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oftenwantedafton · 7 months

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A New Afton - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader

Finale

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content, daddy kink, praise kink

Also available on AO3

taglist @yellowbunnydreams

You’re seated in your stepfather’s car outside of his vacant restaurant.

Steve—no, William, apparently—has slotted the keys in the ignition. The white rabbit’s foot keychain swings gently back and forth, the momentum dissipating until it eventually halts.

“I want to tell you a story,” he begins quietly. “I still remember that night eighteen years ago like it was just yesterday. Torrential rain. So rare around here. Your half-sister Charlotte was playing inside this building. Only three years old. But mature for her age. Precocious. She often got bullied for it. Henry was at the bar with your mother. Creating you.

We began searching for Charlie—that’s what we called her—as soon as we realized she was missing the next day. We never found any trace of her. We kept telling ourselves she must’ve been hiding somewhere, afraid to make an appearance after being missing for so long, maybe thinking she was going to be in a lot of trouble. Getting law enforcement involved. So much commotion over one little girl. Of course, your father wouldn’t have been upset. He just wanted his daughter back home safe and sound. Maybe that’s why he tracked your mother down later on. Seeking to make amends, as it were, since he’d failed his other child. Grief makes people behave strangely.” He rubs at an invisible spot of dust on the dashboard, his features pensive. You continue to listen raptly. It’s your origin story, as inglorious as it is. The real reason behind the pizzeria closing. The fate of your half-siblings.

“The police seemed suspicious of foul play from the start, even though they never found any evidence. But the damage was already done. The first black mark on the name of the business. On me and your father.” William exhales a heavy sigh. “And then it just compounded from there when more children went missing. We couldn’t explain it. The authorities continued to press. Nothing. By then we were completely tarnished. There’s no salvaging a reputation once it’s lost. Your father went on a camping trip with the remains of his family. Thinking it would be good to take time off, to get away from all of this negativity. That vacation ended in tragedy when his youngest son went missing. After that, your father was different. Broken. Too much for one man to bear. He tried anyway, for your other half-brother’s sake, but his heart just wasn’t in the partnership anymore and I…I gave in to the pressure. Everyone wanted our business shuttered. The press. The parents. The police. A veritable lynch mob. We had no choice but to close.” His fingers slide off of their grip on the steering wheel and settle on his lap. “The only way to start over was to truly begin again. New name. New career.”

“New wife,” you add softly.

He looks at you. “Yes. I thought what I wanted was simple companionship. Someone to fill the emptiness at home. Someone to share the tedious responsibilities of a quiet day to day existence. And that’s all it would have ever been. Existing. Not really living. Not what I needed. I didn’t realize that until I discovered you, sweet girl.” His hand reaches for yours.

You look at that joining. Large calloused hand and your small smooth one. “No one else knows who you really are,” you murmur.

“No one except you. And it needs to stay that way. I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone,” he urges, squeezing your clasped fingers.

“I promise, Daddy.” You pause. “You really don’t know what happened to those children?” Your voice sounds so small. A child’s voice. Maybe much like your half-sister’s.

“No.”

You want to believe him. The alternative is just unthinkable. If your real father was involved somehow, or—somehow even worse—if your stepfather was.

“I’m going to be with you, baby girl. Like we are meant to be.” He leans over and kisses you. “Spoil my Princess and give her everything she deserves. Make you so happy. My sweet daughter.” His kisses become more aggressive. His hand releases yours, resting over the heart pendant at the base of your throat. “Mine.”

You realize you’re going to be getting home later than you’d originally thought.

***

William Afton under the guise of Steve Raglan sits at his desk at the office, his hands folded beneath his chin.

He’d announced his desire for a divorce earlier that morning, as soon as his wife had woken up beside him. He wasn’t going to pretend that her reaction triggered anything in him. He’d never had feelings for her before. He was hardly going to start now.

That’s how he had broken the news to her, his announcement cold and devoid of any emotion. As if he was a newscaster dispassionately delivering the highlights of the day. He’d told her he was unhappy. Incompatible. The trip and her brief absence had made him realize this. He’d reassured her she’d done nothing wrong, an overly generous act of kindness on his part, he thinks. He doesn’t really care how she feels. Certainly doesn’t harbor enough passion to want her dead. She’s hardly worth giving up this alias for. So no, no killing to remove his problem this time. No attention drawn to himself. Just a tedious wait of several months for things to be finalized. It’ll go more quickly since he’s willing divide their assets, he doesn’t care about any of that. He doesn’t want anything from her.

Save you, of course.

He looks at the framed photo of his current family on his desk. So different from his first failed attempt. He very carefully has left you out of the equation when he’d mentioned the divorce. Your mother doesn’t need to know. She assumes it’s a boy at your school that has you acting so strangely. He’s letting her think that.

He’d pushed her reaching hands away; left his wedding band in the tray on the bathroom sink. He will not be pretending anymore. Not about this, anyway.

He’d told you some of the truth. Bits and pieces of his former best friend’s tragic story. Avoiding his own responsibility in that tragedy. Failing to mention anything about his own ex wife and children and the fates they had met. It was just enough truth amidst a sea of lies. As much as he was willing to risk.

The rest are dark secrets that he’ll take to the grave.

***

Your mother is crying when you get home from school that afternoon.

It’s not difficult to guess the reason. William had obviously announced his intention to divorce her.

You hug her and let her cry against your shoulder. She apologizes repeatedly and the irony of that is not lost on you. She keeps saying she’s made a mistake. You think about how you yourself were a mistake, how she’d lied to you about your real father for your entire life, and the guilt about your affair with her husband lessens slightly.

You’re doing homework at the kitchen table when your stepfather returns from work. He sets the briefcase and his car keys down on the counter, very slowly and deliberately.

“Where’s your mother?”

You set your pen down. “Upstairs. She said we’d have to manage dinner without her. She’s been crying all afternoon.”

The bearded man sighs. It doesn’t sound sympathetic; more like annoyed, if anything. He moves to stand behind you, bending near your face to whisper in your ear. “I did it for you, baby girl. For us.”

You nod. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel. You want him, more than anything. The thought of being his, only his, the two of you alone together at last, bonded…it helps to push away the doubts. This is what you both want. You need each other.

You keep trying to justify it in your mind. It was so much easier when your mom was away. Now that she’s back you’re continuously forced to confront the ugly feelings directly.

You know it’s unfair to your mother. You love her. You don’t want to hurt her. But her staying married to someone that’s wrong for her isn’t the answer.

Don’t think about that. Think about being with him.

“What are you feeling for dinner?” You’ve picked up your pen again to begin writing. You honestly aren’t that hungry, merely asking to make conversation. Establish some sense of normalcy.

“I can’t be in this room and not think about you. About you on the island spread out in front of me. Taking your virginity. The taste of your blood and your cum lingering in my mouth. I need that pussy in my mouth, baby girl. So, so badly,” he rasps beside your cheek. You drop the pen again. Your heart is pounding.

Your stepfather kneels in front of you, shoving at the uniform skirt and reaching for you panties patterned with little red roses.

Your mother is upstairs. Heartbroken. She’s lost her husband. Because of you.

William’s face moves between your thighs, kissing the soft skin inside of each leg. Your underwear is pooled at your ankles. Your eyes keep darting nervously to the doorway. What if your mother walks in?

The kneeling man seems to sense your reluctance and distraction. “I love you, Princess.” He says it so rarely. Far less than you do. It makes you wonder. You want to believe in the truth behind the words. That he does feel something.

He’d told your mother he loved her, and look where that has gotten her.

Your body is responding of its own accord. Spreading for him. Exposed. His tongue begins stroking. It feels amazing, like always. Sharp little flicks. A knife striking flint, trying to start a fire. You’re already burning. He knows your body so well. His lips are greedy, kissing you everywhere. Your fingers rest in the graying crown of his head. “Cum in my mouth.” His breath is hot against your skin. You can’t deny him. You’re his. Melting. His hand rests against your lips to mask the moan of your surrender.

No dinner. Your bring your homework to your room. You sporadically hear the shaking inhales of breath one has after crying for an extended amount of time from the master bedroom.

***

You’re seated on the couch beside William. A horror movie is on that your mother doesn’t care to watch. She declares she’s going to bed early.

Your stepfather doesn’t sleep beside her anymore. You’re seated in what now serves as his bed.

You know exactly how many steps there are leading upstairs. You’ve counted them several times to make certain. Fourteen. You think William knows this as well. You can almost see the hand draped so casually on the armrest tallying each step with a slight dip of his index finger. A heartbeat past that, he’s reaching for one of your hands and shoving it inside his pajamas.

Your fingers curl around his erection and you begin to stroke him. “That’s it, sweet girl. Rub Daddy’s cock,” he encourages in a low voice. On television there is a man chasing a woman. He’s carrying a wicked looking butcher knife. You see your stepfather’s eyes glued to the screen. The increasing rise and fall of his chest. The man in the movie has caught up to the fleeing victim. The knife slices through her flesh, painting her pale skin red. William worries his bottom lip. Precum has spilled from the swollen head of his cock and you massage it into his skin, drawling circles around the frenulum. Your lax fingers tighten. Move faster. Roll over the top of his dick. Sneak down to massage his scrotum. Work along the shaft. The woman on the screen still clings to life, but barely. The final killing blow, the blade sunk to the hilt. The eruption of blood. The man beside you groans softly, spilling semen over your fingers.

***

You visit William at work again, at the job where he’s known by his alias Steve Raglan. You kneel at his feet and he pushes his cock into your mouth. Leaves it there through a lengthy phone call. Your jaw is getting tired. Saliva oozes over your bottom lip. He manages to maintain his composure throughout the conversation.

You hear the call disconnect, the dial tone humming before the phone rests on its cradle. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby girl. Such a good girl coming to see me.” The praise makes you tingle like always. You gag yourself on his prick enthusiastically. “Look at you. So hungry for Daddy’s cock. For my cum. I’m going to give it to you baby. Just keep going like that.” His breath is dragged through clenched teeth. The swivel chair he’s seated in creaks. His hips piston against your mouth. “Fuck, here it comes. Swallow it, Princess. Every last drop.” The bitter liquid fills your mouth. You manage to send it down your gullet in one go.

The carpet’s fibers are imprinted on your bare knees.

***

Night. You can’t sleep.

You’re glad William is no longer sharing a bed beside your mother, but you hate having him so far from you, on another floor. Your body has gotten so conditioned to being intimate with him daily. It has been a few days without statisfying those desires. He’s told you that you need to be more careful. You’re so close to your end goal. He doesn’t want to risk getting caught.

You’re craving him. An addict suffering withdrawal.

You toss and turn and look at the shadowed shapes of the plush animals lining your shelf. The yellow rabbit he’d won for you in the crane machine. The large white plush with the pink bow that you’d used in front of him. Washed and ready for another time if there would be such a thing. The space between your legs aches.

You fling back the covers and pad barefoot downstairs. You’re wearing an oversized tshirt and panties. One of the newer printed ones William had gotten you during your shopping trip. Scalloped waistband. Tiny lavender satin bow.

He's too long for the couch. You can just make out his ankles crossed over the arm rest. You’re beside him now. “Daddy.” A whisper of sound. The title has you throbbing already. You need him, badly.

The man awakens immediately. “Princess.” He shifts positions, sitting upright, legs swinging around. His voice is low, urgent. “You shouldn’t be down here. We’ve talked about this.”

His hands reach out in the darkness to cup your face and his body lifts so that his mouth crushes yours. You can’t stifle a whimper. You feel like you haven’t kissed him in ages. “Baby girl, you have to be quiet.” His voice is barely audible.

“I know, Daddy. I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I need you.”

“You want Daddy to fuck you? Fill his little girl up with cum?”

“Yes, Daddy, please,” you gasp between kisses.

“Come ride Daddy’s cock.” You feel him leaning back against the cushions and you straddle his thighs, pulling his erection out of his pajama pants and briefs. His hands are already underneath the hem of your shirt, running over the fabric covering your sex before he tugs it to one side and positions his cock against your drooling pussy. “Push down, baby. I’ve got you.”

He immediately has to clamp a hand over your mouth, barely able to mute his own sound of pleasure at the feeling of being inside of you again. Your cunt sucks his member eagerly each time you lower yourself down. Your fingers rest on his shoulders, run through his hair. He kneads your ass cheeks. You control the pace until he gets impatient, his hips jerking upwards to shove into your leaking hole.

It ends very quickly. You’ve been on edge for so long it doesn’t take much to shove you over, the contractions around your stepfather’s cock milking out his own release. You feel it inside of you. So much. So warm. Oozing back down. His breathing so harsh. He finally removes his fingers from your lips. You rest your forehead against his.

Climbing off William’s lap leaves you feeling empty. You miss him already. You’re still leaking his seed. It drips down your thighs. He kisses the inside of your wrist. “Go get some rest, baby girl.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You climb back up the stairs and settle under the covers, falling asleep immediately.

***

“I got you something.”

You look at your stepdad. You’re meeting in the rear parking of Freddy’s again, nearly a month and a half since your last visit. Still trying to be cautious. Your mother has quit her job at the social services department. She seems a little more content now that she’s started working somewhere else. There’s a strange kind of placid truce at home. Waiting. Biding time. The house will be sold soon. You’ve already got a dorm room waiting for you in the fall at the local college. Your stepfather has been seeking a new apartment. It will be another place for your clandestine meetings. More opportunities to be intimate. Closer to what you both want.

William had left work early today. You’d just gotten out of school. “What did you get me?”

“You remember I said I was going to get you a toy once I’ve had you?”

You nod. Your pussy tingles in anticipation as he presents you with a small rectangular unmarked black box. You lift the cover. A purple vibrator in the shape of a penis. Not quite your stepfather’s length or girth. Molded veins. A protruding portion with twin extensions that you think are called rabbit ears. A pair of buttons on the base. A small printed insert that claims it’s rechargeable and water proof. Five different settings for your pleasure. Guaranteed to stimulate your clit and g spot simultaneously. Another pulse in your cunt. It’s interested.

“You want to go try it out, baby girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl.”

You’re the one to lead him once you’re inside. You already know where you’re heading.

“Take everything off, Princess. Mmm, except the knee highs.” You know he has a fetish for those. You obey and remove your blouse and bra and skirt and panties. He bunches your clothing up to make a makeshift pillow and indicates you should lie on top of the desk. “I can’t wait to get my own place. Going to do it soon, baby girl.”

“I know, Daddy.”

His calloused fingers stroke over your nearly nude body. Breasts, ribs, belly, hips. Your legs unfold and bend and he pushes them back, then dips between the pink petals of your labia. You’re wet. Always so wet for him. He licks that wetness. You keen, writhing. It’s so much better when you don’t have to keep silent. One finger inside. Two. You grind yourself against him. He removes the pair of digits and sucks them clean.

“I’m going to keep it on the first setting and lowest speed to start with, okay?”

You nod. There’s pressure at your entrance. He pushes the dildo into you, easing gently. The rabbit ears rest against your clit. You hear the button click softly.

Your body instantly reacts, jerking in surprise. The vibrations are intense against your clit, an echo of it inside of you. You bite your lip and squirm. William withdraws the vibrator and you get a brief reprieve from the stimulation on your bundle of nerves. Back inside again. You hear your pussy squelching around the fake cock slotting inside of you. The feeling is so strong that you almost can’t tolerate it. Pleasurable, but on the verge of being nearly too much. You can’t keep still. Your body alternates between trying to get away from it while simultaneously sucking it back in.

“You look so gorgeous, baby girl.” William’s eyes are black, watching heatedly as his hand pumps the purple synthetic device in and out of your pussy. Your clit feels strange. More swollen and harder than usual. You’re starting to enjoy the sensation, finding a kind of rhythm. He increases the pace and lets the rabbit ears linger for extended periods of time. “Want to take over? I would really like to fuck your mouth right now. Top button to change the speed when you’re ready, baby girl.” Your hand reaches for the base while the vibrator is fully plunged inside of you. Your stepfather unfastens his belt. The button and zipper are undone. He pulls his flushed, leaking cock from his briefs. Your mouth waters, your head turning to take him between your lips while you push the vibrator more firmly against your clit.

“Oh, baby girl. I’ve missed that mouth on me.” He knots a hand in your hair and begins fucking into that wet opening gently. You depress the button on the dildo by mistake and moan at this new intensity. Almost too much to take, but you decide to stick with it. “Look at you. So fucking hungry for it.” His thrusts are rougher now, bruising your throat. You gag around him as he pummels you. He abruptly jerks your head off of him and you gasp for air. His cock is completely soaked in a layer of your saliva. “You like sucking Daddy’s cock, don’t you baby girl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you pant as you find a new angle with the vibrator that feels especially good. It just takes practice. You can see why people find these appealing. The artificial cock hums against your pussy as the real one is rammed back inside your mouth. The pressure inside of your core is building. You’re going to achieve orgasm any moment now.

“Let go, baby girl. I want to see my daughter cum.” You moan around his cock and your body shakes violently. Your cunt massages the vibrator as if it was a real cock, trying to draw seed up into it, your nub pulsing. You finally fumble to switch the sex toy off, removing it from your body. “Good girl. You’re such a good girl.” His cock slips from your mouth and is replaced with his tongue as he bends to kiss you. “I’m going to make you cum again in my mouth. And then on my cock.”

You can still feel the residual effects from the vibrator use, a kind of phantom sensation that you’re still in contact with the device. You’re overly sensitive when William’s mouth finds its way between your thighs, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth, his fingers back inside you. You’re surprised when the feeling builds again so quickly and you climax against his relentless tongue.

You’re dragged closer to the edge of the desk when your stepfather enters you. You’re so sloppy wet. His thumbs dig into your abdomen. You wrap your stockinged legs around him. He fucks you hard and fast, impatient for his own release. The vibrator is now seated against your clit, the tip of the fake cock resting there pulsing against you and reaching through to William inside of you. “You’re going to make me cum, baby girl.”

“Daddy, yes, I want it, fill me up…”

“Fuck, take it Princess.” You feel him flood you. Your body surrenders to another wave of pleasure.

***

William’s barely glanced at the file folder in front of him.

He’s looking instead at the little countdown calendar he’s created, the moment of freedom from his second marriage rapidly approaching.

The start of his next chapter with you.

The social worker’s next client disturbs his reverie as he gently knocks on the door before entering his office, looking a little sheepish and uncertain. Short, young, probably around mid twenties. Brown curly hair and brown eyes. The business casual attire looks second hand. He appears very uncomfortable, as if he’s unaccustomed to wearing it. Nervous. He slouches uncertainly in the seat across from the career counselor.

The older man now glances through the file folder. This man’s track record was atrocious. He could barely hold down a job for more than a few weeks before he’s fired and moves on to the next. A history of violence. His most recent employment venture had concluded when he’d attacked a man in front of his own child at the local shopping mall.

“I’m going to be perfectly honest here with you, Mike. Your options are extremely limited.” He looks up at the young man, adjusting the glasses that have slipped down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll take anything. I have to work,” the younger man pleads.

“I don’t see how anyone would be willing to hire you after all of this. You’re not giving me much to work with, here.” He begins reading the employment history out loud, noticing the droop of the other man’s shoulders as the offered protests and excuses fall on deaf ears.

William’s eyes flick back down to the paper in front of him. He’s about to shut the folder and seal the man’s destiny when the client’s surname suddenly stands out to him, practically leaping off of the page towards him.

So. This was the eldest son, then.

How interesting that fate had brought him his way.

The Emily girl cowering in the rain, looking so lost.

The youngest brother, standing so small in the cluster of tall trees around the campsite.

Henry’s secret daughter. Now you were his own. He’d taken each child one after the other. He’d lost track of this one after the last name was changed. How ironic that they both were using aliases. An effective way to hide Mike from him. Well, it had been. Not anymore.

William hears it, then. For the first time in a long while. That strange humming frequency. Blood calling.

Mike starts to rise from his chair. “Ok, well, I appreciate you taking the time to see me.”

“Not so fast. Get comfortable. I’ll make us coffee. It seems I have a job for you after all,” Afton says, grinning.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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jiliansky-blog · 2 months

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I will find my way back to you. Chapter 10. The price of immortality

Pairing: Morpheus x FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 2500

When you came to the fairy realm with Cluracane, every fairy was looking at you. And you tried to look at a castle. The castle was beautiful. It was big and light. But you compare it with Morpheus’s castle. You were missing the Dreaming.

“Are you alright?” asked Cluracane.

“I am a little bit nervous,” you replied.

“Relax,” he said softly. “My queen will like you.”

That didn’t help you. But you let him take you to the castle. And finally you came to the throne room. Her throne was much closer than Morpheus’s. The queen was tall and beautiful. She has a black hair and white skin. You could think that she is his sister.

“Welcome, child,” she smiled. “Cluracane told me about your problem. Is that true that you want to become a fairy?”

“Well, something like that,” you said. “I wanted to find immortality. Cluracane said that you offered me this.”

“Of course you can,” she smiled. “I heard you are talented—how do you humans call it, writer? I would love to read something of yours.”

You blushed. And you weren’t sure if you wanted her to read your book. It was about Morpheus, after all. And you didn’t know how to answer.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You need to hurry. We can give you a little time to become one of us. So you will adjust to your new life.”

“How much time?” you asked.

“Couple of days,” she replied.

You thought that for a couple of days, Morpheus could find you. If he is going to look for you at all. But you didn’t plan to wait too.

“Maybe one day is enough to adjust,” you said.

“And you are an inpatient one,” she smiled. “We have these rules for reasons.”

“What reason?” you asked. “Do you wait until I change my mind?”

“You are so interesting,” she smiled.

You didn’t feel that you should trust her. But you don’t have any choice now. Except return to your pointless search for immortality.

“But alright,” she said suddenly. Perhaps, she felt the change in your mood. “I’ll give you one day to adjust. And then…”

“I will turn into a fairy,” you said.

“Indeed,” the queen said. “Nuala, take you to your room.”

The blonde, beautiful fairy stepped forward, and you followed her through the castle. She was silent until you came to the room.

“I suppose you are the reason why Lord Morpheus refused my service,” she said suddenly.

“Service?” you asked, surprised.

“Queen Titania wanted as a gift for the key,” she replied. “But he declined the offer. That, perhaps, was such an offense to her.

“Well, that can explain something,” you said.

“Do you really love him that much?” she asked.

“Yes,”, you replied. “She broke with me after your visit to the Dreaming.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “You need to be more careful here. They don’t have your interests at heart. They’re planning something.”

“I can tell,” you said. “Can you help me?”

“How?” she asked, surprised. “You came here yourself.”

“Do you know how I can change?” you asked.

“Not much,” she shrugged. “You need to have something to hold on to. Beware, they can take everything from you.”

And she went away, leaving you thinking. You held your bag tight and stepped into your room. Cluracane didn’t lie. There was everything you could want. Dresses, a big mirror, books and big bed under the canopy. You hid your bag under the bed and sat down. And what now?

Morpheus

I return to the Dreaming. And Lucienne understood everything just looking at me.

“She already went away,” he said. “They took her.”

“They didn’t waste their time,” she replied.

“Yes,” I sighed. “Now I need to go to their realm.”

“I think that they will tell their conditions,” Lucienne said. “They won’t give her up easily. They need her.”

“To get to me, I am sure of it,” I said.

“Maybe it is Desire’s doing,” the librarian said. “Are you sure it’s wise to play to their cards?”

“I can’t leave her,” I said. “She is there because of me.”

“She shouldn’t agree to their offer,” she said.

“Perhaps she was desperate,” I refused.

“They are waiting for you to come, my lord,” she sighed. “You should be prepared.”

“Of course, Lucienne,” I nodded.

And I used my sand to appear in fairy realm. And came to Titania’s castle. Cluracane came to meet me with a smiled.

“Lord Morpheus, what is the purpose of your visit?” he asked, mocking me.

“You know well why I am here,” I hissed. “I need to talk to your queen and take Y\n from your realm, Cluracane of Fairies.”

“My queen is waiting for you,” he smirked. “But I’m not sure about your mortal friend. She came here willingly.”

“You lured her here,” I said.

“No, I just promised her immortality,” he said, smiling wider.

And he opened the door to the throne room when the queen of fairies was waiting for me.

“Morpheus,” she said charmingly. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“Where is she?” I said. “I came to take her with me.”

“You need to come later then,” she replied.

“What do you mean?” I asked, annoyed, forgetting about pleasantries.

“I’m planning the ball,” she was almost purring. “Where you can meet your precious human girl. She is very interesting, I admit. So brave and outspoken. I can see why you chose her.”

I understood Y\n will be a fairy at the time of the ball. She will change, and nothing will be the same again. It wasn’t an option.

“No,” I declined. “I need to see her now.”

“That’s impossible,” Titania said. “She is resting and adjusting to her new life. And I doubt she wants to see you now.”

For a second, I felt the urge to go past her and find Y\N in her castle. But it can declare the war. And I have enough enemies for now.

“I know your schemes,” I admitted. “You are going to turn her into a fairy before the ball. I need to talk to her before that.”

“Poor Morpheus, you are so desperate,” she smiled. “You left that girl heartbroken. No wonder, she came to her willingly.”

“If you harm her…” I hissed.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” she sighed. “Relax. She is just going to become one of us. And if her love is strong enough, it won’t change.”

I need to calm down, or otherwise I will ruin everything. She is just playing with me like a cat with a mouse. I won’t help Y\N that way.

“Let me talk to her,” I insisted. “Five minutes.”

She was quiet for a minute. And then I smiled.

“Alright, five minutes here,” she said. “Not in some private place. Cluracane, be kind, call our dear little friend.”

In a minute, the fairy returned with a girl, but something was off. It wasn’t here. It was another fairy in disguise. Perhaps, even that girl wants to gift me. But if I tell them that they lie, they will be offended again.

“You need to come with me,” I hissed. “It’s stupid.”

“I know, I can’t,” Her voice sounds like she recites her words. “You left me with no choice.”

“That’s not an option,” I said, feeling like I had already lost the game.

“Do you have another option?” she asked.

“Take this,” I create a medallion of blue stone in the form of a moon. “To remind you of me.”

She took it and hid quickly. She didn’t dare to look at me. And then she stepped back.

“I need to go,” she whispered. “Goodbye, Morpheus.”

And she went away with Cluracane. Titania looked very pleased with herself.

“Are you happy now?” she asked.

“I’m far from happiness,” I said.

“So we will wait for you at the ball tomorrow ball,” the queen of fairies said. “I promise I won’t prevent you from dancing with your mortal.”

“I will come on the ball later,” I replied.

“See you tomorrow,” she smiled.

And I returned to the Dreaming, feeling absolutely miserable. I didn’t feel like it would be easy.

The day passed by exploring the castle. You tried to avoid other fairies. You weren’t one of them yet, so you didn’t want to play their games or become the object of their jokes. And when you returned to your room, you didn’t find your stuff.

“Where are my things?” you asked Nuala, when she came in.

“Perhaps someone took it,” she whispered.

“Who?” you asked. “Cluracane?”

“Perhaps,” she said. “We need to go?”

“What? Where?” you asked, surprised.

“Our queen made a dinner party in your honor,” the fairy replied. “To honor your last day as a human, she said.”

“It’s a little bit strange,” you said.

“You can find whatever you want here,” Nuala said. “And I would recommend dressing something green or purple. She adores these colors.”

You began to understand that fairies have their own etiquette and rules, you have no idea about. Perhaps, your idea wasn’t as great as you thought.

“Can you tell me more about your rules?” you asked. “I realized that I don’t know much about you, nothing but fairytales.”

“Some fairytales depicted us right,” she said.

“Did some of the bards or other people live here?” You were curious.

“A long time ago,” the fairy said.

No help from humans, then, you thought. You started to wonder if Morpheus is thinking about you. Perhaps, all your efforts are in vain.

“When is it going to be the ball?” you asked.

“Tomorrow in the evening,” she said. “You have time to prepare. I heard…that Dream of the Endless was invited.”

“Really?” you asked. “Is he going to come?”

“I don’t know for sure,” she said. “But I suppose so.”

He will come. He will come for you. You need to believe in that. You are going to talk to him. You already miss him so much.

“Please, Y\N,” she said. “We need to go.”

“Alright,” you said. “I’m coming.”

You changed your clothes and followed her into the bog room, full of fairies. You felt uncomfortable under their gazes.

“I’m glad to see you, child,” Titania smiled. “Do you like my realm?”

“Yes, your highness,” you replied. “Also, I want to learn more about it.”

“You will have plenty of time for this,” she said. “Now join us in celebration.”

You nervously looked at their food. You read that under the illusion of tasty food, there can be something absolutely not eatable. Like mud or worms.

“What is wrong?” asked Cluracane.

“I was just… confused,” you said.

“Don’t you want to eat?” he asked.

“What should I taste for?” you replied. “It just…human tastes differ from yours.”

“Try these,” he said, picking some dishes for you. “Did you try something in the Dreaming? Was Morpheus a bad host?”

“We didn’t eat”, you admitted.

“So, what did you do?” he asked the next question.

You tried something, just not to answer. There was something concerning in his questions. You felt yourself…like they tried to use you.

“Talking,” you said finally. “Sometimes people do this, and not only people.”

“Boring,” he pouted.

“It’s not boring for me, though,” you said. “How would you get to know someone if you didn’t talk?”

“I know a few ways,” he smirked.

“Not in a physical way,” you said. “Being emotionally attached is even better. To know each other's soul is best…”

It seemed their wine did the trick for you and made you talk. He listened to you with a smirk. He knew that you would talk.

“And what else did you do with Lord of the Dreams?” he asked.

“Kissing,” you said dreamily. Let him know, you thought. So he knew that can’t compare with Morpheus. “He is a good kisser.”

“But he broke your heart,” he said. “How can you love him still?”

“It’s not easy to unlove someone,” you sighed. “Especially, when he did this to protect me and my family. And he also suffered from his decision.”

“I don’t think that he is suffering,” Cluracane said. “He looked fine today.”

“Did you see him?” you asked.

“Yes, he will come tomorrow to the ball,” he shrugged. “But I wouldn’t let your hopes high, if I were you.”

“And why is that?” you asked.

“He may not return you,” he replied. “Otherwise, he didn’t want to see when he was there. He doesn’t need you anymore.”

These words hurt you. But you didn’t believe him. You stood up very quickly and stood when your head felt dizzy.

“I know what you are trying to do,” you said. “You tried to convince me that he doesn’t love me. But you are wrong.”

And you tried to go away on your shaken legs. It was a little bit difficult. You almost fall a few times until Nuala finds you.

“Come on, I will help you,” she said, taking you somewhere.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“You shouldn’t drink more wine,” she said. “And you did the right thing when you went away. So you showed him your emotions.”

“I hate that you fairies try to play with me,” you said.

“It wasn’t just a game,” she told you. “They were trying to get more information about your relationship with him.”

“But why?” you asked. “I don’t understand.”

“To play their game later,” she sighed.

“Why do you say this to me?” you asked.

“I don't know,” she replied. “I just… I think he is really into you. And he cares. It’s unfair to both of us.”

“Thank you,” you said. “For your understanding.”

“Don’t push him away,” she said. “They would like it.”

You didn’t want to push him away. But they were plotting something. And you didn’t understand what. Are they going to separate you and Morpheus? Or use you against him?

That evening, you came to your bed late. And Nuala woke you up early, saying that you need to spend more time on discovering the world of fairies before the ritual. But you were still trying to avoid other fairies.

Until Cluracane found you. He smirked at you.

“Time to become one of us,” he said. “Little bird.”

“Where are my things?” you asked. “I won’t go anywhere with you until you return my stuff. You know, it’s important for me.”

“After the ritual,” he said. “You know how important it is.”

“Do you promise to return my things after the ritual?” you asked.

“Of course,” he smiled. “As soon as you ask it.”

You should know that he has some tricks. But you were too nervous before the ritual to think about his words. And just let me take you to the room with a deep wheel.

“My dear child,” said Titania. “The time has come.”

She gave you a small goblet of water. And you thought about what was going to happen after you drink it.

“You want it, don’t you?” she said, seeing your hesitation. “So drink it.”

And you drank it. First, you didn’t feel anything. And then you felt nothing.

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #sandman fanfiction #the sandman

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yeehawbvby · 2 years

Text

Go, Lass (Brynjolf x F!Reader)

Rating: Teen+ (explicit language, canon-typical violence)

Summary: The guards of Markarth have you cornered in the Silver-Blood Inn, eager to steal you away to Cidhna Mine. Luckily, you’re gifted a bittersweet goodbye with your favorite guildmate before you’re imprisoned for only the gods know how long.

Author’s Note: This was a fun little idea I had based off my current Skyrim run! It takes place after The Forsworn Conspiracy/before No One Escapes Cidhna Mine, and before you meet with Endon for Silver Lining. The reader-insert doesn’t have to be the Dragonborn, and your race isn’t specified either.

Sorry for any errors, I didn’t proofread before posting. Hope y’all enjoy! x

Check it out on ao3!

___

“C-come on, I didn’t really kill all those people! Surely you’re overlooking some details—“

“Oh no, we’ve all heard stories of your honeyed words. You’re not getting out of this one that easy.”

Shit, shit, shit, you thought to yourself.

Looking back and forth between Brynjolf and the Markarth guards, you panicked. Your heart raced as your shoulders slumped and your chest visibly began to heave.

You’d never been arrested for stealing, in all those years of doing it to survive, followed by making it into a profession with the Thieves Guild; but due to a failed attempt to help a determined Breton rid Markarth of the Forsworn, you’d really fucked up.

Lots of weird politics. Far more killing than you were used to. So many ways to be framed in so little time. In the end, your comrade didn’t even make it — the guards made sure of his demise as soon as they’d been tipped off. All poor Eltrys wanted was a safe future for his wife and child, but that was supposedly too much to ask for in such a corrupt city.

The reason Bryn tagged along on your trip back to Markarth for this job was to bring you comfort and backup. You were two peas in a pod (albeit, Brynjolf seemed to see you as a sister whilst you hid your romantic feelings in plain sight), and you knew he’d help you if you truly needed it, no questions asked.

You’d kept your fingers crossed, upon the law’s arrival, that the tall Nord’s presence would intimidate the guards into brushing it all off. Unfortunately, your downfall seemed certain.

In that moment, the guards, citizens and denizens onlooking all wanted you imprisoned for life. And your favorite partner in crime was there to witness it all, barely even knowing what had gotten you into such a mess. His face looked neutral as ever, but his body language said otherwise. You knew Bryn well enough to be able to tell how tense he was.

You had three options. Option number one: run. Never come back. Screw this silversmith job that the Guild desperately needs, someone else can take care of it!

…Although, whoever is sent in your lieu might just muck it up.

Option two: Fight. Main issue there is that it would be subjecting yourself and Brynjolf both to a death sentence.

Option three: Turn yourself in. The prospect was terrifying, but you’d gotten yourself out of countless sticky situations. Perhaps you could figure out the details of an escape plan later. Maybe you could even organize a full-fledged jailbreak.

Everyone surrounding you knew what choices you had, merely not realizing the extra details that went into your third prospect. The inn was quieter than a crypt as they waited with baited breath to see what you’d do.

“I…” You looked over your shoulder at Bryn, a deep exhale shaking your form as his beautiful emerald eyes met your own gaze. “I submit.” His eyes widened. The guards made a move to capture you, but you halted them, your face whipping their way.“Wait.”

“What in the Gods’ names makes you think we—“

“I’m a cold-blooded killer, aren’t I?” You lilted, eyes stabbing into the man who’d been doing the talking for all of his crew. “If you don’t allow me to bid my friend farewell before I spend the rest of my fucking life in the mines, I could take out everyone in this room. Starting with them.”

You tilted your head towards the small family that hid behind the counter. The parents gasped, and their son whimpered in fear, hugging himself closer to his mother. Playing into the façade, you drew a smirk across your features.

“…Very well. You have one minute.” The guard added, glaring at Brynjolf, “No funny business or you’ll both perish.”

“Yes sir,” you lazily saluted.

You turned around to face Brynjolf, who looked pale with discomfort.

“Look, I don’t know what you’ve done, but—“

Before Bryn could get another word in, you tip-toed to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tender hug.

As he returned the gesture, you turned your face until your lips brushed his ear, and ever so softly whispered, “I will get out of there.” Bryn shifted a little, and you continued, “I don’t know when, or how, and maybe I won’t even survive; but trust me when I say that I’ll see you again soon, one way or another. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

Your partner in crime wanted to laugh. He knew you. He knew what you were capable of. No matter how foolish you were to already be conspiring an escape, he believed you could do it. But he didn’t wish to draw suspicion from the guards, so he simply nodded, an amused exhale that could’ve been mistaken for despair shaking his armored chest as he tightened his grip around your form.

You pulled away, but before you could make your way towards your captors, you felt a tug on your arm. Turning to the source, Brynjolf pulled you close, replacing his grip on your bicep with a tender caress to your cheek from both hands.

Before you could process what was happening, he tilted your gaze upward and dipped down to your height, sealing the goodbye with a kiss. You melted into his touch, your palms finding refuge against his broad shoulders.

As Bryn’s auburn beard tickled your chin, you smiled, basking in the taste and feel of his mouth. The warmth of his breath. The calluses of his large hands barely scratching your cheeks. After a few short seconds that you wished could be hours, he separated.

A crooked grin graced Brynjolf’s lips as he whispered to you his parting words:

“Go, Lass. Make their ancestors weep.”

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highwayphantoms · 2 years

Note

Happy Friday Jay! From the fluff prompts, how about "you’re not alone. you never were" for Briar Hawke and the sibling of your choice.

thank you for the prompt! here's a little snippet set right at the end of act 3! for @dadrunkwriting

is it fluffy? no. 😂 but really, who's surprised?

Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, oblique references to pregnancy Words: 694

The city is burning. Again.

From where she stands in the Gallows courtyard, she can see the flickering of flames up and down the cliffside, though it is worst at the top. Her family’s home wasn’t close to the Chantry, but it wasn’t on the clear opposite end of Hightown, either. She dreads to know what has become of the estate. To have worked so hard, lost so much, only to lose the family estate to…

“Maker’s tears, Briar,” Bethany says as she steps directly in front of Briar to pull her attention down from the cliffs above. “How are you still standing upright?”

A rhetorical question, and yet she still feels compelled to answer, “If I sit down, I won’t be able to get back up.”

“As your sister, I insist that you do exactly that,” she retorts.

Briar sighs. The top of her sister’s head is barely level with her shoulders, but Bethany’s stern glare is enough to cut through the last shreds of desperation keeping her on her feet. There are no benches or chairs in the Gallows courtyard, and she gracelessly sinks to her knees. Rivulets of blood stream between the cobblestones beneath her, though in the fading light there is no color to it. Just dark liquid.

“And here I thought I didn’t need to worry about you, since you were still on your feet,” Bethany mutters, and though she must be exhausted, she draws the faint glow of magic to her hands.

As the familiar tingle of healing magic floods through her, Briar wearily lifts a hand to pull her helmet off. “How many are left?” she asks.

“Maybe a couple dozen mages,” Bethany says in a low voice. “Easily three times as many templars.”

“Surely there’s at least one more healer among them?”

Her sister shakes her head. “I’m the only mage left who isn’t terrified of coming within ten paces of you.”

“Ah,” she says quietly.

“Well, that’s not entirely true. You’re not the reason Merrill’s hiding behind Aveline and Varric, anyway.”

“Then Anders listened to me.”

Bethany shrugs. “I almost wish he hadn’t. He’s far better at this than I am.”

It’s better this way, she tells herself. After… after all of this, the best thing he could possibly have done was leave. As furious as she had been earlier, the thought that she might never see him again makes her heart ache.

After a few minutes in which the only sounds are the distant murmurs of people talking amongst themselves, Bethany’s magic fades away and she says, “There. It’s not much, but you’re not going to bleed to death any time soon.”

Perhaps not, but she rather feels like the slightest breeze might knock her over. She’s so tired, on every level. “Thank you,” she says after a moment. “You could have left me. You would have been well within your rights to do so, after I—”

“Sister,” Bethany says sharply. “Don’t. You did what you thought was right.”

“And look what it’s gotten me,” she says bitterly. “None of my friends will even look me in the eye now. I’m alone, again.”

Her sister crouches down such that their eyes are level. For a long moment, Bethany fixes her with a firm look, then says, “You’re not alone. You never were, and you never will be so long as you have me.”

Abruptly, a thought occurs to her, long after it should have. “Wait,” Briar says. “Where’s Fenris?”

“He’s fine,” Bethany quickly replies. “He and Isabela headed back to the city to see how bad it is.” Then her sister gives her a different, faintly amused look. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Briar frowns. “Tell you what?” All she gets in response is a wry smile, and after a moment she realizes. “Oh, that. In my defense, Bethy, I’ve been rather distracted recently.”

Bethany laughs as she straightens and offers her a hand. “Come on. Cullen had some of the templars set up cots for the injured. It’s not going to be the pinnacle of comfort, but anything’s going to be better than sitting out here on stone in plate armor.”

#jay writes #briar hawke #dragon age #da fic

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pearlsephoni · 1 year

Text

At the End of the Sun, Chapter 12: A Brief Return

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: T

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata)

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, Natsu Hinata, Mama Hinata

Word Count: Chapter: 7.4k; Whole Work: 160k

Summary: A bit of good news finds Shoyo venturing away from his and the wolf's isolated home for the first time since his arrival in the mountains.

A/N: Originally published on AO3 on February 18th. Further author’s notes can be read on AO3.

The next day, by some blessed stroke of luck, the wolf returned from the mountain with news that the yamakumo plants had not only survived the storm, but had held onto enough flowers for Natsu. Even better, true to his word during the storm, he really did only need one more week to gather the last blossoms.

He appeared at the fence just as the sky began to turn pink, startling Shoyo with the sudden streak of black he made through the yard. “Take this,” he huffed when he skidded onto the engawa. The bag around his neck swung with his heaving breaths, forcing Shoyo to take an extra few beats to untie it and spread the contents over the flower-drying mat.

“Oh…spirits, we—!” He bustled around to gather the rest of the already-dried flowers, laying down another sheet before spreading the delicate petals and leaves and roots out.

“We have enough,” Shoyo breathed. The spread of leaves and flowers made a weight lift off of Shoyo’s shoulders, a weight he hadn’t even noticed until it was already gone. “We…we finally have enough.” He turned to the wolf with a smile so wide, his cheeks ached. “Natsu will be okay! If I can take this home—”

“You can’t.”

A spike of horror stabbed through Shoyo. “…What?”

The wolf avoided his eyes, staring instead at the leaves with his ears pressed flat against his head. “I’ll take it to her. You…you still have a few more months with me, it hasn’t been a year yet.”

Understanding smoothed away the shock, making an unsteady smile rise to Shoyo’s lips. “I’ll come back. I wouldn’t go back on our deal, and I don’t want to. I want as much time with you as possible, Okami-san.”

Just like that, the wolf’s eyes jerked to Shoyo’s, ears pricking up with surprise. “…Oh.”

Shoyo moved towards him to smooth his hand over the black fur that was still raised over his neck. “Let me go home,” he murmured, smiling as he watched those blue eyes flicker closed with his pets. “Let me see my family, and give the medicine to Natsu, and then I’ll come back. I promise.”

A sigh huffed out of the wolf, before he leaned his head against Shoyo’s hip. “…Okay. But you have to come back in a week.”

“Alright.”

“And you can’t tell them anything about…me. And what I become at night.”

That made Shoyo’s hands pause, his fingers tightening just a bit in soft, thick fur. “Why not?”

“It’s bad enough that I’m the strange wolf that took you away. Your family doesn’t need more reasons to distrust me.”

His heart clenched with pity and understanding, but Shoyo was careful to not let any of it show on his face as he sank to his knees and looked the wolf in the eye. “You’re not just the wolf that took me away,” he reminded him. “You’re the wolf who’s been keeping them safe, and you’re the reason my sister will live.”

The wolf’s ears twitched, and his voice sounded just a bit less tight when he murmured, “Still. Please just…don’t tell them. And come back soon, Sho.”

“That’s not fair,” Shoyo laughed softly. “You can’t just call me that to get what you want.”

“I can if it means I’ll have you back sooner.”

Oh, what Shoyo would do to be able to press a comforting kiss to the shadow’s lips in that moment. Instead, he had to settle for resting his forehead against the space between the wolf’s ears. “You will. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Good.” There was a gentle lick at his throat before the wolf pulled away. “It’ll be dark soon. If you pack now, we can leave at first light.”

Shoyo couldn’t resist letting a knowing smile pull at his lips. “Trying to get one more night with me?”

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t get lost in the dark, dumbass,” the wolf grumbled. “Why? Do you have a problem with spending another night together?”

He didn’t. Even if he did, the shadow would’ve wiped those problems away the moment his arms slid around him that night. They didn’t do anything, didn’t let their hands wander. Shoyo had even forced himself to properly wear his yukata, knowing anything less would lead to him giving in to the shadow and getting no rest.

Their kisses were slow, tender, almost lazy with how languid they were. There was no urgency, no bright flames of need, just a sense of safety and certainty in their love that made Shoyo press closer and hold tighter.

“Will you come see them with me?” he murmured into the hollow of the shadow’s throat.

“No…I’ll just take you to the edge of your woods. This is the first time they’re seeing you in almost ten months, I don’t want to get in the way of that.” He smoothed a gentle hand over Shoyo’s hair, moving his bangs for him to press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry about me. Just enjoy your time together and come back to me in a week.”

“I will.” Shoyo brushed his lips against the shadow’s pulse. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” His words were punctuated with a surprised squeak from the shadow pinching at his waist. “Hey!”

“Quit saying stupid shit.”

“You think everything I say is stupid.”

“Yeah.”

“Wha— don’t agree with me, you jerk!” He pounced on the shadow, pushing him to his back and straddling his waist to the sound of his grunt. “Take that back!”

“No.”

“You’re so mean, Okami-san,” Shoyo sniffed. “It’s like you won’t even miss m—mmf!” His words were cut off by the shadow’s stubborn lips, licking into his mouth like he was trying to steal his words directly from his tongue.

Shoyo melted into him, helpless against his slow kiss and his hands curving him into his body. “I said,” the shadow grumbled when Shoyo was well and truly kiss drunk, “stop saying stupid shit.”

“Make me.”

When he fell asleep that night, his lips were swollen from kisses and his arms were wrapped tight around the shadow. They felt uniquely empty the next morning, though his usual pang at waking up alone was eased by the sight of the wolf sitting by the genkan, tail neatly settled around his paws. “We should go soon,” he said by way of greeting.

Shoyo didn’t bother teasing him beyond a snort. “Give me some time to change and eat, and we’ll go.”

They left just as the sky was shifting from pink and orange into a light purple and blue. Shoyo had only tread the magically-manipulated path between his home and the wolf’s home once before, but it still felt surreal to walk it again. It was bad enough that he’d already spent a full year in Edo. Now it had been several more months, almost another year, since he’d seen his mother and sister. And unlike the daimyo’s pilgrimages, these months away had left Shoyo feeling deeply, fundamentally changed.

Maybe it was the effect of being isolated with the wolf. Maybe it was the effect of realizing magic was real. Maybe it was the effect of falling in love. But for the first time in years, he felt nervous to see his family again. What if he wasn’t who they remembered? What if they didn’t like who he’d become?

“Shoyo.”

“Huh?” He jolted out of his thoughts to see the wolf at his side, not leading the way. “What?”

“Quit thinking so hard, it’s not good for you.”

“Fuck off,” he laughed with a gentle shove at the wolf.

The wolf rocked with the shove with nothing more than his soft huff, before pinning Shoyo under a sharp, observant gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He frowned at the wolf’s disbelieving growl. “Honestly, I’m fine! Just…nervous I guess.”

“Why? You’ve spent longer away from them, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but…this is different.” Shoyo’s fingers sought the wolf’s soft fur like an instinct, and the wolf tilted his head into his touch just as easily. “This time I have you.”

The wolf fell quiet, his flicking ears brushing Shoyo’s wrist and fingers as the meaning of his words sank in. He only spoke again after licking at his fingertips. “…Calling me a bad influence?”

Shoyo blinked in surprise, but the sight of the wolf’s lazily swinging tail and pricked up ears told him he was joking. “You said it, not me.”

“Oi.”

“I’ve spent almost a year living with a wolf. Who knows what kind of wild habits I’ve picked up?”

“Oi!” A warning nip at his fingers made Shoyo laugh and begin running away, leaving behind a bewildered wolf. “Wai— dumbass, you can’t run faster than a wolf!!”

“Prove it!”

“You little—” With a grumble, the wolf broke into a run, chasing after Shoyo down the winding path and over logs and rocks that got in their way. The snow that was still on the ground cushioned Shoyo’s steps, but also made him work harder to hurry forward. The wolf had an unfair advantage with his paws that were better suited to running on snow, and in a frankly-embarrassing few minutes, he was knocking his head into the backs of Shoyo’s knees.

The snow was thick enough for Shoyo to feel safe letting himself fall to his hands and knees, though it also seeped into his pants and made him shiver with the icy cold. “You jerk!” he laughed, trying and failing to pin the wolf under a glare. He couldn’t do it, not when the wolf was playfully lowering his face to Shoyo’s while his tail wagged eagerly.

“That’s what you get,” the wolf sniffed, satisfaction clear in every word.

With their silly chase distracting him, Shoyo didn’t take note of the trees around them until he pushed himself to his feet and properly looked around. His heart leapt at the sight of that familiar, paper-like bark and the stubborn moss still visible beneath the melting snow. “We’re close!”

“Oh.” The wolf gazed down the path, nose up in the air before he gave a slow nod. “Yeah…yeah, we are.”

His reluctance was obvious, and it tempered Shoyo’s burst of excitement. He stepped forward to give a comforting scratch behind the wolf’s ears, a smile pulling at his lips when the wolf leaned into his touch. “C’mon,” he whispered.

The moment they stepped out of the woods and laid eyes on the house, Shoyo felt all his nerves get washed away by a bone-deep sense of relief and comfort. A year would never be enough to change the instinctive feeling of being home.

“Go ahead,” he heard by his hip. He looked down to see the wolf sitting in that polite way of his, ears quivering as if he were fighting the instinct to lower them. “I’ll see you in a week.”

Before the wolf could disappear into the woods, Shoyo crouched in front of him and scruffed the thick fur at his neck. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmured, resting his forehead against the wolf’s.

“That’s impossible, dumbass,” the wolf rumbled. “Just…get back safe. Enjoy your family.”

A gentle lick at his throat made Shoyo’s heart squeeze as he pressed his lips to the soft space between the wolf’s eyes. “I’ll miss you,” he whispered into the fur.

“Me, too.”

“Try to keep the house clean and yourself fed, okay?” He giggled at the teeth harmlessly pressing at his jaw.

“Dumbass,” the wolf repeated, fondness clear in his voice and shining from his eyes. “Go, Shoyo.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” With one last kiss to his head, Shoyo slowly pushed himself to his feet and readjusted the pack on his shoulders. “See you soon.”

“See you.” When Shoyo still didn’t walk away, the wolf nudged his leg with a small growl, pushing him, laughing, into the first steps away.

He turned away, determined not to look back at the wolf—he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t run back for one more hug. But he broke right at the entrance to the yard, looking over his shoulder at the forest.

There, right at the edge of the trees, sat the wolf, as neat and prim as he’d looked the first time they met. When he noticed Shoyo looking, he stood up and let out a sound somewhere between a bark and a howl, before turning and disappearing into the trees. It was like he’d known Shoyo would be tempted to run back to his side.

So he made the choice for him, leaving Shoyo standing alone at the edge of his childhood home.

“Shoyo?!”

He whirled towards the surprised gasp, and was treated to the sight of his mother standing frozen on the engawa, a broom in hand.

There was a beat, a breath, where neither of them moved. Then, in a burst of movement, she was dropping the broom and running across the yard, heedless of her house socks and thin yukata. By the time the broom hit the wood porch, Shoyo was being grabbed into the tightest, warmest hug he’d gotten in almost a year. “Hi, Mom,” he choked into her shoulder, her arms wrapping a little too tight around his shoulders and back.

“Oh…oh my goodness…my baby…is it really you?” Just as abruptly as she’d grabbed him, she pulled away, holding him firmly by the shoulders and giving him a thorough scan.

When her eyes met his, he let a bright smile stretch across his face. “Hi.”

“Shoyo,” she breathed, gazing at him in what he could only describe as “awe.” “How are you here? It hasn’t been a year, did something happen?”

“Sort of…but a good something!” he quickly reassured her when he saw panic flash in her eyes. “I’ll tell you inside, you’re gonna freeze out here.”

“I can’t freeze when I’ve got my little sun back,” she cooed. She pulled him back in, pressing countless kisses to his temple and cheek before she let him hook his chin over her shoulder.

He laughed the entire time, letting her rock him back and forth and enjoying holding her again. The feeling of her shivering in his arms finally made him pull away. “You’re shivering, Mom, let’s go inside.”

She acquiesced, though not without winding their arms together, sticking close to his side on the walk back into the house. “Sweetheart, what’s going on?” she murmured, her low voice doing nothing to hide the tremble from her shivers.

“We got the yamakumo,” Shoyo murmured back. “The wolf picked it all, and I dried it out. Natsu will be okay.”

His mother froze, gaping at him with wide eyes and only moving when Shoyo gave a gentle tug at her arm. “It’s done?” she gasped.

“It’s done!”

“Then you’ll stay home?”

“Ah…no.” His heart sank at the way her smile faltered, then tightened. “I made a deal, Mom. My year’s not done.”

“But…I thought that maybe…” She sounded so disheartened, almost defeated, that Shoyo desperately wanted to explain everything: the wolf’s strange circumstances, how Shoyo suspected they tied into the year-long deal, and the way it all somehow led to him falling in love with the wolf.

But the memory of the wolf’s low request for his secrecy kept Shoyo from confessing everything. All he said was, “I’ll be okay. It won’t be for much longer, and he…if I had to do this with anyone, I’m glad it’s him.”

He could see his mother fighting the urge to argue and try to convince him to break off the deal. She gazed at him with sad eyes, and he met them steadily, until she sighed and tugged his head down for another kiss. “You’re a better person than me, sweetheart.”

“Don’t say that, Mom.” Before she could insist, he bustled her into the house, grabbing the broom from the engawa on the way and balancing it against the wall of the genkan. “How’s Natsu doing?”

“Nii-chan!!”

As if summoned, Natsu was smiling at him from the bottom of the stairs, her eyes sparkling despite the sweat beading on her forehead and the slow, careful breaths she was drawing. Her cheeks looked like they ached from how wide her smile was, and Shoyo knew she wanted nothing more than to run and jump on him like she’d always done.

But because of her weakened lungs, Shoyo was the one to run up, sweeping her up in his arms with a sung, “Natchaaaaaan!” Her laughter rang around the room, though he had to quickly set her down and rub her back when her coughs overwhelmed her giggles.

“Shoyo—”

“Sorry,” he interrupted, sending their mother a guilty grimace. “I couldn’t resist!”

“It’s okay,” Natsu croaked, her weak voice offset by the return of her bright smile. “Nii-chan, why’re you back?”

“That’s the first thing you say to me?” Shoyo gasped. “Maybe I should leave!”

“Nooooo,” Natsu whined between peals of laughter. “I didn’t mean it like that!!”

“I know, I know.” He brushed a few stray strands out of her glittering brown eyes. She was practically a young woman, but she still looked at him like he’d hung the moon. He dreaded the day that changed. “I’m…I’m not back for good, Natchan.”

Just like that, the shine in her eyes disappeared, washed away by stunned disappointment. “W…what? Then why…but…but you’re home.”

“I know, but it hasn’t been a year yet. Oka—uh, the wolf let me come back to make a special delivery.”

His words pulled his mother’s attention back to the pack on his back, and alerted Natsu to its presence. “What’s that?”

“Oh!” their mother gasped. “That’s right, bring it here, come, come—”

She hustled her children back up the stairs, directing them to her small workroom. It doubled as a storeroom, with a wall of sprawling shelves filled with countless labeled bottles and jars and tiny boxes. She slipped past them to spread a sheet out over the floor, before holding her hands out for the pack. Shoyo wordlessly handed it over, watching with bated breath as she carefully plucked out each sprig and blossom, laying them out with a sense of order that he could only guess at.

Several minutes passed in a silence that was only broken by the gentle rustling of the leaves and plants. For once, Shoyo was satisfied with standing still, letting Natsu lean on him as her weak lungs made it more difficult for her to continue standing. When their mother finally spoke again, her voice seemed to chip at the silence more than properly break it.

“We have enough.” She slowly turned to face them, and Shoyo’s heart stuttered at the tears in her eyes and the minuscule smile on her lips. “You did it, Shoyo. You got us enough.”

“Not me,” Shoyo murmured, instinctively matching her quiet tone, “it was Okami-san.”

“Who?”

He blinked. There was a furrow between his mother’s brows now, paired with a bemused tilt to her smile, and it made his cheeks feel on fire. “Uh…the wolf. I—I meant the wolf.”

“Oh…” The furrow disappeared as her brows rose. “You must be close now.”

Damn him and his burning cheeks. Anything he said would immediately be seen through, especially by his mother. And despite that, he still stammered, “I…yeah, I guess. Aren’t you two close with him, too? After all his visits?”

“That’s true,” his mother sighed with a soft laugh, “He’s sweet, and he clearly cares about you. That means this year hasn’t been as hard as it could’ve been.”

Relief should’ve filled him at the reassurance softening his mother’s features. But all he could feel was guilt—here was his family, no doubt worrying about him for the past several months, without realizing that he’d been spending them filled with dizzying bliss and falling in love. He tried telling himself it was a silly thing to feel guilt over—what did it matter, as long as Natsu got the medicine she needed?—but it did nothing to ease the weight in his stomach. “Yeah,” he whispered, “it…it hasn’t been hard, outside of missing you. He’s been…he’s the best person I could’ve done this with.”

He didn’t notice his slip until he saw the furrow return between his mother’s brows. Neither of them could say anything though, not before Shoyo’s attention was stolen by thin arms wrapping tight around him. “Thank you, Nii-chan.”

Her voice was so soft, so small, that Shoyo’s guilt weighed even heavier. “Don’t thank me,” he whispered, pulling her close by the shoulders and pillowing his cheek on her bright hair. “It was the easiest choice in the world. And I didn’t do the hard work—it was all the wolf.”

“But you were alone for so long.” Natsu’s voice caught, though Shoyo couldn’t tell if it was caught on the threat of tears or on a suppressed cough. He wasn’t sure which was worse. “You were alone with a stranger for a year. And he never would’ve done any of this if you didn’t agree to that.”

“Yeah, but…I wasn’t alone, not really. And he’s not a stranger, not anymore.”

It was the understatement of a century, but Shoyo didn’t know what else he could say. He certainly couldn’t confess that he’d fallen in love with the wolf, especially when both Natsu and their mother didn’t know he was really a human. Even expressing how much he cared about him felt impossible.

The little house at the foot of the mountains had truly become a bubble to him, tucked away and only popped every-so-often by the wolf’s sister. The sheer…impossibility of everything had let Shoyo get swept away in his feelings, even more so than he usually would. What did it matter that magic existed, that it had been used to trap a young man in a wolven form, that he was only truly himself at night? Shoyo was used to all of it now. He only cared about the home they’d made and the lonely, awkward, kind man he held at night and loved with all his heart. It was easy, when it felt like they were the only people in the world.

But now he was back in the real world. It was just for a week, for a whole week, the longest he’d been away from the wolf since the start of their year together. There was such a sweet joy in being back home with his family, and such a sweet agony in being parted from his wolf.

Hiding the ache in his heart made it worse, but he couldn’t let his family notice it, especially his mother. Not only would that welcome his heavy guilt back into his stomach, but it would welcome more suspicion and questions.

At least he had the comfort of home and his old chores to distract him, plus the added work of turning the yamakumo harvest into the tea and incense Natsu needed to heal. With any luck, the busy work would also make it easier for him to conceal his bittersweet longing.

☾

He lasted all of four days.

Those four days weren’t a success because of any skillful deception on his part. He only made it through them because he and his mother were so focused on preparing the teas and incense for Natsu. It was painstaking work, requiring a focus from their mother that Shoyo hadn’t seen in…he couldn’t remember how long. He worked at her side as much as she would allow him, only stepping aside when she asked him to take care of a regular household chore or when Natsu came searching for some company.

Everyday, she toiled away in her workroom, and every night, Shoyo had to carefully persuade her to go to bed, reminding her that going without sleep just increased the risk of some part of the process going wrong and damaging their precious supply of yamakumo.

All that hard work paid off. On the fourth day, their mother disappeared into the kitchen as they finished breakfast, and emerged with a tray bearing a small tea set. Understanding, hope, and anxiety robbed Shoyo of his voice, leaving him silent and wide-eyed when he caught a whiff of the steam rising from the teapot.

Natsu was a little slower to understand. “Mooooom, I don’t want tea yet. I’m still really full.”

“It’s not tea, sweetheart,” their mother murmured, “not like we usually drink.”

It took another moment for Natsu’s creased brows to smooth out, replaced by her face growing pale and her eyes widening. “...Really?! You already did it?”

“As best as I could, yes.”

For a moment, Natsu almost looked like her old self, especially with the rush of emotions washing over her face: disbelief, excitement, hope, nervousness, dread, worry, fear, gratitude, and more. “Wow,” she finally managed, her voice breathless, “you really are amazing.”

“Anyone would work this fast for their child,” their mother said almost dismissively. “Come on, drink.”

She set the tray on the table in front of Natsu and immediately set about pouring her a cup. “The flavor will be strong,” she warned her daughter as she worked, “but it’s so that you can take in as much of the nutrients in the plant as possible. If you can, try to drink the petals at the bottom as well.”

“The petals?!”

“Please, Natsu, we need to make sure you take in everything possible.”

Natsu grimaced, but she obediently took the cup and stared into its contents. “Thank you for the tea,” she murmured against the glazed clay. Then, with a final, deep breath, she tipped her head back and drank it all down with three gulps.

Shoyo felt his heart in his throat as he watched her drink…only for a laugh to burst out of him when she lowered the cup and revealed a disgusted twist to her face. “Grooooss,” she whined, “Can I have some water? Stop laughing, Nii-chan!”

“You look like you stepped into poop,” Shoyo snickered as he passed her a cup of water. “That bad?”

“The petals are stuck to my teeth,” was all she managed before chugging the water.

Their mother watched with a small, quiet smile of relief. “How do you feel?”

“I feel okay…kinda sleepy.” Natsu’s frown was confused, even though she’d been feeling sleepy for a while. “It’s different though…it’s not because of the cough.”

“Do you feel bad?”

She shook her head at Shoyo. “No…just tired. Can I go sleep, Mom?”

“Of course, love.”

Shoyo cleaned up the meal as their mother helped Natsu back up to her room. He was in the middle of sliding the table and cushions back into the closet when their mother appeared again. “How is she?”

“Out like a flame,” she laughed. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her sleep so well.”

“That’s a good sign!” He hurried over to squeeze her into a hug. “You did it, Mom. It’s going to work.”

“I hope so,” she murmured into his shoulder, hands smoothing along his back. “It wouldn’t have happened without you, little sun.”

“It’s not just—”

“You and your wolf,” she corrected with a soft laugh. “He really was the best person to help us, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he— wait, what?”

His mother pulled away to pin him under knowing eyes and a sad smile. “You said it yourself. He was the best person you could’ve made this deal with.”

“M-Mom, that was just…it was just a slip of the tongue,” he tried to laugh. His voice just came out shaky and uncertain. “I’m not really used to a talking animal, so I guess I just…messed up a little, you know?”

“Shoyo…don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not— I’m not—!”

“Tell me the truth. He’s not just a wolf, is he?”

“I can’t…I don’t want to talk about this.” He slid out of her arms and slipped to the kitchen, listening to the sound of her footsteps following him with resignation.

“Don’t walk away from me!” she called, hot on his heels. “What is going on? You never hide from me like this, you’re worrying me!”

“I’m not hiding!” He was, down to keeping his face stolidly turned towards the wash basin as he began washing the dishes. “I just…it’s complicated, and he can’t tell me everything, and I promised I wouldn’t say anything—”

“So you’re choosing him over your mother?”

“That’s not fair, Mom!” His hands ached from how hard he was scrubbing at the dishes. “I would tell you if I could! But I made him a promise, and I can’t…I can’t break it. Not to him.”

“Sweetheart…” His mother caught his hands when he reached to pump out more water, making him turn and face her with gentle pressure. “Can you just tell me…what is he?”

“A wolf.” The words left his lips automatically, a response prepared in a pathetic attempt to protect himself against his mother’s insistent questions.

“Shoyo, look at me.” He hadn’t realized his eyes had drifted down until he obeyed the quiet order. His cold dread solidified to ice under her searching gaze. “He’s a talking wolf. Can he talk because he’s really a person?”

“I…I can’t…”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

It should’ve been the easiest thing in the world to tell her “no.” But the lie stalled in his throat, choking him and rendering him silent.

That was all she needed. “Who is he?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Don’t be silly. What’s his name, what does he look like?”

“Mom, I don’t know.”

She fell still, brows furrowed in confusion. He took his chance to slide his hands out of hers and finish washing the dishes, the clicking of ceramic chipping at the thick silence that had fallen over the kitchen.

“You…,” she finally managed, “you don’t know what he looks like?”

Again, he was silent, and again, that was all the answer she needed. “Shoyo, do you mean to tell me you’ve been living with a man you’ve never seen?”

“I’ve seen him as a wolf,” he muttered, part of him hoping his words would be buried by the sound of pumping water.

The omitted details rang clear to his mother. “You’ve never seen him as a human,” she repeated slowly, deliberately, “but you have…spent time with him? When? At night?”

His lips stayed sealed. It didn’t count for much.

“…Shoyo, are you sleeping with him?”

“Mom—”

“No, we’re done with you trying to avoid this,” she snapped. “Tell me the truth.”

“We…we sleep in the same room, yeah.” It wasn’t a lie, not really, but her narrowed eyes pushed him to keep talking before she could call him out. “And we talk. He’s less awkward as a human and he talks more in the dark. He’s a good person, Mom, he really is. I…I really…I care about him. So much. I care about him, and he’s done so much for us, and I couldn’t even keep his secret—” Guilt rose bitter like bile in his throat.

“Oh, Shoyo…” His mother’s sigh made his shoulders shoot up to his ears. She sounded so…so tired, so defeated, that he already knew what she would say next. That didn’t make it any easier to hear. “You’re in love with him.”

He didn’t mean to cry. He hadn’t even noticed his eyes stinging nor his throat aching. But the quiet, matter-of-fact statement from his mother made a sob burst from his lips before he could slap dripping wet hands over them.

“Sweetheart…” He let her coax him to her shoulder, the fabric of her yukata immediately becoming soaked from his tears. “Honey, what happened?”

“I dunno,” he sobbed, “I don’t know, he just…he’s been through so much, and he still tries so hard—he almost died getting the yamakumo, he nearly froze to death, but he kept going back, he got enough, he did that for us, and I didn’t—” He hiccuped on a sob. “I didn’t know I could feel like this, I love him so much it hurts, and I promised him, I promised I wouldn’t say anything—”

“Blame me,” she whispered, stroking gentle fingers through the back of his hair. “Blame me and my intuition. I know you too well, little sun, I could feel your worry for him this whole week. But…I’m worried, too.” She waited for his sobs to fade away before she carefully peeled him away, holding him pinned under her worn hands and sharp eyes. “If he can change from a wolf, then how do you know he doesn’t change into a monster? What if…what if he’s some sort of kitsune, or something else, something terrifying?”

Shoyo’s instinct was to refuse. Maybe he hadn’t seen the wolf’s human form, but he’d definitely felt all of him, and he was intimately familiar with the smooth skin and lean muscles that made up his body. He’d never felt any tails, nor any fur or scales or anything of the sort. Surely he could trust his sense of touch more than his sight anyway? All the folk tales he’d heard featured youkai tricking humans by looking normal. He hadn’t had the chance to be fooled that way.

But a small, traitorous part of his mind reminded him of all the secrets the wolf still insisted on, brushing off questions with the promise to explain at the end of their year together. What if one of his secrets was that he wasn’t human? Or worse, that he was human, human and someone terrible, frightening?

Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve met his sister. His sister…who also didn’t tell Shoyo anything, including her name.

He shook his head hard, as though he could physically dislodge such thoughts out of his mind. “If he wasn’t human,” he murmured, “he wouldn’t be so ashamed of whatever happened to make him like this. I trust him, and he trusts me. He…he loves me, Mom.”

His heart clenched at the shine of tears in his mother’s eyes and the sad smile on her lips. “You are so like your father,” she sighed, cupping his face and brushing her thumbs over his tears, “so recklessly trusting and desperately faithful in the good in people.”

“Is…that a good thing?”

“I hope it is. I really do.”

☾

Within the three remaining days Shoyo had at home, he could already see and hear an improvement in Natsu. She still wasn’t able to go hunting or run her usual errands in town, but she could go up and down the stairs without assistance, which meant, for the first time in months, she could actually put away her futon and come do some mending by the fire pit in the main room. More often than not, she still ended up falling asleep, slumping sideways until Shoyo caught her and gently lowered her to the floor with a folded blanket beneath her head. But seeing her move around the house again made it feel like summer had arrived in the middle of winter, and the sight of her napping by the fire instead of holed up in her room brought a lightness to their mother’s features that Shoyo hadn’t been sure he’d ever see again.

The thought of being the one to wipe her relief away made guilt taste bitter on his tongue. But the thought of leaving the wolf waiting, worried and alone, if he put off his return felt even worse.

“Tomorrow?!” both mother and sister gasped over breakfast.

“Yeah…I promised I’d come back after a week,” Shoyo murmured, a little too focused on picking the last grain of rice from his bowl.

“But…but what if…”

“There’s some shopping I need to do while I can leave Natsu with you,” their mother interrupted Natsu’s sad stammers. “Do you mind, Shoyo?”

“Of course not!” He could only hope his nervous suspicion wasn’t clear in his voice or eyes. Thankfully, his mother seemed a bit preoccupied as they worked together to clean up their breakfast, and a look at Natsu showed him that he wasn’t the only one bewildered by her sudden urgency.

“Has she really not gone into town since I left?” he asked Natsu once their mother had left.

She shook her head, a tiny furrow appearing between her brows. “She only goes to a shop or two because she doesn’t want to leave me alone for too long, but…she’s definitely gone…”

Foreboding curled in Shoyo’s stomach, tightening into a knot when their mother returned and was strangely secretive with her purchase.

The next day, he was proven right to be nervous. His mother had already insisted on him taking a seemingly endless supply of medicines and herbs that didn’t grow near the mountains, a gesture he appreciated, but that also forced him to spend a little extra time to pack everything carefully within the things he’d already brought himself.

He was just tucking the last bottle between the folds of his packed clothes when his mother appeared at the cracked-open shoji screen to his room. “Almost done?”

“Almost,” he hummed, sitting back on his heels to sweep his gaze around the room in one last scan.

“Sweetheart…” The quiet call brought his attention back to his mother, who was watching him almost nervously. “Have you been sleeping alright? Are you still having those dreams?”

His eyes widened, and he felt his cheeks burn with a flush. How could he explain the way the dreams had changed? What would she say if he told her that the manifestation of his familial duty had changed, morphing into the wolf and everything they meant to each other?

He couldn’t explain. He didn’t want to explain, especially after their tense conversation. So he just nodded and said, “Yeah, but…they’re not so bad now. I think…I think living with the wolf has helped? The dreams don’t bother me as much anymore.”

At the mention of the wolf, his mother’s lips pressed flat, but all she said was, “Well, that’s good. I still got you something that might help. Do you have space for one more thing?”

His brows furrowed, but he still nodded, silently watching her slip into the room and kneel next to him. She was gingerly holding a small package wrapped up in a pale green cloth. “I…I got this yesterday. I want you to take it, just in case.”

Uneasiness prickled hot and uncomfortable through him, even as he took the package and quietly laughed, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Yes, I did.”

The short answer and solemnity in her eyes pushed Shoyo to carefully unwrap the package. What fell into his lap made his uneasiness harden into thorns pressing against his skin.

First was a candle holder, a thin dish with a spike in the center for the candle and a small circle at the edge just big enough for his finger. Then, falling with a quiet clink, came a candle.

It was unlike any candle he’d ever seen, small and slender with delicate patterns carved into the sides. And its color…it was a color between blue and green, like the color of the sky on a cloudless day, or the sea when the sun glittered off of it. It was beautiful, the loveliest thing he’d held in a while, and every nerve in his body wanted to shove it back at his mother.

But he didn’t. He let his gaze drift up from his lap to meet familiar brown eyes that watched him with mute worry. “Mom…what is this?”

“You don’t have to use it. But…if you have trouble sleeping, this can help. The scent will help you sleep a little deeper, and it’s been made to not shine as bright, so it won’t wake you or…anyone else up. I…I imagine you don’t have any other candles in your room.”

The unspoken confirmation of his suspicions made Shoyo feel sick. “No,” he choked out, gathering up the candle and its holder to push it back at his mother. “No, I can’t, I can’t, you know I can’t—!”

“I know, I know,” she hushed him, catching his hands and carefully lowering them back to his lap. “You don’t have to use it, love. But I would feel better knowing you had it, just as an option.” Shoyo’s lips twisted, ready to bite out another refusal, but he was silenced by gentle hands on his cheeks. “Please take it, Shoyo. Take it for my peace of mind, hm?”

His fingers tightened around the candle and its holder until the metal creaked ominously. “…Fine,” he murmured, “but I’m not going to use it. I already broke one promise, Mom, I can’t break another.”

“Alright.” The quiet agreement belied the intensity in his mother’s eyes as she watched him re-tie the package and bury it deep in his pack. She didn’t say anything else, just took his face in her hands again and pressed a kiss to his forehead, before leading the way downstairs.

There, waiting for them by the genkan, sat Natsu, tying something in her hands and looking up at the sound of their footsteps. “Hey, Natchan,” Shoyo greeted her with a melancholy smile.

She didn’t return his smile, just watched him with sad eyes as she carefully pushed herself to her feet. “Are you leaving?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah…yeah, I have to go soon if I want to get back before dark.”

“…Oh.” Her fingers tightened around woven thread, reminding her of what she was holding. “Oh! Here.” She held the woven strap out to him, waiting patiently for him to step close and place his wrist against it.

“What is this?” he asked as he watched her tie it securely beneath the last bracelet she’d made for him. This one was simpler than the beaded leather strap, but it was still lovely, a mix of deep greens, warm browns, and pale yellow. The only adornment was a thin silver bar with delicate, sweeping curves carved into it. The design was rubbed almost smooth, and Shoyo couldn’t recognize it until Natsu finished tying the bracelet, letting him hold it closer to his eyes. The sight of a small crow flying over a sun made his gaze jerk back up to Natsu’s. “This…this was Dad’s.”

“It was both of ours.” Shoyo could feel their mother’s warm presence at his shoulder, and held his wrist up for her to see as well. “He made that for me when he was learning metal-working. I would give it to him when he had to leave for the pilgrimages or any other long trips, and he would give it back when he returned safe and sound. He left it home when he was sent on the sailing trip, and then…” Her breath caught, and without another word, Shoyo and Natsu wrapped her in a hug.

Shoyo could remember returning from his first metalworking class and grumpily comparing his misshapen knife with the delicate perfection of his father’s bracelet. His father had untied the leather strap and let Shoyo run his fingers over the design with a gentle touch that belied his frown. “Keep at it, kiddo,” he’d laughed, ruffling Shoyo’s hair. “One day you’ll be able to woo a special someone with what you create.”

“Mom,” Shoyo murmured now, his words muffled in her shoulder, “are you sure?”

“Yes,” she breathed, “take it with you, and bring it back when you’re safe and sound.” She pulled away with a kiss to his temple and a wavering smile. “Go on, sweetheart, before it gets too dark.”

There was an ache in Shoyo’s throat as he pressed kisses to his mother’s cheek and Natsu’s hair, an ache that sank to his heart as he tied his overcoat and shrugged on his pack. And yet…there was also a bittersweet tinge to their farewells this time, one that made his steps out of the yard and his final wave to his family hurt a little less than before.

He wasn’t heading out to some strange unknown. He was leaving the warmth and love of one home, and returning to the warmth and comfort of the man he loved. In the dizzying joy of reuniting with his family and seeing the yamakumo already work on Natsu, he’d been able to set aside his longing for the wolf. Now a flickering flame of eagerness glowed brighter and warmer with every step he took through the woods, every step that brought him back to his side.

He might’ve been consumed by the fire of his excitement…if it hadn’t been for the weight of the candle, and the betrayal it threatened, sitting heavy on his shoulders.

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sebastianstangirl · 1 year

Text

The Other Side

Chapter 1: Rue

Series Synopsis: Prudence - or Rue for short - is the younger sister of Clint Barton and the newest recruit to the Avengers team. After months of flirting and secret touches, she's unable to deny her attraction to Bucky any longer. Bucky, a willing participant, is completely enamoured with Rue and wants to do things the right way. Which means winning big brother Clint's approval.

Word count: 2610

Warning: alcohol consumption

Rating: MA

Chapter Summary: With Natasha's approval, Rue and Bucky's attraction comes to a head.

Series

Tags: @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @sparklebae15-blog

He’s not supposed to be here.

He and Scott are supposed to be handling a mission in Istanbul. But here he is, while Lang is a no-show. Of course, Steve and Tony questioned him when he walked in earlier, but he reassured them that his partner had simply gone home opposed to joining the party.

If I knew he was going to show up I would have put more clothes on. I’ve never been one to flaunt my figure, nor to shy away from looks from those around me. But for some reason when Bucky is around, I try to wear less revealing clothes. Unlike the red cocktail dress that’s currently hugging my curves like a too-small glove.

His gaze burns through me like a forest fire.

The air seems to still time around me when Bucky catches my eye, his eyes searing into me as if he’s searching for some unspoken answer. His lips are pulled up in a crooked smirk, and I can feel the heat rushing through my body like wildfire.

Clint is chattering away about a football game he lost a bet on, but I am hardly paying attention; my eyes keep drifting back to Bucky, who is leaning casually against the wall and smirking at me knowingly. My heart hammers in my chest as I try desperately to break free from his gaze and focus on what Nat and Clint are discussing, but it’s futile.

Clint, at least, doesn’t seem to mind my lack of input though, he hardly ever does.

That’s one thing I love about my brother, he’s always been fine with my sudden silence. Sometimes I think he prefers it, if I’m being honest. Natasha, on the other hand, has not only noticed, but is now trying to redirect my attention with her flirting eyes.

“Don’t you agree Rue?” She finally asks, tapping my knee.

I look at her and blink, feeling my cheeks start to burn as Clint turns and sets his eyes on me as well.

“Uh – what?” I fluster with the sudden shift of attention. “You guys know I don’t really care about football.”

Clint’s eyes narrow as he brings his glass to his lips, but if he’s suspecting something he keeps it to himself.

“I was saying,” Nat reminds me, “that your brother needs to stop betting away all his money while talking about retirement in the same breath.”

“It’s fantasy football, Nat,” he huffs, setting his glass down. “Betting is the whole point.”

I shrug a shoulder and lean back in my seat, still feeling Bucky’s lingering eyes. “He’ll never actually retire. He likes the fight too much.”

Clint scoffs but I don’t miss the slight uptick of the corner of his lips. “I’m getting too old for this job, you know that. I have to do yoga for an hour every morning or I pull a muscle.”

“Pfft,” I roll my eyes with a smirk, “Tony’s older than you and he’s still going.”

“Tony also has a metal suit,” he quipped back.

“Yeah, yeah. Metal suit excuse,” I glance down at my nearly empty glass and let out a sigh.

Might as well get it over with.

“I need a refill, can I get you two anything?” I ask as I stand with the glass in hand.

Clint shakes his head, “I’m probably about to call it a night. Jetlag is setting in.”

“That’s always a bitch,” Nat agrees as she passes me her glass. “I’ll take another pisco sour.”

“Of course,” I say with a wink before heading toward the bar.

The bar should be the last place I want to go, since it’s where Bucky and Steve have stationed themselves along with Bruce and a few others. I suddenly become self conscious as I approach, I glance down at the tight red dress and question if I should go and put on something with a more relaxed fit. I could accompany Clint to his room then swing by mine and change, it would be a good excuse.

I know I’m not going to do that though.

I revel in the way Bucky's gaze never leaves me for longer than a beat. I fight to keep my lips from curving into a smirk as I glide past Steve on his other side, purposefully avoiding any contact with him. Steve’s eyes burn into my skin as they flick from my dress, up to my face, and I can practically feel the intensity of his stare.

“I saw that Rogers,” I tease, which makes him blush.

“Sorry Barton, I guess it’s hard for me to deny my basic instincts when I’m a bit under the influence.”

“A bit?” Bruce laughs from behind the bar. “I’ve been giving these guys the strongest drinks I know for the last two hours and they’re still able to hold an intelligible conversation.”

I turn to lean on the counter with an elbow and place my other fist on my cocked out hip. “I’m not surprised in the least.”

“What are you having Rue?” Bruce asks. He tries to twirl a stir stick between his fingers, fumbles and drops it.

“Nat wants a pisco sour and I’ll have a boulevardier.”

“Coming right up.”

I turn my attention back to the man beside me, “what have you been up to today Steve?”

My eyes narrow in on Steve as my real target lurks behind him. He thinks he holds all the power of manipulation, but I'd been schooled in the art by a pair of masters – Clint and Nat.

His icy blue gaze may be sharp enough to slice through my defenses; yet the way to take him down was by turning his own game against him - with flirtatious glances directed at his companion. As I lock eyes with Steve, I know I’ve found my moment of victory. Bucky fidgets uncomfortably in his spot, wanting to look away but unable to.

The roads between us have never been easy. We’ve had our moments of gentle teasing and flirtation, the fleeting glances and secret smiles when nobody was looking. But despite my feelings for him, I know that acting on them is out of the question.

Natasha is my friend – possibly my best friend if I don’t count Sam.

Despite the longing in my chest to be closer to Bucky, I can’t ignore their past. I know it didn’t last long, and it happened years ago – even before Bucky joined the team. But it had been full of fiery passion, or so she told me one day at Clint’s annual spring barbeque.

Plus, there’s the fact that the team still doesn’t fully trust Bucky, not after everything he did – Clint especially. Even though my brother was on Steve’s side during the Civil War, it didn’t mean that he trusted Bucky – in fact he expressed his distrust to me a few times when I first joined the team (which he was also against, but that’s neither here nor there anymore).

Just thinking about their opinions makes me feel like I can’t breathe, knowing that even if Steve and Sam are on his side, most others in the room with us are not.

“Not much really,” Steve’s words pull me from my head. “I did read a book series.”

My eyes widen in surprise, “a whole series in one day?”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, “I got sucked in.”

“That’s cute.”

Bucky shifts behind him, clearing his throat before downing his drink and turning to Bruce. “Another, barkeep.”

“Barkeep?” Bruce shakes his head as he sets mine and Natasha’s drinks on the counter. “You do know we all take turns back here right? I can sign you up for next time.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, “you think that scares me?”

“I think that’s a challenge Bruce,” I chime in as I grab the cold glasses. “I think he absolutely should play barkeep next time.”

I flash a grin at Bucky before turning and walking back to Natasha, making sure to sashay my hips since I know he’s watching my every move. I had her drink over and sit back in my seat, Clint is already gone so it’s just us girls. Running a hand through my hair, my eyes flick back to the bar for a fraction of a second.

“It’s okay,” Natasha says calmly.

I look back at her with my heart in my throat. “What are you talking about Nat?”

She nods in the direction of the bar, her knowing eyes trained on my face. “James.”

I drop my eyes, feeling the heat rushing to my face. “There’s nothing–”

“I know. But there could be.”

I take a quick sip of my drink, savoring the burn of the whiskey as it runs down my throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Nat.”

She tips her head to the side with a soft smile, “yes you do.”

Shame floods my body, my chest clenches tightly as I look up to meet her green eyes. I chew the inside of my cheek before blowing a raspberry and leaning back in my seat.

“I’m sorry.”

Her brows quiver, “why? I said it’s okay.”

“I know, but I’m sorry I kept it from you. You’re family and I shouldn't – I shouldn’t’ve even dared, let alone hid it from you. You deserve better than that.”

Nat takes a breath and licks her lips before leaning towards me, resting her elbows on her knees. “You weren’t really hiding it – not from me anyway. Neither was he,” she nods towards Bucky.

“I –”

“You don’t have to say anything, not to me. I know you, and I know him. I think it’ll work, so…” she took a sip of her drink and smiled. “I’m not the one you have to convince.”

I close my eyes and inhale sharply, “Clint.”

Natasha chuckles and pats my knee, “good luck with that one.”

“Yeah,” I laugh under my breath.

~~~~

A few hours later the group has severely diminished over the hours; only myself, Nat, Sam, Steve and Bucky remain. I stifle a yawn, a clear indicator I’m ready for bed. Ready to call it a night, I stand with hooded eyes.

“G’night guys, going to bed.”

Everyone choruses their farewells as I slip my shoes off so I don’t end up falling on my face. Bending down to grab them, I’m unable to keep my balance and end up toppling over into Sam’s lap. He lets out an ‘oomph’ while I burst into laughter. He helps me right myself in his lap and I run my hand through my hair to pull it all out of my eyes. I turn to kiss his cheek before pushing off of him.

“Thanks for the save,” I giggle with a wink.

“Always,” he smiles.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go up alone,” Nat suggests cautiously.

I roll a hand in the air, “I’m fine.”

Not giving her or anyone else a chance to try and baby me, I make my way to the elevator and hit the button. I lean against the cool metal of the door and hum to myself with closed eyes until it dings and the doors open. Without opening my eyes, I walk in and immediately lean against the wall before hitting the button for my floor.

Before the doors are able to shut completely, a metal hand shoots out to stop it. The doors fly back open and Bucky steps across the threshold. He turns his back to me and silently presses the button for the residential floor. When the doors close us away from the rest of the world, I reach out and run a finger down his vibranium arm. The metal reacts to my touch, shifting and whirring lowly. He turns to look down at me, his face unreadable.

“What are you doing Prudence?”

I cringe at the use of my formal name. “Just feeling you, James.”

His lips twitches in agitation of the use of his. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call me Prudence and I won’t.”

“Touché no,” he steps closer, towering over me. “What were you thinking wearing this dress around when I can’t touch you?”

I suck in a breath and tip my head up to bat my eyes at him, “nothing’s stopping you now.”

He reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear with a soft smile. “You know that’s not completely accurate, doll.”

“Nat knows,” I blurt out.

Bucky blinks in surprise and runs his hand across his mouth. “And that matters why?”

“She told me about you two a few years ago,” I answer with a shrug.

He looks away for a second and runs his hand through his hair. “That wasn’t exactly me. It was–”

“Winter Soldier, I know that too.”

He meets my eyes again, his hard blue eyes diving through the windows of my soul. The door behind him dings and opens but neither of us move.

“She doesn’t care,” I whisper, and take a risk in reaching out to lay a hand on his chest.

His hand lashes out to the side with lightning speed and slams against the emergency stop button. The doors echo shut like a clap of thunder, trapping us both in this tiny box of metal and glass. My heart is pounding in my chest as he moves closer, overshadowing me with his stance. He lingers there, silently questioning whether his advances will be welcomed or rejected. His eyes search mine for a fraction of a second, and I know that I must make the first move if anything is to happen between us.

So, summoning every ounce of courage within me, I take a step forward into his embrace.

My heart slams against my ribcage as I wrap my arms around his neck, eagerly pulling him down to meet my own lips in an urgent kiss. Every part of me is alive and begging for more, and with every stroke of his lips a new wave of heat spreads through my veins like molten lava. His hands explore me hungrily, caressing curves and exploring contours as if he is learning the map of my body. The scent of whiskey on his breath mingles with the aroma of leather and sage, until it threatens to overwhelm me, driving my craving for him to a new level.

Desire I'd kept locked away for months finally breaks through, and I pour into him with a fervor that's almost desperate. His enthusiasm matches mine, his blazing smile against my lips when he pins me to the elevator wall. My legs buckle beneath me at the intensity, but Bucky holds me up so I barely notice when my knees give way. He groans low in his throat as I tangle my fingers in his dark hair, gripping tight and tugging gently.

My lips part with need as I moan his name, hungrily biting down on his bottom lip.

“Buck, I want you”, I pant into his mouth, desperate for him to stay.

His forehead presses against mine in a tender embrace while we revel in one another's presence and intoxicated scent. Our hands meld together, searching for any remaining space between us.

His need is palpable as it radiates through my lower belly, threatening to consume me until he steps back and rasps, “I want you too doll. But first... first things must be done properly.”

His knuckles graze my cheek softly, making me yearn for more of this forbidden bliss.

Realization floods me, I nod lightly while trying to squash the building fire in my abdomen.

“Clint.”

He licks his lips and nods, “yeah, Clint.”

#bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky x oc #mcu au #marvel au #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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minhosbitterriver · 10 months

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hi love !! i recently discovered your blog and to say im in love with your works would be an understatement<3

i was wondering if i could request a hurt/comfort fic with minho and gn reader? where the reader is struggling financially (for whatever reason) and minho wants to help them but they're hesitant, being ashamed of their problems.

if its too much then its completely fine !! take care, sending you lots of love<3

i'm on your side.

💭 GUIDELINES ‣ LIBRARY ‣ TAGLIST & ANONS ‣ IN PROGRESS ‣ REQUEST LIST ‣ PINNED.

pairing: minho x gender neutral reader

content warnings: hurt/comfort, death of a sibling, grief, mentions of an orphaned child, financial struggles, christmas

rating: 13+

summary: following the devastating death of your sister, you find yourself navigating a world that throws you into the deep end of piling bills and worries that you were unsure of how to handle.

The empty locket in your hand had never felt so heavy, the silver bee engraved onto the front seemed to somehow come to life the longer you stared through the blur of unshed tears. Your entire body shivered as you sat on the front steps of the hospital, white smoke forming with every breath exhaled though none of this was something that pained you as much as the loss of your sister. The thought of returning home, where her small son had slept for the past six months since his mother was admitted to the ICU was something you simply could not bear. It was unthinkable. He was too young to know pain, your chest burned with anguish as your mind echoed the last hour in excruciating detail and tears rolled down your cheeks as a wail ripped through you.

People stared and your phone buzzed incessantly in your pocket but you hardly noticed any of it. Your throat ached from your screams of despair that only stopped when someone placed their tender hands on your shoulders, the ones you didn’t need to look to know who it was because the only person brave enough to touch you in this state would only be Minho – your lover and source of support for the past year. His touch alone reduced you to hiccups as you melted into his embrace.

“She’s gone!” You sobbed, finding it difficult to breathe. Minho tightened his arms that wrapped around you, you could vaguely feel him shaking as he, too, grieved your sister’s death. “This isn’t fair! It’s not fair! She had no right!”

“I know, my love, I know.”

“What am I going to tell her son?” You moaned, heart tightening at the thought. “He’s too young to really understand why he’s never going to see his mom again…how will I explain?”

He was rocking you gently as a weak attempt to calm your disconsolate state. “We can figure it out later, he’s sleeping at Chan’s place right now so we have time to think about it. I’ll be with you, so you’re not doing it alone.”

Tears were no longer streaming down your face, eyes instead glued on the snow covering what had once been the greenest grass you’d ever seen. The world around you began to fade away as you felt yourself becoming numb – barely even able to feel Minho’s grip on you as your cries weakened to sniffles.

“Baby? Where did you go?” Minho’s voice was the softest you’d ever heard it.

You glanced around, briefly taking note of the people who stood around watching the scene of your grief. “She had no right,” you mumbled almost to yourself. “The holidays are next week…we were in the middle of making plans to bring the kids here to celebrate here with her. I don’t understand– she was fine just a second ago. She had no right. What will I say to the kids?”

Minho’s plump lips pressed against your temple and remained there for a good moment before he replaced his kiss with his forehead. “Your sister fought so hard, she tried so hard to get better, baby, and I know you know that.”

His words were like a stab in the chest, and a choked sob escaped you once more. A desperation like this was not something you’d felt before, and it was something you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemies. Your hand opened to reveal the empty locket she’d given you just a moment before her passing, she had asked you to wrap it up for her son as well as print a photo of the two of them together to place inside of the locket. She wanted him to always have her over his beautiful, beating heart no matter what became of her; and you’d scolded her for thinking so negatively, promising her that she would pull through and watch her own son grow up into a wonderful young man, but she’d only smiled at you with grief. Thinking back, you couldn’t help but wonder if she knew this would be the last time you’d see her alive.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ 🎄

It was still dark outside when you watched the drowsy employees open the front doors of the toy shop. Minho sat behind the steering wheel of his car, wide eyes gauging your reaction though you only glared forward. He’d tricked you into coming here, saying that he wanted you to walk in there and pick any and all the gifts you thought your nephew would enjoy without worrying about the prices – adding salt to injury.

Over the last couple of days, you and Minho seemed to argue incessantly – mostly about financial matters. You were behind on bills, adding the costs of your sister’s stay at the hospital and the coming holidays you had desperately wanted to make the best of for your nephew and Minho kept insisting you to let him carry some of your burden, but you simply refused. Your nephew was left to you by your sister, and it would be a betrayal if you admitted that you were incapable of taking on such responsibility. Minho meant well, and you were very well aware, but you wished he would just let things go instead of being so infuriating like this.

“Y/N, I know you’re upset–”

“Oh, you think so?” You couldn’t help but respond sarcastically with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I told you I was going to figure things out, I don’t need your help.”

He was quiet for just a moment, visibly growing frustrated with you though trying to mostly keep it to himself. Your eyes remained glued to the entrance of the toy shop as you watched a few people walk in for some last minute shopping.

“Baby, Christmas is in two days, and you still don’t have anything ready for him.”

“So? Plenty of people buy gifts the day before!”

Minho sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, do you really think that’s practical at all? I’m offering you a chance to make this a day that he remembers after all the shit he’s had to deal with. Why do you continue to fight me like I’m your enemy when it comes to things related to money? I’m on your side, and I thought you knew this. I have more than enough money to spare, I want to give it to you so that you both can live comfortably.”

“But I don’t need your money to take care of him and myself, Minho! My sister entrusted me with her son, and who would I be if I can’t even do that? If I have to depend on somebody else to do what she wanted me to do?” Your voice cracked slightly as a sob bubbled up, though you forced yourself to push it down. You were tired of crying, tired of arguing with your boyfriend, tired of seeing your nephew’s sorrowful face, tired of not being enough to fix everything.

“Y/N, you wouldn’t be depending on me though,” he insisted stubbornly, causing you to roll your eyes in exasperation. “Baby, I think your sister would understand if you let me pay a few things here and there. You’re still working, you’re still doing everything else that you need to do to make sure he has the best life you can offer, you’re just letting me help you even if it’s a little bit. If anything, my love, your sister would appreciate you putting your pride aside for just once– just once, so that this sweet kid can have a good day opening presents. And no, I know these presents won’t fix anything, but it’ll make him temporarily happy, just long enough for you to figure out the therapist costs and everything. Don’t you think he deserves that? I am offering you a chance that not many people get, Y/N, you can walk in there and put everything you want without worrying about the prices. Please, let me help you on this if you won’t let me help you in anything else.”

His words circled around your brain, and you knew he was right despite how angry and uncomfortable the thought made you. So instead of saying anything, you unbuckle your seatbelt and hop out of his car before slamming the door behind you. You didn’t wait for him to walk inside together, your cheeks heated in shame as you wordlessly took on his offer. You hated this no matter what perspective you tried to look at it from, this is not how you wished you could care for your nephew, but if this is what it takes for him to thrive for now, so be it. Minho quickly fell into step with you as you fetched a cart, a grin very clear and wide on his face which only made you scowl.

After a few moments, though, you heard him sigh beside you as he grabbed you by the elbow so you’d stop and turn to look at him. “Please, don’t be like this. I keep telling you, Y/N, I am on your side. All I want is for you to share your burdens with me, especially if I have the means to help you. I love you, and it would be selfish if I just stood on the sidelines as you struggled like this. Me helping you doesn’t make you anything less than a fierce person who puts their family first, you’re strong and resourceful, you’re always fighting everyone and everything in order to move forward – you must be so exhausted. Let me fight some of your battles every now and then, just until you can stand on your own again. I’m not here to take care of every single hardship, I’m not here to take control of anything. I’m just here to help my soulmate out sometimes and I don’t think that’s a sin, is it?”

You said nothing at first, only sighing before pressing your forehead onto his chest in defeat. He chuckled lightly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into the familiar warmth of his embrace.

“Today, I’m helping you with the presents, and tomorrow we can figure out something that helps but doesn’t overstep any boundaries you might have, how’s that sound? I could be the one to bring groceries every week, I’ll be happy with only being responsible for that while you continue paying for everything else like you want to, yeah?”

A muffled groan made it past your lips before you pulled away to look up at him. “I’m so lucky to have you, Minho. I don’t know what I did to end up here, but I’m happy you’re on my side.”

He smiled at you tenderly, cupping your face with both hands and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I will always be on your side, I can promise you that. I adore the two of you, and I want to stay here for a long, long time.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before your lips crashed onto his. You were still uncomfortable with the idea of having someone else take part of your financial burdens, but you also knew that you were in safe hands with him. You trusted Minho, and the thought alone made your heart flutter.

word count: 1.8k 🎄 posted: 12 • 07 • 2023

💬 a note from green;

Okay, so this one really had me thinking! When I received your ask, I immediately knew it would be Christmas theme considering that we're already at that time of the year where we spend a whole lot of money on gifts for our loved ones. Also, it wouldn't be me if I didn't add a sprinkle of tragedy into my work.

Anyway, thank you for reading my work and I'm so happy you love it! Thank you for the challenge and the request! Sending you lots of love back!

P.S. I also love your writing <3

🪲 TAGLIST !

# @grandpafelixx

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spinobsessed · 1 year

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The “Switcharoo” Trope

I thought of this as I was going to sleep and the thoughts were too much for my brain to handle on its own, so I physically had to write all this down. It’s 3:42am it’s been an hour

Switcharoo episodes can be an amazing way of bonding between two or more characters while also giving them -and us- insight into a characters personal struggles

But they are incredibly infuriating when done wrong. I have 4 examples of Switcharoo episodes I can recall; “Switched” S1E07 from Teen Titans, “A Royal Problem” S7E10 from MLP: FiM, “The Cutie Mark Mix Up” S1E05 from MLP: A New Generation, and lastly “Once Upon a Swap” S1E08 from The Owl House. I will go in the order I listed them.

In “Switched” the puppet king stole the boy’s souls and almost got the girl’s too but Raven casted a spell that was supposed to counter it but ended up putting their souls in each other bodies, throughout the episode Starfire and Raven have to work together in each others bodies to save the boys before it’s too late. This is the best example of a switcharoo episode I can think of for multiple reasons. First, the set up makes sense, it didn’t feel rushed or too coincidental which is great considering this was the 7th episode of TT overall. Second, the way they handled Raven and Starfire switching was amazing. Both of their powers are based on emotions, but Starfire needs to let go to access hers while Raven must hold back or risks hurting people or herself. They’re both completely out of their element and even argue for a moment about their differences before Starfire suggests that Raven tells her about herself so she can get a better understanding of how Raven controls her powers. I really enjoyed how it was easier for Starfire to use Ravens powers than it was for Raven to use Starfires, it makes SO much sense that a person who normally holds back has trouble letting go while a person who’s always letting go can just tone it down a bit. My only single complaint abt this episode was that we never got to see Raven apologize for saying to Starfire that her happy thought was her not talking; as someone who kins Starfire that made my heart physically hurt. But this isn’t abt me, 9.9/10.

In “A Royal Problem” Starlight Glimmer is sent to Canterlot’s Castle (home to the two ruling sisters Celestia and Luna) to find and fix a friendship problem. She finds out that Celestia and Luna are actually the cause of the problem and that because they have a sort of lack of empathy and misunderstanding for each others jobs they end up being under-appreciative towards eachother. Starlight, in the moment, casts a spell to switch their cutie marks/magic for 24 hours and they have to live as each other. My problem with this episode is that it misunderstands what a switcharoo episode is meant to do, like I said earlier it’s meant to give us and the characters insight on another characters troubles. It’s definitely NOT supposed to be a way to say “oh you have a problem and I have a problem” in an equal way, Celestia comments on how her list of daily tasks is 3x as long as Lunas. Lunas actual sole responsibility, besides controlling the moon but that’s basic, is to help ponies in trouble in their DREAMS. We’ve seen her do this before it’s not very complex, especially when you’ve had practice at finding the issue and talking it out with someone. Celestia is effectively ruling the entire kingdom on her own, Luna may be there to assist but in the end it’s Celestias job alone it’s all on her list. Believe it or not keeping a civilization running is harder than talking ponies through their nightmares. Celestias only problem with Lunas job is that she had to do it alone, which I find absurd. We did not see Luna getting any help from anyone besides Starlight, who would not normally be there, so I don’t know what “help” Celestia is getting but they should’ve shown that. Their jobs are not equal and I wish that was addressed. 7/10, I would rate it a 5/10 but it gets some extra points for being semi-Celestia-oriented and having loads of editable clips

these last two I haven’t watched in a while so I’ll recall as best as I can

In “The Cutie Mark Mix Up” Sunny and Hitch get into a conflict about who’s job is harder which is already annoying me because OBVIOUSLY Hitch’s job is, like this isn’t even abt two ppl who have a similar task but have to do it differently. They’re just two completely separate occupations. Sunny was talking abt her making smoothies and then started bringing up how she’s the alicorn of Maritime Bay as if the other ponies even cared except for that one episode where they suddenly cared (Sidenote I hate it when shows pick and choose when to have logical scenes for their characters, if your MC is an alicorn or some other special person then they SHOULD have some kind of paparazzi or fan club. They did it right with Rainbow Dash, she was special enough to deserve a fan club but didn’t necessarily need cameras around her all the time like Twilight or another princess would, but I’m getting off topic). Sunny was mixing up her job, and her responsibility. She has the job of making smoothies but decided to take it upon herself to be a good role model as an alicorn, if you’re talking just from an employed job standpoint then Hitch has the harder one. Hitch’s problem with being a smoothie maker was that the ponies were too picky, asking for your smoothie to be chunkier is fine; but asking for “the usual” when it’s obviously not the usual person working and therefore they wouldn’t know what tf ur asking for is stupid. Being upset that someone would rather not chat while making a smoothie isn’t a valid complaint these ponies are just spoiled w/ Sunny’s treatmeant. For some reason they also switch personalities which is a cool twist ig but the episode just wasn’t that memorable to me. 7/10, unlike g4 I don’t expect as much from g5

In “Once Upon a Swap” Luz, Eda, and King all have misconceptions about each others lives. Unlike the previous examples, this doesn’t center the idea that someone has it easier (although that is what Eda thinks of King but that’s just one out of the three) King doesn’t understand why Luz doesn’t stand up for herself when she’s bullied by Boscha, Luz doesn’t understand why Eda is cautious abt breaking the law bc she thinks Eda can just use magic to solve her problems, and Eda doesn’t understand why King doesn’t like always being pampered like a baby. So they swap bodies while making a bet on whoever has the easiest day, loser has to wash hooty. I honestly don’t have much anything to say about this, it wasn’t memorable for me, it was a filler episode in a story driven series which I wasn’t very interested in, idk. I will say that these all feel pretty realistic for their characters though and I can appreciate that. Luz is a 14 yr old girl caught up in her witch fantasy and has barely scraped the surface of the true horrors in the Boiling Isles, of course she thinks Eda can just magic away her problems she’s done it before to save them. Eda has had it rough all her life and has to survive while being actively hunted to go to the conformitorium (is that how you spell it??) of course when she looks at King she sees a life of pampering and comfort she PROVIDED that for him, and King has taken advantage of his cuteness and it’s affect on people before. King is overconfident because of his cuteness and sees Luz as a cool older sister figure, of course he thinks she should just be able to stick up to her bullies and make friends with the cool kids easily he’s seen her stick up to the Warden who was in charge of the guards that hunted Eda. 6/10, basic but not bad characterization I suppose

#special interest #mlp #mlp g4 #mlp g5 #teen titans #raven dc #starfire #the owl house #autism #actually autistic

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pennywaltzy · 2 years

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I posted 354 times in 2022

140 posts created (40%)

214 posts reblogged (60%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@strangelock221b

@onthesandsofdreams

@sherlollysecretsanta

@mousedetective

@miz-joelys-sherlollilists

I tagged 351 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#fanfic - 131 posts

#fanfiction - 130 posts

#my stuff - 99 posts

#sherlock - 70 posts

#omg this - 54 posts

#molly hooper - 52 posts

#star trek aos - 27 posts

#answering asks! - 22 posts

#sherlolly - 20 posts

#sherlock holmes - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 73 characters

#so many of strangelock221b's fandoms are ones i haven't gotten to see yet

My Top Posts in 2022:

From New York to London ~ A HooperStrange Fanmix (requested for @fandomtrumpshate)

8tracks | Download

13 notes - Posted April 12, 2022

Fic cover for “The Loskr” by @pkrosche.

Star Trek AOS; Kirk x Spock; rated Teen.

14 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

What Child Is This? -- SanSan

I’m stretching my fandom fingers into a new ship for a fandom I don’t really write much. @lareinadehades, you’ll have to tell me if this is any good. But I hope it is!

Their Christmas Miracle - Sandor Clegane II was born December 25th at 12:35 AM to Sandor Clegane and Sansa Stark, their very own Christmas miracle.

READ @ AO3

Sansa yawned and woke up, not quite comfortable in her hospital bed. She much preferred the bed she shared with her husband Sandor, but she had an excellent reason to be dozing in a hospital bed. She had been through eighteen hours of delivery to give birth to her son Sandor Clegane II at 12:35 on Christmas Day. He was the first child born in the hospital on Christmas, and so they had gotten quite a few gifts from the hospital staff, including things they needed and things they hadn’t thought of. Arya and Gendry had already taken the things they already had to an organization that could put them to good use.

Her family had crowded in the hospital waiting room and they had ooohed and ahhhed over Sandor II for hours before leaving her to get some well-deserved rest. Her husband had been allowed to stay in the room with her and the baby, and it was because of that that she woke up to Sandor softly singing “What Child Is This?” to their son. A smile crept on her face but she stayed quiet, taking in the sight.

When he was done singing, he noticed Sansa was awake and brought the baby to her. “Our Christmas miracle was a little fussy,” he said.

“You’re going to refer to him like that for the rest of your life, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Well, I was told as a lad I would never have children. He is a miracle.”

“Are you sure he’s not someone else’s?” she teased. He had never suspected her of cheating, even when she had shown him the pregnancy test. And she never had; she loved this mountain of a man far too much to go looking elsewhere for anything she might be missing.

“Sansa, I had low sperm count, not a vasectomy. It was always possible. We just had to try often enough.”

“And when I’m discharged and feeling better, we can try and give him a little sister.”

“I think I would enjoy that very much, Little Bird.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead before she got one of the prepared bottles to supplement with breastmilk to feed her son. Sandor sat on the edge of the bed and looked down, brushing back his son’s dark hair. She rather had hoped it would be red, but the nearly black hair suited a child who already looked so much like his father.

Sandor began humming the song he had just finished while she fed Sandor II, and she leaned back into the bed, comfortable and happy and knowing Christmas would be just a bit more special every year from now on.

16 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

Teach me how to love ~ A The Hunger Games Fanfic Inspired Fanmix

Download | 8tracks (TBA) | AO3

16 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

15. “My horoscope told me I would meet the love of my life next year.” “Then let’s meet up again after midnight.” -- Darcy/Loki

And a longer fic for my "Just Pieces On The Board" series, set more towards the beginning but after Darcy and Loki meet in the series.

Reunited (And It Feels So Good) - After nearly six months from their introduction, Loki returns to Darcy's life at Tony's New Year's Eve party.

Read @ AO3 | Buy Me A Coffee?

Darcy had to admit, even though it was just for the Avengers and the rest of those who lived in the tower, Tony Stark spared no expense for a party. She just wished things had been looking up for her and she wasn’t set to have a miserable year being alone. There had been a...thing with Loki in London, when the Avengers had chaperoned the politicians on the trip to Asgard. It was damn good sex, she’d freely admit it, but it was almost six months later and...nothing. Not that he had left her in bed alone, but he had left a few days later, ostensibly to go back to Asgard to take care of things with Thor.

Thor made trips back to see her and Jane. Loki didn’t. That was the difference.

What was it about him that drove her nuts, anyway? She couldn’t stop thinking about that week no matter how hard she tried. It was like he haunted her dreams or something.

She knocked back her glass of champagne and turned to get another one when she saw him and he saw her. It was like a homing missile; he made a beeline for her. “Loki…” she said.

He took her in his arms and kissed her as she’d never been kissed before: desperately, like she was nectar from the gods and he needed to taste her now. And she kissed him back...what else could she do? The kiss made her weak in the knees.

Finally, when she was almost on the brink of running out of breath, he pulled away, “I am sorry, Darcy. For everything.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said, wrinkling her brow.

“No, everything I did. Leaving without seeking you out again. Disappearing. But I can explain.”

“And you should. But you think you can let me stand up straight for a minute so I can get my bearings?”

He looked sheepish but he helped right her and then let go. His touch had been like fire, even though she knew he was part Frost Giant; the week they spent together just hadn’t been about great sex. It had been talking, too, and secret sharing, and maybe that was why it had hurt so much that he’d left her alone for so long.

“My apologies,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she replied. “Are you planning on staying for more than tonight?”

“Yes. Thor has arranged for us to stay here while Mother leads the Asgardians from Norway. Thor was taking care of most of the political discussions with her, while I was otherwise occupied.” He looked down. “I was traveling the realms, readying them for the disappearance of Asgard once the move to Earth has been completed, and with Sif’s help, making sure Earth remains neutral in dealing with those realms. The politician Mother has taken a shining to was traveling with us.”

“That’s news to me,” Darcy said.

“He’s...interesting, I suppose. Mother still mourns Odin Allfather, but I believe she may make the politician her consort in the future.”

“Which politician was it?”

“Mycroft Holmes,” Loki said. A waiter came by with a tray of champagne and Loki took two flutes, handing one to Darcy. “Yes, I realize that will make me related to an Earth family if it happens, but he is not the worst person. His brother came with us, as did the S.H.I.E.L.D. member of the family. It was an interesting time.”

“Well, that explains why Coulson was here so much,” she said, taking a sip of her champagne. “I just figured he missed Thor’s witty repartee.”

“No, we were traveling in less civilized realms, and also less technologically advanced ones. Passing details to Thor and Mother took time and effort. But the business is finished, and I can start my life here on Earth and in New York City soon. My apartment here should be ready tomorrow, Stark said.”

“Wait. You’re staying here here? In Avengers Tower?” He nodded and she grinned. “I’ll have to bake you a welcome home gift.”

“You could just stay in bed with me for another week,” he said. “Unless my absence quelled those flames?”

She set her glass down and pulled at Loki’s tie. “I haven’t really stopped seeing you in my dreams. I just thought it meant less to you.”

“Darcy, it meant more to me than you could have realized,” he said, sliding his hands to her waist as the host of the party said it was five minutes to midnight. “You haven’t been far from my thoughts as well.”

“I really should slap you for going so long without contacting me, but my horoscope told me I would meet the love of my life next year.”

“Then let’s meet up again after midnight,” he said.

“Or we could just leave the party and bring in the new year in the privacy of my apartment,” she murmured.

See the full post

18 notes - Posted January 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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strangermarvelss · 2 years

Text

positive- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Hopper!AFAB!Reader

Summary: you find out you’re pregnant with eddie’s baby

Warnings: ANGST, hopper being angry, eddie being a dingus, crying, fighting, mentions of abortion, cursing, fluff, happy ending

Request?: Yes

Reader is hoppers daughter, and finds out she’s pregnant. I want so much angst my heart breaks

I’d love some kind of angst situation between hopper daughter reader, hopper and Eddie. Really open to anything, if you could include El too that would be great. Like reader and her get into an argument or something about Eddie and then that leads to hopper finding out reader is dating Eddie. Then more angst lol

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this is the first fic in the collab sleepover i’m doing and ooh it’s exciting! also this may be a hopper afab reader, but i didn’t include any details about race or anything particular, so it could be read as an adoptive hopper daughter as well, i just don’t mention that in the fic. enjoy! -sava

Positive. Fucking positive.

You throw the test against the bathroom wall, a frustrated groan escaping your lips. The past year of your life had been amazing and you thought things couldn’t get any better, and that was correct. The universe saw your happiness and decided to knock you down a peg, only this was a very big peg.

You’ve managed to keep your relationship with Hawkin’s resident metalhead, Eddie Munson, a secret for a little over year now, with only a selected few knowing. The main reason you kept it a secret was due to word traveling fast in this town, and your father being police chief Jim Hopper doesn’t help. One wrong move and the two of you would be busted, and you didn’t even want to think about what your father would do if he found out.

Although it was going to be hard hiding a baby bump for a whole nine months. Then hide the actual baby.

You felt tears pricking behind your eyes, the frustration becoming overwhelming as your mind becomes full of hundreds of scenarios that could happen. You feel a few tears trickle down your cheeks as you hug your knees close to your chest. Your dad was going to kill you or Eddie, or even both of you, and that was the last thing you wanted, especially if you didn’t get to tell Eddie about the unexpected news.

Eddie’s reaction was another you were worried about. The two of you never talked about the possibility of kids, considering you were both so young and the relationship was still being built up, even a little over a year later. Plus, you were barely out of high school and Eddie is about to start his second repeat of his senior year, so the two of you were not mature enough to raise a child, especially with Eddie’s dreams of making it big and escaping Hawkins once and for all.

“Y/N? Are you almost done? I have to use the restroom,” Your sister, El calls out from behind the door. Before you have a chance to answer, she opens the door and you let out a grunt.

“El what the fuck!” You yell out, standing up and running to where you threw the test, quickly hiding it behind your back. Her eye flicker down to your hands before looking at your eyes again.

“What is that?” She asks, pointing to behind you.

“Nothing,” you shrug. You try your best to keep a neutral face, but you know you can’t keep things from your sister. Your heart rate begins to quicken, scared of how this is all going to play out.

“Siblings don’t lie,” she tells you simply, giving you a knowing look. You roll your eyes and go to move past her, trying to get to your bedroom before she can question you further.

“That bullshit line might work on your friends, but it won’t work on me, El. Just let it go,” you tell her, turning the knob to your door, but before you can walk in she uses her powers to shut it on you. You turn to her with a glare and cross your arms.

“Please talk with me. Maybe…maybe I can help?” She asks, her features soft as she takes a step closer to you.

“El, please, can we talk about it later? I don’t need Dad hearing this conversation.”

“Why not?” Hopper asks, his figure frozen in the door way. You both turn your heads towards the door, not having heard the door even open. You slowly blink at him, feeling as if your eyes were playing tricks on you. This cannot be happening right now.

“Y/N is hiding something from me! And she looks upset so I just want to help,” El explains to him. You run your free hand over your face, a groan leaving your lips.

“Y/N? What are you hiding? You can tell us anything, you know that right?” Your father questions, taking more steps inside the cabin and closing the door behind him.

“Yeah well, not everything,” you mumble under your breath. Your father’s eyebrows shoot up in a concerned expression.

Suddenly, you watch El sneakily go behind you and grab the used test from your hands, your throat letting out a loud scream and attempt to grab it back from her, only for your father to grab it from her and hold it above his head for a moment.

You’re absolutely fucked.

He lowers the test to eye level and examines it, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he looks up at you. You quickly look to the floor, not wanting to be the subject of your father’s intense gaze.

“Y/N…why the fuck do you have a positive pregnancy test?” He asks, his voice low but calm, which was scarier than his yelling voice at times. Your lips are tightly pressed together, unable to form a coherent sentence to answer him.

“What does that mean? Did you pass the test?” El questions unknowingly. Part of you wanted to laugh at her question, knowing she genuinely was curious as she’s never encountered a situation like this before. You peer up at your father, his face twisted in rage, sending an unsettling feeling to the pit of your stomach.

“El, go to your room...now. Y/N, answer the goddamn question,” he demands. You watch El scurry off to her room, leaving the door open three inches as she always did.

“The test…it’s mine,” you whisper out, but loud enough for him to hear. Looking at him, you watch as he turns to the wall closest to him and slams his fist against it. Flinching, you feel yourself leaning against the door, cowering a little.

You loved your relationship with your father, the two of you always being close since you can remember. But he was strict, and you knew it was because he cared about you. Most of his rules were obtainable, but you found it unfair that El was allowed to have a boyfriend, even if your father hated him, and be out in the open with that relationship. Whereas you were not allowed the same luxury.

“How could you be so reckless?! You know you’re not even allowed to date, I assumed you knew that applied to sex as well! Like seriously, Y/N did you even think this through?” He screamed. You felt the tears begin to fall again, unable to keep the eye contact with him. “Who is this punk? I need to go set him straight.”

“No! Dad, I haven’t even told him yet, please just calm down,” you plead, walking forward towards him. Your face was full of sadness as you looked at him, but the only thing you could focus on was the disappointment etched within this face.

“Absolutely not. You’ve lost my trust and now you’re not going anywhere for the foreseeable future, I’ll make sure of it,” he yells, his face dangerously close to yours. Tears continue to roll down your face as anger bubbles in your chest.

“You’re being so unfair right now! How come its okay for El to be with Mike all the time, but I even think about having a boyfriend, and it’s the biggest crime in the world? It’s such a double standard!” You yell back. His face contorts into a surprised expression, which you were surprised about as well. You weren’t big on fighting him back on things, but this was scaring the shit out of you, and his reaction wasn’t helping the matter.

“Yeah? Well El isn’t out there having sex! Hell, I didn’t think you were either, but I guess I was wrong,” he huffs. He wipes his hand across his face and lets out a long sigh. “I just don’t understand how you could be so stupid.”

Your lip begins to wobble as you look to the floor once more, this words cutting deep. You hated being on his bad side, and having him insult you for a mistake just made you feel worse. You scurry across the room and grab your car keys from the table beside your father’s chair and make a quick escape, running to your car and opening the driver’s door.

“No, no, no! Where the hell are you going?!” Hopper shouts from the doorway. You wipe away your tears that had puddled on your cheeks, looking at him.

“I’m sorry you hate me dad, but I have to go tell the father. He deserves to know before I’m never seen by the world again.”

———————————————————————————————

Your knuckles knock against the door to Eddie’s trailer, your hands beginning to shake. Comfort was the only thing you wanted most in the world right now, your life doing a complete 180 turn just by taking a simple test. Eddie may have a tough exterior demeanor he puts on for the rest of the town, but he was a sweetheart deep down, a side of him you loved being able to see. He was a safe haven that you never knew you could need.

Eddie comes into view as the door opens, his smile stretching across his face as his eyes meet yours. You look at him with a worried expression, still visibly shaking, which he is quick to notice. He approaches you and immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you close to his body and he rubs his hands against your arms.

“Is everything alright, sweetheart?” Eddie asks as he motions you inside. You walk through the door of the trailer and into the living area, sitting on the couch as your leg bounces. Eddie swoops in and sits next to you, his hand interlocking with yours and rubbing small circles against the back of your hand. You look over at him with doe eyes, fear banging around your chest.

“M-my dad knows. About u-us,” you let out, your hand gesturing between the two of you. His eyes go wide, fear written across the once smiling face.

“I’m sorry…what?” He asks you. His thumb was still rubbing small circles on your hand, which was starting to ease your worries, but not entirely. You simply nod at him, looking down to advert his gaze as you let out a long sigh. “H-how’d he find out?”

“He found my pregnancy test,” you mumble, your eyes glued to the floor. Eddie’s movements against your hand come to a halt, his hand dropping from your own, making you look up at his eyes, which are wider than they were before, his jaw hung open.

Your throat became dry all of a sudden, the silence in the room becoming suffocating. Eddie’s eyes were locked on yours, searching for any indicator that you were joking, just fucking around and pulling his leg. You let a tear slip past the dam that had built up, shaking your head as you bury your head in your hands.

“How the hell did this happen?” Eddie finally manages to let out.

“Believe it or not Eds, the pull out method doesn’t always work,” you chuckle out, a pathetic attempt to ease the tension that lurked in the air, but you’re only met with an unamused glare from your boyfriend.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” he says, rising from the couch and beginning to pace in the living room. You try to hide the hurt that hits your chest at his tone when saying your name and the lack of pet name accompanying his words, shaking it out a bit. “What the fuck are we going to do? I’m not ready to be someone’s fucking father! Jesus H. Christ, I should’ve had condoms on hand at all times.”

“I don’t know, Eds. I’m j-just really fucking scared,” you tell him honestly. He shoots you a knowing look, his face emotionless.

“Yeah no shit, me too,” he stops his motions, snapping his fingers as the lightbulb above his head goes off. “W-what if you got an abortion?”

Your eyebrows raise as you look at him, shocked that it was his first suggestion. You’d be lying if you said the thought hadn’t crossed your mind, but this information was still new, you wanted to try and talk with Eddie to see what the two of you could do about this situation before thinking of that. It was really just a last resort for you.

“I-I don’t think I want that,” you answer simply. He lets out a groan and runs his hands over his face, turning away from you and hunching a bit.

“Then what the fuck do you want to do then, Y/N? We’re not ready to be parents! Shit, I’m still in goddamn high school! I can’t even think about a baby right now, plus you know about my plans to get out of this fuckin’ town-“

“Yeah Eddie, I’m fully aware of your plans. I had plans too but accidents like this happen,” you yell out. He turns back to look at you, surprised by the sudden change in tone. “I get that you’re not ready to be a parent, and I’m not either, but we’re both to blame for this shit, okay? Don’t try and put this all on me,” you stand from your seat and point a finger into his chest. He smacks it away and lets out another frustrated groan.

“I’m not putting it all on you! You’re the one who doesn’t know if they want an abortion, so I’m out of options here. I told you I don’t want to be a dad now, so I’m done!” He all but screams. You take a step back from him, shock seeping into your bones as you look at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean ‘you’re done’?” You ask him. He shakes his head and chuckles maliciously for a second before turning to you once more.

“It means I’m done with this conversation. I’ve shared my peace, so do what you want. It’s not like I have a real say anyway,” he responds. You feel your heartstrings tug tightly, pain surging throughout your chest as you let out a deep sigh, fighting to keep any more tears from falling.

Eddie’s figure retreats into his room, slamming the door closed and quickly puts on his stereo, the volume booming and shaking the entire trailer. You hold yourself in your position for a moment, your face crumpling into a sad expression now that your boyfriend, if you should still call him that, was out of eyesight.

You will yourself to walk towards the door of his trailer and down the steps, opening your car door once more and hopping inside. You weren’t sure where you’d end up going, with the two places you felt safest and loved most tumbling down all because of an accident you didn’t mean to happen. Turning on the engine, you back out of your parking spot and drive towards the exit of the Forrest Hills trailer park, unsure of your next destination.

———————————————————————————————

The suns seeping in through the cheap motel blinds pulls you from your sleep, sitting up on the bed and stretching your arms with a yawn. You decided to not bother anyone else you were close to with the news of your unplanned pregnancy, having already severed ties with the two men in your life you loved most and not wanting to break anymore relationships. You were able to pay for a night’s stay at a motel on the outskirts of Hawkins with the money you kept on you for emergencies, now regretting that as you’d need as much money as you could get your hands on to raise a child, or an out of state stay for an abortion procedure, if it came down to it.

You quickly get dressed back in your pants from yesterday, having slept in only your shirt and underwear. You grab what little belongings you had with you and exit the room, returning the key to the front desk worker who helped you last night.

The drive back to the cabin felt shorter than it was, your mind thinking back on the events that transpired the day before and the pang of sadness flooding your system returning the closer you got back to your home. You’re not sure what’s going to happen when you walk through the door, but hopefully gathering your belongings wouldn’t cause too much damage.

Parking the car, you’re surprised to see the police vehicle still sitting in front of the cabin, making your nerves worsen as you approach the steps. Turning the knob, you walk inside and see Hopper sitting across from El, who has a blindfold on and sitting with her legs crossed on the floor. Your father turns to you and lets out a huff, tapping El on the knee to tell her to stop her motions. She removes her blindfold and her face lights up at the sight of you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“Hi,” you let out, a small wave accompanying your words. El waves back to you and stands, running over and wrapping her arms around you. You return the gesture and cross your arms around her shoulders, resting your chin on top of her head.

“Where were you last night kid?” Your father asks, now standing with his arms crossed on the other side of the room. You retreat from El and cross your arms as well, looking to the floor to avoid his disappointed gaze.

“I slept at a motel, but it seems you might've figured that out,” you reply as you gesture to El, who has a nervous smile on her face after being called out for using her powers. You feel El’s hand rub your back softly, sending her a slight smile before peering up to your father’s eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he tells you simply.

“Felt like I did.”

“Just because I’m upset about what happened, doesn’t mean I don’t love you and don't want you at home, where it is safe. I was just…shocked to hear it all at once. You’re dating, having…intercourse, and now having a baby? It was a lot to take in yesterday, and my temper got the best of me. I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he explains to you. Your face softens as you listen to him, the sadness from yesterday beginning to feel slightly better.

“Thanks Dad,” you say. You walk closer to him and wrap your arms around his torso, burying your head in his chest. He snakes his arms around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head. You feel a surge of emotions rush throughout your system. “I’m really scared.”

“I know, I know kiddo. But El and I will be here for you, whatever you want to do, okay?” he pulls back a little and looks you in the eyes. He wipes your tears away with his hand and you smile. El comes by you guys and joins your hug, sending you into a fit of giggles as you all embrace each other.

The three of you hang out for the rest of the day, talking about your options and later playing card games to help distract you from the whole scenario. Your father asked about the father once again, but when he saw your expression and change in body language when bringing it up, he didn’t harp on the matter any further.

After retreating off to your own room, you put on a cassette tape in your room on a low volume before sitting on your bed, the door open three inches like your father always requests. You pull open a notepad and begin making a list of pros and cons of your options regarding the child growing inside you currently, trying to think quickly on a definitive decision on this life changing situation you’ve been dealt.

A light tapping sound pulls you from your motions, looking outside your bedroom window to see the silhouette of Eddie waving his hand timidly. You roll your eyes and go back to your list, only to be met with more intense tapping. You toss the list aside and go over to your window, lifting it enough to see him in the light of your bedroom.

“What do you want Eddie?” You ask him, crossing your arms. He lets out a sigh and points to inside your room, making you shake your head. “He’s home, so that definitely wouldn’t be the best idea. Considering our new predicament as well…”

“Fine, um…how about you meet me on your porch stairs?” He suggests, his eyes wide but soft as they look at you. You nod and shut the window, making an escape from your bedroom and walking past your dad in the living room, catching a glimpse of whatever show he was watching while lounging in his recliner. You open the front door and shut it quickly, seeing Eddie’s figure dash from behind the cabin. You sit down on the steps and let out a sigh as he joins you.

“How are you? Everything going okay with you and, uh…it?” He questions, pointing towards your stomach. You roll your eyes once more and look towards him.

“Yep, as good as it can be,” you answer simply. You play with your hands and look down towards your feet, the insects around you filling the silence that began to loom about you two.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday, Y/N,” he tells you, his voice coming out quiet and sincere. You look over at him with a sympathetic smile, his lips curving into one as well. “I was just so scared and I didn’t know how to let my feelings be known. A shit childhood can stunt you like, believe it or not.”

You giggle at his attempt to ease the tension, knowing that it can be difficult for him to express how he feels at moments. He’s never been given a chance to be treated right or brought up to know what’s good and bad, not until he was placed in Wayne’s care, but it’s hard to mold and condition a brain that’s nearly fully developed.

“I get that, Eds, I do. But I was scared too. Got yelled at by my dad and embarrassed in front of El? It just felt really bad coming over to you for comfort but finding the exact opposite,” you explain to him. You watch him nod and reach out for you, closing the space between you and resting your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing the arm snaked around you.

“I know baby, I really am sorry. If it helps, Wayne tore me a new one today after I explained it all to him. He really wasn’t happy with the way I treated you, which kinda helped me pull my head out of my ass and come here to apologize,” he reveals. You laugh and reach for his free hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

“That kind of does help actually,” you tell him with a smile. His laugh causes his entire body to move, shaking you a bit as well.

“So…how are things with your dad? He still upset?”

“He probably is, but we spent the day talking about what my options are, and he said he and El will be there for me no matter what I decide to do,” you answer him.

“Well you can add me to that list, sweetheart. I promise I’ll be on board with whatever you decide, and we’ll get through it together, alright?” He lifts you gently from his shoulder to look you in the eyes, his chocolatey orbs glistening in the moonlight. You nod your head softly and press your lips to his, inhaling the scent of his leather jacket and cigarette breath.

“YOU NEVER TOLD ME THE FATHER WAS THE FUCKING MUNSON KID!” Your father shouts from the door way. The two of you pull away from one another with wide eyes and Eddie all but jumps to his feet off the porch, making you giggle just a bit.

“Hey Chief, hope you’re doing well. I really like your daughter sir, but I’m gonna-gonna go now. Love you Y/N, see ya later sweetheart!” He rushes out, sprinting towards his van as your father runs down the stairs in an attempt to catch him, all while you and El, who had been standing behind your dad, sit back on the porch laughing at the two boys.

3K notes · View notes

no-droids · 4 years

Text

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

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

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

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

Day 5–11:13am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extravagant, magnificent are both words. Floral is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s here… isn’t he?

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

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

This… this is a taunt.

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

“You okay, Nerida?”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naydee smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something catches your eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

—Bong—

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

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

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

One o’clock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes you a second.

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

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

“Ma—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Commotion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crib—he forgot the crib—

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

You raise your voice. “Din?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, well. You could just about fucking cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

***

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

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

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