel in distress,” you mumble. Your head is turned in the other direction as you try to avoid eye contact.

Keigo raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “Oh yeah? Tell me, how did you get out of that trap earlier? Oh, and who bandaged up your bloody calf and squeezed your hand when the pain was too much to bear?”

“Shut up.” You lean over to playfully shove him, but in the process you fall off the stump you were sitting on. Your butt hits the ground with a thud.

Keigo laughs and extends a hand for you to take.

You reach for it, but as soon as he pulls you up he has yanked you over to him. You are now sitting on his lap and your spine can’t help but shiver as his big calloused yet comforting hands drag up and down your exposed arms.

“Poor clumsy thing,” Keigo says, a darker tone taking over his voice. He continues to warm you up.

You can feel his hot breath tickle the back of your neck as he moves his hands up to your shoulder blades.

“You don’t do much fighting do you?” he asks. His thumbs methodically move to work the knots out of your shoulders.

“I–” You have to recollect your thoughts and focus on anything other than his hands and the magic they’re working. “I told you I was the medic of my group. I, ah, I spent a lot of time treating hunting wounds.”

“So you’re hunched over someone’s broken body all day.” He stops using his thumbs to attack your shoulders and moves to using his knuckles and fists. “I can see why you have all these knots then.”

You can’t help but contract your body forward as he moves his hands down your lower back. You let out an involuntarily breathy moan at his actions.

Keigo chuckles, leaning his mouth in the crook of your neck. “You know your skin is really soft,” he mumbles.

You bark out a laugh. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re going to make a skin suit out of me.”

He laughs too and he gives your sides a slight squeeze.

You turn and look at the ash blonde man. He weaves his fingers in his hair and looks back at you with a devilish smirk. He’s beautiful, one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. And he’s touching you. His hands are groping your shoulders and your sides. You want them to travel all over you, from the plushness of your ass to the valley between your breasts.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when you feel something warm on your lips. Him. His lips crash into yours. It takes a moment for you to recognize your surroundings, what’s going on. His lips are dry and slightly cracked from the heat but you don’t mind.

Without removing your lips from his, you shift to a more comfortable position and Keigo is quick to continue roaming his hands all over you. He grabs your ass with one and tangles the other in your hair. When he pulls, you let out a gasp and he bites your lip, a low growl escaping his throat.

Tears pick in the corner of your eyes as the sensitive skin grows hot.

Keigo wipes them away with his thumbs. “I guess little doves don’t like teeth.” He picks up your arms and lazily wraps them around his neck. You clasp them together and adjust your position on his lap. “So tell me, dove. What kind of things do you like?”

Your face is hot. You wish you could smooth that feeling back but you can’t move under his gaze.

“What’s the matter?” he asks with that dark, sultry voice. “Cat got your tongue? I hear they prey on little birdies like you.”

You whimper slightly. There is so much you want to say to him but the heat pooling in your abdomen and the fluids leaking into your panties distract from any thoughts. Instead, you tangle your hands into his thick hair. It’s a bit greasy but so is yours. You don’t mind. You tug on a lock and grind your hips forward. You can feel the strain of his cock press onto your clothed folds, already soaked with anticipation.

“Someone’s a bit needy today aren’t we,” Keigo says. He takes one of his thumbs and puts it in your mouth. “Suck.”

His demand leaves you weak in the knees. You comply and begin sucking tightly on his thumb. Your tongue wraps around it and the bitter flavor is quick to take over your tastebuds.

As you suck on his thumb, Keigo moves his free hand up your tank top. He grabs one of your breasts and snakes his fingers underneath your bra to stroke your nipple.

You gasp as a shock of cold wind brushes past them. The bud becomes stiff and Keigo rolls the peak between his fingers.

“Are you gonna just sit there, or are you going to put that mouth to work?”

You blush and go back to sucking on his thumb. You lick a long stripe up the pad of his finger as he fondles your breast.

He slides his one hand around your chest and you hear the click of bra clasps becoming undone. The bra slides down your arms and you chuck it to the side.

Keigo takes his thumb out of your mouth and slides his other hand under your shirt. He thumbs over the sensitive skin of your nipple. “You know, you have a nice rack,” he says. “The perfect size, really.” He lifts your shirt up so he can see you in full. He traces his fingers over every scar and blemish you have gotten over the years of hiding and raiding and trying your hardest to put up a fight.

He leans in to press his mouth against your breast. He kisses between them and works his way down past the scars and scrapes to the waistband of your pants.

“Wait.” Your hands move to grab his wrist. “Is there, I don’t know, anywhere more comfortable where we could do this?”

Keigo looks around at the ground covered with dead leaves and miscellaneous supplies he’s tossed around. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize little birdies like you need to be pampered.”

The tease in his voice nips at you like ice and you can’t help but feel even more overheated than you already are. “Little birdies have fragile bones,” you retort.

The wicked grin on his face widdens and he chuckles into your neck, nipping it and taking you off guard.

He slides his arms under you and hoists you up. He turns around so you can’t see where he’s walking but your legs wrap around him, clinging like a koala.

Keigo jumps up onto something. He sets you down and you can see that you’re now standing in the bed of the truck. An open sleeping bag lies over a busted up looking mattress. You can’t help but smile at the thought of laying in a bed for once, be that a broken mattress with springs poking out the sides.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when you feel Keigo’s arm snake around you, pulling you close. You move your arms up and cup his cheek.

He leans in and kisses you again, this time with more force like a wild beast devouring its prey.

Your hands trail up his stomach under his shirt. Your fingers dance as they caress every one of his muscles. You are eager to rip the tight black t-shirt off of him and he can tell. As your fingernails rake their way down his back, Keigo lets go of your lips to pull off his shirt. In the split second he was off of your lips, you could see something red across his back. A tattoo maybe. You couldn’t make out what it was but it fades in your mind all together when he leans his mouth down to suck on the stiff peaks of your nipples.

He makes sure to give them equal attention before yet again trailing his way down your stomach with soft and sweet kisses. As he pushes you back with a gentle touch, you fall back onto the busted mattress. A loud creaking noise emanates from the truck bed but Keigo doesn’t seem to notice. He resumes his position between your legs. His fingers masterfully undo the button of your jeans and slide them down your legs.

You have never felt this exposed. Sure you’ve been naked with other people before but never in the woods where anyone could come across you at any moment, be that a raider or a hunter or someone trying to escape just like yourself. Still, every time you look down your stomach and meet Keigo’s gaze, you melt into butter and slip out of your worries.

“Now tell me,” Keigo said, beginning to drag your panties down. You stay connected to them with a thin strand of your own slick. “What do little birdies taste like?”

This is wrong. You’ve just met this guy. He’s a complete stranger. You don’t know who he is or what kind of person he was in the old world. You don’t know whether or not he is the type of person to make you chicken soup when you’ve come down with a cold or let you borrow a cup of sugar when you’re short when making a recipe. In the old world you would have never fucked a stranger after only knowing them a few hours. It’s all so foreign to you.

But this isn’t the old world and the way that Keigo growls just at the sight of your sopping cunt has your eyes near rolling into the back of your skull.

Keigo has pulled your panties down to your ankles. He chucks them aside before taking you in. Your hair is sprawled out against the creaking mattress. He has barely touched you yet you look like you’re on ecstasy. He wastes no time in hoisting your legs over his shoulders. He can’t help but feel prideful in the way you gasp at his rough movements.

You squirm underneath him as you feel Keigo drag the bridge of his nose across your opening to your delicate clit. The warmth of his tongue drags across and you let out a loud moan.

His fingers pinch your tender clit and you buck your hips forward against his soft lips. Keigo wastes no time in feasting on you. After all, you’ve proven to be quite the needy little dove.

Keigo prods and sucks at your clit. He sticks two of his fingers in and flicks them upward at a teasing pace. He chuckles at the sight of you thrashing and bucking your hips against him.

Every time you open your eyes to look at him, heat rises to your cheeks and you force yourself to look away.

He’s done this before. He knows his way around a pussy. From the way he dips his hot tongue into your slick walls and massages your clit with wet fingers, it isn’t long before the tethered cord within you snaps and you spray your juices against his fingers and against his face.

“Too much,” you said, placing a shaky hand on his bicep.

Keigo looks into your eyes. The darkened look he has shows that he could eat you without hesitation. He looks like he is ready to pounce. Instead, he takes the fingers covered in your juices and sticks them in his mouth. He runs his tongue between them and nearly sucks them dry.

You are still quivering below him, twitching from the lasting effects of your orgasm.

“Delicious,” he says, releasing his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

Your heart rate begins to slow. You sit up, although your muscles have a slight ache as you do so.

“Are you ready?”

Your mellow eyes meet Keigo’s feral ones. In the time it had taken you to sit up, he had stripped away his pants leaving him in just his briefs. The prominent tent below is what catches your eye. His hard on is begging to be let free. You tenderly lift your hand up and rub over his clothed crotch. The deep inhale he takes followed by a low growl makes your insides melt.

Keigo pulls at the waistband of his briefs, letting his hardened cock spring free. He steps out of them and thrusts his pelvis towards your face. His shaft slaps against your cheek and you take his hint.

Your hand wraps around his shaft and pumps against it a few times. Your thumb smooths over the tip and tongue tentatively licks the drops of precum that leak out. It’s salty and the sweetness comes from seeing the way Keigo melts as soon as your tongue glides against his length.

“That’s a good little dove.” His fingers tangle in your hair and his hand pushes you forward, forcing you to take his length in your mouth.

You grip onto the back of his thighs to balance yourself. Heat rises to your cheeks as it dawns on you how intimate you are being with him. His hand pulls on your hair as your mouth works wonders on him. His balls slap against your chin and you can’t help but let out a moan, the vibrations from your mouth work their way to his core.

You cup his balls as you try and milk him for all he’s worth. You give them a gentle little squeeze and his knees buckle. He tightens the grip on your hair to catch himself from falling.

Before he can cum, he pulls out of your mouth. Droplets of your spit fall from your lips. A strand of saliva that still connects you to his dick breaks off.

Facing away from you, Keigo strokes himself a couple times. “Why don’t you lean back,” he suggests.

You follow his orders and lie down on the mattress. The springs dig into your shoulder blades once again but anticipation keeps you from fixating on it too much.

Keigo leans down and hikes one of your legs over his shoulder. He gives your tender pussy another lick before slapping his dick against your puffy clit.

As you let out a moan, he lines his cock up to your entrance and snaps his hips forward.

You grip onto his bicep as he thrusts himself in and out at a fast pace, faster than you’re used to. You suppose he couldn’t wait. His dick is long and his girth stretches you out in all the right ways.

You try and catch your breath but you can barely keep up with the way Keigo pounds into you.

“Is this good for you, dove,” Keigo asks. He hikes your other leg up and leans in, touching his forehead with yours.

You scream in pain and pleasure as he hits your mark perfectly with this new position.

Your nails cling onto his back and your mouth finds comfort on his shoulder as you bite into him.

He lets out a sharp bark, almost like a howl as your velvety walls contort around his dick in all the right ways.

Keigo wets his fingers and trails them down to your swollen clit. He presses against it which only causes you to let out a scream in ecstasy.

It’s not long before the pressure built within you snaps and you tighten even more around Keigo’s hardened cock, letting your juices spill around it.

Keigo continues to pump in and out of you until his own release. He pulls out and cums onto your chest. As you sit up, the warm mess rolls down your abdomen and spills out on the sleeping bag covered mattress.

Keigo hands you a small towel. “Here.”

As you wipe the ropes of cum off of your chest and stomach you can’t help but think of the old world. Before the end of society as you knew it you would have never fucked a stranger two hours after meeting them.

Keigo has pulled his pants back up but leaves his shirt off. You watch as he pokes at the dying fire, bringing the embers back to life. On his back, you can finally see the bit of red that caught your eye earlier. A tattoo. Two red wings coming out of his shoulder blades. Keigo is an interesting guy, one you want to know more about. The thought of getting to know him better makes you blush and the apples of your cheeks raise in a genuine smile, something that you haven’t felt in a long time.

The fire illuminates Keigo and the soft smile he has melts your heart. Who knew that someone so cunning and snarky like himself could have such a sweet smile.

[fragileizywriting]

C'est la Sea

pairing: Luka / Marinette word count: 9,111 chapter: 1/2 rating: E summary: There’s a mermaid in his bed. A pouty, pretty mermaid on his bed. “Why are you wrapped up like a sushi roll, sweetheart?” “It’s cold,” Marinette shivers, just to prove her point. She collects an edge of the blanket to cover herself back up and make a bigger mess out of the covers, trying to tuck in her tail. “Why is it colder on land than it is on sea? How are you able to withstand this much frost, Luka? Even my scales are starting to go stiff.”

AO3 | Chapter One | Chapter Two

I just can't stop myself from writing Lukanette...

Written for my lovely and beautiful friend @valiantlyjollynightmare !!! Your mermaid AU is so wonderfully written and it gives me so many feels that I had to get the mermaid fever out. Please enjoy!!!

Life is simple and stagnant on land and it goes like this.

Wake up. Put on clothes. Find breakfast somewhere in the tiniest kitchen he’s ever been a witness to. It’s compact to the point that it’s hysterical, and it would probably fit someone of normal size. She’d fit in the kitchen just nicely, because things are about her height and eye level, but he has to crouch in order to see inside the fridge. Why are things so small?

Either way, after breakfast he leaves the house and goes to class.

And the classes are mind-numbing, and repetitive, and after the longest chapter of marine ichthyology he almost sleeps through, he’s on his way to find his friends. He’s made a couple of friends for the few months he’s been around, and tries to socialize with them after most of his morning classes have finished, and attempts to enjoy their company before the second block of afternoon classes happen. His friends are kind, and also in the same field as him, so they’ve mostly come close out of the nature of being in mutual classes, but they’re not anyone he’s really gotten close to.

So he’ll eat lunch with them, at some point. Start his next block of classes, and try his best not to roll his eyes at the casual inconsistencies referenced in the slideshow. Find his friends again, if any are available after class, and eat dinner at some point. Walk home, and politely decline any and all attempts to hang out after they’re finally done for the day— after all, everyone knows that he’s extremely busy studying for his classes.

They ask about her often, ask if he’ll be going to visit her for whatever break they have that gives them a sliver of days between classes, asking for pictures of her and well wishes. They ask about her students, ask if she’ll be getting anything for teacher appreciation week that’s common in Canada, and ask about how his life and family are back there before he transferred.

He makes up lies as he goes, of course, because he’s never actually been to Canada and certainly has never been to Quebec, but it seems to be working. His vague knowledge about the West Atlantic works in his favor because none of his classmates are from there, nor have they ever gone themselves. His friends mean well, knowing the feeling of longing when it comes to missing another person, and always offer condolences to the transfer student who seems to be a fish out of water in a new country with a funny Canadian accent, but they aren’t aware of the true nature of his relationship with her.

They know that he’s married. Human customs are similar to his, and the gold band on his left ring finger is a clear sign. Some people he’s met over the past couple of months have shied away and lost interest in him when they’d looked down to see that he never takes the ring off— he doesn’t hold it against them. His friends speculate about how she manages to handle the long-distance without him, but they have no idea just how hard it actually is.

Because they don’t know about the bond fever.

The fever that makes it harder and harder to breathe without her.

Every moment not thinking of her is just a distraction. Every moment not being next to her is biding time. Food tastes bland, music sounds wonky, and all his body wants to do is move. Staying still will make him curl up and stagnate for the rest of his days, and if he wants to leave this part of his life as fast as possible, he can’t afford to stop moving.

So, he’ll arrive home after school, and check up on the coral and fish in his tank to see if everyone in there is fine and not having a turf war without his knowledge. He’ll attempt to have a conversation with his fish, and feed them until they complain, because he’s never gotten the hang of actually taking care of pets. He’ll spin his ouroboros as he continues to waffle between staying and powering through, or the second option of leaving everything behind and dropping everything in favor of her. Work out to get rid of feelings of loneliness— of this horrible, aching bond fever that grips his heart enough to squeeze and hurt and make him regret ever turning to the surface in the first place.

He’ll take the scenic route, along the shore, looking over the ocean he knows and loves dearly. The sun will set over the sea as he takes a break when the buildup of lactic acid in his body gets too painful. It’ll take him hours, probably, of hard running down by the water, but it’ll be enough to get him to stop thinking about her for even a smidge.

Take a shower, afterwards, and making absolute-positive sure that his ouroboros is safely and securely wrapped around his wrist, lest he loses his sea legs— and try to talk to his fish again to get a conversation. Try to finish his homework before passing out asleep on his bed.

Sometimes he remembers to pull the bedsheets up on him. But most of the time he falls asleep in whatever position he’s laid himself down onto the bed, waking up with his arms and legs facing all the wrong way and the alarm on his phone blaring at him to wake up. He wakes up stiff, and sore, but there’s barely any time to sit back and relax before his day starts all over again.

Rinse.

Wash.

Repeat.

Over and over until the days glaze and mesh in his head.

He’s tired— the fish are his only true company, for now, and they rarely talk to him unless they’re begging for food. Sometimes they have a conversation with him when he really gets personal and deep with them, but they don’t really offer much advice, other than the occasional idea to spice up his diet and take a new route to school.

There’s nothing that can get him out of this slump. Nothing above land, anyway. Some days, on the weekends when he has enough time to, he opens the windows that box his mattress as well as the windows in the living room, and lets the salty breeze fly in through the whole houseboat— indulges in the idea of being back home with her— before he begrudgingly faces back to the stacks and stacks of homework piled on his desk.

It’ll be worth it. Just a year and a half left. The ring on his finger is proof enough of that. The bond fever may hurt, and may try to push him to go home, but he knows that she’ll be upset with him if he doesn’t finish school. She’ll probably shove him back up here herself, with her pouting and determined face. She’s docile, but bull-headed, and sometimes the storms in her eyes are as terrifying as the sea he’s from, and he’s certain that she won’t be satisfied until he has that diploma in his hand.

So, he puts his bag down by the door, kicks off his shoes, deadbolts the door behind him, and goes hunting for anything in his fridge that is available. He’s hungry, and he’s far more metabolic in this form than in his normal one, something about being on land just makes him hungrier— and nothing is safe from him when it comes to food.

His houseboat is about the size of a clam, the kitchen itself smaller than a pearl, but the ceiling is tall enough so that he doesn’t have to keep his head down whenever he walks around, so he can’t exactly complain— even when he opens the door to his fridge the size of a child, there’s nothing but a lettuce head that is definitely more white than green, a small box of blueberries he buys every time he makes eye contact with it in the store and thinks of her, and his leftover carton of eggs. The box of blueberries is full, still, and he’s convinced that he leaves it in the fridge until it rots just in case she ends up showing up and wants her favorite food.

But…

Life is simple, and stagnant on land, and he’s forgotten to do groceries this week.

Rinse, wash, and repeat.

He makes quick work of making the saddest scrambled eggs he could possibly produce in his lifetime, using up all of the leftover eggs— six of them, and he won’t be able to regret the amount of food he’s eating until he wakes up tomorrow with absolutely nothing to eat— and proceeds to bin the shells immediately. He eats over the sink, a utensil in one hand and the handle of the pan in the other, spooning and chasing runny eggs into his mouth, barely paying attention to the flavor.

He’s famished. And it’s not like he’d even be able to taste the flavor, anyway, from how bad his heart hurts. Bond fever is a finicky thing.

At least he remembered to throw the eggshells away in the proper place, instead of letting them clog up the sink.

He’d compost them, if he had any plants to take care of— but that’s always been her department, not his. The walls of his one-bedroom one-bathroom boat are sparse and empty— simply just a bed with a comfortable duvet and blue sheets, his tank full of fish that don’t offer enough company, a desk with some shelves to study at, lined with textbooks, and a wobbly table to eat at. He’d splurged on the extra desk— he could’ve just used the eating table— but knew it was probably better to keep his school papers and food away from each other. Besides, the back left leg of the table definitely looks like it’s about to cave at any point. It’s why he’s started just eating standing up and over the sink.

But she would never let him live like this.

It’s a clean house, and everything has its place, but it’s barren. Almost as if he doesn’t really live here.

And to be honest, he doesn’t. Physically, he spends most of his time here, but— bond fever makes him completely and totally disoriented. Mentally and emotionally he is nowhere near land, but rather in her arms, away from this simple and bland house.

But if she were here… truly here, instead of a fleeting moment…

She would decorate the walls with paint. Put up shelves. Print out photos, and frame them, because she’s enamored with the idea of ink and stains and items that permanently stain other things. She’d taken up to painting quite well, the last time— buying a selection of beginner’s acrylic gouaches in many different colors, and had set to work painting for the first time in her life. The world had exploded onto the canvases. Boats, sunrises, shores from distant islands, a turbulent and salty sea— she’d painted like she was taking a photograph and was developing it right onto the canvas.

He wishes he had the paintings with him now. Anything and everything to keep him company— any remembrance of her is such a blessing. He’ll take it all, if he can. Somedays, the ring on his finger just isn’t enough to keep his heart from hurting. He’ll catch sight of a bolt of ruffled pink fabric in a store window that is so glossy and sheer and delicate that he’ll find himself spinning his ring nonstop, dreaming of being together with her again.

Just a year and a half…

She’d line the shelves with rocks. Trinkets. Keychains from cities they’d gone to together, braided knots, and beautiful jewelry. And how could he forget the plants upon plants she’d shove into every square inch of the place, to the point where the houseboat would be a living and breathing creature from all of the greenery? Sunflowers— peonies— roses— lilacs— geraniums— tulips— every flower she could possibly find at a flower shop would somehow make it onto a flat surface in the houseboat.

This houseboat is empty without her. He spins the ring on his finger, thinking to himself about her— wishing and longing to see her. Just a year and a half more. He can visit on holidays, if he can afford it— but this isn’t just for him. It’s for her, too.

He flicks the light on in his room after washing the dishes, in the process of taking off his shirt, getting ready to try talking to the fish today in the far corner, the furthest away from his full-sized mattress, before giving in to go on a run along the docks. He almost throws his shirt onto the bed— when— well.

That’s when he notices the mermaid on his bed.

The sleeping mermaid on his bed.

She’s dozing off— hidden under his blanket, the mass of blue covers pulled tight around her naked shoulders. One of her pale arms has escaped from the mess she’s made of the fabric, and it hangs off the bed— steam rising softly off of her skin like she’s slowly being cooked, matching ring glinting in the light of the lamp on his nightstand. His eyes widen at the sight of her— the slow and soft drag of her tail fins against the floor as she inhales and exhales, because even curled up she can’t fit all of her on the mattress. She’s never been considered large, not proportionately, but the tail fins are long and delicate, and the mattress is far too small to fit the both of them if he were in his normal form too.

Pink, shimmery and translucent fins flutter as if caught by a slow breeze— petal-like in shape and it always feels silky against his fingertips whenever he’s touched her in the past, and today it looks no different. He follows the line of her fins back up to her tail that disappears underneath the comfortable blanket, where she’s wrapped herself to keep warm from the stale and stagnant air that permeates the room. He’s always liked the temperature around him to be colder, because of how he grew up, but she’s never been able to handle the slight freeze unless she’s been charmed, the little reef-dweller. Either charmed or wrapped up so tightly around him in order to soak up his body heat, nearly squeezing him to death. He sleeps with an eel of a woman, whenever they’re together, completely and totally reluctant to ever let him go.

Like now.

She’s here.

Here.

Strangling the blanket around her shoulders to keep the cold away from her.

His heart squeezes, and he finds himself on his knees, not exactly kneeling on the mattress but rather the floor just in front of her— gently parting the blanket enough to locate her other arm. She hums at the back of her throat when the cold air reaches and pebbles her porcelain skin— face pinching softly at the cold— before she blinks awake when he whispers her name in order to rouse her.

He’s always loved her blue eyes. Especially when they look at him, shining and shimmering like diamonds. “Mmmm?”

“Hi,” He checks her ears for her own magical charm. They’re there, and safely secured on her ear lobes, two perfectly beautiful pink pearls. They had been wedding gifts to her from her job at the school, that many of the parents had chipped in to get her a charm that would be able to withstand long periods of time outside of the sea, and he’s never been so grateful as now to see her wear them. “How long have you been here for?”

She’s always been a slow riser when she wakes up, so the first few seconds of her being conscious again are routinely docile and sweet, and today is no different. Her face softens the moment she recognizes where she is and who she’s looking at, a certain sweetness in her eyes that makes his heart hurt. “Luka? Oh, oh— Luka—”

She latches onto him tightly, pulling him close by her arms around his neck and shoulders with a happy noise. She smells of the ocean, even though she’s dry— her soft black hair just as silky, and just as long as it’s always been. It spills between his fingers as he combs through it, almost liquid on the web of his fingers and down his wrist, and he spends a moment or two just basking in her warmth, basking in the way she sighs against him. She kisses the closest skin available to her, which seems to be his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest, and his bicep— smiling happily up at him when he pulls away enough to look at her in the eyes.

“Marinette— Marinette— I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Her eyes look glassy with tears. “Your fish told me you would be home later— why are you here so early? I thought I had time to surprise you and greet you at the door.”

“You must’ve slept for too long,” He noses at the shell of her ear. “This is about the time I get home every day. But little pearl, what are you doing here? Did you travel safely? Don’t get me wrong, please— I’m so thankful— but when did you show up? No injuries? It’s not a holiday at home, I don’t think, is it?”

“I’m okay. Everything’s okay. No one saw me, and no one tried fishing for me. I just couldn’t keep waiting for you to come back,” She hums. Marinette’s always been a singer, ever since they met for the first time. Always a tune in her voice, always singing and humming away like a never-ending record player. “I’ve missed you so much, Luka, you have no idea— so I just decided that today was enough waiting. I dropped everything off and told my parents that I needed to see you— you, my darling sky.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He kisses her. And then again. And then again. And again. He keeps doing it until it hurts to not breathe— but even then, he doesn’t really find the desire to pull away. After all, this is much easier than what he’s dealt with for the past year. “Every day, my heartache just keeps getting worse— this is horrible. How are we supposed to keep this up for another year?”

“And I thought the wedding would’ve been the hard part of all of this— turns out that the bond is just as real as they say.” She giggles as she pulls him closer. He leans over her, wrapping an arm around the smallest part of her waist, resting his open palm on her upper back to support her as he lays her back down. She’s handsy— he doesn’t blame her— brushing her fingertips on all the skin available to her, making an unsatisfied noise when she reaches his jeans. “Take these off?”

Ah. Lovely Marinette. Always so handsy and desperate for close contact— as if he’s any better. He hasn’t seen her in so long, he’s seconds from stopping the pleasantries and letting her know just how much he’s actually missed her. “But—”

“You’ve never been shy before.” She clicks her tongue with a silly little eye roll. She traces his tattoo on his arm, a small smile on her face, following the compass rose’s north tip up his arm. She makes it to the boat with seven sails, before looking up at him rather confused. “There’s nothing you haven’t already shown me— I’ve seen every single centimeter of you and every last scale. Unless— uhm— has something changed?”

“No, nothing has changed— relax that worry in your eyes.” He laughs, and can’t help himself when he kisses her again, slow enough to distract her as he pulls his jeans off, leaving his boxers behind. Her eyes blow wide at the sight of him naked, save for the jade ouroboros around his wrist and the band of his underwear. He hopes it isn’t inside out. “I just meant that I’ve barely been able to look at you, and I know you won’t let me go until it’s tomorrow if I let you have your way. You’re hidden underneath the blanket— let me look at you first before your tail disappears. Why are you wrapped up like a sushi roll, sweetheart?”

“It’s cold,” She shivers, just to prove her point, attempting to pull a fast one on him and reaching for the waistband of his boxers before he snags her wrist with a laugh. Thin and soft shoulders curl underneath his palms in an attempt to stop heat from escaping, and she collects an edge of the blanket to cover herself back up and make a bigger mess out of the covers, locks of her hair spilling over the blanket, pooling to where her waist should be. She tries to tuck in her tail with mixed results. “Why is it colder on land than it is on sea? How are you able to withstand this much frost, Luka? Even my scales are starting to go stiff.”

“Reef-dweller,” He grins.

“Yes, yes, continue to make fun of you poor wife who cannot contain heat because of biology. But you don’t have your scales on you right now, you sea serpent.” She pouts. “I should be much more suited for this cold than you should be, right now.”

He guides her burritoed form closer with a warm smile. Her fins flutter, delicate and sweet, as he pulls her close enough for her to rest part of her tail on his lap as he gently reaches for the edges of the blanket again. “It isn’t actually that cold. You’re just losing heat so you can get your sea legs, remember?”

“Unfortunately, I’m starting to remember the hard way. Stars, I keep forgetting how uncomfortable the transformation is. Maybe I’m doing it on purpose.”

“Let me see you,” He noses at her jawline.

“Only if you promise to warm me up after,” She teases, and she actually manages to snap his waistband against his hip, making him hiss at the sensation. She giggles, kicking up her tail delightfully at the noise he makes. “Please, sky?”

They’re politely ignoring the way he’s starting to fill out his underwear already at the sight of her. It’s instinctual, of course, because of bonds and magic and, well, it is Marinette that’s looking at him like she’s famished. “Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”

Steam billows from the opened pocket of the blanket the moment he unwraps her and finally takes a good look at her. Sweet stars, he’s missed her so much, and he shows her just how much by touching her everywhere. She shivers under his fingertips as he traces the small scales that line her chest and stomach. They’re starting to retreat and fade, now that the drying process is finishing up, but she’s still completely smooth and too scaled to have her human characteristics just yet.

“You’re shivering, my sweet pearl.”

“Yes, but— your hands are so warm,” She sighs.

There’s a gentle swell to her chest, hidden beneath the neat rows of hazy pink scales, but the swell isn’t as much as what she has in her human form. He’d learned early on, when they’d first tried their magic charms and had gained their sea legs, that he loves all versions of her body— including when her chest fills his palms with such softness he feels like weeping, with pink peaks that make her sing whenever he tweaks them. Everything about her is delicate, like the world’s most fragile flower.

But very soon, he’s going to end up with an entirely naked woman on his bed instead of a mermaid. Both are lovely ideas. He’ll be able to watch her wobble on her sea legs for an hour or two before she relearns her balance, and have to guide her by her naked hips if she wants to leave the room. She’ll probably want to stretch her legs, and take a turn about the very small boathouse, but they probably won’t be able to leave the house today. That look in her eyes is telling.

As if he’s any better.

He traces the rows of scales down her stomach, the scales getting thicker and larger as he reaches just about where her tail technically begins at the hips. Her arms, too, have patches of translucent pink scales that are starting to disappear in favor of just skin, and he follows the long line of her tail down with a palm.

He skirts over the area that he knows she so desperately wants to guide him to, gaining a brief huff and pout from her as he instead grazes along her scales all the way to her long and beautiful curtain fin. His touches are soft, and barely noticeable— but it’s enough to get her to twitch.

He starts to tickle her.

“Luka,” She slaps her tail on the mattress in an attempt to make him stop tickling her, and her hand grabs for his— but her laughter is so contagious he can hardly stand it himself. “What— ha— what are you— oh, stars— d-doing?”

“I haven’t seen my wife in almost a year,” He gives her a smile, laughing at the way she squirms uselessly under his hands. “Can I not touch her?”

“You can touch— but—” Such sweet laughter! “But why— oh! Why touch me there when I’m ticklish?”

“Oh? Would you rather me touch you higher?”

“Yes,” She giggles. “Oh, please, I know exactly where I’d like you to touch me. But buy me dinner first, at least.”

“I’ll do more than that, sweetheart.” He licks his lips, watching the way she shifts to prop herself on her elbows. She blows her bangs out of her face when it starts to fall across her lashes, looking at him with sparkling beautiful eyes. She’s so pretty. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all of that, but his love for her has never diminished in the first place. Sweet beautiful melody. “What is it that my lovely girl wants?”

“Hm…”

“Make it count, of course. Your tail is going to disappear soon.”

“How about: you tell me that you want me like this, sky,” She peeks at him from under her lashes.

He wants her in any form, this won’t be too hard. “I want you.”

She’s feeling cheeky, isn’t she? That smile is proof alone. “Tell me you need me.”

“As if I have to say that.” But she prods him with a cute pout when he rolls his eyes, and he acquiesces: “I need you.”

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

“I’m miserable without you. So miserable.” He means it. And she knows it. “I don’t want to keep doing this long-distance anymore. I’ve never been so miserable.”

She tilts her head to the side with another hum, looking around the room. “Tell me you’ll let me decorate our home— it’s so bland in here. Where are all the flowers? The music?”

“Please decorate—” His brain flatlines. “Wait, decorate? This house? This— our— house? Home?”

“Surprise!” Another peal of laughter escapes from her, and it follows through her body to a delicate flick of her tail.

His eyes widen. “You— you’re staying?”

“Yes!” She nods, shimmying on her elbows as she grins. “Yes yes yes!”

“But— Marinette— you—” Sweet stars, she’s staying. She’s staying. How could he ever want her to go? The love of his life, the jewel in his heart, and his wife— staying for longer than a few fleeting moments when she can afford to slip away from home? Oh— oh— his heart could burst.

“I can’t stay away from you.” She confesses, cupping his hand and kissing the gold band on his finger. She balances her upper weight on her other elbow, but doesn’t seem to struggle under her own weight. “I’m tired of being away. The bond is making me miserable, Luka, and I’ve had just about enough of it. So, I decided to make it easy on the both of us.”

“But—”

She winks. “I know.”

“And—”

“Yes, that too.”

“Also, your job—”

“I know,” Her laughter is so sweet. He can’t even finish his sentences without her answering as if they’re on the same wavelength— oh— he’s missed this woman so much. “I know, sky. I know. But all of it will be there still when we go back next year. My students won’t go to the next teacher until five years from now. I’ve already talked to the other teachers about me disappearing off with you for a year.”

She… she would really be willing to give up everything, just like that, just for him? Her students, her daily work, her desire to teach? Her desire to nurture? All of it, just to be with him? “I can’t do that to you, little pearl. I know how important your students are to you— I can’t ask you to stay away from them. Maybe I should just go home with you, instead.”

“Luka, honestly! You’re not doing this to me, I want to stay with you— and you better finish this degree of yours. You’ve worked too hard! You know why I couldn’t come with you in the first place, but a year has changed and things are better now, my parents got help from a new family that’s moved into the reef. We can afford a year away from home now, my sweet. A real year away. You know I get one year off to stay with my bond.”

“But that was only as soon as you get married— that was, sweet stars— it was eleven months ago.”

“And I never used it,” She informs him, as if he hadn’t also spent the last year lonely and miserable. “So it’s still viable. I told you, I already talked to the other teachers.”

“But our family—”

“—is completely and totally better off without me constantly sighing in their ears.” She shrugs with a soft smile. It’s a little difficult, given that she’s still propped up on her elbows, but she makes it work. “If I touched my ring one more time in front of my mother, she would’ve personally pushed me out of the ocean herself. Not to mention your mother, telling me that ‘it’s not good to leave your bond alone, lassie. Bonds need to be cultivated, lassie’. Two mothers pushing me up onto the docks, telling me to sleep easy for at least one night. Better me than your mother dragging you back home to deal with me and my nightmares.”

She looks thin. Thinner than usual for springtime, and her face definitely looks a little darker than usual. His poor Marinette, how could he have done this to her? But it’s not like he isn’t affected in the same way, either… all of those nightmares and dull days, wishing to see and hold her. “Have you been eating? You’re looking thin.”

Perhaps they shouldn’t keep trying to test the universal truths with their bond. They really need that year together, don’t they?

“Me? You look thin, Luka.” There’s a frown making its way to the edges of her lips. “Is there not enough food for you? When was the last time you ate?”

“Tuttering pearl,” He murmurs. “Always worrying about me.”

“With good reason to,” She pouts. “Of course I worry about you, sky. What kind of spouse would I be if I didn’t ask my husband if he’s okay? Not a very good one, right?”

“I’ve been eating okay. I eat more in this form.”

“You look pale, my sweet.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been having trouble,” He admits. “Life has been so stagnant without you that I’m kind of just running like a machine. The days are all a blur, and it’s gotten to where I don’t even remember days unless I have a test or homework due that day. I already knew that university was miserable, but— ah, little pearl— don’t cry. It’s alright.”

Marinette’s going to burst into tears. “How stupid of me, leaving you alone.”

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t leave me alone.”

“You’re not as healthy as you usually are,” She hushes a bit when he kisses her, but it’s not enough. “I should’ve been here.”

“No. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who left, and I shouldn’t have done that to you. To us.”

“I should’ve come with you.”

“I should’ve waited.” He kisses her again. And again. And again. “I should’ve waited just a little longer to come back up here.”

“You would’ve missed the scholarship if you had. Life could’ve waited for us back home— I should’ve come with you.”

Her tears taste like the ocean, too. “It’s okay, pearl.”

“Oh, sky,” Her eyes are so watery, even as he tries to calm her down with a gentle hand running down her scales. “What idiots we were.”

He tries for a smile. “Everyone told us this would happen.”

“They did,” She nods, sniffing into his palms as he cradles her face and wipes her lower eyelids free of tears. “They did, and we didn’t listen, and it’s cost us a whole year away from one another. How were we supposed to know it got this bad? It hurts to breathe without you.”

“I guess we were just supposed to listen to them,” He kisses her when she tilts her head up in an indication that she wants his lips on hers. He kisses her enough to make her eyes slip shut, and for her body to shiver as he reaches around her again to hold her at the waist. Sweet, sweet Marinette.

“Never again. Never ever again. I’m so thankful I’m here— I won’t let you go. I need you so much. Will you have me forever?”

There’s no need to ask. “Always. I did end up bonding with you, after all.”

She snorts, almost surprising herself with the noise. “A wise choice, you know. I’ve been told I’m very ‘agreeable’.”

Luka finds himself smiling. “Which parent said that?”

“Her child was impossible to console, every morning there was a new battle with this student. Every afternoon his mother would tell me that if no one ends up bonding with me by the following winter, she’ll start courting me herself, completely oblivious to the ring on my finger. She’s amazed at how easy I handle children, and I’m amazed she can just ignore the clear signs of me having bond fever for this long.”

“You’re perfect at your job,” They both laugh when he’s close enough to her to press his forehead onto hers. “But remember that you’re not the only one that wants to take care of their loved one. No more bond fever. I promise.”

“Definitely not. I’ll make sure to chase it out of our bodies on my own, if I have to.”

“Won’t stop until it’s gone?”

“Making up for the time we spent away,” She nods. “It might take us a little longer than normal, from how bad the fever’s gotten, but I don’t think you mind.”

“Greedy.” He grins. “How will I survive?”

She folds herself around him, encircling him as tightly as possible while still allowing him to move his arms. There’s genuine muscle behind the delicateness of her scales and fins— and while she can’t actually hurt his skin with her scales from how tough-skinned he is even in his human form, he is worried that she might accidentally hurt herself by how brittle and fragile they are. She’s still drying out, going through the process of getting her sea legs, meaning that her tail and fins aren’t as slippery as they usually are. “You’ve been captured, sky. No use trying to escape now.”

Their charms soak up most of the oils on their body, allowing them to fully dry out and gain human legs. Marinette is in the final moments of the transformation, which gives him about thirty more minutes of enjoying seeing his wife like she normally looks before she’s safely hidden amongst other humans.

But still, unbeknown to his wishes to see her completely laid flat, she continues to wrap around him, humming at the back of her throat as she soaks up his body heat, coiling around him like an eel. Cold little pearl. “Still freezing, my sweet?”

“I’m feeling a little better. I don’t think I’m losing any more body heat, but I’ll take any opportunity to be attached to you. I don’t want to let you go for the next ten days. Or weeks. Or months. What do you say to a whole year of us together in this bed?”

“We need to eat at some point.”

“I believe you said that there are delivery services available?” She hums. “I really liked pizza the last time. Do they make pizza with blueberries on them?”

“I’m not sure they do.”

“They should,” She makes a happy noise. “The taste would be sublime. Blueberries are so wonderful. Or how about blueberries and peaches on the pizza?”

“Humans would probably tell you that the pizza you’re craving is a crime.” His laughter is genuine, bubbling out of him at the idea of Marinette eating a slice of what humans consider revolting. “They don’t put fruit on them.”

“They’re missing out on flavors they never would’ve imagined.” She pouts.

“What are we going to do with your horrifying taste palette? You have the appetite of a sea-dweller. Are you sure you’ve lived your entire life in the reef?”

“All of my years, yes.” She giggles. “I don’t imagine I would be a very good sea-dweller. Much too cold down there.”

He smiles when a shiver travels down her tail at the thought of the water. “Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten that I promised to warm you up? Maybe I should cash that in now.”

A hand makes it to his boxers. She snaps his waistband with another version of her soft smiles and those wandering, glittering blue eyes, and, oh— it’s impossible for him to take off his underwear like this, with her tail completely wrapped around him like she’s a snake— but his wife is nothing short of persistent as she kisses his side. He shivers when her tongue sneaks against his skin, wet and moist, and he can feel himself involuntarily twitch his toes at the feeling. “Maybe I should warm you up instead, sky. You look like you’re having a rough time.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But—”

“You are hopelessly mistaken if you think I’m going to allow you to have free reign of my body before I’m able to enjoy the last sights of you like this.” Even as his toes continue to twitch with the way she mouths at his ribs. “You ravenous woman. You’re terrible at sharing, and I’ve missed you very much.”

“Oh, it’s not as if I can’t just take off my earrings and let you enjoy touching my scales some more.”

“You know what I mean,” He scrunches his nose. “Let me do this properly.”

“I’ll let you do whatever you’d like as long as I get to go first.” She tugs at the elastic. “Please? Just a few minutes, Luka? A decently sized amount of time to get my mouth on you?”

Oh, conniving mermaid. “I do not make deals with you. The last time I did, I ended up getting married to you.”

“As if that’s a bad thing!”

“I don’t regret it,” He shares a grin with her. “Definitely not. But you just have a way of convincing me to do things.”

“Oh, so I convinced you to marry me? Funny, I remember something about how you were convinced you were bad for me, but couldn’t help yourself but to keep trying to court me…” She giggles when he attempts to squeeze out of her grasp, rolling his eyes affectionately. “There’s no escaping, sky. Not with your sea legs, I’m afraid.”

It’s true. He is a lot stronger than her with his tail. With just about anything, really, because merfolk from the reefs are nothing compared to the ones out in the open sea with hardened skin and longer figures, but…

“This bed will break if I get rid of them,” He manages to get one of his legs out, much to her complaints. She’s far too dry for her to keep a genuine grip on him, poor thing. “Stretch out, little pearl. I’m curious to see how well you can last.”

“Will you take me like this?” She gasps, letting him unwrap her enough for his other leg to slip out from underneath her. “Oh, sky, yes please! I’m not sure—”

“We’ll do that next time. I have something else in mind.” Although he’s willing to try. Maybe when she isn’t on the cusp of transforming out of her tail, because that would take a little longer for them to find the best position— she’s always so small and tight as it is. It would be easier in water, of course, so that she’s in whatever position is more comfortable for her, but with his ouroboros on he breathes like a normal human. Sadly, he would probably drown himself.

Marinette would kill him.

A good way to go. But still killed and drowned all the same.

She’s still ticklish under his fingertips when he brushes over her scales again, but her cheeks are slowly pinking as they make eye contact. She’s not shy— definitely not. Honestly, she’s much more adventurous than him, in this aspect, but it’s been so long since they’ve been together, and he hopes that he remembers how to please her to the point she sings. Even though she’s excited, and he can tell by the way her fins twitch at the end of the bed, she mostly keeps still as he follows her scales back to where she’s wanted him to be from the very beginning.

Ah, there she is.

This spot is definitely not dry.

Soft, and full of slick, she opens gently to his prodding fingers with a sigh. Her nails are blunt, but they feel like little needles on his shoulders as she grips him, trying her best not to squirm and overwhelm him. Her body is tightly wound, almost hurtful, and even with the slick she’s not that easy to sink into down to the knuckle like he’d imagined. He hisses at how tight she is, feeling his cheeks heat and something stir at the base of his spine, panting as he hears her squelch as he pushes in more and more. “Why are you so tight, pearl?”

“I— oh— haven’t had much time to myself, the school keeps me so busy—” She makes a noise of contentment anyway, brushing her hair back and around her as he fingers her open. She’s a pretty sight, with her hair long and flat like ribbons near her waist. If he twists his finger this way… maybe she’ll… “And you know I don’t like doing it— oh, stars! Luka, yes, more of that—”

“Easy,” He grins, making sure she doesn’t squirm completely away from his hands. She wants to stay, she does, and he knows that, but she’s always too excited to keep still and let him finish. She wants all of it. She wants all of him, and always ends up rushing to the good parts instead of enjoying the moment. “Finish what you were saying, sweetheart.”

She huffs when he stills his finger, batting her tail along the end of the mattress. “I don’t like doing it alone, you know, and it’s been rather lonely doing it.”

“I know what you mean,” He fills in the silence between her panting, twisting his finger again and making her eyes roll as a groan leaves her.

She bites her lip. “I’d rather you help me out, it always feels so much better— oh— you’re just so good, sky.”

“Oh, am I?” He meets her gaze almost challengingly, slowing his fingers down enough to get a shine back into her hazing eyes. “So does that mean you thought about me?”

Does he really deserve that fin slap onto his shoulder? He would say no, but, there’s not much of an argument to be made when she rolls her eyes. “Of course I thought about you. What kind of ridiculous question is that?”

“Let me guess,” He tilts his head to the side, blinking at her with shaggy hair in his lashes. “Did you think about the last time we did it? How I’d made you sing for hours?”

“No— I mean, well, yes— but—” She moans.

He hums. “You almost woke up our neighbors with your sighs. Pretty little thing.”

“You know, I also thought about my husband hurrying up whenever he decided to finger me,” Her smile curls silly when all he does is laugh and continue to stall. Slicking his fingers against the soft and wet slit, only gently sinking in only to pull out again, making her mewl out. “I want to get you out of those boxers, damn this tail! Your cock is calling my name, I know it— if only I had the legs to catch you with, you’d see the summit of my desires.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that. A reef-dweller, trying to outmaneuver a deep-sea dweller.”

“You’re not as scary as you think, sky,” Her shoulders shake from laughter, and he retaliates by curling his fingers just so in order to get that whine back into her voice. “I’ll— oh my— h-have you know, I got over your differentness—”

“My ‘differentness’?” He grins, but she doesn’t elaborate.

“—within the first year of meeting you. Maybe even the first month— I knew from the moment your eyes turned into gold that I was going to marry you. Our friends were confused and terrified of it— but I knew that you’re nothing more than a guppy. And I knew it from the moment you scales changed colors to match the reef that I had found my eternal love.”

“Sweet,” He muses, trying his best not to blush. “But you are still no match for a deep-sea dweller, my love. They’re tougher than nails. The bullies of the merworld.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true.” But she doesn’t make eye contact with him anymore, instead looking down at his boxers with a knowing look. His body stirs as she continues to look at him, wetting her lips with a slow drag of her tongue, enraptured by what she sees. “The ever scary deep sea, with their terrifying personalities and scary men who want nothing more than to please their wives.”

“And I, of course, wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Something in her switches, and her gaze snaps up to his. He looks at her shining eyes, watching them widen into a lovely shape as she whines at the back of her throat. “Let me have you, Luka, before I lose my mind from how much I need you.”

His finger goes back to making her sing. “I love it when you beg, sweetheart.”

“Ridiculous man,” She rolls her eyes but it almost feels forced as her face turns redder and redder. “Just— oh— watch out, sky, because once you’re done I’ll return the favor.”

She drags him closer for a kiss. He eases another finger into her, desperate to make the humming noise turn into a full-on shout, but he gets distracted by the way her tongue presses into his. Inquisitive, as usual, his pearl is frantic for him as she curls her tongue into his mouth, parting her own lips in a moan when he angles his head to the side and nips at her bottom lip with his teeth.

She’s alive under his fingers. Tight, yes— warmer than a furnace, too— she’s everything he loves and craves. He’ll chase the bond fever out of her, too, even if it takes him all night, but the way she sings praises of his fingers curling and uncurling in her as he works her open is a sign that it might not be long before his pearl is gushing over his fingers.

But the bond fever won’t be that easy to solve. They have a whole year to make up for, of course, but he’s certain that this is in the right direction. To hell with obligations of tomorrow, or even all of the groceries he knows that they have to go and get when he has her gasping and moaning from his actions— he hasn’t heard her sweet and moaning voice in months. It’s a sweet song that he’ll hold forever in his heart.

“Luka— Luka—” She purrs.

Or tries to, at least, since they’re outside of water and the sound doesn’t travel like it should. Regardless, it’s a rumbly and poetic noise that warms him all over, evidence that the strain in her shoulders is starting to lessen, and evidence that she’s relaxing completely. He almost straddles her, his knees on either side of her tail and careful not to step on her hair, pistoning his fingers in the way he knows will alleviate that curl in her spine.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” He could watch her come undone by him for the rest of his life. “Nothing in the world compares to you.”

Oh, and he knows she loves hearing him say that. Luka knows she’s the happiest when he pays attention to her and goads her with endless amount of praise. None of it is ever lies, or forced— which is probably the reason why she loves it so much.

As if to prove his point, slick squelches out of her as she sighs. She’s taking his two fingers so well, even as it’s a tight fit, even as her body attempts to push him out because his fingers are much bigger than what her body reasonably allows to penetrate her, but still, she’s doing so well— even her scales are shining in the lamplight from the amount of fluid she’s producing, and it makes the pink scales look all the more vibrant. “Sky— oh, please, sky—”

“Just a bit more,” He whispers. “I want to watch you just for a little longer. My darling. My wonderful and absolute darling.”

“Please—” She’s babbling a bit, leaning into his hand he has at her cheek, looking at him with those diamond blue eyes. “Please, Luka, please— oh—”

Oh, he loves it when she begs.

“Come for me?” He nips at her jaw and mouth. He’d bite and lick her at the chest if she had her sea legs, but there’s nothing but smooth scales to mouth over, and it would probably be best not to get any lacerations just because he couldn’t wait for a bit longer. “Be a dearest for me and come for me, little pearl.”

Her tail goes completely rigid when she does.

He feels his fingers get squeezed just as she throws her head back, and catches sight of her earrings starting to glow. He pulls his fingers out just as the magical charms release and stain her skin, and he blinks at the sight of beautiful cream-colored legs wrapped around his hips. Not to mention her pink slit, sticky from his help— he can’t stop himself from going back to her and using his fingertips up and down the sensitive flesh that has her twitching and mewling behind a hand.

“Oh! I— I forgot I’m more sensitive—” She flinches when he comes into contact with her clit. He rolls her flesh between two fingers, enjoying that cute face she makes, before— wait— are her thighs locking because she’s— “Luka— oh stars—”

“Twice back to back, pearl?” His eyes blow wide when she comes back from gasping and crying. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Oh. I didn’t expect— oh.”

“Sweet Marinette. You’re so perfect, just like usual.” He murmurs as she starts to settle back down, starting to slow her twitching from his fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm,” She hums instead of answering, and he can’t fault himself for chuckling. “That one is going to cost you.”

“Is it?”

But the sight of her is mouth-watering, so breathtakingly mouth-watering— and he’s halfway to just opening her up again with his fingers and exploring all of her new skin available. After all, the swell of her breasts is so appetizing, her face flushed and glowing as she loses a bit of steam in favor of drowsily blinking up at him— he wants nothing more than to suck bruises onto her porcelain skin and have her continuously cry out.

His own arousal is an afterthought, so long as he can keep her with him looking this beautiful and this dazed.

But the world tilts very much soon after he makes that thought.

“Yes, my lovely sky. My turn— I’ll make sure you to give you two as well.” She smiles, saddling him with a fervor that he should’ve expected by now. The space between her legs is sticky and warm, and he can feel her wetness through his boxers as she sits right where he’s sure is most comfortable for her. Her thighs feel like the perfect weights against his hips, slotting against him like a perfect pair.

Her eyes are brown, now, just as dark and vast as the sea he grew up in before meeting her. Her human eyes are beautiful and nostalgic to his past, and he finds himself captivated by them every time. He loves her in all forms, after all, bond or not— she’s beautiful to him in all versions he’s ever met her, even as he plays with the strands of her slightly shorter hair, relishing in how soft it still is against his fingertips.

“Go easy on me, scary serpent, you know I bruise easily,” He grins at her, palming up the soft flesh of her legs. She shivers at it, still sensitive after just transforming. No doubt her body is still trying to make sense of the sudden change, but she seems to be more in favor of putting all of that on the back burner and focusing on him. She captures his wrist, and kisses softly at his ring when she brings his hand up to her face— he tries his best not to pay attention to how her breasts feel like silk against his arm and elbow.

“Not a chance, my dear.”

AO3 | Chapter One | Chapter Two

[saphirered]

Hey! I hope you’re doing well. You’re writing is always great and I get excited when I see you’ve posted something new. Would you consider writing a little something with platonic Caduceus and reader where they have similar personalities and interests, but different backgrounds? Maybe the reader doesn’t have any family to speak of? I’m open to any character class or race :) thank you!

I’m doing well. I’m glad you like my writing and thank you. It’s really nice to hear people get excited when I post new things. I never expected people to like it at all 🙈.  I hope you like the way this one turned out 😘

You were typical city folk. Born and raised in the heights of civilisation; the pride and joy of the Law Bearer Erathis herself. Raised at the temple of the Raven Queen as a foundling the clergy were the only parental figures you knew and they were hardly parents. Your relationship with them is less of a parent-child dynamic. They were your caretakers and supported which is more than a lot of people can say but you missed out on parental pride, love and the ability to confide in someone in such a way. You missed out on the relation with siblings. No running around the hallways of the temple, no secrets between just you and them, no protective older sibling or a younger one that gets away with everything. You had no weird aunt or uncle to tell you ridiculous stories or take you on adventures every so often like the books you’d read as a child. 

Your childhood never bothered you because it was good and happy, just in a different way. You found a mother figure in the Matron. You’d get dreams sometimes, waking up with a single black feather on your pillow. She gave you an appreciation of all things living. Death is a sacred thing but it’s the life that counts. You made it your goal to nourish that what needs a little extra attention and preserve what can be saved before its time, conforming to the natural order. The Matron of Ravens taught you death is just as sacred as life and so you valued it and vowed to upkeep her commandments and preserve that natural order of life and death. 

As a child you spent much time within the public parks and gardens. You had an affinity unrivalled. Making flowers blossom in spring and keeping the branches and roots healthy during the colder months, curing diseases, healing ailments as well as returning to the earth what once came from it upon the passing. When you were old enough these habits carried over to ‘living things’; a term you had to disagree with because all that grows lives. You became part of the clergy and continued your life within the temple of the Raven Queen. 

You were never confined to the temple life. Your work took you far and wide, your expertise wanted by the many. You had tended to the ailments of kings as you had commoner, treating no different. You had tended to the pristine gardens of royalty as you had the fields of a farmer. In the eyes of the natural order all lives are equal in the end and so you treated them in life. 

When a group of strangers came knocking at your door looking for an expert you were surprised by the colourful bunch on your doorstep but heard them out regardless. You were faced with the story of a cursed forest, a sanctuary of the natural order to be disturbed, a family missing and a new one found. A story of beacons of endless stars, possibilities and souls of the preserved to be reborn, conflict, war and death. Stories of salvation, resurrection, a fight to preserve the natural order and save the lives of the many. Stories far and wide yet to be told.

You were needed. Your expertise was needed and when a raven landed on your windowsill staring at you, studying you and awaiting your response you knew it was time to leave behind the life you knew and venture into a strange new world of adventure and the unknown. How could you turn them down? Your help was needed and while the venture might be a bit longer and much riskier than your usual ones, the task remained the same. You’d travel with the Mighty Nein for a while and aid them for however long they needed you. 

You grew to love the Mighty Nein like the family you never had but you have to say from the very beginning you felt a natural gravitation towards the colourful firbolg, a radiance akin to that of the life you vowed to preserve. Caduceus did not hide he felt a same sort of gravitation towards you. The two of you were often paired together on watches or went out together to stock up on supplies for the road, spell components and the likes. The two of you while at first glance are day and night, as your respective deities are when compared, but those who look closer know you are in a way, one and the same. 

You’re sitting on the jungle floor eyes closed listening to the nocturnal critters make their way through, searching for food, hunting and finding their hideouts, burrows and nests before the sun rises and morning comes. A smile on your face, as you take everything in over the soft snoring and slight twisting and turning of some of the Nein. You hear someone sitting down next to you. 

“Good morning.” You say peaking through one eye seeing the pink haired firbolg cup of tea in hand. The two of you had always been and probably always will be the early risers of the group. Old habits? Perhaps so.

“Ah, it is, isn’t it?” He offers you a cup of tea. You take it with a quick thanks blowing away the steam and cool it down a little before you take a sip. A good cup of tea never fails to wake you up properly. 

“How are you feeling? Getting closer to where the Wild Mother has been sending you?” The two of you look out seeing the first light barely bleed through the trees. Caduceus waits a little before speaking, contemplating his answer. His brow furrows. 

“I’m unsure.” Caduceus mentally retreats just a little bit, watching his expression you can see the thoughts rush through his head. You know he worries for his family and how you might find them. A lot is unsure at these times. You can only hope for the best and prepare for the worst but you have faith. 

“You’re worried, for your family. For what might have become of them?” He gives you a bit of a smile and nods. It’s clear Caduceus hasn’t directly been faced with the notion of mortality in this sense close to home whereas in any other situation he’d be fine. 

“I’ve been waiting to see them for a long time. While I trust the Wild Mother’s path, I can’t help but find myself doubting if they are well.” You try to find a way to best approach his concerns and ease his mind. The words of comfort either of you would offer to those coming into your respective places of worship do not apply to this situation nor would they be particularly helpful. You’re not dealing with the dead, just the possibility of death of loved ones. 

“You trust her path and you believe she’s at your side?” You ask deep in thought as a light breeze rushes through out of nowhere. The Wild Mother must be listening. Caduceus relaxes a bit more knowing she’s there. Despite what some may think, the breeze may just tell you what you need to know.

“Yes. I believe so.” He smiles watching the leaves blow, the breeze being carried away into the distance of the early morning jungle, a couple of birds scattering as it comes along. 

You take a moment, close your eyes and reach out your senses sending a little prayer to the Raven Queen. You’re met with a sense of warmth, a soft cawing of a raven flying away and a small light in the darkness. 

“Then they’ll be alright in the end. I don’t sense my Matron’s presence in relation to you. You’ll be reunited with your family once more.” You interpret the signs she shows you. While they might not be a certainty you have faith she would not let you down.

“That’s nice.” You return to staring into the jungle in comfortable silence for a while. 

“What do you miss the most? About home and your family I mean.” You ask a bit out of the blue but you couldn’t help yourself wondering with everything drawing closer and the uncertainty of how you’ll find the Stone family, and what you’ll encounter there. 

“Old habits. The people. The simplicity of life. I’d say the piece and quiet but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Just different kind of noise. You know what I mean.” Caduceus reminisces, dopey smile returning at the memory of his family. You’ve heard some of the tales of his shenanigans when it comes to his siblings. He’s confided in you and you vowed to keep those a secret. Who knew Caduceus could be quite the prankster?

“I don’t actually. I never had a family like yours. The Mighty Nein is the closest I’ve ever gotten to the meaning of a family.” You look over to the sleeping shapes. You wouldn’t trade them for the world but can’t deny it’s still not the same. The others can attest to that. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I apologise if I offended you.” You smile at him. You’d stated before you loved your found ‘family’, the clergy but they were never your real family. It just hadn’t come up your dynamic with them was not the same as a more typical even dysfunctional family. 

“It’s quite alright. I never knew my birth family. I knew the clergy at my temple and that’s alright. I always wondered what it would be like to have parents to confide in, siblings to spend time with, perhaps even share interests with and people who love me unconditionally, people like me but also not. Do you get what I mean?” Caduceus nods in agreement and thinks for a second.

“I understand. Though you might come to take back the part about wanting to spend more time with siblings. They’ll grow on you like ivy in places you don’t want it.” He laughs a little and you join him. 

“They can’t be that bad.” You joke the both of you laughing as quietly as you can trying not to wake the others up. 

“I’d love to meet your family. From what you’ve told they’re wonderful.” 

“They are, in their own ways but don’t tell Calliope I said that.” Caduceus bumps your shoulder and you bump back finishing the last of your tea. You’ve heard enough tales of Calliope to know you better not tell her or she might never let Caduceus forget he admitted it so openly to someone else outside of the family. 

“I’m sure they’d like you too. If you wanted to you could come back to the Blooming Grove with us one day. Clarabelle always wanted another sibling. She thinks Calliope is a bit too stoic. The two of you would make great friends.” Caduceus finishes his tea and you’re a little taken aback. You look for any kind of jest. He must be joking right?

“You’re serious?” Caduceus laughs a little at your reaction. 

“Unless you don’t want to. I think you’ll fit in right along. Our ancestor used to be a champion of the Raven Queen. She might appreciate the return of a new Clay. Not by blood but by heart.” You recall the story he once told about the champions Stone, Dust and Clay of the Matron. You feel a pull in your heart out of nowhere and swear you hear a raven’s caw in the back of your mind. She’d be satisfied. 

“I’d like that very much if they’ll have me.” With Caduceus reassurance his family would very much like you and get along with you you’d see where this would go. Perhaps you would become an unofficial Clay. Your friends are just your chosen family after all so why should it be different? 

You’ll see where your path leads and you’ll stick with Caduceus until either of you grow tired of each other. Not that either of you see that happen. You’ve grown thick as thieves to the point where you could call yourselves siblings. If the two of you claiming yourselves siblings extends into his family then you’d love nothing more. 

A place. A purpose. A home. You’ll have to put the world back into tune first but once the Matron and the Mother call you both home you’ll stick to the path until homeward bound you both be. Both of you lost in thought come to the same conclusion. Caduceus pours the both of you some new tea, cooling it down a bit you both take a sip.

“That’s nice.” You say in unison watching the nocturnal critters go to sleep and the early risers come out and go about their daily business. 

[arent-you-scared-lil-human]

Bølger (2)

Merman!Kae x Reader.

Words: 3,183

bølger means waves.

Chapter 1.

Merfolk were almost divine to your eyes, living near the coast gave you the blessing of discovering these amazing creatures, well, or the thought of actually seeing them. 

You were 7 when your mother gave your guard to your aunt Betty, your mom grew sick and she wanted to be sure you would be cared for when she passed. But it took her cancer to reach stage 4 to allow you to live with Betty. 

The thing was, your mother hated the coast, the town, and the ocean.

When Betty went to visit you, she would take small cards with fairies, merfolk, werewolves painted on it. She would tell you to believe in magic and accept that we aren't alone on the big blue planet.

Which made your mother mad because she hated the mere idea of mermaids, so much that the little mermaid movie was never allowed. But she had to swallow her revulsion to be sure you would be cared for and not thrown on the orphanage in the end.

So you went to live on Walrey Coast with your aunt. She was a good woman, a bit light-headed but good nonetheless. She taught you how to cook, even though you hated it, taught you how to work in her small restaurant and how to read and love Julio Verne's work. 

The house was small but notably comfy and colorful, each room had a color and somehow it didn't get overwhelming. Your bedroom had fairies painted on the walls, and a lamp with a mermaid painted in gold.

But you never saw a mermaid or a merman in your life.

And since your city was a small place each person ended up knowing another.  You were homeschooled till your 11, but Antony -your aunt friend- told that his nephews were your age and that his sister could teach you too.

Antony's nephews were three, a girl called Hope, and two boys, Archie and Hunter. Hope and Archie were twins, and Hunter was a year younger but their mom taught them the things at the same time so they could always be together if they ever went to a "normal" school.

So, with your 20's and seeing Archie leaving the town to persuade his dream university made you happy, but sad in seeing Carla's tears, after all, she always wanted her kids together.

"C'mon, Y/N, I consider you like a daughter so let us re-form your brother's bedroom..." Carla tried to smile through her tears, Hunter hugged you and Hope rolled her eyes at her brother's trial of reaching your interest, the poor boy has been crushing over you for 6 years already.

You kept your routine of woking at your aunty Betty restaurant, Antony tried to coax you to leave town and go to uni -as every elderly person tries to tell us to-; But something held you in Walrey Coast, maybe it was the trauma of the last time that you left your home was due to a loved one passing, or maybe Betty being abandoned in her big picturesque house... or who knows, perhaps something else, something unseen, or forgotten.

Hope didn't want to go to university, she craved to open an auto-shop, Carla said she didn't mind, but everyone knew deep down she wanted her small girl to be the perfect wife-to-be. And Hunter wanted to become a biologist, the boy adored the sea more than the air he inhaled and after years and years of Antony pulling his ear telling him that the idea of being a professional surfer was as idiotic as his hair, he swallowed down and picked another profession that connected the sea, too.

You loved them, and the town, but you were lonely. You had your first kiss, and even that you studied in "not a homeschool but it was basically one" you knew the other people in town, the men in their 20's that lived near and also the visitors that came and go. And working in the restaurant you saw lots of people, soldiers, biologists, families, even sailors, travelers, wanderers, et cetera. 

So you had your 'first times' but nothing serious, and even that Hunter tried several times to date you, you couldn't see him farther than a brother. He was attractive, smart, polite, liked animals as you do but he was... a brother. Through and through.

So your life was based around this minimalist and simple presence. Waking up, helping Betty at home, go to the restaurant, visit Carla and your dear friends, go back to the restaurant, sit in the pier where Antony lived while you ate your dinner looking at the sea, go home, shower and sleep.

Antony tried to make you go swimming or try to surf with Hunter, but you were terrified of the ocean, you loved it, it was fascinating and very very beautiful, but scary.

Dangerous.

Yet, gazing at it brought you a level of peace that couldn't be accomplished in any other form.

So finishing your meal and making sure to set any trash inside a bag so you could throw in the trashcan later, you stood up and gave one last look at the dark waters and went home.

Deep in the waves, stood Kae, gazing at you leaving your favorite spot in the docks, each day you went there and in each one he approached the surface to make you company, a silent one.

Sometimes you hummed a song, one that of course he had not heard before. And sometimes you would put music to play in a small black device he saw humans carrying around all the time, the music was a mixture, but he enjoyed them, and loved when you sang along.

Merfolk took singing into high consideration, it was important to lull food, to find a good partner, to... well, everything!

And he hummed back with you, but he knew you didn't hear him. You didn't remember him.

It was funny how different worlds that co-existed, should know about another, should collide.

Humans are evil, everyone says. But what Eros did with you wasn't it? Hurting an innocent cub, or better saying: a child, and bringing your unconscious body as a trophy was the most repugnant thing he ever witnessed. After that episode years prior, Kae never glanced at his cousin in the same way, Eros was still family, but he wasn't the good merman Kae thought he was.

And with their adult forms and getting the spot of protectors of the ocean society, the mating season was approaching. 

Jaxi was in love with a mermaid that was from oceans away, they found each other in a hunt for food and after that, they've been planning their wedding ever since. Melin grew to be an insatiable lover, the mating season was an open feast to him, especially since it didn't involve a mandatory loyalty. Eros had the most beautiful sea creatures he could find, he was handsome and strong, but he was a player, which wasn't so shocking.

And Kae had some encounters, had his first sex in his 16's but he didn't like the notion of marrying and being away from the bare soil, away from his little friend that didn't even remember his existence.

He wonders if you still have Eros's nails wounds scarred in your skin, or maybe you healed after he rolled the algae around it? The alkaline water helped sea beings to heal and regenerate their skin, maybe oxygen did it too to humans? And if it hasn't healed, have you ever questioned the origin of it?

Kae didn't see himself as a stalker, he was more of a curious merman. And after leaving you in the waves near the sand, he has been reaching the surface searching for you. Ecthelion realized his peculiar interest in you, so he at least told Kae that his human friend, Antony, has told him that you were alive and well. And that the human's healers said you declared that you floated too deep in the ocean and the waves took you away.

Only that.

And as much that was a relief to hear you didn't remember the evilness Eros committed, Kae was still disappointed that you wouldn't remember him, or Jaxi and Melin that were also very much curious about human's anatomy and helped to save your life.

He wanted to talk to you, to see how different you are, would it be shocking for you to see him? Would you run away seeing his different form? He was very pretty, and one of the most desired young merman between the merfolk, but their physiology are different for various reasons. Maybe you wouldn't think he is pretty, his monster form would push you away. Scare you.

               ...

Hunter lost his mind, inviting you to go surfing? Insane.

"You know I'm afraid of the sea,  Hunter!" You told him and your friend only shrugged.

"Y/N, i know but we can try. There won't be big tides today, and I'm an expert at it."

His sad voice made you feel bad, you loved him dearly but couldn't answer his romantic feelings. "Is just... we are not kids anymore and with our brother away and Hope getting you away for 'girls night i barely have time with you. And i don't want to be an asshole, i swear, but that accident that happened years ago was an accident. You were a kid and now you're all grown."

Yu chuckled and hit his shoulder slightly. "All of this only to convince me to go with you?"

He narrowed his eyes and gave you a shy smile. '"Only if you say it worked."

"It did. But! If the waves get too big or anything we will come back, alright? Don't try to prove a point."

"And which point would that be?" He seemed offended.

"That you know how to suffer."

"Right, I won't do anything stupid."

                       ...

Carrying Hope's board firmly you questioned if the straight material could hurt your palms. "Come on." Hope yelled cheering you up, she agreed with Hunter that it would be good for you to test the waters. Being afraid of it was a dangerous thing.

Hunter extended his hand while his other one was carrying the board under his arm. "Trust me?"

"Yeah, but please if I want to come back help me."

"Don't worry."

You held his hand and walked to the waters, Hope clapped her hands a couple of times yelling "you got it" to give you motivation.

It was a pretty day, the sun was out but it wasn't awfully warm Some seagulls flew through the skies and you admired the blue water touching your skin.

The water wasn't cold, and so far no big waves came and snatched your nor Hunter's life.

"Now in the way we tried back there." Hunter held the surfboard you were firmly grasping and helped you to jump on it. He did the same on his and held your hand looking at you with nothing but honesty.

You laid your chest on the board and moved your arms in the water to push you a bit far from the sand. Hunter was smiling, he adored the ocean and adored you so he was very happy.

A small wave came and you looked at him. "Hunt!"

He didn't tell you to go, he gave you a tiny nod and told you the two of you could swim around until you felt more relaxed.

After some minutes you tried to surf in a tide, it was small, amen for that, and Hunter seemed proud. He went to the bigger ones and even when he fell in the salty water he would emerge smiling and laughing.

Hope entered the water too and swam around, you never swam with your friends before.

Some minutes passed and you lost your fear from the ocean, the salty water, the rays of sun, Hunter's smile and Hope's laugh was a blessing and you wondered why you never gave Hunter a chance when he asked you to surf with him since you two were 12.

A medium-wave came in, and you told them you would try. Hunter has surfed and tides four times bigger so he was secure you wouldn't get hurt.

You moved your arms in the water to push you near the growing wave, you managed to feel it moving the surfboard, and you got on your feet and yelled in euphoria when your body kept firm above it. It was amazing, a sensation of pure joy.

The adrenaline, the beauty on it.

Hope and Hunter were cheering you up, and you smiled at then before noting a big movement near the tide, head got out of the ocean and the creature knocked your breath out of your lungs.

Was it... a mermaid? Well, better saying a merman?

"What?" You lost balance and fell into the water, the string holding the surfboard to your ankle made a pressuring pull and you whimpered at the pressure. You shut your eyes as the salty water burned your eyes but soon your foot was realized from the surfboard-pull.

You opened your eyes terrified that you lost the board because you were being dragged further in, but you saw something, someone. 

The strong features, the gills on his neck, the floating long hair... the tail. 

"Y/N!" Hope yelled. "Where are-", "Y/N!" Hunter yelled too.

He swam to you and leaned in, you got terrified, the water was burning your eyes, the lack of oxygen making you anxious and this creature was placing his hands on your cheeks. The cold hands made you stare at him but he only leaned in to kiss your forehead and then your nose. 

Hope's and Hunter's yells going deaf to your ears. You could only stare at the merman.

Before you could do anything else he smiled and touched your feet pushing you up to find oxygen.

You broke out of the surface and coughed as Hunter pulled your body to his chest. "Jesus Christ! You scared me." He said and kissed your forehead over and over making sure you were alive under his touch.

Hunter's kisses were gentle, urgent, and you enjoyed them, but it wasnt like the creature's touch. 

The monster's touch that could certainly snap your neck in a fraction of seconds, but the same touch that made your heart beat faster a moment prior.

And when he held your feet... you thought he would pull you in, to kill and eat you.

No.

He launched you up, assisting you, freeing you!

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have brought you." Hunter cried and you leaned in his touch, holding his neck and looking over his shoulder seeing familiar eyes gazing at you miles away in the water.

                       ...

Sitting in Hope's bed and having her blow-drying your hair, you told Hunter for the 45° time that you were okay and wasn't his fault. He gave you a cup of hot chocolate and checked your fingertips again searching for any hint of extremity cyanosis. He was terrified of losing you, shit, he even argued with Hope when he told her he wanted to help you to take a shower. And even if crushing on you, his intentions weren't sexual, he only wanted to be sure you were warmed up.

"It's okay, it was my fault. I thought I saw something. I got distracted."

Hope brushed your dry hair and you held Hunter's big sweater closer to your chest, he was taller than you so his clothes were the most comfortable. "Hope, i'm sorry for-"

"No no, it's okay. The thing was old anyway." She hugged you from behind and assured you it was okay the loss of her surfboard. "But i wonder how the safe-string got out of your ankle."

You remembered the pressure the string was making, remember the relief it was when it was snapped away from you... the merman did it.

"I don't know either." You lied and tried to get up, only to have them push you back in Hope's bed and ordering you to rest.

Hunter called your aunt to tell her it was all okay and that you would have a sleepover.

You fell asleep, dreaming of waves and gentle touches.

                         ...

Waking up you looked at the covers and searched for a clock to see how long you've slept. It was 2 AM and Hope was passed out, you gently got up from the bed and grasped a pair of Hope's boots.

You got off the stairs and unlocked the door discreetly before closing it behind you.

You walked to the docks and sat in your dining-spot. The vision of the water moving slowly under the stars always eased your thoughts. 

Yes, you consumed a bit of seawater but you didn't imagine what you saw. "Hey, uh, thank you for saving me." You spoke, feeling stupid and looking over your shoulders to be sure no one was near to listen to your nonsense.

"I... nearly drowned and if it wasn't you... I... Fuck!" You swore under your breath. The quietness of Walrey Coast at the dark night was comforting, silence was everything, it meant peace.

Holding your legs together and leaning your head on your knee, tears formed in your eyes. You missed Archie, you felt bad for making Hunter so worried, for destroying Hope's surfboard, the silence that engulfed you, and the thought of going crazy.

As tears drop reached the water, Kae got the courage to break out of the surface. He cursed himself so much earlier on, he should have reached you, if you haven't seen him you wouldn’t fall. So saving you was nothing less than his obligation. 

And touching you... well, that's another story. He couldn't help himself, you were so soft, so grown and stunning. Watching you from afar was something, but perceiving you centimeters away was enchanting.

With your eyes closed, you moaned a song that you loved, and even that the music spoke about heartbreak and a lost lover... it was beautiful.

Stopping to hum while you cleaned your nose, you opened your eyes startled when the song kept resounding,

Widening your eyes you looked at the water and placed your hands on your mouth to avoid a scream to leave your mouth.

There he was, the same thing that saved you.

"Hm, hi-hi!" You gagged.

Kae looked down at his torso, he hated how the human guy held you in his arms early on. His chest was free of hard skin, freed of scales, his skin color was near yours... it wasn't pale as his.

"Maybe you don't speak my language, I, uh actually I'm sort of believing i'm dreaming. My name is Y/N."

The smile on your features was all he could see, the previous shriek apparently wasn't from his ugly self. But surprise, or so he hoped.

"I know," His stark tone of voice made you gasp, he spoke! He could speak, and your language! "Hi, little human."

                       🧜🏻‍♂️

[dreamescapeswriting]

Ice Cream and Breakdowns ~OT7 [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 2.2K

↬↬↬Genre: Fluff? With a little angst

↬↬↬Pairing: ot7 x reader

↬↬↬A/n: I hope this is okay for you!!!

The sun was starting to rise and you sat up in the bed you hadn't even managed to get a blink of sleep in which made you hate everything around you,

"Y/n? You awake?" You heard one of your boyfriends, Yoongi, ask from the outside of the door he was always the first one awake so he spent the early mornings with you. You would do that every morning, go and sit in the kitchen catching up and talking as if you were alone together but you weren't just dating him, you thought it would be weird at first, dating all of them but it was nice and they all respected the other's time with you.

"Yeah," You heard his footsteps leave meaning he was going to make you both some coffee to wake up with so you groaned into the pillow knowing you had to start your day. You ran your hand through your hair and slid your legs off the bed going over to the window to look through the blinds at the scenery. The sky was orange with some pink hues to it and it made you despise the colours since it was all you saw nowadays, the sunrise and sunset blurring into one for your mind, you hadn't slept in two days as those 48 hours of no sleep was starting to get to you though you were never going to say anything about it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and went over to your wardrobe to find some clothes for college, you have written and practical assignments to do that day and you weren't ready for any of them but you were going to do your best you could with them. Namjoon had helped you study a couple of nights ago but you didn't think it was enough, everything you ever knew was gone from your mind and you were running blanks thanks to the lack of sleep.

"Jungkook said he heard you walking around at 3 this morning, what's wrong?" You looked up from the apple you were biting into to meet Yoongi's gaze from across the table. Jungkook was always the last one to go to sleep at night so you should have known he was awake last night when you came in.

"Worried about my exams and a little tired." You lied biting into the green apple and trying to ignore the sinking feeling always got whenever you lied to any of them, you felt bad for it but you didn't want to bother them with your problems when they had their own to worry about. They had their comeback coming up and you adding to their stress would only make you feel worse about yourself so you kept it all buried deep inside. The truth was you weren't just 'a little tired' you were exhausted, you hadn't slept properly thanks to worrying about exams, you were stressing about job and college work and you were starting to breakdown a lot more than usual.

"You sure?" You nodded at his question, he didn't believe you for a second but he couldn't push you for answers because you were getting up from the kitchen table and making an excuse to get out of the house sooner. You loved them all but if Yoongi kept questioning you would end up crying in the middle of the kitchen at 7 am. It was always the case you could hold it together until someone asked if you were okay then you would break down into a fit of tears,

"I'll give you a ride-"

"It's fine Jin! I'll be okay!" You rushed out of the front door and practically ran down the street to get away from the house full of 7 guys all asking you the same questions.

"Y/n!?" You heard Namjoon calling but you continued running until you reached a taxi bay and got into a waiting cab, giving him the address to your college and throwing your head back against the leather seats within in the car trying to relax a little.

They had all been texting you throughout the day to see how your exams were going but you were ignoring them, hoping that if you didn't respond the problem would go away and you would be fine.

"Jungkook?" You asked when you walked out into the car park of the college campus, he was stood leaning against the hood of his car waiting for you. He was dressed in a leather jacket, jeans and a baseball cap which meant he wasn't planning on taking you home right away that's when you remembered it was his date night with you.

"Fuck, Kookie I'm sorry. I forgot it was tonight." You said as you walked over to him, he wrapped his arm around you in a friendly manner in case anyone was out with their cameras.

"It's fine, you had exams to worry about. I'll take you for takeout and then we'll go home." You smiled at how understanding he was being and he took your backpack from you throwing it into the back of the car,

"How did the exams go?" You felt your world freeze as he asked that simple question,

"We won't know for a couple of days." You lied looking over at the college doors and wanting nothing more than to run back in and retake everything you had done that day. You'd failed every small exam and then the major one which meant you would have to attend the summer course they would be putting on.

"I'm sure you did great, you're smarter than Joonie," Jungkook said as he started up the engine, you forced a laugh out of your throat trying not to think about it but you knew you were fucked.

"If I come down from this nap and any of you have touched my ice cream, heads are going to roll!" You yelled as you walked through the living room and towards the staircase. You and Jungkook ended up grabbing some fast food before going to get snacks for the weekend, you had decided you wanted to treat yourself to your favourite ice cream for the first time in months.

"We don't even like it," Namjoon said as he looked up from the book he was reading and you smiled kissing them all goodnight before going up to your room. For the first time, you felt like you could actually get some decent sleep but at this point, you would take ten minutes as some decent enough sleep.

As soon as your head hit the pillow you let your whole body relax the boys had taken your mind of off everything that had happened that day and you'd forgotten about failing exams. Listening to the boys downstairs to help you drift off into a deep slumber, they slowly began to quiet down as you got closer to your sleep and were silent to you once you were gone into dreamland.

3 am? Your sleeping pattern was officially broken beyond repair but you didn't care, you'd gotten more sleep that night than you had in 2 days and you were feeling slightly refreshed so you crept out of the bed to go and eat your ice cream from the freezer that you had been dreaming about. Your mouth was watering from just the thought of eating the ice cream, you took your phone from the charger deciding to check if you'd missed anything happening in the group chat, but you had an email from your professor informing you when the summer classes would be starting and giving you the failed grades once again and the real world was starting to crawl back into your mind your vision began to cloud as you could feel the tears building up and there was a lump in your throat, you didn't want to have to think about it right now all you wanted was the ice cream, you didn't want the stress of college or the real world. You pushed away the feeling and locked your phone putting it back on charge and walked down the stairs expecting to find Jungkook on his computer games but he was nowhere to be seen you choked up at feeling more alone and walked into the kitchen for your ice cream.

"Come to mama." You whispered taking it from the freezer and opening it, it was still sealed so you grabbed a spoon from the drawer and took a small spoonful into your mouth. Letting out a moan of pleasure when the ice cream hit your taste buds you'd missed it a lot which seemed silly since it was just ice cream. There was a bang in the living room making you jump you span around quickly and the ice cream slipped from your hand and onto the floor, leaking out onto the tiled flooring and you just stared at it. Everything hitting you all at once like a gigantic wave washing over you all at once, you threw down the metal spoon and slid down the kitchen cupboards bringing your knees into your chest as you cried into them. You felt like an immature child crying over spilt ice cream but it wasn't just that, it was everything building up on top of you that you couldn't even breath anymore. It was like there was a huge weight on your chest and nothing was helping to stop it only adding more and more to it and the only thing that could have helped, the ice cream, was now gone in a flash.

Taehyung was the first one downstairs to see what the bang and scream was, he found you on the floor sobbing into your hands and he didn't say anything. He just sank down beside you bringing you into his arms and holding you while you cried to him, your shoulders shaking whenever you tried to take in a breath.

"Shh, it's okay." He promised as he rubbed your arms but you pushed him away getting up from the floor and looking at him. He stared back at you, your eyes were red from crying and your face was stained with tears.

"It's not okay! Nothing is okay!" You screamed out waking up Jungkook who was the heaviest sleeper in the house, they all came into the kitchen and you were pacing back and forth yelling about everything that came to your mind.

"Nothing is okay! I failed my exams! I'm in the middle of losing my job because my boss is losing money! I can't afford to feed myself, I just- I have to attend summer classes because I'm such a fucking idiot I can't pass a simple exam!" You broke down again falling onto your knees and leaning your head onto the kitchen cupboard beside you. The boys swallowed the lumps in your throat and Hoseok was the first one to go over to you, saying nothing but just wrapping his arms around you as Taehyung had done before.

"I can't- I can't do this anymore." You whimpered to Hoseok as he rocked you back and forth, Namjoon got you some water while Jimin went on the hunt for some blankets for you.

"It's too much." You whispered finally losing the strength to talk or raise your voice for them to finally hear you. With them around you, it no longer felt as though you were drowning under everything you were holding back and you felt better for telling them about everything already.

"You should have told us before," Namjoon whispered an hour later, you were laid on the floor of the living room in front of the TV that had something playing in the background but none of you was paying attention to it.

"I didn't know how." You whimpered as he wiped more tears away from your face you knew now that it would have been easier to deal with things if you had told them.

"You can tell us everything, you know that right?" Yoongi questioned looking over at you, you nodded sleepily and he sighed at how tired you were. They all felt regretful for not noticing how tired you'd become and they began blaming themselves for not noticing though you shut that down quickly when they mentioned it.

"I won't hide anything anymore, promise." You managed to say before falling asleep with your head resting on Namjoon's legs, he was tracing his hands up and down your arm to help you drift off and smiled as you were finally out cold. All of them agreed that it would be better to let you sleep as long as they could let you deciding to take the day off from the studio to work from home for once instead of letting you be alone and from that point forward they were going to make it a regular thing to properly check-in with you. Making sure you were okay and you weren't trying to hide things from them, all they cared about was your happiness and making you happy because they loved you a lot and didn't want anything to happen to you if they could help it.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @lyoongx​ @callingmyangel​ @mitzwinchester​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @rjsmochii​ @fan-ati--c​