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[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

the choice of hercules

Pairing: Mainly Gojo/Reader, hints of Geto/Reader

WC: 6,361 (I have no explanation for myself)

Content Warnings: This does contain NSFT smut. There are no pronouns for the reader, but they are described to have breasts and a vagina during the smut. The reader is also hinted at losing their virginity during the smut. There are also themes of yandere behavior from both Geto and Gojo, but it gets pretty overt towards the end.

This is a part 2 of my piece The Fall of Icarus, that I wrote for @strawberrystepmom 's It Takes a Galaxy collab. You can find part 1 here. I do recommend reading it, as there will be lore and references in this that won't make sense if you haven't read part 1.

Speaking of lore, I really do play fast and loose with the canon for both Star Wars and JJK in this one, so I would not recommend reading this if you're looking for accuracy from either series.

Once again, thank you to the marvellous Miss Kendall for hosting such a fun collab, and encouraging me to take this from an outline to an actual finished piece. It really is an honor to participate in a collab with and hosted by such amazing and talented authors.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you don’t have an age in your bio or pinned I will block you.

In the darkest hours of the night, during the increasingly frequent evenings when sleep eludes you, you find yourself silently wishing that you had the strength to walk away. You can picture it; the weight of your saber leaving your hand as you surrender it to the masters, and the weight that would leave your shoulders as you walk away from the Temple for the last time. 

Those thoughts fade like frost in the warmth of the morning light. You take your time getting dressed, making sure that every layer sits perfectly. When you look in the mirror, you wonder who you would be without the armor of your robes and the title of Knight. You are willing to concede that the Order is not perfect, but for all its flaws it is your home and the only family you have ever known. The thought is a comfort in the wake of the despair of the night, and you know in your heart that no matter how deep the despair gets you will not walk away. 

Perhaps this is the attachment you have been warned about since you were a small child- the feeling of craving a home and the security that comes with it that you would do anything to keep it. You wonder if it makes you loyal, or just greedy. You reflexively reach for your comlink, preoccupied with the question you want to ask Geto.

Then you remember Geto left, and you let your arm fall limply to your side. 

You reach up to the phantom space where your pendant used to rest, the memories of your last meeting with Geto playing in your mind. Part of you wonders what would have happened, if you had taken the offer he had laid so temptingly before you. 

The details of Geto’s fall have become a closely guarded secret. Those files have a high enough security clearance that even you can’t access them. Gojo, who will normally tell you anything, just smiled when you asked and ruffled your hair, telling you not to worry your pretty little head. All you were told is that Geto was responsible for the death of an entire village, and you only have the confusing images left by your Force premonition to go on. 

You know something happened. Your premonition confirmed that much, and was further strengthened by the state Geto had been in when you saw him in that alley. The dark side leaves a mark on those who come into contact with it. You are still haunted by the sight of his eyes, glowing gold in the dark shadows of the alley. 

The only information that you’ve been able to glean in the months since is that Geto has been sighted with two young girls, and you’ve heard rumors that he’s started some sort of cult somewhere in the Outer Rim. For a moment you entertain the thought of getting in your ship and setting out to find him, but you are pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a knock at the door. You glance at the clock on your desk and realize that you’ve missed breakfast; someone must have come looking for you. You know it’s not Gojo, he would have just let himself in. You take a moment to recenter yourself, soothing your roiling emotions with the Force, then go to open the door. 

A young man with dark hair and white robes stands on the other side. You recognize him as Gojo’s new Padawan, and a new recruit to the Jedi. He had been discovered only a few months ago, and the overwhelming strength of his power made him dangerous to leave alone. Gojo had volunteered to take the young man under his wing and train him, much to the chagrin of the Council, but that was to be expected from Gojo. 

Yuuta pulls his hand back from where he had been about to knock again. “Ah, good morning! You weren’t at breakfast, so Master Gojo wanted to check on you- he would have come himself, but he was summoned to the Council, so he sent me instead,” he says, smiling and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Good morning to you too, Yuuta. I’m sorry you had to come all this way. I merely lost track of time thinking about a case,” You pat him gently on the shoulder and move to step past him into the hallway. “Since I lost track of time, I’m afraid I’m late for my duties. Excuse me.” 

Before you can move past him, he grabs your wrist to stop you. “Master Gojo told me you’d say that. He also gave me specific instructions to make sure you went to the kitchens first and got something to eat before you go to the archives.” 

“Ah, that does sound like him,” you smile ruefully and gently pull your wrist out of Yuuta’s hold. “Well Yuuta, would you like to accompany me? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about our upcoming trip, and this is as good a time as any. I’m sure you must have questions.”

He brightens and falls into step alongside you. “I do have some that I’ve been hoping to ask before we leave. What is Dantooine like?” 

“The planet is mostly grasslands, so the view from the enclave there is like looking out onto a moving sea of green. The window from my old room there faced the sunrise, so I used to wake up before dawn to watch the sun come up and turn the clouds pink and the grasses gold,” you smile wistfully. “You can also see the brith playing in the clouds, and if you’re quiet you can get close and watch the piket graze the tops of the trees.”

“Oh, one thing you should be wary of when we go,” you turn to Yuuta. “The kath hounds on Dantooine are dangerous, and easily provoked. If you run into one, do not underestimate it.” 

He looks at you, puzzled. “I thought I was just going to study at the archives there?”

“You grew up in the underbelly here on Coruscant, didn’t you?” When he nods, looking confused, you explain. “It’s important for Jedi to explore many different types of environments, and Dantooine is about as different from Coruscant as you can get. The planet is peaceful, without the pollution and constant noise, but it can be just as dangerous. Part of your training while we’re there will be learning how to navigate an environment that is unfamiliar.” 

When his pale face gets even paler, you reach out and reassure him, both physically and through the Force. “Don’t worry, Yuuta. You won’t be alone while you’re doing this. I’ll be there to help, every step of the way. Think of it as a part research trip, part camping trip.” 

Some color returns to his cheeks, and you see him unclench one hand from the sleeve of his robe. “Ah, that’s good. Master Gojo likes to ‘let me figure things out for myself’, and I usually learn something, but I also usually end up seeing Master Shoko at the end of it.” 

Yuuta’s comlink buzzes. “Oh stars, I’m late for sparring. Maki’s gonna kill me,” he mutters to himself, reading the message. 

You shoo him off with a gesture. “Go, go. I’m sorry for keeping you. I’ll see you in a few days when we leave.” 

“Thank you!” he gives you a quick bow and turns to run down the hallway. 

“Good luck!” you call out after him. You watch him run for a moment, before turning back to your current mission of getting something to eat. The halls are quiet, with the comforting sounds of running water, murmuring voices from the classrooms, and the distant sounds of saber blades crashing providing a backdrop to your walk. 

You are startled out of your reverie by a voice. 

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” Gojo looms from the shadow of a nearby pillar, looking uncharacteristically serious. 

“I smile all the time,” you cross your arms defensively, watching Gojo warily as he approaches. Slowly, he walks you backwards, until you hit the smooth stone of a pillar. He plants a big hand on the pillar next to your head, while the other comes up to cup your chin, one thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. 

“Those aren’t real,” he says dismissively. “I missed seeing your smile actually reach your eyes. What were you and my darling apprentice talking about that made you so happy, hmm?” 

You know he probably heard you, but you decide to indulge him in whatever game he seems interested in playing today. “He asked me about Dantooine. You know, the trip you asked me to take him on in a few days?” 

“Do you miss it that much? That just talking about it makes you glow like this?” he swipes a thumb over the ridge of your cheekbone. His eyes are covered by his blindfold right now, but you can still feel them on you, following every movement of your face. 

“It was my first home, Gojo. Of course I miss it,” you uncross your arms and make a conscious effort to relax. “My duties have kept me away for a long time, so it’ll be nice to go back, even if it is only for a few days.” 

Reaching out with the Force, you try to get a read on Gojo. He’s closed off at first, but when you make contact he opens himself up to you, just a bit. You get a taste of an anxiety so potent it makes your stomach churn, and the pieces click into place for you. 

The last time one of his friends had left on a mission, they didn’t come back.

Sighing, you reach up and thread your fingers through his silky white hair. You scratch gently at the nape of his neck, in the way that makes him practically purr when he seeks you out and throws himself down into your lap, demanding your attention after he gets back from a long mission. 

“I know where my duty is, Gojo. It’s just a few days, and then I’ll be back.” 

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll come back.” 

“I promise. I’ll make sure your Padawan comes back in one piece too,” you try a joke, attempting to lift the mood a little, but Gojo ignores it. He folds himself down even further, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You feel more than hear him whisper something as he tightens his arms around you. 

You let him stay like that, his tall body folded down to wrap around your smaller one. It’s only when you hear the approaching voices of other Jedi that you begin to untangle yourself from him, pulling your fingers from his hair and pushing at him gently to try and persuade him to let go. He tightens his grip in response, and you swat at the back of his head. 

“Gojo! What if they see us?” you hiss at him, pushing more insistently. 

“Would that be so bad?” he pulls back a little, just far enough to see your face.

“This is crossing a line and you know it. It would risk both of our positions if someone saw.”

He finally pulls away from you, and the small window he’d opened for you in the Force shuts abruptly. He steps back, putting an appropriate amount of distance between you two, and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “Take care of yourself, starlight,” he says as he walks away, giving you a cheerful two fingered salute as the other Jedi come into view. 

You watch him leave for a moment, waiting until he turns a corner before you continue on your way to the kitchens. Your mind is racing, replaying the interaction in your head. It’s not out of the ordinary for Gojo to do this, but it is strange for him to be so clingy out where you could get caught. Normally he seeks you out either early in the morning or late at night, finding you in either your quarters or your small office in the archives, where he occupies as much of your personal space as he can and demands your attention for however much time he can hide away from his responsibilities. 

Your mind keeps circling back to the words he whispered into the crook of your neck: “If you don’t come back, I swear I’ll find you.” He’d left the door to his emotions open, but you didn’t need to look to know he’d been talking about you, and also Geto. His regret for not being able to save his best friend in time haunted his steps as closely as his own shadow. 

You could feel your own regret begin to creep closer, and you shook yourself physically and mentally. You’d spent enough time thinking about loss and regret today. You grabbed a quick meal from the kitchens and made it to your office, throwing yourself into your work.

That seemed to set the pattern for the week. Yuuta started seeking you out on his own, asking questions about the history of the Jedi enclave on Dantooine, and about the history of the Order in general. It seemed Gojo had taken a very hands on and practical approach to Yuuta’s training; his lightsaber forms and piloting skills had progressed far beyond anyone’s expectations. However, his education was a bit lacking, and you were happy to fill in the gaps and provide the young Padawan with anything he desired, whether it was information, guidance on Force techniques, or simply a quiet place to meditate. 

Gojo also began seeking you out more often, pulling you into dark corners just to hold you for a moment in between his meetings and assignments. He laughed off your questions, simply saying that he just wanted to spend time with you before you left. Even though he was demanding your attention in riskier and riskier places, and you knew he was hiding something, you found yourself unable to say no to him. Physical contact was rare amongst the Jedi, touch limited to a friendly hand on the shoulder or a brief touch in passing. 

There were moments that you found yourself craving the warmth of Gojo’s touch, the way the world narrowed to just the space of his arms. The more he touched you, the hungrier you felt- you knew you were walking a dangerous line but couldn’t find it in yourself to stop. You reasoned with yourself that it would just be for this week, you’d both get it out of your systems, and then things would go back to normal after you returned from Dantooine. So you let yourself indulge, ignoring the specter of Geto’s words from the last time you’d seen him. 

The night before you are set to leave for Dantooine, you wake up in a cold sweat. Your thoughts are a garbled mess, caught halfway between the waking world and dreaming. All you know is that Gojo needs you, right now. You’re still close enough to sleep that the world feels fuzzy at the edges, but you manage to throw a robe over your sleep tunic and make your way out into the dark and empty halls of the Temple. There’s no moon tonight, meaning that the halls are lit only by dim sconces, leaving you to fumble your way in the dark. You can feel Gojo’s presence drawing you in, like the crushing gravity of a black hole. 

You make it to his door, tapping out a code that you know so well it’s muscle memory. The door slides open and you practically fall into the room, looking frantically for Gojo. He’s in his bed, locked in the throes of a nightmare that has him convulsing in the thin sheets of his bed. The dim lights of the hallway shine on his sweat-slicked skin, making it gleam like alabaster before the door slides shut again, leaving you in blackness. You let the pull draw you to him, catching yourself on the edge of his bed. You almost fall forward, planting a knee on the edge of the mattress and resting your hands on Gojo’s chest. 

“Gojo, wake up,” you call, voice hushed but urgent. When he doesn’t respond, you push harder, shaking him as gently as you can. You open the Force connection between you two, and are rapidly overwhelmed by a deluge of images and sounds. You push through it, using your ability to try and calm the storm that is raging in Gojo’s mind. You catch some flashes of his dream before he wakes, coming to consciousness with a jerk. His eyes snap open, glowing electric blue in the darkness as he activates his powers in a self defense reflex. Your eyes meet for a second, his wide and wild as he begins to register where he is. 

He reaches a shaking hand up to you, trembling fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, and the delicate wings of your collarbone left exposed by the skewed collar of your sleep tunic. “You’re here,” he breathes, the panicked fight bleeding out of his body. You don’t respond, letting him calm down and also trying to sort through the fragmented flashes of his nightmare you’d seen before he’d woken up. 

Your attention is immediately drawn back to him when he sits up, a flash of movement and a blur of motion before you feel your back hit his mattress. His fingers are entwined with yours, pinning one of your hands to the pillow above your head. You can feel his other hand slip beneath your robe, the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your sleep tunic as he runs his hand up and down your side. He leans down, and his hot breath on the sensitive skin of your neck sends a shiver down your spine. 

Gojo nuzzles your neck, tracing the line of it with the tip of his nose. He’s babbling something, but his voice is low enough that even in the quiet of his room you can’t quite hear what he’s saying. He seems to realize this when you stay silent, and he drags his head from the crook of your neck. “Please, let me have you, starlight. I need to feel that you’re alive,” he begs, eyes blown so wide that the luminous blue of his eyes is pushed to a thin ring around the cavernous black of his pupils. A thought echoes in the back of your mind; this is the first time you’ve seen Gojo without his blindfold since Geto fell.

Whatever had pulled you to his room has worn off, leaving you slightly dazed but aware of where you are. You cannot blame it for the feelings welling up under your skin, threatening to burst with each brush of Gojo’s skin. You know that the Code dictates that you should push him off, go back to your room, and meditate to drive this attachment away. You move to do so, and your leg brushes up against him. He makes a punched out sound, caught somewhere in between a filthy moan and a sob. You freeze, hands on his chest. 

“Don’t go,” he pleads, voice thick with an emotion you are afraid to put a name to. “Please, starlight, I need you. Let me take care of you.” He drops his head to yours and reaches for one of your hands, pressing it further against his chest. You can feel his heart pounding, racing like the engines of the speeders he loves to fly so much. “Please, stay.”

There are two thoughts at war in your mind. One is the Code, a creed you have had memorized for so long recalling the words is as easy as breathing. You know what the Code dictates, what it demands from you. From both of you. You also know what it has taken from you. 

The other is the fact that you are getting a second chance at something you’ve wanted more than anything- a chance to be close to someone you love. That thought stuns you for a second. Geto was your first love, a secret that you buried deep after he fell and swore to never dig up. You’ve been scared to face your feelings for Gojo because of that. You know what your feelings are, but have hidden from them out of fear, fear that they will lead you astray from your duty, from the oath that you swore when you became a Knight. 

In the face of Gojo’s desperation, you feel ready to voice those feelings. The closed door and the darkness around you makes you feel bold, finally ready to face a truth you’ve been hiding from for months now. Mind made up, you lean up, closing the scant few inches between the two of you to press your mouth to Gojo’s. He makes a broken sound, his hand moving to cradle your head as he presses closer to devour your mouth. He wastes no time pulling you as close as possible, tongue plundering your mouth. 

He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours. He nestles himself between your thighs, hips making small, jerky movements against you, as if he can’t control himself. “It’s been unbearable, starlight,” he moans. “To have you so close and not be able to do anything. If only you knew how often my last thoughts at night are of you. I see signs of you everywhere, and each one makes me crave you in a way I can’t endure.” 

Gojo trails kisses from your lips down to your jaw, nipping at the corner of it and tugging at your earlobe with his teeth. His mouth keeps travelling down, biting and sucking at your neck. A soft moan stutters its way out of your mouth, and he shivers against you. “That’s it, starlight. Let me know how good I make you feel,” you feel his breath, cool now against the sheen of saliva on your skin. You feel him bite down, hard enough to leave a mark, just below where the collar of your robes sits against your throat. “There we go,” he murmurs, kissing the mark. “A secret for just us.” 

He retreats just far enough to give you space to shed your robe and sleep tunic. He touches every inch of exposed skin, hands and mouth on you like he cannot bear to be separated from you for more than a moment. He moans low in his throat when your breasts are revealed, pushing you back down into the mattress to bury his face in the soft mounds. You moan again as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the sound high and sweet in the quiet of his room. The vibrations against your nipple of his answering moan make you squirm against him, and you thread a hand in his hair, unsure if you’re trying to keep him close or push him away. 

He releases your nipple with a pop, blowing teasingly against the spit slicked peak and laughing low in his throat when you squirm against him again. “You taste so good, starlight. I can’t think about anything else,” he moans against you. He slides a hand down, teasingly dragging his fingers down your skin to your folds, where he swipes a finger through the wetness that he finds at the apex of your thighs. He teases your clit with a finger, tracing nonsensical shapes over it until you’re panting breathlessly underneath him. He slides a finger in, and you cling to him at the sensation of him inside you. He adds a second finger, slowly working you open, moving his fingers and rubbing his thumb over your clit. You can feel something twisting in your gut, a molten heat that spreads from your center to the rest of your body. 

“I wish I could do this for longer, but I need to be inside you, starlight,” he murmurs. He brings his hand, still slicked with your wetness, to his shaft. He strokes himself a few times, before lining himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Gojo, please,” you beg, dragging your nails gently down his back. 

“Say my name,” he growls, pushing into you slowly. There’s a prick of pain as he enters you, but he reaches down to rub your clit and lets you slowly adjust. Once you open your eyes again, he grabs your hand and twines your fingers together, pressing into the pillow next to your head as he starts to move. 

“S-satoru!” you cry out, arching your back at the sensation of him inside you. 

“That’s it,” he encourages you, using his free hand to hike one of your legs further up on his back, opening you up to him. You can’t control the noises you’re making anymore, clinging onto him as he pounds into you. Gojo doesn’t  seem to be faring much better, squeezing your hand and scattering mindless kisses wherever he can reach as he sinks into you. “Come on, cum for me starlight.” He bites at your neck, and with a twist of his thumb on your clit you find yourself coming apart at the seams. Your back arches and you clamp down on him, pulling a deep stuttering groan from his chest. You feel him twitch inside you, and as your body relaxes you feel a rush of warmth inside you. He finishes with a long moan, dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck. 

Gojo loops his arms around you and rolls over, letting you rest on his chest. You feel him press a kiss to your hair as he rubs a soothing hand up and down your spine. You move to get up, but his arms stay fixed around you. “Don’t leave,” he begs softly, his wide blue eyes staring up at you from his mussed sheets. You’ve gone this far, you decide. What’s a little further? 

“Okay,” you whisper, nestling back down against his chest. He hums happily and pulls you closer, and between the gentle caress of his fingers, the warmth of his skin, and the beat of his heart you find yourself drifting back to sleep. This time, your rest is peaceful, unmarred by dreams of any kind. 

You wake early, before the sun has risen. Gojo is still asleep, one arm loosely  around your waist. You take in your state of undress, and spend a moment thinking about what to do next. There’s no future for the two of you together. You know this. For that to happen, you would both have to abandon your duty, and you know Gojo is as unlikely to waver in his duty as you are to walk away from yours. However, you can’t bring yourself to regret anything. Slowly, as to not disturb him, you climb out of bed and grab your clothes. You dress quietly and turn back to Gojo before you leave, coming over to stand next to his bed. 

“Goodbye, Satoru,” you whisper, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then, you walk away, shutting the door quietly behind you. You are quiet as you return to your room. There’s not much to do to prep for your trip, but you find what you can do to keep your hands and mind busy in the short time between now and your departure. 

Yuuta greets you in the hangar, but seems to sense that you’re not up for conversation this morning. You finish your flight prep together, and take off a little before you’re scheduled to leave. As you leave the hangar, you see a flash of white hair on the ground. You know he’s down there, but you choose not to look, focusing on the sky above you and the stars beyond.

One hyperspace jump later, you and your temporary apprentice land in the Dantooine enclave. Once you step out of the ship, you are greeted by the familiar sights and smells of the first home you can remember. The enclave smells like sunlight on warm grass, and old parchment and ink. It feels like coming home.

You are greeted by Knights you remember from your days in the creche, and introduce Yuuta to them. They are instantly taken by the young boy’s earnest charm, and you leave them to exchange pleasantries for a moment as you walk, taking in the familiar sights. Your comlink buzzes, but you choose to ignore it. 

The both of you settle into your new environment quickly. Yuuta blooms like a flower under the doting care of the older archivists who are overseeing your work for the week, and spends every moment he can outside. After the first day, you introduce him to the wonders of the sunburn ointment the archivists of the enclave make for people who spend as much time out in the sun as he has. Your comlink has been buzzing regularly since you arrived, and you’ve taken to leaving it in your quarters, trusting the enclave masters to let you know if any important messages come through for you while you’re in the archives. 

Four days into your trip, the enclave gets a ping from a distress beacon deep into the plains. You volunteer to investigate, bringing Yuuta along to help him with his field experience goals. In the interest of urgency, the two of you share one of the enclave’s speeder bikes, and you track the beacon to a grove of blba trees far to the north of the enclave. You leave the speeder bike a safe distance away, and reach out with the Force to try and assess the situation. Strangely, nothing appears when you cast your net, which sends a cold feeling trickling down your spine. Making a sign to Yuuta to be quiet, you approach the grove. 

The beacon is embedded in the ground, flashing and beeping in intervals. There are no bodies around it, and after further investigation, not even signs of conflict. Your feeling of dread intensifies; either this is a simple prank or a trap, and your instincts are telling you it’s the latter. 

“Hello, little light,” comes a smooth, deep voice from behind you. You straighten, and turn. Geto stands behind you, dappled in light and shadow underneath one of the trees. His hair is longer, and he’s clad in unfamiliar robes. A strange saber hilt is strapped to his waist, though he makes no move to draw it. “I have been waiting for this reunion for a long time. But before we can be properly reacquainted, I must speak to your young friend here.” 

Geto turns to Yuuta. “Greetings, young Padawan,” he calls from across the glade. “I am glad to finally meet you. The rumors I have heard about you are simply fascinating.” 

You step in between them. “Stay back, Geto,” you warn, hand on your saber. 

“I came simply to talk,” he raises his hands in a placating gesture. He looks over your shoulder, where Yuuta is watching warily. “My name is Suguru Geto, young one. My goal is to liberate those blessed by the Force in our wide universe. Those blessed with gifts like ours should have people at our beck and call, instead of being at someone else’s disposal, don’t you agree?”

“We have our gifts to defend the weak,” Yuuta recites, taking a step back. 

Geto clicks his tongue. “So new to the Order, and already reciting their scripture. Think, young Padawan, how many more people would we be able to help, to save, if things were different? Don’t you wish Rika could have been saved?” 

You hear Yuuta’s gasp, though he tries to hide it. “That’s enough, Geto.” You draw your saber, finger on the ignition. “Don’t make me fight you.” 

Geto ignores you, continuing to look at Yuuta. “Will you join me, Yuuta Okkotsu? All I want is to make the galaxy a safer place, one where young ones like you don’t have to become soldiers, and one where girls like Rika simply get to live.”

You hear Yuuta waver. You refuse to sway his emotions- you know this is a choice he must make on his own. He takes a step forward and your heart drops for a moment, before you hear the sound of his saber leaving his belt.

 “I’ve heard stories about you too, Suguru Geto,” Yuuta says, leveling his saber at the man. “I’m not sure that your vision for the galaxy is not one that Rika would have wanted to live in.”

“What a shame,” Geto shakes his head. “If you will not join me, then take a message back to your Masters. Either they bring you to Malachor within a month’s time, or I will unleash what I have learned in my time in the shadows on both this enclave and the Temple on Coruscant.”

Your blade ignites with a hiss. “That won’t  happen,” you level your blade, the tip pointing steadily at Geto. “Yuuta,” you call the Padawan’s name without breaking eye contact with your former friend. “Take the bike back to the enclave. Tell the Knights there what happened.” 

“I can’t leave-” Yuuta begins, but you cut him off.

“Go, Yuuta. It is my duty to protect you and the rest of the enclave. Tell them what happened, and return with reinforcements.” You feel the boy’s emotional conflict, and you use your abilities to bolster his resolve. He hesitates for another moment, before nodding and clipping his saber to his belt. 

“I’ll be back for you!” he calls over his shoulder as he darts to the bike. The engine roars to life and you hear him take off over the plains. 

The only sounds in the glade now is the wind rustling through the tall grass, and the hum of your lightsaber, still ignited and leveled at one whom you had once sworn never to raise a blade against.  

“What a loyal dog,” Geto shakes his head. “This is not quite what I had in mind for our reunion. Though if you insist we come to blows, I will indulge you.” He unclips his strange looking saber from his belt, and the scarlet blade roars to life with a crackle. You set your feet in your stance, lifting your blade to meet his as Geto comes flying at you. There is a sizzle and crackle as the blades cross, sparks flying in your vision as you stop his swing. 

You push back, using a blast of Force energy to break his guard and swing at his weak spot. He manages to leap out of the way of your blow, his robes fluttering on the wind. Your blades crash together, his scarlet saber crackling with a strange energy. It shoots off sparks that burn your hands and face, and you find yourself on your back foot, trying to guard against his powerful swings. 

In an attempt to regain some ground, you take a risk and drop under one of his swings, the sparking blade flying just past the top of your head. As you stand up, you position your saber in the path of his momentum, hoping that you’ll at least be able to wound him.  

Geto chuckles. In a flash, he’s caught your saber hand, twisting your sword arm off to the side as his momentum carries you both to the ground. “I taught you that move, little light. I appreciate your resolve, but I will not be felled by such a trick.” 

You watch his gaze drift lower, to where the collar of your robes has loosened. “Oh, what’s this, little light?” his free hand nudges aside your collar, revealing the shadow of the mark Gojo had left on you several nights before. “Who could have left this on you, little light?”

Geto powers off the saber he has held to your throat so he has clear access to your neck. He leans down, delicately sniffing along the skin that still bears the marks from your night of passion. “It was our dear friend Satoru, wasn’t it? I can practically smell him on you,” Geto purrs. “I did tell you to indulge, I suppose. I wish you would have waited, I wanted to indulge in you first.” 

“What’s your game, Geto?” you ask. You wiggle your fingers, trying to subtly get a grasp on the hilt of your saber.

 He clucks his tongue at you. “Now now, none of that,” he grabs your saber and clips it to his own belt, out of your reach. “I told you my plan- I want the boy. I’ve given those fools at the Temple everything they need: a reason to doubt a boy they already fear, and now I have you. You think Satoru wouldn’t give up that little apprentice of his to get you back?” Geto strokes a hand down your neck, pressing his thumb into the healing bruise just under your collar. 

“I suppose the question now is, would I give you back for one apprentice?” he muses, looking down at you. He slides his hand up, grasping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “There’s something about you that just makes me want to keep you, my plan be damned. I doubt you’d mind, you’d just be trading one pretty tower for another. Either way, you’re very important to what happens next, and I can’t have you trying anything that would only end up hurting you. So, sleep, little light. You’ll want the energy for what comes next.”

Geto’s smile is the last thing you see before your eyes close, the power of the Force command dragging you under. You feel him lifting you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, and then the darkness takes you.

[fatteenbabe]

Why did you tried to loose weight in the first place? Did you got scared how fast you were gaining and getting wider? I'm Sorry that you failed your attempt to lose weight but I'm happy to see you are set in another goal

It's for a secret that I'm not gonna share publicly, and no it was not cause I got scared of my gain. And don't worry about my attempt to lose, I lost a few pounds so it was technically successful!

[quinloki]

Snow Topped Mountains

Merry Christmas @mewiyev \o/ I am your secret santa! ❤️

I hope you enjoy this short story and bonus art (I have been wanting to try to draw Katakuri ever since you made me a Massive Fan of him, your art style, and Maren, so I hope you enjoy it!)

Words: 1,274 Characters: GN Reader, Katakuri CW: None, I believe, horror-undertones.

The storm had passed, and so you were ready to head and and assess any damages, and if you were lucky maybe track some fresh game with the newly fallen snow.

Except now you were staring at the largest body you’d ever seen in your life. You would’ve mistaken it for the beginnings of a hill, but you knew the area better than anyone, and no storm was enough to move mountains.

You watched, nearly mesmerized by the sight, as the man’s massive chest rose and fell, in a steady rhythm. He was most certainly alive, for now, but unconscious. You, barely the size of one of his arms as far as you could tell, now faced the rather daunting task of trying to figure out how you could hope to save him.

And if saving him was going to result in your own untimely end or not.

Unable to simply leave any creature to its fate, dangerous or otherwise, you began to move. You had enough rope, and large enough tarps, all used for the village’s festivals. You might live up in the mountains to maintain the shrines and offerings to the gods during the hard times, but you weren’t ostracized.

“Fortunately for both of us you collapsed near the trees.” You mutter, tossing a weighted length of rope up into the branches and getting it tangled into place. It took you thirty minutes to get a network of ropes secured into the evergreens, and nearly an hour to get the tarps threaded on the ropes. The process was faster when you had a helper or two, but with the impending storm even your usual help wasn’t on the mountain.

Maren was going to be upset he missed the excitement.

The passing of the storm hadn’t cleared the skies, but it had abated the wind, so the labor of setting up the ropes and tarps was enough to keep you warm. You ran ropes in the middle of the small network, pulling a sort of functional roof together. It wouldn’t keep out rain, but it would let the fire’s smoke out and warm up the space inside.

You apologized to the large man as you had to practically climb him and a few times as you worked. Two hours later you could start hauling the ropes, pulling the network taut, and creating a massive tent around the still-breathing giant of a man.

With the tent in place you began to clear out the snow. You weren’t far from where you lived so you were able to get some tools to make it easier, but it took another hour just to clear enough to start fire. Once you got the fire rolling you started clearing the snow away from the large man.

The more you cleared away, the more you were amazed he was alive at all. He was barely clothed. Pants, boots, and a sleeveless vest. The scarf wrapped around his shoulders and lower face was fluffy and probably warm, but not nearly warm enough. There was no way you’d be able to get him out of the little clothing he was wearing so you decide to set up a few smaller fires around him. If he moved when he woke up, he’d just snuff out the smaller fires, but the extra heat would help dry the clothes faster.

The only thing you had to get off him were the boots. Though it was tempting to just simply light them on fire directly, you had no way to hope to replace them. At least the rest of his clothes could’ve been replaced by the tarps, but shoes were another matter. If they didn’t dry fast enough his toes could rot or get frostbitten. Either way he could lose them, or die to the fever and risk of infection.

You didn’t just spend almost five hours of effort to have your mystery man die to complications after the fact.

Unfortunately, the boots were neither loose-fitting, nor buttoned, zippered, or otherwise clasped. After some fruitless tugging you pulled out your hunting knife and carefully cut down the side of one, and then the other, pulling them free and dragging them away. You set up another fire, and began the jog through the snow to get back to the cabin.

Towels, a sleeping bag, some dried food, a pot, one cup, one large bowl, herbs and tea, and back to your makeshift tent. You’d need to keep an eye on your patient throughout the night, and that meant keeping him dry, the fires going, and keeping yourself fed. It’d be another day at least before Maren was going to be able to ascend the mountain, and you’d just have to hope he decided to bring more food than was needed for the two of you when he did.

Getting back to the tent you see your patient hasn’t moved. If not for the steady breathing you’d be worried he was truly done for. The fires were doing an amazing job, and once you set all the gear down you had to take your coat off to avoid sweating in the toasty tent.

Grabbing a couple towels you began to dry his feet, using some dry soap and talc to help ward off any other risks of mold or rot. The sheer size of him was a bit boggling. You’d seen giants before, and he wasn’t nearly as large, but you’d seen giants roaming the flatlands while you were in the mountains. If they hadn’t been giants you wouldn’t have noticed them at all from such a distance.

Once his feet were taken care of, you tended all the little fires, and stoked the largest one. You let a little heat, and a lot of smoke out, with a kick to one of the flaps, letting the rush of air hurry the new smoke out of the top of the tent before it gathered too thickly.

Walking over to his head you regarded your patient, taking note of his appearance with an attentive eye. Your only concerns before now had been if he was alive or not, but taking a moment to actually look him over was… surprising.

He had handsome features, cropped reddish hair, and tattoos that laid easily over an impressive physique. There was an ease on his face right now that wasn’t reflected in the finer lines found there. Stress and worry were etched deep, but his current state of unconsciousness left him looking at peace.

Whatever weighed so heavily upon his shoulders while he was awake, it made little impact on his sleep. Or at least this sleep, as unbidden as it must have come.

Temptation pulled at the corners of your mind, a desire to pull the scarf away from his face. It wasn’t worn for warmth, not with the distinct lack of winter apparel overall. So it was only fair to think he wore it hide his features. It wouldn’t be quite right to sneak a peek when such was obviously avoided, but the curiosity was strong.

Before you could settle your internal struggle yourself, the main fire cracked loudly, drawing your attention back to it. You went around and tended the smaller fire first, kicking the tarp open for a second to rush the small accumulation of smoke clear before minding the main fire.

Once the fire was set you felt it.

A gaze upon your back.

Eyes that held you in place.

Even as your own gaze was frozen on the fire before you, you knew what was happening. An assessment. One that could end in gratitude.

Or not.

[skyguywrites]

[louis/amelia] “tell her that you love her.”

Amelia frowned, fingers worrying at the edge of her pristine skirt. She thought, momentarily, that if this were a movie – or perhaps a book, even – then the skirt would be frayed around the edges, the pads of her forefinger and thumb rubbing uncomfortably at a loose thread as it unraveled further. Amelia was smart, though; She was thorough in her research regardless of the context. She didn’t believe in fast fashion, and she knew that buying clothes from a good source that would last her a long time, no matter how expensive, was money well-spent.   It was a comfortable tangent for her mind to wander off on as she tried to distract herself from her friend’s words, but in the end it wasn’t enough. Because the thing about Amelia was that she was precise in all the things that she did – even now, even after the accident. She could hardly admit as much to Maggie herself, but even on chatting and flirting with the pretty musician, she’d done her research. She’d looked into who her father was, her style icons, what kind of music she made; even going so far as to watch clips of her talking about her musical influences, too. She’d learned everything she could possibly know about Maggie Chance, only there was one thing Google hadn’t quite prepared her for; Falling in love.  “You say that like it’s easy,” Amelia whispered, her voice low as she tried to bite back fresh tears.  Without looking up, she felt Wardo shuffle beside her, instinctive as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. Louis found her hand, pulling it into his lap, squeezing tight as he peered across at her, patient as he waited for her to go on.  “Look at you two idiots,” she grumbled, feeling the barest bit lighter as she felt rather than heard Wardo laugh beside her. ”You act like it’s that easy. Like telling each other how you felt wasn’t the most awful, terrifying thing in the world.”  Because it was, truly. How she felt about Maggie was bigger than anything that life had thrown her way. Losing her mom, her dad’s descent into alcoholism, even the car accident; It seemed dramatic to think it – harsh, even – but in that moment, it all seemed to pale in comparison to the weight that was pressing down against her chest now. Everything she’d once loathed about Maggie, once found annoying beyond compare, was something she now found light in, quietly endeared by the other girl’s quirks and mannerisms. But there was a darkness behind the musician’s gaze, one that only seemed to soften when she found herself alone with Amelia, despite her insistence that they could never go public with their... whatever you might call their situation.  She would never pressure her into doing anything she wasn’t comfortable with – that wasn’t Amelia’s style, not by a long shot. But living like this – one minute feeling as though you were on cloud nine, as though nothing could possibly hurt you, and the next being shoved aside, made to feel like a dirty secret – was something she didn’t want to get used to. She didn’t want to be the thing that Maggie was so ashamed of. 

[deafeningprincessmilkshake]

I don't plan on tagging anything and am really just yelling into the void but posting something makes me feel included and encouraged so here i go

Height: 160cm/ 5'3"

Starting weight (bare with me it's bad): 68,6kg/151lbs

BMI: 26.8

Current weight: 65,7kg/145lbs (BMI 25.7)

Goal weight 1: 58kg/ 127lbs

Day 2

Lmao i accidentally already wrote my height. I like how short i am. As a dancer it is kinda annoying but as a girl who wants to be small and dainty it's awesome.

Day 3

So my first thinspiration is this

My own body from 2021 that i was so horribly insecure about. Now i know that that's just stupid. Of course it isn't perfect but that's even skinnier than my gw right now. I want those collarbones back!!!!

My next thinspiration is this

It'a not realistic for me because i'd never have boobs that small but i like her flat tummy and am in LOVE with how you can see her hip bone!!!

Day 4

My greatest fear about weight loss is loose skin. I'm quite fat right now and i'm so scared that i'm going to have visible loose skin. Another thing that i'm afraid of is injury. I know that if you ⭐️ve yourself then you get injured more easily and i don't have health insurance right now so that'd be quite a bummer.

Day 5

Tbh i'm doing it partly for me. I don't feel pretty at my current weight. But i'm also doing it for my family. I have recently gotten comments on my weight from my grandmother and have gotten some sneaky suggestions of "hey you should really take up running again" from my parents. (My dad is REALLY pushing the running and my mom is pushing making healthy choices when it comes to food.) Also my long distance situationship mentioned that i have gained a lot of weight so now i wanna be pretty for him.

Day 6

Yeah i do. Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest and i grew up with an almond mom. All junk food was banned so i started eating it in secret. Very fast and all at once.

Day7

Yes. They support me losing weight. They have been concerned about my weight as long as i can remember. First time i was told that i need to lose weight and exercise more was at 8 years old by my mom

Day 8

I try to get 10 000 steps in every day and i'm also training for a 5k run.

Day 9

Yes. Mainly my mom and grandmother.

Day 10

Giving up eating whatever the fuck i want is so hard. No burgers, fries, chips... I want to rob a fast food place i swear to god.

Day 11

scalyhands was soo good. I loved her memes!

Day 12

I really like different VLCD meal replacements. Currently i'm eating mostly NUPO meals (all like max 130kcal per meal) and raw fruits and vegetables

Day 13

I am losing weight in a way that i like to think is healthy. However i sadly am not all that consistent. I lock in for a week and then i'm like "ahh i have lost so much weight. I can have a little treat" and then the little treat is a week-long binge fest. And then i have to lock in again

[libidomechanica]

“Something our desolate, and youre dubbed knighted with”

Twenty years willing be above     they can’t tell her spend, whose cheek, like a glorious evidence!     Our sires he wanton thru the great spirit-blow was said     it repayre.—Has succeeded twice? You this—to tell not bounds     with eyes glare, let speake, here,

and loose tower, if but the kisses     smooth’d in your lives in timely graceful, ere he bleacherous     weight me thus strong, and stronger for me to feel alone     another’s manners breeds the blue, and weal, will from hidden,     beyond his friend? Something

our desolate, and you’re dubbed knighted     with the worst of your coroner found me see who fought     except itself, a sheathed sigh alone, lycius, perplexing     warm earth a little sermon, is one by no means I find     by a warrant’s banner,

sought with every moving eyes. And     all that more delight: and lay with then avowed. Shut up a     greatly aghast their sort of clay, you and leave it; and keen:     save one, and slight appal. Woe; just as went echoing diuers     could have none! And a screen,

the fridge, we dance, she cut but secret,     my life to seeke so waned—and cold full of a long fate,     which made, dare no kindly thicket chirps against which, perhaps     she but that lays on end: but one sparrow like a petticoats     were she was quite enough

this year is ended, issuing     or stedfast with paynefull come. We first hunger, or     breast thou may take, I must die! To choose take her formes to     the garden yse: and dirks them so hard in grave; her has such     feature fear—the Chrysler

builds her better day. That flash and     more tragic life, he wall, instead, to thee, and her mother.     The lustrous sea? Said to me here it was cold and wings deuise:     they well, their pride and feeds her circle smile to sit in through     day of all we are sealed:

but Juan mused on the ground about     my first time spins fast—that in its multiple design, i,     who look at that, amassing, I caught high as the same was     crazy. Baring upon her sorrow cloy’d; and even in     the best, through waiting designed.

The monk may descride in Marses     livelier London day; but wonder! With no greater     death breacherous wrong hold song, and whether take my loue     embaseth, mournful twilight must bid adieu to heauen ye bearing     open and string, and

learn my kin a rattlin’ sang, an’     I saw Osirian Egypt kneel form’d to his dreaming. Or     being towards you go the frozen purity of death out     of filthy lustfull of trembled it, and maimed, I need to     the tents: take faster worke

of what was rauisht is the while past     regrets and what her, spred her time? Deem that’s not say is, not     your mother lovely, Woman Old. Fit medicine saynt, thought     except for Lycius there was of a pretty peasant valley,     I bade him almost

tel, if Gold, her will but misery     inke to thanks; then she wished or breast two more—the year;     bewitching amongst then giue mercy too. Trying to grieves me to     the end in loveliest, means but the day, and heavens and     brain trembled; she wrung to

see howe brag you of injury.     And ease; thoughts by a clear demonstrayn. To lose. On me down     to fool with food. Thrive and Nature’s or dancing a glance of     Ida stood in a spirit worke the customer: his wont     to behold you spoke so

light, and Fortune chide, seeing had     an aspire? They brook, with watery disk caught we covered     greater was rather sport himself another dames augmenteth,     when yet attayne: but here, and fingers lap: a gentle     broken shade of my purest

sky: it hard it inquiry;     from what her amorous weight may pass’d away is night to     me and from the great disappoint from her bosom heuens, though     his hard but glory excell; rich in her gracious, love to     their dead, and the question?

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[miraclehealthsecrets]

Avocado / Lemon / Apple Cider / Coconut Oil For Weight Loss and Belly Fat | Health Secret

coconut oil for weight loss, how to eat coconut oil for weight loss, best time to take coconut oil for weight loss, how to use coconut oil for weight loss, virgin coconut oil for weight loss, best coconut oil for weight loss, how to consume coconut oil for weight loss

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Note: Video For General Information Only - Not For Medical Advice Links Provided Can Be Affiliate Links

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[tmngoose]

Untitled Post-Movie Raph story. I’ll rewrite this and put it on Ao3 when my brain wants to cooperate 😮‍💨 Tags & Spoilers under the cut:

Characters: Raph, Donnie, Leo, Mikey, April, mentioning of the Krang

Rating: General Audience

Tags: Hurt/comfort lite, Hiding medical ailments, vision problems, eye trauma lite, concern, alternative writing style where I’m not really in the mood to beta 🤷‍♀️

A/N: Loosely inspired by the original concept that Raph was going to lose his eye.

———

Raph keeps rubbing his eye. The right one. At first, nobody thinks anything of it—not even Raph.

It’s only when Raph starts squinting that Donnie becomes more observant of his older brother’s newly acquired habit. Donnie mentions his concerns to April—quietly, and off to the side. Mikey sees them ‘sharing secrets’ and invites himself in on their conversation.

Donnie and April know it’s easier to just tell Mikey what’s worrying them than try dismantling the Boxshell’s curiosity with a lie. So they tell him. Mikey’s playfulness fades, his demeanor shifts; this is serious. They figure it’s best to see what Leo thinks of this whole situation.

They find Leo in his train car with a comic book covering his face. He snores into the pages. He doesn’t sleep much at night; he’s still anxious about the Krang—another issue to address for a different day. It’s easy to wake the Slider from his nap. Once Leo’s coherent, Donnie jumps straight to the point; there’s something afoot with Raph’s eye.

The right one, right?

So you’ve noticed it too, April furrows her brow.

Who hasn’t? Leo matches April’s expression.

It’s a tender subject that Leo doesn’t know how to breach. Raph knows his scars bring everyone back to the day of the Krang—back to the day where they almost lost him—where they almost lost Leo—where so much was on the line.

It’s evident that avoiding the topic was not their best solution. They’ll approach this together, and as soon as possible. Gently.

———

One day, in the main room of the lair, Donnie catches Leo’s attention; a subtle head nod signals his twin to look over at Raph. The Slider perks up.

Hey, Raph? You okay, big guy?

April and Mikey glance over at the Snapping turtle. This is it, they think, we’re finally taking care of this…

My eye’s been buggin’ me. Must’ve got an eyelash or somethin’.

Donnie takes his cue. I would agree with you, dearest Raphalo, if it weren’t for the fact that we lack such follicles. Shall I have a lookie-roo at your ocular pruritis?

Raph jumps down from the top of the train car where he keeps his weights. Donnie leads him to Splinter’s armchair, the cushions warm from Mikey and April’s occupancy. Leo joins the group as Dr. Donnie; optometry equipment that emerges from his battle shell. He examines the right eye. Then the left eye. Then the right one again—just to be sure.

His findings… are not good.

Well? Raph rubs his eye.

Donnie isn’t sure how to break the news but he knows he can’t stay quiet for too long—the absence of reassurance is already a telling sign that something is wrong.

Macular degeneration. Optic neuritis. Donnie reports his findings as quickly as possible, rationalizing that if he says them fast enough, they won’t sound as scary.

If we start treatment now, then statistically speaking, we can restore your vision, or at the very least, prevent further damage! Donnie turns to Leo, Mikey, and April. He delegates responsibilities. April and Mikey help Donnie prep the med-bay while Leo discourages Raph from touching his eye.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell any of us? Leo holds his big brother’s hand, squeezing it lightly.

I thought it was all in my head. That maybe it would go away on its own! I didn’t want to worry anyone. Raph squeezes back—quelling his urge to itch with the task of comforting Leo.

Mikey reappears. The med-bay is ready. He helps Leo bring in the patient.

———

Donnie presents Raph with an eye-patch. It’s opaque; the material minimizes light sensitivity. It’s also a very fancy piece of tech, functioning like the Softshell’s goggles.

Raph dons the eyepatch. He grins. Just like a pirate.

[happyselves]

Pacify Him { Daniel Ricciardo x reader } /// WARNING EXPLICIT ///

Chapter : One shot Rating : Mature / Explicit / NSFW Words : 3,622 words

“Pacify her, she is getting on my nerves, hold your bitch before I push her away. You’re free to bring anyone here as long as they are behaving, but her … I don’t judge the person you are seeing, obviously I could give two shits about it but please tell her to calm herself down … This isn’t professional.”

You were fuming as you entered Daniel’s driver room,as his PR assistante you never interfere in his frequentation, but when it was impacting the reputation of the team and bugging people visiting the motorhome you had to step him. You calm yourself after a few breaths, stepping aside from Daniel a bit before looking at him again.

“ I didn’t mean to come that hard on you Daniel, but please you know how this is important right. You always ask for my honest opinion and there it is, I didn’t mean it for it to step out this hard on you but I can’t apologize for my words when I was thinking about them. She is toxic for you, she brings the bad in you when you are someone adorable usually. What is happening to you that you don’t trust me enough anymore to tell me when something is going wrong ? And before you are shushing me off, you know I am right, you and I are a package deal. “

He was defeated, not even looking at you, his whole body was shutting down and his legs were giving up on him. He takes the closest seat near him, almost falling and barely able to sit gracefully like he used to do.

“ I don’t know … I am so lost, I keep doing stuff wrong, I can’t find my soul anymore, I’m not very myself recently, I can’t even find my smile being genuine in the morning when I wake up in the morning. I’m putting a mask for people to see, but I’m like an empty shell. This bitch as you call her is only here to distract me and try to make me feel alive. She is nothing and it was a mistake to bring her… “

You were very concerned about Daniel’s attitude, it was the first time since you have known him that he worries about you right now. You were kneeling in front of him, trying your best not to invade his personal space. It’s something new for you, not invading it, you never ever thought he needed one but he looked so fragile, then you were under the impression that if you were touching him he would vanish into dust.

“ You are scaring me, what’s happening, is it the team ? Something personal ? You know you can tell me everything … “ A long silence got installed, your eyes were starting to water by all the pain you were seeing in him. You thought he wouldn’t open up, he was shutting you out by the way his body was curling up and turning to avoid your gaze on him. He was protecting himself like a kid that was terrified of a big stormy night.

You wanted to be the one to reassure one, but you were practically sure you were part of the problem. You stand quietly, ready to leave him alone in his driver room because there was nothing you could do if he wasn’t letting you.

His reaction was imminent, the driver inside of him was popping up and his muscles memories acting for him as it was his turn to get up and close the space between you, shutting the opened door. You yelped out of surprise before feeling his pressing body against you. You were stuck between the wooden door and his warm torso. Feeling his heretic heartbeat pounding in his chest. You couldn’t speak, you were too shocked for that. You and him were friends, close friends but not that physically close. You never cross that boundaries, but today was different, you felt it was.

The seconds looked like hours waiting for the confirmation of your assumption. Daniel seems to be as surprised as you to have acted the way he did, it was too late to back away now.

“ Don’t leave … don’t walk out that door “ His forehead was now resting on the back of your head, slightly not to hurt you and put weight on it. You wanted to ignore all the fuzzy feelings flooding in your whole body, but you couldn’t. Having him so close to you awakens a deep feeling hidden in you. “ The bitch will go away I promise, I am sorry “

Why was he apologizing to you, he didn’t disappoint anyone, yet. You weren’t even mad, you learn better to not judge someone's fucked up attitude when you could recognize the coping mechanics of someone keeping a secret and trying to turn the attention away from himself for nobody to catch the true meaning behind these actions. Does that make it acceptable ? It was each individual to have their own opinion. It was annoying you, that Daniel was suffering but preferred to distract himself and run away from his problem instead of talking to you or anyone else.

You close your eyes, your own forehead finds the cold surface of the door, his own head following yours not breaking the contact. HIs hands find the side of your hip.

“ The bitch isn’t the problem isn’t it ? “ You asked without any certainty he will give you a proper answer to that. His thumbs were caressing the skin of your hips through the tissues of your teamwear shirt, drawing a circle. You were sure he didn’t even notice he was doing it, his body was only responding to one mood and it was the auto-pilot one.

You were searching for breath and the driver’s room was starting to get tighter by the meanings, you were about to suffocate if the situation in which you both were wasn’t going to change fast enough.

“ You are the only one that can take away my pain … “ It could pass for a simple sentence if it wasn’t so Daniel, you had learned the code of conduct of Daniel Ricciardo and that … that was a declaration. “ It was you and I before, remember ? “

You were missing a piece of puzzle here, what was he talking about, is he drunk ? You never act differently around him, nothing changes, it never does. Yes it was him and you, always have been.

“ What are you talking about Daniel, you are confusing me “

“ Why did it change, the two of us … “ He was responding to your question by another one, like he was having his own conversation in his head, you were tempted to let him speak his mind to discover the bottom of the problem.

“ It didn’t change Daniel … “ You were trying as much as you could to put everything together, in vain.

“ It did change, I can’t look at you the same way as before … “ There it was, a little clue. If only he knew that it has been a long time since you have been able to look at him the way he used to when you meet him the first time. It was more than annoying you that he had brought someone with him for the weekend, more than it should. You were fuming when you saw the unknown name on the list of guests and asked someone to lighten it for you.

“ I know you are lying, why would you react the way you just did before if you weren’t “ You wanted to look at him, but his body was still pressing you against the cold wood. You had so much to say and him as well, all this unspoken tension you both tried to make yourself believe was a liar. You were both frauds, your friendship switched into something more months ago after a drunk night. Nothing happened that night, only looks were exchanged. The battle you both had as a joke at first turned into something way more deeper than you both were expecting and when you both tried to pull out of it, the damage had been done. That night was an epiphany moment for you, awaking the true desire between you. Your bodies couldn’t lie, the need for them to touch, the flaming sensation of his skin against yours like it was happening right now. Everything happened before and since that night, it never was the same thing for Daniel and everything went downhill.

You move your hand, posting on the door and Daniel understands the message and detaches himself from you. You slowly turn, god he was a mess and you bet you weren’t better.

“ You bewitched me that night, seduced me with your eyes. It was a game at first and now look at us, where is the game now ? “ He wasn’t accusing you of anything, it was a simple statement, an understanding between you. Two people were playing the game and two people ended up losing.

“ That wasn’t my intention, I tried to pull away, it was too late “ Who sounds defeated now, the tables have turned and he brings you down with him to the bottom of his misery. A couple bruises on your heart that he created was all you needed to have the proof that at least you two had shared a moment. It had to stay professional, but as his face was closing up the gap, all your convictions were being erased one by one.

You didn’t wait for him, you joined him in the middle, your lips connected quicker than he had anticipated, your eyes shut down in synchronisation. You didn’t who reacted first and kissed the other one back. That lip was perfect, far from it, it was messy just like him, but it was passionate. His teeth were teasing your bottom lips, asking permission to tear the flesh of it apart. You moaned when his tongue was inviting you to open your mouth. The taste of your two saliva was so intoxicated that you almost fell and he had to catch you with both of his arms, supporting you from your lower back. His smile came back to life against your mouth, letting out a childish giggle and you hit his arm to make him stop making fun of your lack of stability.

HIs reaction was quick, if you couldn’t stand up anymore he would use that door to help you. He pushes you toward it and your back gets lean on it, his arms unlocking themselves to explore your body, finding where they were before except this style the hem of your shirt came loose, letting the palm of his hand directly enter in contact with your skin, sending you shivers.

You had forgotten your environnement, too busy burying your own hands in his dark curls, bringing him closer as much as possible. Your teeth were still clenching and air was starting to lack in your lounge. You didn’t want to let go, scared for the reality to be brought back. You have been dreaming for months about this. Having the fantasy in your head when the night was setting and the moon shining.

DSaniel didn’t let you think for another second as he used this little moment of rest when you stop kissing him for a second, to lift you up, grabbing your ass, his palm firmly around it. He moves you and remembered to lock the door before turning back his focus on you as he finally break the kiss to look at you. Lust could be seen all over your two faces. His face was not showing any sadness anymore, only mischievousness and happiness. If you knew that all you needed to do to bring back the Daniel you knew was to let your own desire take over you, you would have done it sooner.

He took the direction of the massage table beside him, putting you on the edge before finding your neck and kissing the soft skin. You let a snort escape when his scruff tickles a sensitive spot behind your ear. He laughs against the skin and the vibration changes the snort into a whining complaint. He traveled all the way down to your clavicle but the fabric of your shirt was stopping him. He didn’t wait for your approval to remove it, the force of the removal making you lift your arm automatically. They fall back on his neck when he throws the piece of tissue somewhere you will have a hard time finding back.

That was extremely hot from him and by your legs starting to spread a little bit and the heat you were starting to feel between them, he noticed acknowledge the effect he had on you and smirk, visibly proud of himself. It was not the time to hide yourself even if you could feel embarrassed, this man in front of you was everything you had dreamt of and it had the talent to make you feel confident of your body, just by the way he looks at every detail of your body.

You were eager to let him take the situation under his control and only his, not doing anything and just being the prize he was working on to have for so long. All the torment, the torture and the conviction he will never have you, he deserved it. You will get your prize another time … it was only the beginning for you.

He was taking his time with you,no matter how much his desire was waking up, he had one mission and one mission only; your pleasure. You could see the forming bulge in his pants and felt for him, imagining how inconfortable it must be for him.

It all went to dust when his hands found their way under your bra cupping your breast and his lips traveled your chest as he was kissing his way down. He was leaving wet kisses and blowing air on it, goosebumps started to appear quickly, head being jolted back.

You wish you knew what to do with your hands but they were gripping the leather of the massage table so hard your knuckles were getting white by the second. He didn’t seem to care as his hands found your pants, he pushed you a bit behind, making unspeakable demands for you to lift your ass so he could slide the piece of clothes down for it to join your shirt somewhere in the room.

You could barely keep your eyes open as you witnessed the extremely hot scene in front of you. Daniel between your legs, keeping the same pace with you, kissing his way up toward the inner of your thighs. You sensed his teeth nibbling your skin, licking every spot afterward, like he was trying to heal the pain he just caused you. Little did he know that pain you were feeling was arousing you even more, your panty was starting to visibly licked your excitement. It was feeling like torture, you thougth that Daniel would be like the others partner you had, your skin would get used to the touch after a moment and the horniness would stop at a certain level, thinking you had reach the maximal of his possibility. How wrong were you when you were on the verge to cum without him actually pleasuring you in this area. You knew it was coming, Daniel kisses were more hungry, teasing the flesh of your thigh turning red by the bite and the kisses.

His lips were swallowing, getting bigger by the unusual exercise they were carrying on, his tongue would feel numb if it was for the desire he had to taste you, letting it survive for a couple minutes still. You watch him, leaving a kiss on the wet fabric of your underwear, your eyes were blurrying by the anticipation of him finally finding your clit. His teeth end up moving the piece of dentelle that was the last barrier between you and him.

It was like he was home and belonged there, here with you, right in this instance, it was you and him against the world. Forgetting your environnement you let a cry escape a little bit too loud as soon his thick tongue was licking arousal. You thought that seeing the start was a legend, a fantasy, but Daniel had made you become reality as your head was banged back, finding the cold wall, your neck was stretching so hard that the blood was lacking in your brain making you see some sparkling spot. He needed you to stay quiet and as he tried to put one of his hands on your mouth he ended up finding the neck instead, squeezing it enough for you to moan his name as he was continuing his exploration of your pussy.

Your hands finally leave the grip of the massage table to find their new place around Daniel's arm. You were stretched out in front of him, so vulnerable, just for him and you were unable to give a proper reaction to being buried in the pleasure he was giving you. His tongue was teasing your entrance, making it hardening, pushing himself in you as you will. The thumb of his free hand was moving in a slow circle around your clit. He didn’t know the dilemma you were encountering, keeping your eyes shut and your head back or fighting his firm hand on your neck for you to see him eating you alive. You sure had to make a decision quickly because you were soon to arrive at the edge before you will let the orgasm consume your whole body.

By the sound you were making, Daniel had the confirmation he was doing everything in the right way for you. He never experienced such joy to make someone lose their composure due to his actions. He was feeling proud that he was finding it out with you. Every woman he had been with didn’t sound or look as beautiful and real as you spread in front of him right now. He could spend hours tasting you, how good you were for him, how reactive and sensitive your skin was becoming after being torn apart by him. How the thought of fucking you with his tongue had haunt his dream for the past couples of month now, but the reality of this was surpassing all his expectations. He wanted to be rough with you, all the dirty thoughts came back rushing into his brain, overwhelming him and sending twitch to his dick. Rather than being dominant, it was all about showing you how much he had wanted you and how willing he was to give you anything you wanted, because you deserved it. You deserved for him to make you forget every man you had sex with. Replacing all the bad and good memories with his own. Changing all the faces in your dream, planting his own in the own DNA of your imagination.

He could feel that you were holding it together for it to last longer, even if that meant losing the self-control you had in you. Your wall was tightening around his fat tongue. You were completely losing your mind at the foreword of sensation throwing at you at the same time. You were sure it was too much for one person and you could care less about the verbal explosion you might have in a couple of seconds. Daniel however, foreseeing your release, put two fingers in your mouth holding your jaw from your mouth, your lips closed themself around them and your tongue was soon relaxing on them. You bite his knuckles when his tongue replaces his thumb in one flick of the tongue, finally letting cum. Your legs were shaking and Daniel had to hold you for you not to hurt yourself, your eyes were rolling back as your orgasm hit you in small waves, sending you jolts of electricity around your body. Your brain was shutting down, the stifled moan never reaching the exterior of your mouth, dying down on Daniel’s fingers in sensual vibration that made his bulge react, begging to be taken care of.

It tooks you minutes to come back to the open world, Daniel’s eyes not leaving you for a second, admiring his work. You slowly come back to reality and automatically search for him, missing his touch already. Your eyes were still not open when you found the collar of his shirt and pulled him rather violently, crashing your lips together, taking a taste of your own juice still lingering on his lips. You sigh in the kiss, reassured that what just happened wasn’t just a dream and that you were far needing to wake up from it.You rest your forehead on his, the wave of pleasure was still leaving some after effects on you including dizziness.

You had to clear your throat as you realised no sound was coming it out the first time you tried to speak.

“ That bitch needs to go, tell her you replace her with a more living version. “

You couldn’t help but laugh at your own words and Daniel was smiling at the way you just described yourself.

“ She’s already gone, she was already gone before you burst into my room.

You didn’t know how to respond to that, but one thing for sure is that you will have a hard time making people outside of this room say that nothing happened between the two of you. At least you would not pissed them off and you were able to pacify him at any time.

MASTERLIST

[lunar-wandering]

so today i remembered to transfer the Shadowpeach Drabbles I wrote for @winterpower98 Cursed AU onto Ao3, and in honor of that (and simply because I wanted to) I have written a bonus part-

-

"Another cave? Seriously?"

The group of three stood at the entrance to the cave, looking in, trying to see as far as they could into the darkness.

"Must we explore every cave we stumble upon?" Macaque sighed.

"Well, it's not gonna explore itself." MK shrugged, turning to go in, only to be stopped as Wukong leapt in front of him.

"Oh no you don't." He said, "You're not going in there by yourselves. I'm coming with you this time."

"Wait, why would you-" Macaque started, confused.

"Because the last time you two went into a cave by yourselves, MK ended up with an injured leg." Wukong said, arms crossed. "I'm coming with you this time, and that's final."

"But what about-" MK started-

"It's fine. I'll be fine." Wukong said, walking past MK and Macaque, marching into the cave as though if he waited any longer he'd loose his nerve. "Let's hurry up and get this over with."

MK watched his mentors back with concern, before glancing to the side to see Macaque mirroring his expression. Said expression snapped back into a more neutral one once he noticed that MK was looking at him though.

"C'mon." Macaque said, nudging MK as he walked past him. "Let's make sure he doesn't freak out and fall down a hole or something."

-

Surprisingly enough, things didn't immediately go downhill.

Well, that is, up until-

A loose rock tumbled down from above, and Wukong, who was already very on edge, startled backwards, bumping into Macaque and knocking him over, sending the both of them rolling over a ledge and down a small cliff, the both of them ending up laying on top of each other.

MK, after doing a quick check and making sure they were both okay, stood on the edge of the ledge and smirked.

"I thought you said you were going to keep him from falling down a hole." He said, and Macaque groaned.

"I didn't think he'd knock me down with him." He said, slowly moving to sit up as Wukong hurriedly backed off of him, giving a murmured apology.

And then MK jumped down the ledge, landing with a thump and knocking loose a few more rocks, and suddenly Wukong was clinging to Macaque again.

(Macaque was suddenly grateful, that he was the one with the super hearing. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of Wukong noticing how fast his heart was racing from the close contact.)

"Sorry." MK said, wincing as he realized he'd startled his mentor. Wukong gave him a nervous smile.

"It's fine bud." He said, but Macaque could feel him shaking a little. Macaque sighed, before starting to try and peel Wukong's arms off of him.

"You can let go of me now." He said, trying to ignore the knowing look MK was giving him. "C'mon, we won't be able to move if you keep clinging to me like this-"

"It...helps though. The touch, I mean." Wukong reluctantly admitted, slowly letting go. "Though you're right, I guess we wouldn't be able to move if I'm clinging to you like-"

"Why don't you just carry him then?" MK asked, and Macaque's head shot up.

"What-" He hissed, and then nearly bit his tongue to keep himself from yelping as suddenly he was being lifted up, being held tight against Wukong. The Monkey King wordlessly held him bridal style, obviously happy for a way to maintain contact while also being able to move. His arms were tight around Macaque as though he was holding onto a teddy bear for comfort. He turned around, starting to walk as Macaque remained silent in shock, trying to process what had just happened.

He looked over Wukong's shoulder, back at MK, who gave him a smirk and a thumbs up.

Oh that little sh-

The shock finally wore off, and Macaque started struggling.

"Put me down!" He hissed, fur bristling. "I can walk by myself!"

"I know." Wukong said, but didn't even loosen his grip in the slightest.

Macaque gave up on struggling suspiciously quickly.

-

Oh, how MK wished he had a camera.

Well, actually, he did, in fact, have his phone with him, but every time he started trying to pull it out, Macaque would glare at him from over Wukong's shoulder.

MK eventually resolved to committing the image to memory in order to draw it later.

As it was though, they'd found another exit out of the cave, one that lead into a wide open meadow instead of the dark forest they'd been traveling through. Wukong immediately let out a relieved sigh, slouching a little and loosening his grip on Macaque, who almost immediately jumped out of his arms, brushing invisible dirt off his clothes.

"Glad that's over." He said, before registering the muffled giggling coming from behind him.

MK kept one hand covering his mouth to keep his giggles quiet, and at Macaque's questioning look, he subtly gestured to the monkey's tail.

Which was currently wrapped around Wukong's.

Wukong seemed to notice this fact at the exact same time Macaque did, an embarrassed flush taking over both monkeys faces, their tails letting go of each other as they looked away in different directions, avoiding eye contact.

MK almost wished that Mei (or maybe even Red Son) was here so that he could have someone to lose his mind over this with.

Pretty much anyone would do, really, he just needed someone to rant to about all this-

Wait. He could have someone to rant to, now that he thinks about it.

He looked back over at Wukong and Macaque, making sure that they were suitably distracted.

And then he took one of his hairs and blew on it.

And Porty MK popped into existence.

He still looked like a monkey, exactly like how MK currently did, but the sunglasses and coat made it obvious that it was Porty. (MK never really did understand how Porty and the others had managed to maintain their clothes and personality. To be honest he....didn't really want to think too hard about it.)

Anyways, back to business.

"Are you seeing this?" MK asked, gesturing over at where Wukong and Macaque had somehow swapped from looking away from each other, flustered, to all out glaring at each other, albeit with a certain sense of playfulness in it that would be hidden to anyone who wasn't looking for it.

"Oh, I'm seeing it alright." Porty said, before smirking a little. "But don't worry OG, y'see, I've got a plan."

And really, MK should've dispelled Porty right then and there.

But on the other hand, it'd been weeks. Weeks of dealing with the mutual pining that rivaled the number of pine trees in the forest they'd been walking through.

In the end, he'd ended up accepting Porty's plan.

-

Porty shook MK awake later that night. (MK had dispelled him as they'd walked through the meadow, only bringing him back in secret before going to bed once they'd made it back to the edge of the forest.) The clone must've been hiding in the trees or in a bush, MK thought, as there were stray leaves within his hair.

"They're asleep." Porty whispered, "C'mon, OG. Let's hurry this up."

MK crawled out of his sleeping bag, shaking some of the tiredness out of his body as he stood up.

The plan was simple.

MK would push Wukong out of the tree. Porty would catch him. (MK had, recently, discovered the Monkey King was actually a heavy sleeper. His strong nighttime vigilance from legends had literally only been the result of him not sleeping at all.) Once they'd secured Wukong, they'd carry him and lay him down near where Macaque slept, and simply let things play out from there.

MK was halfway up the tree Wukong was sleeping in when he remembered something important.

"...Are you sure you'll be able to catch him?" MK asked, and both he and Porty went silent as they remembered just how easily a clone could be destroyed.

"...Good point, OG." Porty said, "Let's swap, I'll push him out of the tree, you can catch him."

With a quick change of positions, the plan was back in motion. Porty shoved Wukong out of the tree, and MK caught him, stumbling a little under the dead weight. (And oh, was he ever glad for his super strength.) The two of them paused for a moment, waiting to see if Wukong would wake up.

When the Monkey King showed no signs of stirring, Porty jumped down from the tree, landing beside MK, and the both of them turned around, slowly walking over to where Macaque lay on the other side of the camp.

"...What are you doing?"

And oh, MK had just known he had forgotten something.

Both MK and Porty startled, MK only just barely keeping himself from dropping Wukong, as they whirled around to see-

Wukong's hair clone, lounging back on his cloud, watching them with a disapproving look.

"It was his idea!" Porty quickly said, pointing at MK, who let out an offended "Hey!", before suddenly Porty dispelled himself, disappearing in a quick flash, leaving MK alone with the Wukong hair clone.

MK nervously giggled, tightening his grip on the asleep Monkey King as the hair clone's eyes narrowed.

And then suddenly the clone smirked, amusement in it's eyes, and MK relaxed, letting out a breath of relief.

"It's about time you actually tried to push things along." The hair clone said, lounging back on its cloud, looking away. "I can't say he's gonna be happy in the morning though."

MK rolled his eyes, he'd already long since accepted he'd probably have to go through some kind of stern telling off tomorrow. With the hair clone seemingly having given it's permission, MK turned, completing his mission of bringing Wukong over to Macaque, gently laying the Monkey King on the ground beside the shadow monkey.

Macaque shifted, rolling over, and MK froze, worrying that he'd accidentally made too much noise-

But then Macaque put an arm around Wukong, pulling him closer, Wukong responding by nuzzling into the other's neck as their tails curled together.

MK made no short work of pulling out his phone and snapping a picture. (And sending said picture to both Mei and his own email. One could never have too many backups after all, Macaque was sure to try and delete it once he knew it existed).

Mission accomplished, he returned to his own sleeping bag, whispering a quiet good night to the Wukong hair clone as he walked by.

(In all honesty, MK didn't think this would get Wukong or Macaque to confess. It might push them a little closer to it, yes, but it wouldn't make it actually happen, no, there was far too much going on, too much history for one night of cuddling together to lead to a full out love confession.

Until that time, he'd be fine with just watching the chaos that unfolds.

....He was fairly sure that, come morning, their expressions would be hilarious to witness though).

[gingerteaonthetardis]

3 and literati pls?

3. rhythm | jess x rory | g | read on ao3

i.

Rory is not a good dancer.

There's something electrifying about this knowledge, something that ticks his brain over into a euphoric, almost triumphant haze. The knowledge that there's something—frankly, anything—the Golden Girl of Stars Hollow is not good at makes his skin prickle, the little hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

It feels like he knows a secret.

It is not a secret, not really. Except, he guesses the secret is that he knows.

The secret is that he's been sufficiently observant and that it matters to him, getting to hold this little detail, the shape of it, in his mind. It makes everything worth it: the obnoxious music, the smell of old gym socks, the heavy weight of Shane against his shoulder. Even the way the Jolly Green Giant intentionally bumps him each time he comes hulking down the bleachers, or hulking back up them.

He watches her from the sidelines with his expression consciously blank, or as blank as he can manage to make it, thinking about how she can’t dance, and how she tries anyway, to please Lorelai. How her hair is coming loose in the back, going wispy around her ears, and how her eyebrows pinch together every time she looks his way with such predictability that he finds his own face scrunching up, ready to mirror the expression.

He watches while Rory leans heavily on her mother, and then on him, and then on nothing at all, her own weight sagging as she stands alone in the middle of the gymnasium, an expression of shock rippling over her face.

And Rory is not a good runner either, but he’s never seen her move so fast.

ii.

It’s pretty much the easiest thing in the world to dance to punk music—all you have to do is sort of nod with the rhythm, jump a little bit, maybe bounce off other people if you’re feeling like getting into the thick of things. But Rory somehow makes it feel like an extreme sport as she balances awkwardly on the balls of her feet at the Distillers concert.

Jess has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to stop from smiling at her, and when she threatens to tip too far forward in her eagerness—when the motion of the crowd makes her lose her feet—it’s the easiest thing in the world to reach out and tuck her against his chest.

“Clumsy,” he murmurs into her ear, and her hair smells like something clean and blue. Like saltwater. Like something Hemingway would take understated pains to describe.

It cuts through the secondhand smoke so sharply that he reels. He still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch her. He still can’t believe she’s here.

She turns her face up towards him and she’s half-shadowed, half-lit. One eye gleams like a gemstone, fractured and colorless. “You won’t let me fall,” she informs him. More than a little smug. And his heart is muffled in his chest, it is being strangled on its way up his throat, it is turning over a new leaf.

He can’t keep control of his mouth; it hitches on its own.

“No,” he agrees.

Brody Dalle is onstage singing about falling in love in NYC, and Rory lifts back onto her toes, catching his chapped lips with hers. They aren’t dancing, but when his arms slide down around her swaying hips—it could almost be like they are.

iii.

And then:

He tries not to think too much about what she’s doing—if she ended up going to the prom or not. If she danced. Who she danced with, if she did. What she looked like, pink-cheeked and breathless and swaying because it’s the only thing she really knows how to do unless it’s the Macarena or Lorelai’s leading.

It’s not his business anymore; none of it is. But he’s still torn between the impossible, strangely selfless hope that she went and had a good time, maybe got to dance with Lane a little, maybe—he grits his teeth—reconnected with him, and the more rational, relieved part of his mind that insists she didn’t. She didn't do any of it. How could she?

He never bought her a ticket.

He tries to picture what her dress would've looked like, and he finds his imagination strangely faulty—he can only picture her in red and white polka-dots, staring up at him, feet hanging over the edge of the bridge, saying, "He's right. Everything he said. All those things about you and me."

It doesn’t matter, really. It’s over now. Too late. It’s July, and he’s in California, and she’s probably still in Europe, and every day it feels more like Stars Hollow and everything in it was just a dream.

Except when the wind changes and the air smells like her shampoo. Then, he unavoidably remembers.

He slips his headphones up over his ears to block out the sound of the ocean waves.

iv.

The truth is, Jess isn’t a good dancer either.

He’s never bothered to try, and gravity has always had its own specific kind of choke-hold on him. He is weighed down. But he tries, when his mother asks, and he spins her steady around the makeshift dance floor.

They make it work. Even if he doesn’t know the steps he’s got halfway decent rhythm, and hers is better. He hates to think of it as his inheritance, but he can’t help it. There’s acid in his stomach.

Still, he’s trying now.

He catches a glimpse of dark hair and pink ribbons and it takes a second to realize that it’s Lorelai, for how she’s sort of draped around Luke. In a second, he’s somewhere else. Years in the past, watching two Gilmore girls dance to the worst music imaginable.

Polka-dots. Tumble-down hair. Hanging on to her mother’s hand.

He tries to imagine what set of circumstances would lead to her being here now, and can’t. He can’t imagine a world like that, where they could stay that close forever, where he can go that long without screwing up.

Liz doesn’t let him disappear for long.

“They look happy, don’t they?” she says, pulling him back, her attention always in the here and now. She doesn’t bother herself with reminiscence. But her eyes are shiny as she looks over at Luke and Lorelai, spinning together in their own little orbit. “They look good.”

Jess nods, because they do.

“They deserve it,” he says, without a trace of bitterness. “They’ll be good for each other.”

v.

It’s funny, that this is the one thing he’s really been proven right about. Granted, it’s taken over a decade.

But they got there, in the end.

He’s sipping his punch—strong stuff, sickly-sweet, the kind that makes his teeth hurt; according to Luke, a local delicacy called “Patty’s Punch” for reasons he really doesn’t want to think about—and he’s watching it all unfold when her face parts the crowd. Bright and shining, looking every inch the beautiful bridesmaid in a dress the color of her eyes.

It’s got polka-dots.

She greets him with a nudge to the arm, an easy grin. She’s just escaped Kirk’s cephalopodic clutches, so he calls it relief. For his own sake, he has to think it’s relief.

“I see you still can’t dance,” he says. Teasing has always been the easy part, and he clings to that.

Even after all these years, he loves that she still wrinkles her nose when she’s annoyed. The lines are deeper on her face, but somehow softer, gentler, and he tries not to notice, because that’s not what this is. That’s not why he’s here.

“Apparently,” Rory huffs, crossing her arms, “I’m a bad partner. I’ve been recently—and very rudely—informed that I should stop trying to lead.”

A memory comes. Being dragged down the street and through the diner. The severity of her frown, the sheer force of seeing her brow all furrowed up.“Cork it.” Gone just as fast.

They’ve been coming back more and more, the memories, since almost the second he got back to Stars Hollow and found her waiting there. After almost a decade in deep storage.

Really, this whole thing is like stepping through a time warp. He can no longer keep hold of all the ways and all the years he’s been moved by her rhythm. How many choices has he made because of, in spite of, for want of the woman right beside him?

Jess shrugs the weight off of his shoulders. “Some men are into that.”

She peers up at him out of the corner of her eye, and his lips quirk. He doesn’t try to prevent his smiles anymore. It’s a recipe for failure, with her.

But she’s Rory, so she just rolls her eyes.

God, he loves her. He’s trying not to think about how ridiculous that is—and failing—when she turns and holds out a hand.

“Well, okay, then,” she says, like she is doing him a great service. God knows she is.

And maybe their time is over, but—

“Want to dance?”

[the-witty-pen-name]

Deadbeat Pt. 8

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), fluff, angst, cursing, abandonment, toxic parent, violence, toxic siblings, infatuation, cheating/divorce, insecurity, mild housewife kink, mentions of prostitution, mentions of alcohol, corrupt official, fake relationship, jealousy, jail

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N:

IMPORTANT UPDATE

I made a Google form to be added to my taglists, so if you want to be added, the link is in my bio. I’ll only be adding people to the list if they requested to be added by filling out the form! This way all of the requests are just in one place so I don’t miss requests! Thank you!!!

Also, if you are liking this series, consider checking out my new Lee Bodecker series, The Nanny. Part One

Thank you all so much for reading and sharing my work. Everyone whose reached out and told me how much they love the story really makes my day, oh my gosh!! I love you all so much, I’m so thankful.

This is unedited, and I missed anything I should include as a warning let me know! I hope you all enjoy!

Also, even when this fic is over (it’s not yet don’t worry!), I want to continue writing for Lee and this reader, so send me ideas of what you would want to see! Smut, fluff, I just wanna hear ideas you think would match this story! Like moments of them living together, dreams, or even ideas for one shots of Arvin x Reader when they were dating if you want more from that aspect of the story... anything else you want to see with this story that will be like one shots that are part of this same universe. 

Tags and Requests are OPEN

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven

That’s the funny thing about time. More often than not it’s the one to dictate you and not the other way around. Rationalizations regarding time hardly ever work out in your favor.

Oh, I just need more time for this, and then everything will work out.

Just need to make it through this week and then next week will be better.

If I had had more time, I could’ve gotten everything done.

How often did those actually ever work out? Time, especially in this town, was never an ally. It worked against you, spreading and infecting as fast as a forest fire. Time let rumors spread and time allows for circumstances beyond your control to unfold. It’s the catalyst that expertly pulls people apart and sometimes if you’re lucky, back together.

Perhaps, two years ago, you would have thought you would have been one of the lucky ones. One of the select few that time actually heals, but you had since given up on that notion. Lee was gone, ripped from you as quickly as he had swooped in. Your job was ripped from you as well, leaving you incapable of supporting yourself. And now you had Tommy back as well you needed to worry about. That was the one positive in the whole mess Lee left you to clean up alone.

The events like a domino effect just tore things done one by one. Now the room is cleaned out and his things are tucked away in boxes in your garage just like his car. It was the only physical evidence that had proved it all had actually been real.

You didn’t even want to try to visit him at first. You were hurt, and felt used. He had kept so much from you, especially your job. His lies had been so effortless. It bothered you immensely. He let you believe you had been able to land it by yourself. Maybe you could have. But now you’ll never know. What employer is going to hire you now?

Tommy got a job fairly quickly and you found a job outside of town, away from the people who knew your name or Lee’s. The article published that revealed Lee had gotten you the job was evidence enough for the town that all the rumors and gossip that they spread with no forethought were actually true. You had slept with him for the job, of course. Some people pinned the blame on him and some on you.

It took you six months of him being gone before you would even go in his room. Anything of yours that had secured a permanent spot there you just went without. But you needed the money, and Tommy had the good idea to get another tenant. He helped you box everything up and move it all down to the corner of the garage, making it all out of sight out of mind.

You had managed to sneak several of his shirts into the bottom drawer of your dresser. You were impressed with how much of a front of indifference you were able to put up. You had made it like an assembly line, and you ignored the tug at your heart at how it reminded you of when he first moved in. Keeping busy kept your thoughts at bay. However, nothing prepared you to what you found in the drawer of his nightstand.

You had just wanted to get the work done fast, removing the whole drawer and dumped the contents into a cardboard box. It was mostly junk, but then a black velvety box had caught your eye. It stood out from everything else. You hadn’t been nosy, and up until this point, you hadn’t given much thought to any of the items you had been packing away. It was a necessity to keep you sane.  But like Pandora’s box, you really just couldn’t control the urge to open it. You reasoned it was probably cufflinks or something for special occasions he just never wore. But the temptation was just too much and you sat down on the floor and fished it out of the half-filled box. You opened it and you immediately burst into tears. Not once had you cried since he had been gone. You hadn’t given yourself the opportunity to, not when there were so many things that needed to be done.

It looked brand new, a gold band with a perfectly round diamond sat perched in the box that he had hidden away in the junk drawer he assumed you’d never have a reason to go through. You distinctly remember Janie’s ring had been white gold, and you remember Lee had told you she kept her ring. He said he didn’t want it back anyways; he had said over coffee one morning. Nope, this was yours and the receipt you found in the cardboard box confirmed it when you saw the date printed on the top. He had gotten it a month before your whole world went to shit.

For the next two weeks, you had kept it stashed away, hidden under the t-shirts you selfishly kept out as well. The weeks really started to blend together, just going through the motions and not really feeling like you were living. You were on autopilot. And before you had realized it, it was coming up on a year. Time had moved somehow simultaneously slow that year and also fast enough for you to lose track. You hadn’t moved on. You were just ignoring it, not wanting to acknowledge the hurt that was still behind your eyes, still as apparent since the day he was carted away.

One night, you don’t know what switch in your mind flipped, but you started crying in the shower and then couldn’t stop until you had cried yourself to sleep. You had just exhausted yourself and the cycle continued night after night as soon as you stepped in the door after work. You were lying on your bed, still in your clothes that you had worn to work even though it was way past midnight. You turned your head and just stared at the bottom drawer of the dresser, your eyes straining from the tears and also from the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, it would make you feel better. You got up, walked over to the dresser and sat crisscross in front of it. It was probably the first conscience decision you had made in weeks. Somehow it made you feel more alive.

Stripping down to just your underwear, and leaving the work clothes haphazardly in piles on the floor, you grabbed one of the t-shirts and pulled it over your head. Just the smell of him cleared your head. The way it was able to just aid your headache was almost instantaneous. It smelled like him. It grounded you, and had the opposite effect you thought it would have. You skeptically believed you were torturing yourself, and grabbing one of his shirts would make you feel worse. For the first time in a while, you felt comforted and finding a candy wrapper in the front pocket just made you smile.

You then pulled out the ring and looked at it, taking it out of the box for the first time. You slipped it onto your left ring finger. It was a little loose, but Lee didn’t do awful guessing your ring size. You didn’t care, you thought it fit perfectly. It was understated and stunning and you had never seen a nicer ring. It was simple, very unlike what your relationship had been. Actually, that wasn’t true, you realized. It was very easy falling in love with Lee, and when it was the two of you, it was perfect. It was the world and circumstances outside of your control that made it complicated. You also realize you had forgiven a while ago, but you had been too stubborn to admit it.

Fuck it. Fuck everything that you let overpower you for so long. What? The old ladies at Church call you a slut? Let them. The amount of weight that words hold over everyone here is so toxic. No one in this town was a saint. The whole town is held hostage by their own twisted dark secrets and the way people get by is just exposing the secrets of others. No one was moral. You hadn’t done anything wrong. What was your crime? You did nothing. Lee was as guilty as sin, but what made them better? What gives anyone the right to decide for themselves his motives, and ignore the good in him to villainize him?

It was early Saturday morning. Getting up from your spot, somehow feeling lighter on your feet, you see its after two in the morning. You settle back into your bed, and the revelation allows you to have the most restful sleep you can ever remember having. You woke up feeling refreshed, and feeling alive. Your head was clear. You still didn’t look good. Your undereye bags were dark and heavy. It would take more than a few hours of uninterrupted sleep to remedy those. The pain behind your eyes was still there, but the motive had changed. It was a longing, and a missing of him that weighed heavy on your head.

You wake up shortly after seven and your body doesn’t allow you to sleep in despite your attempts. You get ready for the day, changing into a pair of your fitted jeans that were cuffed, a pair of your Keds and one of your white t-shirts. You grabbed your purse, and made your way downstairs. Tommy had already left for work early and he doesn’t like to wake you. It was probably better, because had he been there, he would probably talk you out of what you were going to do.

The bus was pretty crowded, always was on Saturday morning. You hadn’t realized how close he was to you this whole time until you realized you had been on the bus for less than twenty minutes. This whole time, he had felt so far away, almost like he was erased, even though he was just in the next town. You arrived just as visiting hours had begun. You weren’t even sure you’d be allowed to see him, or if he’d want to see you. You hadn’t come before, and you wouldn’t blame him if he refused to see you. Hell, you didn’t even know what you’d say. You didn’t think about it once. You just wanted to see him.

The guard at the front desk took all your information and got you situated and then you just had to wait. It was probably less than fifteen minutes you had to sit there but it felt like forever. It was that familiar feeling of time messing with you again. Finally, the same guard returned and led you down a really bleak hallway, until you reached a room with a long table, with seats and dividers, and phone receivers. The seats situated across from each other separated by think glass. You gulped, you’d only ever seen rooms like this in the movies, and you shuddered facing where Lee had been stuck for so long. You weren’t the only one there, and other prisoners in beige scrubs were seated behind the glass talking over the receivers with their loved ones.

You took the seat the guard motioned to, and you thanked him. You were trying your best to not shake or show how nervous you were to see him again. You were scared he would hate you for not coming sooner, or he’d say he didn’t want to see you again. You couldn’t blame him. It has been a year. Yet, your heart leaps and betrays you when he walks in and any brave front you had is gone. He looks more tired than you, and his hair is slightly shorter than when you last saw him. But overall, it’s still Lee and goddamn, what you wouldn’t give to break the glass. The silence is deafening when he doesn’t even look up at you when he grabs the receiver. Does he not even want to look at you? He sat down without even looking up from his feet. He looks so defeated.

“Lee?” you ask softly into the receiver; you aren’t even sure if it picked up the sound. Apparently, it had because his eyes shot up at the sound of your voice. His eyes were wide and looked vulnerable as he scanned your face, like he was trying to keep from blinking.

“Oh sweetheart,” he gasps, “I’m so sorry. Everything- all of it. It was all my fault.” He also looks close to tears.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” you say, unable to pull your eyes from his.

“I didn’t expect you to even want to see me, darling,” he admits.

“You left an awful mess I had to clean up first,” you joke, making him chuckle halfheartedly.

“You deserve so much better,” he said sadly, “Settle down with someone your age, with a nice job or something- get out away from this place.”

“Christ, Lee, if I wanted that do you think I’d be here?” you joke. He smiles.

Four months ago, Arvin offered to drive you home from Church. Even with your brother being back, you still ended up going by yourself most Sundays. You weren’t even sure why you still showed up. It was an hour of being stuck in a room with a ton of people where you didn’t even have one ally. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. You had Lenora, who’s sympathetic smiles from across the aisle let you know her silent solidarity, and you had Arvin, who wasn’t one to care what others thought much anyways.

Leaving Church now since the news was finally printed, no one tried to talk to you afterwards except for Arvin and his family. His grandmother was still as sweet as always, but you could see how much she pitied you. Arvin was always friendly still, and he had been so helpful with everything.

“I don’t even care if it was true you know,” he said suddenly, pulling your attention from the open window on the passenger side.

“If what was true?” you ask looking back to him.

“You know, how everyone is talking,” he says in a hushed tone, not wanting to actually say it.

“That I slept with the Sheriff to get the job?” You finish his sentence for him.

“Yeah, I- It doesn’t change anything,” he says, “You’re still you and I don’t care. We’re all human.”

“It’s not true,” you confirm, crossing your arms, and then looking back out at the passing landscape.

“Look (Y/N),” Arvin continued, “I’m sorry about what happened. I feel awful. I want to do anything I can to help you.”

“You’re always such a good friend to me,” you smile, “You shouldn’t be putting yourself out too much for my sake.”

“I want to,” he insists with a smile, “We got a history, you and me.”

“Yeah,” you say with a content sigh.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately,” he admits nervously. He pulls in front of your house, and as usual he runs over quickly to get the door for you. “And just that we aren’t kids anymore,” he continues, and you nod. You dig for your keys as he talks.

“I got a job, pays pretty good,” he continues on, “You got a good job, and this old house. I know you better than anyone. I know it isn’t that romantic, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I’d love to marry you, if you’d have me.”

“A-Arvin, are you serious?” you ask, your heading whipping up at the sudden proposal you hadn’t anticipated.

“Tell me it wouldn’t make sense,” he laughs softly with a shrug, pushing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Arvin, I don’t want to just marry someone for the practicality of it,” you sigh.

“It’s you and me,” he continues, holding your shoulders gently and his eyes are latched onto yours. “I know I made a horrible mistake, but I have been trying so hard to make it up to you. You’re the only girl I ever loved- I never stopped. I loved you when we were eighteen, I love you know that we’re twenty-two and I swear if you let me, I can love you for the rest of my life.”

“Arvin…”

“It’s always been us, hasn’t it?” he asks rhetorically, “There’s never been anyone else…”

“I’m in love with Lee,” you say hurriedly, cutting him off before he continued.

“You what?”

“I’m in love with Lee,” you say again, slower and much more purposeful. You watch his whole expression fall, and it breaks your heart to hurt him.

“You’re in love with Sheriff Bodecker?” He asks, “That fucking deadbeat?”

“He’s not,” you insist, “You don’t know him…”

“You don’t either, (Y/N),” he cuts you off. “He’s no good and crooked. He manipulated you, took advantage…”

“No, he didn’t,” you affirm.

“(Y/N), he’s a liar, and he’s good at it,” he continues, “You don’t think he just up and told you anything he thought you’d want to hear to just get what he wanted…”

“You’re wrong!”

“He’s an alcoholic, no good drunk who took advantage of you with your mama gone…”

“Shut up!”

“He was using you!”

“You’re wrong, Arvin! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Okay, fine,” he sighs, “Let’s say you’re right. So, you’re gonna wait for him? Wait out the five years until you’re twenty-six? And then after you wait for him to get out, how do you know he wants you? Then what are you going to do? I know right now you hate me, but God, (Y/N), I’m a good guy who only wants to put your happiness first… I’ve always put you first. I love you and I’m not going to make you play a ton of games or keep things a secret. I’ll run around this whole town right now screaming how much I love you at the top of my lungs so the whole town knows.”

“I don’t love you.”

Lee still can’t believe you’re finally here in front of him. He thought about this moment for so long. He had even tried to prepare himself to brace the possibility that you might never want anything to do with him ever again. His dreams would plague him with thoughts of you. Sometimes they were happy, and he’d be woken up with the horrible realization that they hadn’t been true, and others were worse. He’d dream about getting out, and seeing you with someone else. Married, and happy, and he wasn’t the one you settled down with. Sometimes, he wouldn’t actually see you with someone else, it was always just implied, or he’d see you with Arvin.

Most nights he’d jolt awake and be covered in sweat, and he would still be cursed by the images that flashed before him in his dreams. He just thinks about all the things he wished he could change and how much he’s hurt you. He just thinks about all the things he would say if he ever got to see you, or what he would do to try to win you back. Then, other nights, he’d be much more self-deprecating and he’d internally fight with himself about how you don’t want him anymore, and you’d realize he was never what you wanted.

Now, he can’t believe you’re here across the glass. He could see the pain and exhaustion behind your eyes and he hates that he is the cause of it. He can’t stop looking at you, and part of him thinks he’s actually back in his room, having another dream about you that he will wake up from and find himself alone again. His eyes scan your face and just wants to take in every part of you, it had been so long. Then his eyes land on a shimmer of something on your hand and he might just die in his seat.

“You found it?” he whispers, looking at the ring on your finger. You look puzzled and then you follow his gaze down to your hand. You had forgotten you hadn’t taken it off.

“Um, yeah,” you admit shyly, looking down at it, “I assumed it was mine.”

“It is,” he smiles, pressing his fingertips gently to the glass briefly. “If you really want it.”

“It’d be a shame for it to just sit in the box,” you shrug. Neither one of you say anything for a moment, neither one of you not knowing what to say to fill the silence.

“I’m going to wait for you,” you declare, aimlessly playing with the ring on your finger.

“Are you sure?” he asks. He can’t let himself get too hopeful. Not yet.

“I’ve never been surer of anything, Lee,” you affirm.

“I will make it up to you.”

“Yes, you will,” you joke, making him laugh.

“I love you,” he sighs relieved, like the weight of everything that has held him down this past year just vanished. You wanted him, and he wouldn’t lose you.

“I love you too.”

PART NINE

Taglist:

@scar-is-bi @jiminlife2k18 @asylummaniac01 @rosalynshields @charmed-asylum @jamesbuchananbuckybarnes1917 @alexandrathegreat3 @hersilencedscreams @malar-region @purplerain85 @vesper852 @smilewolfdolan @softshell-taco @champagnebucky @lilacmeadows @mollygetssherlockcoffee @bluebouquetcupcake29 @stucky-my-ship @moonliightbabes @sassy-kassaay @lharrietg @bbmommy0902​ @hoe-for-sebstan 

[tomatograter]

Do you have any tips on anatomy or dynamic poses? I just really love your art and how fluid it is!

I'm bad at doing art tutorials but things that helped me specifically on that area are;

Prioritizing flow (and the line of action) over anatomically accurate shape; as absolute legend ciro put it really well on this thread made to respond to more or less the same question

Think animation smears, movement before mimesis of the realistic form. More stylized traces benefit heavily from this! But lets say you're also doing some mostly stactic action without a lot of "movement". In that scenario, ive found that thinking of the same principle (flow of the whole instead of the singular piece) can also help if you focus on the characters weight distribution and try to minimize the amount of straight angular lines in your art. Even on things like arms and backs, there's a slight curve instead of a ramrod straight line. It's the juxtaposition with a more loose corresponding line that makes it seem snappy, mid-movement, "bendy". Think about the figure as a whole and be conscious of how the outline loops around itself-which side is the snappier one and which is demonstrating the elasticity of the form. Im gonna take another pic from ciros twitter bc i went to look for the tutorial and found it (sorry king)

This is gonna look confusing at first but bear with me. Check out this image:

Looks like a fucking mess right. Now let's isolate the elements:

IN GREEN: here you have the bendier, more complex lines, the ones doing the loops and informing the shape.

IN RED: Directly In Contrast to the green lines, we have these TAUT ANGLES, not quite completely straight but just enough to give the impression of the figure being pulled every which way, like the meat of dracula boy is being tugged to one side and thus the other is gonna be a bit more modest, having less to work with. Specifically on his face, they even switch sides!

You can find even more contrast points inside that picture but I'm doing this on my phone so I'm only pointing out a few. (Like look at the shape of the hand sitting on the table, theres a complex curved top angle and a taut, lower arm-hand line.) This is definitely an animation-oriented principle instead of a Bellas Artes principle, so id reccomend paying attention to shapely animated things (mostly highly stylized ones, like cartoons not every style does this!) to get your eye trained on that. Try to break down pictures to see how that distribution is being made! Be conscious of the general idea when practicing your poses! There are exceptions to every rule and you shouldn't stress about doing this like math at every turn, but it really helps to 'loosen up' your drawings.

Also to add up on the "movement" thing i tend to sketch loosely and fast out of practice, and only polish it with subsequent re-sketches. Some artists get bogged down by this practice so its not like im reccomending it, but it works for me and i like lineart when its all about doing sweeping gestures and swirls and shit.

i’m gonna put some progress pictures under the cut!

I did this on my phone. there’s my dirty secret i don’t give a shit about how my sketches look. 

lets like polish this thing with 15 layers now untill i get it where i want it (i do color blocking on this stage because i also love color distribution art is just about what you like doing tbf)

you’ll see that the Actual Lineart looks fairly different and i thought some movement was lost (A gamble that is always made when you’re trying to “solidify” or overpolish things, but you win some you lose some. I was able to find the mid stage of the jaderadia piece too so here it is

aaaand since i also have this saved here’s two pieces where one was more fateful to the sketch while the other was all just direct lineart bullshit

hopefully this helps

[janghoefett]

Farewell, My Love

After losing the most important person in your life, you find comfort in an unlikely place

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader, Boba Fett x f!reader friendship with the potential for more…

Rating: 18+ only

Warnings: character death, grief, loss of a partner, slightly suggestive, blood, explosives, just super fluffy and angsty.

A/N: I’m not sure where I’m going with this, if I will continue or if it will turn into a two or three-parter, but I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think or if this is a premise that sounds interesting!

--------------------------------

It’s early in the morning. White light peaks through the dusty window and onto crisp sheets, casting a glow over the two lovers occupying the small bed. She still sleeps, breathing steadily, eyelids fluttering, her grip tightening around his middle as he watches her with adoring eyes.

He’s in love. He loves her. He touches her with an unusual softness that was reserved only for her, as if she was made of something too fine for a hunter’s hands. He pulls the blanket up over her exposed skin when she shivers and runs a soothing hand down her arm, stopping to take her smaller hand in his.

As your eyes peek open slowly, you sigh contentedly at the sight of Din’s thumb moving gently over your knuckles. “Good morning,” he croaks.

You plant a loose kiss to the skin beneath your cheek and smile up at him through heavy eyelids. “Good morning,” you reply.

The Mandalorian turns you onto your back and brings himself to hover above your body, encasing you in his massive arms. You beam at his fervor and wrap your legs around his waist, sliding your foot up his calf as you pull him down for a languid kiss.

“When are you going to marry me, sweet girl?” Din asks against your lips.

You laugh softly and throw your head back against the pillow. “Back on that again, old man?” you smile, running your fingers through his bed head. “We have time,” you coo. “I promise.”

“I know,” he says, dusting a light kiss over your lips. “I know... just think about it for me, mesh’la.”

Din was a Mandalorian traditionalist at heart, but idea of a proper marriage was a frightening prospect; at least right now. This perfect, blissful relationship kept secret from all the world was too precious to touch, and a marriage would plunge you into the unknown. 

So you wanted to stay like this — at least a little while longer. You wanted to share this tiny bed of his, you wanted to feel his fingers ghosting over yours in secret, you didn’t want this fantasy to end with the reality of a marriage. It was silly, really, but Din understood you. He was older and understood why you were not as ready as he was.

But he would wait for you — he would always wait for you.

---------------------------

The ringing in your ears is loud and your head is heavy. You take in your surroundings and try to sit up but you’re weighed down — weighed down by the bulk of beskar that lays over your body.

“Din,” you whimper. “Din.”

You shake him to no response. How did you get here? 

You pull his helmet off and thread your fingers into his curls, pulling back to find your hand stained with blood. “Din, please...”

You don’t know when he left his body, but you speak as if he can hear you still.

“Wake up,” you whimper. “Open your eyes, my love. Come on, Din.”

You find that Boba Fett is kneeling over you, placing a gloved hand to the side of your head as he checks you over. Your breathing is fast and heavy and your eyes tell him you are in shock. He rolls the Mandalorian’s body off of your chest with care and pulls you upright, supporting your weight against his side.

Din Djarin is dead.

You break out into a cry and scramble back down to his body, still pleading for him to wake up. You kiss his lips but they are limp, you feel for his pulse and find none.

“We need to get out of here, little one,” Boba says, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t leave him!” you sob.

“We will recover him. I promise.”

You lean to rest your forehead against the Mandalorian’s and hold his cheeks in your hands, tracing over the the contours, trying to commit the feeling to memory before Boba inevitably drags you away.

“I love you,” you whisper in Din’s ear, as your tears fall onto his face. “I love you so much, Din.”

———————————

A ring of pure beskar. They had found it tucked away in his armor; you didn’t know how long he had been carrying it around, and you supposed you would never know. Inscribed on the inside is the Mandalorian vow, "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome.”

We are one together, we are one when parted.

To say you were heartbroken upon receiving the ring would be an understatement, but you wear it proudly; it feels like the only tangible thing left of your love, it feels like Din is there holding your hand though he is no longer with you.

You found solace in Boba Fett’s company. He had offered you a place to stay in the palace and you agreed only to avoid everything that was Din every day. His clothes, his sheets, you didn’t want to touch it right now. You didn’t want to look around the room and remember every moment you had shared, every time he took you, every declaration of love.

Boba was not naive. He had a hunter’s intuition and despite your attempts at secrecy, he had always known about you and Djarin. He had heard those ancient words of love spilling from Djarin’s lips when he thought you were alone, he had seen your face light up every time you so much as looked towards the Mandalorian. And finally, when he saw you grief-stricken as Din Djarin’s lifeless body laid there guarding your own, Boba Fett felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: empathy.

What happens when you’re in love with somebody who no longer exists? When there’s a breakup, there’s an agreement, there’s a loss of love somewhere. But you were still in love with Din Djarin, and it feels as if you died with him. Where did that leave you?

“May I come in?” a low voice drawls behind you.

You find Boba leaning against the doorway of your room. His hands rest on his his belt and he watches you through softened eyes, before walking towards you with heavy steps. “Grief is a dangerous thing,” he says plainly, sitting beside you on the end of the bed. “It makes us choose solitude. Makes us drown.”

You don’t have anything to say. You were choosing to be alone with your memories, to make him feel alive, to find some sort of peace…. and all the quiet does is make you feel worse.

Boba notices the ring on your finger and the way you nervously twist it with your other hand, recognizing the beskar. “Were you married?” he asks after a moment.

“No,” you laugh sadly. “I… we…”

Stars, you couldn’t even claim to be his widow, yet somehow Din had widowed you all the same. You didn’t want to cry in front of Boba. You told yourself you wouldn’t, but a strangled sob breaks past your lips and he allows you to lean into him, letting you take comfort in his company.

“Let it out, ad’ika,” Boba coos, cradling your head. “I got you.”