#something more light-hearted after the post right before this one for yall

[gralunaisland]

An Insult to juvia's (Lack of) Intelligence

*Lucy and Gray happily eating lunch together* juvia, across the guild hall: ohhh Gray-samaaaaaaa Gray: quick hide me juvia: *flounces over* Lucy, deadpan: sorry, Gray's not here at the moment juvia: *watches Gray unsuccessfully struggle to fit under the tiny table* you blonde bimbo, he's right there! Gray: *muffled* no i'm not Lucy, still deadpan: no he's not

#lucy will always have gray's back #even if it makes both of them look silly #insulting juvia's intelligence (or lack thereof) as they should! #i love gralu being audacious towards juvia #something more light-hearted after the post right before this one for yall #gralunachat #anti gruvia #anti juvia #anti juvia lockser #anti juvia loxar #fairy tail #defend gray fullbuster #anti gray x juvia #gray fullbuster #chat post #anti gray fullbuster x juvia lockser #gralu #graylu #lucy heartfilia #incorrect fairy tail quotes

[loaksky]

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake. 

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice. 

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick. 

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented. 

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you. 

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire. 

He hates it. He hates you. 

He thinks. 

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth. 

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him. 

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you. 

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone. 

Like now, you linger. 

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them. 

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over. 

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin. 

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes. 

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger. 

“We going or what?” he finally says. 

You perk up. 

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly. 

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents. 

You roll your lips and shift on your feet. 

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful. 

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours. 

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible. 

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up." 

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off. 

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles. 

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers. 

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes hard. 

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you. 

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam. 

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand. 

“Hi,” he says flatly. 

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet. 

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare. 

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat. 

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him. 

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows. 

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure. 

“My birthday's coming up,” you start. 

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs. 

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest. 

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you. 

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone. 

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens. 

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend. 

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back. 

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face. 

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly. 

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp. 

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice. 

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head. 

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply. 

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly. 

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off. 

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle. 

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target. 

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot. 

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile. 

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.” 

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target. 

His heart sinks. 

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two. 

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn. 

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs. 

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest. 

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path. 

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora. 

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel. 

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks. 

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!” 

His chest rises and falls with a scoff. 

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood. 

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage. 

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly. 

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly. 

Lo’ak rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you. 

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?” 

Friends. 

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path. 

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle. 

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother. 

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.” 

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised. 

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.” 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns. 

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates. 

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.” 

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat. 

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him. 

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up. 

You offer up the plate again. 

“Lo’ak–“ 

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed. 

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground. 

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds. 

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.” 

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering. 

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.” 

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.” 

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters. 

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.” 

“Dad!” 

“Go, Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air. 

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology. 

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye. 

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction. 

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief. 

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest. 

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about. 

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile. 

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy. 

“You first,” you offer. 

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing. 

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him. 

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you. 

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile. 

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn. 

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation. 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.” 

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face. 

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly. 

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night. 

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly. 

“I dunno, green?” he offers. 

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly. 

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.” 

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal. 

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages. 

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up. 

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet. 

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.” 

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What?” he asks. 

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him. 

“Nothing.” 

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session. 

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you. 

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off. 

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade. 

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended. 

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips. 

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars. 

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.” 

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night. 

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has. 

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries. 

The words are leaving him before he can stop them. 

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.” 

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him. 

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.” 

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile. 

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.” 

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue. 

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.” 

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments. 

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.” 

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.” 

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You nod, smiling at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night. 

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring. 

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village. 

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed. 

Kiri shrugs. 

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.” 

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully. 

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower. 

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist. 

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again. 

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw. 

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands. 

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff. 

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly. 

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him. 

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control. 

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard. 

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly. 

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?” 

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.” 

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–” 

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too. 

You try again anyways. 

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.” 

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch. 

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face. 

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later. 

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore. 

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully. 

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates. 

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles. 

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.” 

You frown. 

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud. 

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?” 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent. 

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs. 

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further. 

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him. 

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut. 

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level. 

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle. 

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree. 

You follow after him. 

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects. 

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.” 

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off. 

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels. 

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!” 

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you. 

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry. 

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!” 

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles. 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper. 

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!” 

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you. 

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat. 

You dropped your journal. 

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands. 

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet. 

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been. 

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal. 

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open. 

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch. 

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued. 

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers. 

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?” 

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides. 

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers. 

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

Spider winces behind him. 

“You serious?” 

Lo’ak sighs. 

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…” 

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him. 

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.” 

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?” 

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!” 

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation. 

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“ 

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs. 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.” 

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps. 

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?” 

He blinks at the human. 

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.” 

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply. 

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.” 

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook. 

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly. 

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off. 

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths. 

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind. 

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis. 

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him. 

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you. 

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late. 

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver. 

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling. 

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar. 

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face. 

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them. 

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves. 

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it. 

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head. 

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him. 

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze. 

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.” 

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read. 

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand. 

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.” 

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him. 

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it. 

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping. 

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you. 

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain. 

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished. 

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind. 

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap. 

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh. 

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath. 

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know. 

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get. 

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting. 

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him. 

His chest heaves as the words blur. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward. 

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye. 

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time. 

likes green and blue. 

likes yovo fruits. 

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest. 

When he turns the page, his breath hitches. 

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another. 

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star. 

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like. 

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease. 

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones. 

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river. 

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide. 

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you. 

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself. 

He stands from the hammock and runs. 

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins. 

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape. 

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.” 

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him. 

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm. 

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

The tears well on their own. 

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will. 

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches. 

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.” 

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below. 

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.” 

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky. 

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.” 

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues. 

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you. 

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.” 

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!” 

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness. 

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better. 

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence. 

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat. 

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task. 

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest. 

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his. 

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze. 

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly. 

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?” 

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. 

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression. 

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?” 

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly. 

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…” 

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest. 

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.” 

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines. 

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines. 

“Why should I help you with your mess?” 

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment. 

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd. 

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show. 

Be brave. 

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space. 

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips. 

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him. 

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again. 

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side. 

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder. 

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday. 

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you. 

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact. 

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet. 

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely. 

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right. 

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt. 

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart. 

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.” 

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve. 

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough. 

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids. 

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.” 

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push. 

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees. 

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage. 

“I’ll only be a second!” 

“Wait, Kiri!” 

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path. 

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself. 

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams. 

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls. 

“Lo’ak…” 

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes. 

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet. 

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him. 

He scratches the back of his head. 

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer. 

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads. 

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly. 

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat. 

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream. 

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.” 

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.” 

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” 

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words. 

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.” 

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him. 

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes. 

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.” 

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek. 

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.” 

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you. 

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?” 

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze. 

“Did you…” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?” 

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening. 

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately. 

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push. 

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.” 

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines. 

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.” 

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out. 

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief. 

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.” 

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him. 

“Please.” 

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours. 

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.” 

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope. 

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers. 

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss. 

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you. 

To being loved by you. 

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…” 

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.” 

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by. 

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift. 

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.” 

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you. 

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself. 

“Lo’ak, wow…” 

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.” 

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

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neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

#lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar #atwow #avatar the movie #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fanfiction

[ilys00ga]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐓.𝟐

➞ pair: yoongi x f reader

➞ synopsis: where you meet him during your best friend's wedding. can a heart beat again after breaking to pieces?

➞ genre: best friend's brother!yoongi, actress!female reader, bookshop owner!yoongi, angst, kind of hurt/comfort, there's also some fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn.

➞ warnings: mentions of cheating, heartbreak, reader is going through some deep shit, failed past relationship, alcohol consumption (drink mindfully and responsibly (not me saying this when I don't even drink lmao)). this is PURE fiction!

➞ A/N: I wanna start by saying thank you to the one or two persons who requested another part of this fic. as I mentioned before, I had no intention or inspiration to write more of it, but I'm glad that yall forced me into coming up with this (jkjk). I don't KNOW how and what , but I WANT to write more parts of this. so, in the meantime, enjoy this and expect something to be posted in some few months lmao. I had to rewrite this a hundred times, I kind of don't wanna proofread it ever again 😭 so pls ignore any mistakes or questionable points (🙏🙏🙏!!!!!!). love <3

➞ tags: @viankiss + @parkjennykim + @acquiescence804

★ MASTERLIST.

Ethereal clouds blanketed the sky above the town, giving a gleam of light every now and then as they played a game of hide and seek with the sun. The crisp wind bit the skin of your face, carrying the scent of freshly wet concrete in every direction it went. the world was vivid in color around you and underneath your feet. As per always, nothing could beat the delight of walking down the street shortly after a round or two of rain.

as you make your way down the sidewalk, you reach a shopwindow displaying a collection of book goodness. The huge sign right at the top of the storefront read 'SNOOZE', and you wondered what kind of significance it carried for it to be the chosen name of the shop before you.

not wasting any more precious time, you decided to pay a visit and see if any book would call out your name as soon as it spots you, and lure you closer to fan its pages and listen to their story.

The first thing that welcomed you as soon as you walked into the place was a radiating warmth. the air was sweet-scented with a mix of wood, paper, new and old books, multiple perfumes and a mouth watering smell of both coffee and tea. It was almost too overwhelming, but the atmosphere soaked your heart with so much comfort almost immediately that it left you speechless.

The shop was on two floors. The first one was largely specious. Every wall was loaded up with books neatly lined up from top to bottom, and planted everywhere were tables presenting neatly organized books. Some people were scattered around, talking in hushed voices or just silently browsing. Others you could see chilling on the second floor, where a coffee bar was. It was not as spacious as the one underneath, but it was commodious enough for some extra small couches and chairs here and there.

you started walking around the lovely aisles, taking your time as you scanned through them. your finger ran down spines, and your nose inhaled the sweet, dearly loved smell of paper books in.

At the heart of your wandering, piano notes rode the air inside the shop, rushing as they slipped between shelves and making their way to your ears. it tugged a smile on your face, the smooth melody that sounded somewhat familiar, and you stalked its source with sheer curiosity.

There, when you finally made it, you found the man you met at your best friend’s wedding a couple of months earlier, seated on the piano bench, focused. Yoongi was his name. Yoongi, Soyoon’s older brother, who walked around with a box of UNO cards in his pocket. such a memorable person.

He looked slightly different than the last (fist and only) time you saw him, though. His hair was shorter, pushed back with a pair of sunglasses resting on his head. He also had sidecuts, and some ear piercings. totally different from the other day.

perhaps the "performance" went on for about two minutes more, u couldn't tell, but soon he had his hands clasped on his lap and smiled, satisfied. Before you could walk away, Yoongi turned and his eyes immediately fell on you. ‘oh’, he whispered as his eyes widened in surprise, and you cracked a faint smile.

"didn't expect to see you again." he spoke first, standing up and approaching you.

"Me neither. I was losing hope in playing another round of UNO with you again."

"Well, about that.." scratching the back of his head, he bit his lip sheepishly and confessed, "I kept a box in my pocket for days but then lost track and didn’t think we’d see each other again.."

"Too bad I can't beat you today.." you scrunched your nose teasingly.

"we can play another time?" he suggested, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dark pants and relaxing his board shoulders.

"Sure, why not." you averted your eyes from his for a moment before meeting them again with a small smile.

Neither of you said anything for a short moment. it wasn't exactly awkward—or at least not from your end—in fact, something deep inside kept eagerly nagging, pushing you to say something and keep pulling strings of conversation from the man before you. so, you decided to comply and chat up with a hint of hesitance hanging from your teeth, "You work here?"

"oh, yeah. with a friend of mine." he answered, "is there anything specific you'd like?"

"no, I’d just discovered the place so I was walking around."

"I see… coffee? or do you prefer tea?"

"Coffee is good."

"Alright, come with me." He led you upstairs, told you to take a seat, and started preparing two cups for the both of you. Truthfully speaking, the cozyness of the store caught you off guard. really. It didn't feel like a shop, no, it felt like a private reading space in the comfort of your own house. For a moment, you felt sad as you wondered whether it was a painfully underrated place or not. It would've been such a shame if a place like that one wasn't appreciated enough, you thought.

a stretched out arm placed a cup in front of you. looking up, you were reminded of his presence once again.

"there you go," he said and sat across from you.

"How's the situation here?" you inquired, fingers hugging the warm mug between your hands.

"pretty good. We started recently, but it's already going well."

"I see." you nodded your head and took a sip, "Associating readers and bookworms all day must be nice."

"It's fun, sometimes." he hummed, "Are you one?"

"a bookworm? not really, no. I mean, I do love reading but I'm almost always busy filming so.."

"filming…?"

"oh, yeah. I'm an actress. a very not well known one, at that." you chuckled.

"That's cool." you could read elements of genuine interest off of his expression. you weren’t sure why, but it made you smile.

"you think so?" you asked.

"Of course I do. acting has always been interesting to me."

The two of you exchanged bits of comments and opinions for a few more minutes. it wasn't until you glanced down at your wrist watch that you realized it was time for you to leave.

"But you haven't picked a book yet," he insisted when you got up and bid your goodbyes.

"there were too many good ones, I really couldn't choose."

"Wait, come with me." you trailed along behind him as he headed downstairs, until he came to a halt and showed you a tall bookcase. written on the very top was a big “BLIND DATE WITH A BOOK”. Each one of the books in it was wrapped in the same gray paperwrap and had words scribbled on it. after a quick glance, you could tell that they were short anonymous letters.

"People drop mystery books here all the time. see if you find something that stirs your interest?" Yoongi proposed.

Doing as he said, you went through the notes, reading each one carefully, until one grabbed your attention.

“for the mourning soul,

harried and frayed at the edges,

this is a hug from me to you.”

It read.

“Good choice.” somewhere to your left, you could hear Yoongi softly muttering.

"baby, please listen to me!" he pleaded, hand tightening around your arm to prevent you from walking away.

"What more do you have to say? I saw everything with my own eyes!" your voice cracked as you held a sob in, trying so hard to hold yourself together and not break down in front of the man that just broke your heart with no care.

"it's not what it looks like! I love you, why'd you think I would lie to you?!"

and all of a sudden, every word known to man vanished from the top of your tongue. your brain went blank, your face frozen. all you could muster was a faint "...you.."

“Cut!” the director’s voice rang out and sliced its way through the scene.

Everyone on set looked at you with knitted brows as he walked up to you, pulling you aside. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, mentally preparing yourself for whatever remark he was intending to deliver your way.

“__, we’ve done intense scenes like this one before. I know you can do better.” he crossed his arms, eyebrows inching closer to each other as he spoke.

“I'm sorry, sir. it's just so ha-"

“How hard can it be to express and demystify being cheated on? have you never been cheated on before? just conjure that picture up, then translate and convey it. it’s not that hard.” he rolled his eyes and instructed with a sharp tone. it made your stomach twist again and you felt sick, almost as though those pair of strict eyes grew an arm and bunched you right in the chest, hence your aching bottom lip as you chewed at it and looked down at your feet.

and with a timid voice, you answered, “I know, I'm sorry, I will try my best.”

“right.” was all he muttered before he walked away, announcing a ten minutes long break to the whole crew.

it took everything within you not to walk up to him and scream at his face until your throat bled and burned with an old rage. you really wanted to do that, but you didn’t. you couldn't. so you just stood there and watched the room move like nothing had been said.

A guy walked in. He hastened to reach the director and whispered something in his ear. another guy came up and handed you a cup of coffee. you thanked him and put your mind to the drink, savoring its bitterness as it washed every corner of your mouth.

some minutes later, your phone beeped with an incoming message:

from Saera <3: There’s something i think you should know. Let's meet up when you’re done.

Planning it all step by step was what the universe had done. the director suddenly called it a wrap, and the room was moving quicker than before.

“Here’s your bottle, miss.” a blond bartender said with a sweet grin on his face. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a necklace sitting comfortably between the partially exposed pecks of his chest—a sight you were sure you didn’t see a few minutes ago since the first few buttons of his shirt were definitely not unbuttoned.

You muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ and opened the bottle of your favorite alcoholic drink, filling the empty glass you were clutching with the other hand and taking a decent sip. it burnt as it washed down the walls of your throat, to your chest and spread all over your system.

“Oof, I really needed that.” hissing, you threw your head backward.

Over the past couple of months, that bar came to be a comfort zone for you. when the emotions you tenderly carried in the palms of your hands overflowed and raced down your arms, reaching your elbows to then drip like heavy raindrops by your feet on the floor, you rushed your way to this pub to pat it dry.

Maybe it was the coziness of its vintage interior decor presented to the visiting eye that pulled you in. or the quiet atmosphere that lured every presence that steps into the place with curious eyes, welcoming it with a warm embrace and a gentle smile. or the hushed voices of customers spending their time in various of ways and feelings, one sitting alone and sipping on a huge glass of beer with a grim face, another sitting lifelessly with barely opened eyes and a bunch of empty glasses stacked up on the table before them, a couple with tinted cheeks sharing whispered love between each other and some elderly people just hanging out here and there.

The cocky bartender was somehow always on shift whenever you showed up. He seemed to love shamelessly hitting on you with that large smile of his, but Instead of paying him any attention, you fix your eyes on the stacked up bottles and glasses behind him, shining with reflections of soft yellow, and politely smile back every single time. That didn't seem to wind him up, though.

A thick steam of thoughts fogged your mind up as you sat on one of the high red stools lined up at the counter, facing the room with your back and consuming one glass after another.

A soft knock on the wooden counter to your right pulled you out of your wandering thoughts. your back stiffened and your head snapped up. Then you saw him, once again, Yoongi smiling down at you, and he ever so softly said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

He didn't have his sunglasses above his head, you noticed. his fringe fell on his forehead, and he didn't have the piercings on, you noticed that too. Amber light bulbs beamed gold on his pale skin, going perfectly right with the black silk dress shirt he was wearing.

"Are you stalking me?" you said with a thick, slurred voice.

he tilted his head, still smiling, and pointed, "this bar is two blacks away from the bookshop. I like to come here often."

you didn't say anything further—maybe it was just the alcohol, or maybe it was something you couldn't confidently put your finger on, but there was a voice that kept praising his face in the back of your head and you just sat there, listening, observing, red-cheeked, droopy-eyed, motionless.

Yoongi nodded towards the seat right next to yours and muttered, “can i?”

"o-of course!" you spat an answer out, pressing your eyes shut and facing away from him. maybe drinking too much wasn't the best idea that night. or maybe it was that you should've paid more attention and recognized the very familiar street beforehand? either way, you felt too unstable to function in front of another human being at that moment.

"You look troubled." was the first thing he said after the batista had come, served him the drink he ordered and left again.

"ah… just tired."

The man didn't say anything for a while. The frown he immediately noticed on your face when he spotted you just earlier ran a hundred questions in his brain, however, at the very tip of his tongue laid a question he really wanted to voice out ever since the two of you had met at the bookstore, but he just couldn't.

After giving it some thought, he gathered some strength and decided to just ask his concern away.

“that thing you told me about the other day,” he started, carefully picking his words, and you tried to listen as attentively as your fogged up mind could, "does it still hurt?”

At first, you couldn't understand what he was referring to exactly, not until you thought back on the two times you two had met before.

he watched your pointer finger, the one you'd been gliding along the rim of your glass freeze. He didn’t speak, neither did you. it seemed like neither of you was breathing for a few seconds. The air in the room was getting colder, and so were the tips of your fingers as they hung above and barely touched the rim.

Gulping the saliva that gathered on top of your tongue, you contemplated whether you should provide an answer to his question or just ignore it like it was never asked at all. This was a question no one had ever asked you since the entire cheating situation had happened. it was always ‘are you okay?' or ‘Did you move on?’. something of the sort. Not once did anyone wonder whether it still stinged your heart every time the image of your ex popped up before your eyes or not. not once did anyone ask if the scene still haunted you after all these months or not.

But it’s not like you were mad or pointing accusatory fingers at anybody. the pain was yours, and only you shall bask and drown in it. only you shall figure out how the fuck to get the hell out of that dark pit and heal from it.

It was just something that you yourself were too caught up in the hurricane of your grief and bitterness to even ask your own self, ‘does it really still hurt?’, ‘Are you getting any better?’, 'are you still stuck?', 'what if you're stuck there forever?'

It took a long moment before you could manage a proper reply to that stirring query. until you uttered a small ‘he died’ loud enough for him to hear.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see him lifting his head, yet he remained silent. you rawly added, "the asshole died in a car accident like nothing had happened at all... tell me," you paused to lift your tremling hand and rest its palm over your chest, right where you heart was beating fast, " how should I mend what’s been ruptured in here now..? Why is it even still hurting..? Why am I mad..? I don't understand. Do you..? I…”

Yoongi took his time to answer, humming then absent-mindedly nodding his head before speaking again, “it takes some time.”

“how do you know that?” you inquired again, lifting your head to have a look at his side profile.

“I know how it feels to be abandoned by someone so special, at the very least.”

“you got dumped?” you blurted.

He let out a breathy scoff, lightly scratching at the skin under his left eye with flushed cheeks.

“did you really have to say it that way?” he hissed playfully and wet his lower lip, eyes pinned on yours, “but yes, my ex left me to chase after her dreams.”

somewhere deep in those dark orbs, you could catch a glimpse of something sorrowful, but it quickly vanished as he attempted to smile and then looked away.

“I guess we’re both losers, then.” you downed the three quarters full glass in one draft. The room was spinning. you were feeling gradually more light-headed.

“We are not losers just because we got our hearts broken.” Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t sound that buzzed yet. his voice got deeper, and his words stood steady the more he talked.

“Then what are we? If not a loser, then what does being cheated on or abandoned for some worldly goal make you?" tears started welling up from deep inside, but even in your dizzy state, you couldn't let them out. not at that moment, not with Yoongi some inches away from you. you gulped, and with a trembling voice, you muttered, "being stuck in one square while they move on with their lives and build castles for themselves, then have the audacity to die like nothing had happened at all, what does that make you?”

“a lover. being betrayed by a loved one despite all the unconditional love you offered makes you somebody who loves so sincerely. a wretched lover."

you allow his words to set in, analyzing them briefly and pondering before letting a snort out.

“That's even worse.” you said, bitterly.

Yoongi smiled, equally bitter as you, "turns out we're actually more similar than I had thought."

a ‘do you need anything else, dear?’ popped your little bubble up when the bartender showed up again, not once glancing at the man sitting right next to you as he addressed all of his attention towards you.

“no, we’re leaving.” came a sharp answer from Yoongi, and when you glanced at him you saw that his face held a stiff expression, one that was very different from the wide smile and crinkly eyes it was displaying some minutes ago.

The bartender turned his head towards him with a flat smile, then excused himself to serve some new customers.

“we’re leaving?” you tilted your head with furrowed eyes in confusion.

“yeah. you look gone as hell, and it’s getting late.” he started getting up, “i’ll give you a ride.”

“That sounds about right.” absently nodding your head, you stood up as well, and he guided you out of the building.

The door to your flat beeped once automatically unlocked, and just as you stepped in, you were faced with Saera. she stood there with her hands on her hips, eyeing your drunken state, unsatisfied. her shoulders lowered, and her brows rose as soon as she caught sight of Yoongi standing right behind you, then said: “you two..”

Yoongi began explaining the situation briefly to her, scratching the back of his neck as he stuttered on his words and blushed.

“she's not that wasted. All is good. Just put her to bed.” he finished his summary and hummed, satisfied with himself.

Before Saera could say anything, you grumbled an “I can take care of myself just fine.” and walked up to your room with unsteady steps, waving them off.

“and I'll go.” Yoongi mumbled, quickly walking out with a ghost of faint red still remaining on his plump, milky cheeks.

#bts yoongi #yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #min yoongi #yoongi angst #suga fluff #suga angst #strangers to friends #friends to lovers #bts fic #suga fic

[chrissturniolosbitch]

CAUGHT

a/n: this sucks, and i made it at 4am while high.

summary: matt, and y/n are bsf's, and well... matt leaves to get food, comes home, see's y/n touchin herself, and then fucks her😃...

warnings: cursing, sex, language, toys, overstimulation, fingering. idk what else...

a/n: i posted a poll asking what smut i should post TOMORROW.. and yall picked this one butt i wanted to post it today...

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Me and matt have always been close. We did practically everything together.

growing up with him, and his brothers are memories i will never forget.

matt always was there for me tho. Not saying nick, chris, or anyone else wasnt, its just i always knew matt would help me when i was sad, and would always just in general be there for me through anything

with all his kind actions, and just being with him the most i started catching feelings for him.

i loved everything about him.

His tattoos, his hands, his eyes, his hair, his lips, his body, his waist. Everything.

Chris, and Nick went to madis house to have a sleepover there. Leaving me and matt home alone.

matt, and i played board games, and played fortnite, then we started watching a movie.

after about 45 minutes into the movie matt got hungry.

"Hey im going to get Mcdonald's, do you want anything" He said pausing the movie we were watching, "No ill be fine, and ill stay back im kinda sleepy" I lied.

today all day matt has been so clingy. Not in a sexual way, but in an affectionate way. Trying to show me he loves me as a friend, and wanted to be by me today.

the thought of matt roaming my head. its not that i didnt want to go.

I just wanted to touch myself.

Matt noded, got up, grabbed his keys, and opened the door, "Ill be back soon!" he said before he closed the door, locking it behind him.

As soon as the door shut i got up, and ran to his room.

As soon as i got in his room i dimmed the lights, turned on a playlist, and grabbed my vibrator.

as soon as i layed on the bed I took my fingers, and slowly rubbed my clothed clit thinking of matt, and how good he would feel inside of me, how big his dick was, and how far the buldge in my stomach would go.

i slipped my shorts of, and turned my vibrator on the highest setting getting right into action.

"fuck" i moaned out the familiar sensation making my heart beat out of my chest.

i suddenly stopped and took off my shirt, and bra.

When i took everything off, say it by tory lanez started playing. I always wondered what it would be like having sex to this song.

i reattached my vibrator to my aching clit, and moaned at the feeling.

I about to reach my climax when i heard a faint gasp.

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(matt's POV:)

I came back home after i got food, y/n said she didnt want anything but i knew she would ask for something of mine, so i got her some.

I got my house key out, and unlocked the door.

As soon as i entered i heard loud wimpers.

fuck is she okay?

is she safe?

I ran upstairs, and called her name. No responce, just more moans, and wimpers.

I got to the door, and opened it. I gasped at the sight infront of my eyes.

Her beautiful body, he fingers touching her beautiful pussy, and the way her head way thrown back because of the immense pleasure she was feeling.

She shot a look at me, "MATT WHAT THE FUCK OH MY GOD IM SO SORRY" she screamed, i was getting harder, and harder by the second.

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(Y/n's POV:)

matthew stuniolo walked in on me fucking myself.

Matt didnt leave he just stood there, i threw the covers of my bare body, the music still blasting, and shut my eyes tightly hoping i was just dreaming.

Suddenly i felt cold big hands grab my waist through the covers, "Look at me" he said sternly.

I pulled the covers off my head, cheeks flushed from embarrassment, "do you need my help baby?"

Matt Sturniolo, my best fucking friend asking if i needed his help?? who am i to decline this offer??

"matt please..." i cried out, i needed to feel him touching me. He took his middle, and ring finger, and started rubbing painfully slow circles onto my now sopping wet, dripping cunt, "Faster matt fuck, i need your fingers in me" I threw my head back needing more.

After my words he shoved his two finger inside of me harshly causing me to moan loudly from pleasure, "fuck matt, yes" i said rolling my eyes, "You like me touching you like this huh?" He said tilting his head to the right.

"yes matt, fuck. Im so close please let me cum." I said already worked up before i got interrupted, "go ahead baby, cum all over my fingers"

With a tic of approval I let the knot in my stomach go, i released all over his finger.

"fuck oh my god..." I screamed out as matt pulled his fingers out of me, sucking my juices off.

Matt leaned over my body, "c-can i kiss you baby?" he said flicking his eyes, to my lips, and back up into mine. I grabbed the back of his neck, and closed the gap between us.

"m-more" i said wrapping my legs around his waist pulling him closer to me, "what was that baby?" he said leaning back up, starting to take his shirt off.

"fuck. Please matt i need you" i said practically begging for him.

He took off his shirt, and unbuckled his belt taking his pants off. He had a dark grey stain through his light grey calvin cline boxers.

matt leaned back down to kiss my lips, neck, and tits. With that he took his boxers off, his hard aching dick leaking precum.

he hissed at the sensation.

i threw my head back, fuck he was so big.

he took his cock, and started rubbing it through my folds soon he pushed his cock into me, "ugh, fuck yes matt" i said moaning through gritted teeth.

he started thrusting fast, and hard into me not giving me enough time to adjust to his size. I was taking all 8 1/2 inches of him in one swift motion.

"god youre so tight around me. Im not gonna last long" he said, his thrusts getting more sloppy, "fuck matt me neither" i said reaching my climax.

With the speed he was going, and him praising me the knot in my stomach snapped, causing me to cum all over matts lower abdomen, and dick.

soon after me strings of curse words were leaving his mouth as he was cumming inside of me, "shit shit shit" he said fucking our cum back into me.

soon matts motions came to a stop and he plopped next to me, "w-was that good?" he said looking me in the eyes, "that was the best sex ive ever had." i said giggling at him.

"that answers my question then" he said laughing back, leaning into kiss me.

The kiss was so sweet, and told me that he wanted this. That he has been wating to do this.

"So.." i said chuckling.

"Whats wrong baby?" he said kissing me again.

"What are we now?" i exclaimed hoping he wanted to be with me as bad as i wanted to be with him.

"youre all mine baby.." he said as he tuck a peice of hair behind my ear.

matt kissed me once more, "goodnight y/n i love you"

"i love you so much more matty" I felt my eyes shutting before i got my sentence out.

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I NEED IT IN ALL DIFFERENT POSITIONS!!!!!!

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

[seeingivy]

elevated heart rates 

levi ackerman x f!reader

levi’s a mind reader and you’re a love expert 

content: grad student levi, brain researchers, nile being a weirdo freak (sorry yall), mentions of drinking, levi is shirtless at one point, reader has claustrophobia 

an: started my big girl brain research fellowship today. hence - brain jargon and GRAD STUDENT LEVI

- 

The room is small - the nineteen of you cramming into the small space of the conference room. You’re located directly at the front, sitting next to your advisor, Dot Pyxis. A leading expert in the field, one of the first neuroscientists you had met at a conference when you were a freshman in college. 

You saw it - the way his eyes lighted up, the way he was stumbling over his words because he was so excited to explain what he did everyday that you wanted that. To be that excited about something. And here you were, sitting next to him about to make it happen. 

You moved to Marley two months ago for this very moment. Your first day at the Brain Consortium - one of the best neuroscience research labs in the country, led by Pyxis himself. He was going to co-advise your thesis, guide you into becoming an expert in the field. Unlike any other, this lab was barely limited to one field, instead equipped with researchers from many different departments, the projects, the papers entirely interdisciplinary. 

There was no other place like it. You can feel your hands shaking as you hand over your hard drive, your presentation loaded on to it. Pyxis had explained it all - there were weekly lab meetings where everyone came together, presenting their research. Everyone gave feedback, asked questions to help further expand and build on the projects. 

And it was your turn. On your very first day, you were expected to explain. What you were going to research, what you were going to contribute, what you were excited about. 

It’s fucking nerve wracking. Pyxis stands up, giving you one last shoulder squeeze, before introducing everyone in the lab to you. He points everyone out - the other assistant professors, post-doctoral researchers, and the other PhD students. 

“Hange Zoe, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Petra Ral, and Nile Dok. The other PhD students. I want the five of you to give her a tour of the lab after.” 

They all nod, a few of them giving you encouraging smiles as you start. Pyxis turns to you, taking your seat at the table as you take the pointer in your hands, starting your presentation. 

“Right. Um, I’m F/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you all. I, um, completed my undergraduate studies at Shiganshina University. I got a b-bachelors in applied neuroscience and computational biology. I’ll be presenting my thesis project pr-proposal.” 

You hate this shit. You’re stuttering over your words and they’re all staring back, completely uninterested in your work. The PhD students in front of you aren’t even taking you seriously - the girl with glasses nearly stumbling off her chair from sliding around on it and the guy with dark black, grey steely eyes more interested in his cup of fucking tea than what you were talking about. 

“Right, so. My project aims to study interoceptive signals - like heartbeat, respiration cycles, blood pressure - and use them to predict and decode intentions. These small biomarkers, entirely unconscious to us, are consistent during decision making, unbeknownst to us. We can exploit that - to understand higher level cognition.” 

You’ve got their attention - you can tell. This is always the easy part, drawing them in - the woman from before stopped sliding on her chair, instead leaning forward with her eyes shining at your slides, the guy with the tea momentarily flickering his eyes up to the screen. 

“You can use it to predict how people act, how they feel. Especially for something like heart rate, which is what I want to focus on, you can understand so many things - anxiety, stress, companionship, sexual attraction, romance.” 

You see one of the PhD students murmur under his breath, interrupting you in your stead. Nile, they said his name was. 

“So you want to be a…love expert?” 

The entire room laughs, giving you smiles as you continue on. You give him a smile, responding. 

“I guess you could say that.” 

You continue on - highlighting how the brain regulates these signals, what equipment you’ll be using to record all of it. 

They clap when you’re done. Success. 

 - 

You feel fully settled into the lab, a few months later. You’ve decorated your tiny cubicle, directly in the middle with the other PhD students, with a few knick knacks - a picture of you and your best friend, a tiny little green figurine your parents gifted you, and a rack for your headphones. 

You’re located in the section with the other PhD students, who are…interesting. 

On the first day, they lead you to take the cubicle directly next to Hange, which you realized was a bad idea. Because they set you up. Hange’s a biochemist - doing research on the brain tissue at the molecular level, trying to understand how glioblastomas progress. Meaning - they’re always playing with chemicals at their desk, sometimes too lazy to walk over to the lab, which leads to some interesting smells and…smokes in your area. 

They never get in trouble, because Erwin and Petra always come to save the day. They’re both leading policy experts, studying volition and decision making in hopes to use in applications to the law and judicial systems. Figuring out why criminals commit crimes, using it for to serve justice. They cover up the evidence, distract Pyxis and Shadis, and talk their way out of it on Hange’s behalf. 

And that leaves Nile, who isn’t particularly your favorite. He’s a bit hard to get along with, not exactly personable per say. He’s researching microdosing and addiction - trying to figure out how we can manipulate medicines or drugs into being more or less addictive. 

You almost forgot about him. Levi, who's currently leading you to the MRI room on the other side of the building. Definitely the most intriguing of all of your colleagues - using transcranial brain stimulation to decode intentions. In less jargony terms, he read minds. 

He puts the decisions made on the tests into algorithms, correcting it until the machines can predict the decisions being made perfectly - that can be applied to anyone, not just singular participants. He’s coding human thought into machines. And doing it successfully. 

Levi’s quiet, perplexing, and intelligent. An enigma. He’s stood out to you, more than anyone else, for the simple reason that he’s the only one who doesn’t want to talk to you. Hange invites you out for drinks, Petra introduced you to her boyfriend, Erwin bought you a birthday present even though you didn’t tell anyone it was your birthday, and Nile asked you on a date (which you obviously declined). 

But Levi doesn’t care. You don’t either, but it does intrigue you at times. Why he’s so quiet, so closed off, what he’s always doing on his laptop, who he texts on his breaks. This was the first time you were alone with him - getting roped into participating in his newest study. 

“Newbie has to do it.” 

“Do what, Hange?” 

“Levi likes to experiment on all of our brains. You’ve never done it and he needs someone, so we’re volunteering you.” 

Hange and Erwin pull you up by the wrists, all but pushing you out of the conference room into Levi’s cubicle, where you almost trip and fall over him. He looks up - already deeply uninterested with the three of you standing in his space - as he removes his hands from his keyboard. 

“What, brats?” 

“I’m not participating. She is. Take her away!” 

He looks between the three of you, clearly unamused with how nonchalant Hange was being about the whole thing, as they knocked over Levi’s stack of books on the floom. They nearly shake his entire frame in their hands as they thanked him profusely for not making them participate. 

Erwin picks up the stack of books - somehow shuffling them all out of order as Levi gets even more frustrated - shooing the two of them out of his space. After successfully removing them, you and Levi walk towards the MRI room, all the way across the building, in silence. 

When you get there, he taps his hand on the platform, signaling for you to sit on it. You obediently follow, still not uttering an entire word. You watch him mill around the room - pressing switches, using the intercom to communicate with the operator, turning the lights off. 

“Wearing any metal?” 

“My necklace. I’ll take it off.” 

You reach up, awkwardly fumbling with the clasp as he watches you, his hands pressed to his sides as he waits. You’re not sure what it is - how sweaty your hands are, the way he’s looking at you, awkwardly waiting for you to finish - but you can’t get the clasp off, your hold shaking behind your hair. 

“I can help you.” 

You meekly nod, getting off the platform. Before you can, he reaches forward, his slender hands gathering your hair before placing them across the side to your shoulder. You feel his knuckles against your nape, quickly unlatching the necklace and fixing your hair back into place. 

“I’ll hold it for you.” 

You get back onto the platform, lying flat, as Levi uses the intercom to signal to Armin, one of the undergraduate students who worked in the MRI building. You can feel the platform sliding you into the tube and you suddenly feel it. 

Your claustrophobia. Every horrible thought you can imagine is running through your head as the machine starts whirring, your heart pounding in your chest. An earthquake - the machine would crush you. The magnets can be too fast, the machine malfunctioning while you’re stuck inside it. There could be a fire and you would be left here, everyone leaving you and locking you out of the room. 

“You okay?” 

“Y-yeah, Armin. Sorry. I get a bit claustrophobic, that’s all.” 

“Okay, take your time. Try to stay still so we can get better pictures.” 

You nod, trying to still your breaths as the machine whirrs on again. You can feel your nails digging into your palms, as you try to calm down, the panic still sitting in your chest. You feel a hand circle around your ankle, squeezing twice, as the machine keeps going. 

“You okay, Newbie?” 

“Yeah, Levi. I’m okay.” 

“I’m here. Get out if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll just drag Shitty Glasses by the scalp to do it instead of you.” 

You laugh, his hold still firm on your ankle. You try to focus on it - the fine print on the machine, your back against the platform, his fingers on your skin as the machine keeps going, your panic still writhing in your chest. The MRI finishes - Levi giving you one last squeeze before the platform slides out and you nearly jump out of the machine. 

You and Levi walk back to the main lab, in silence. When you get there, Levi gives Hange’s ponytail one big yank before settling back into his cubicle, giving you a soft smile before you return to yours. 

-   

It’s Levi’s turn to present for the lab meeting. The lab is going to Hizuru for Sigtuna, one of the largest neuroscience conferences to date. The PhD students are all presenting posters, except Levi who was invited to give a talk. 

You had been helping Levi as of late - working with him to identify the sulcuses and the lobes on all of Levi’s MRIs. He had no experience in magnetic resonance imaging whatsoever - something you had spent years learning during undergrad. So the two of you had worked out a system - you helped him with identifying the images and helped you troubleshoot your code for your tasks whenever you needed it (which was often). 

You spent a lot of time together - even if it wasn’t direct. You’d sit in silence in the main conference room, working for hours. He’d bring you a cup of coffee and you would pick up dinner, talking through ideas as you finished off your projects. 

You had helped him write the grant for the talk instead of the poster, helping him with all the physiological portions. He taught you how to do all the analysis for yours - the two of you often the one’s leaving the lab latest, Levi walking you to your car in the dark before walking off to his own. 

You were friends. Project partners. 

He gives you one last look before starting the presentation and you shoot him a thumbs up under the table, which he returns with a smile. He’s explaining - using your brain and Hange’s as the sample templates to explain what he was doing - what parts of the brain he has to use for his machine learning. 

“This is Newbie’s and this is Hange’s brain. In theory, each part of the brain is slightly bigger, depending on what parts of your brain you exercise more. For example, Hange is involved in more motor-dexterity - running all their projects by hand. This part of the sulcus is more developed, bigger because of it, compared to Newbie.” 

Nile nudges you on the side, whispering something about how he can give you something to do with your hands if you needed it. You roll your eyes, awkwardly shuffling farther as you refocus on what Levi was saying. 

“This part of the brain is more developed for Newbie, the Brodmann areas - associated with critical thinking, higher level cognition, decision making. Good thing I didn’t use your brain, Dok. We wouldn’t even be able to catch it on the image if we used yours.” 

The entire room laughs - Nile sulking in his chair as Levi continues. You don’t miss the look he gives you afterwards, his eyes uncharacteristically soft when he meets yours, as he continues the presentation. 

When he finishes, Pyxis goes over the room assignments, mentioning that there were three rooms for all the PhD students - meaning a few of you would have to pair up. You turn your neck to look at Petra, who's already nodding and agreeing with Hange that they would room together. You deflate, watching Erwin and Levi pair up. Which leaves you next to Nile, who's all but too excited to be your partner. 

He slings his arm around your shoulder, saying that you guys can share the bed if it gets cold at night, which leaves you shooting dangerous looks at Hange. Levi catches on first, immediately dragging Erwin over to where the two of you were standing. 

“Dok. Erwin is going to room with you.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says me. Don’t argue with me today, I’m already sick of you.” 

Levi grabs you by the wrist, dragging you towards the other side of the room as he rambles on. 

“What a fucking idiot. First he interrupts me during my talk and then starts saying perverted shit like that. Someone’s going to smack him upside the head one day and I surely hope for my sake it’s me.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him twice before letting go. 

“Thank you for that - I was literally going to vomit if I had to room with him.” 

“Well, I told you before. I’m here if you’re uncomfortable.” 

You nod, the two of you walking into the conference room to make edits to your presentation. 

 - 

You and Levi come back to your hotel room after the conference, positively plastered. He’d all but given his talk perfectly and your poster won an award at the end - which meant you and Levi were celebrating well into the night. 

You had your arms slung around each other, your weight uneven, as you both slide back into the hotel room, falling onto the singular bed in the room. You and Levi were greeted with the unpleasant sight earlier in the day - you and Levi both insisting that you would be the ones to sleep on the couch. 

You’re both lying face up on the bed - your cheeks flushed, your chests heaving up and down, the only sound in the room being your shaky breaths. Your hands are still locked together, your brain fuzzy from the events of the night. 

You and Levi amble up after a few minutes, both attempting to change into your pajamas and go to bed. You ogle Levi as he takes his shirt off, watching from the side of the mirror. He catches you, walking closer to you. He still reeks of beer, still shaking on his feet. 

He leans over, pressing his forehead against yours as you hold onto his arms, grounding your fingers into his biceps. He’s still not wearing a shirt, his bare chest on display. You fight the urge to stare at him full on. 

“You’re smart, Y/N.” 

“You’re smart too, Levi.” 

“Did you pay attention during my talk?” 

“Y-yes. You code the information, like a puzzle, to figure out what people’s intentions are.” 

“Hm. You be me. I’ll give you the information and you figure it out, okay?” 

You nod, barely understanding what he was getting at as you lean into him. You can feel the buzz dying down, the tiredness setting into your bones. 

“I’m not a mind reader like you, Levi.” 

“You’ll get this one. You’re my smart girl.” 

He reaches down, securing his hands around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. Your hands and frame are pressed against his chest, his skin cold to the touch.

“You caught my eye on the first day, with your perfectly pressed hair and that stupid black skirt.” 

You can feel your breath catch in your throat, the sound not leaving your throat.

“You take the cubicle two feet down from mine and I can’t help but watch you - reorganize your desk, get up to get water, scribble things on the whiteboard.” 

You can feel his heartbeat get faster against your hear, his grip on your waist tightening. You’re suddenly too aware of what’s happening - Levi, PhD Levi, is shirtless, hugging you in a hotel room. The lights are dim, there’s only one bed, and he’s holding you. 

“I don’t work with other people at the lab, but when you ask, I do. I leave the lab way past the required time, willingly spending more time in a room with that idiot Nile in it just because you’re in it too.”

“Levi.” 

“I’m not done.”

“It drives me crazy, every time Nile talks to you, touches you, looks at you. I want to sock him in the face - because he’s not nearly good enough for you. Not that anyone could be, but for some idiot like that to think he stands a chance is next level infuriating.”

He releases his hands from your face, lifting his hands to cup your face. His touch his soft, his thumb caressing the burning skin on your cheeks as his eyes meet yours.

“I think about you all the time. When I wake up, when I go to sleep, when I eat my breakfast. When I’m not with you, I just want to be around you. And when I’m around you, I want to be with you.” 

He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips are pillowy soft, his breath tickling the edges of your forehead. 

“What does it mean? Figure out my intentions, smart girl.” 

You can feel your entire body burning, your head still spinning - from the alcohol, Levi’s touch, his words ringing in your ears. 

“You…like me.” 

“That’s a fact. Not an intention.” 

“You…want to kiss me?” 

He smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to yours. The kiss is warm, the taste of the beer still hanging on his lips. You can feel his hands moving, carding through your hair as you reach up to press your hand against his shoulders. He kisses you for a long time - your body burning at the entire sensation. He breaks apart, still smiling against your lips. 

“Smart girl.” 

“Do you…remember my research, Levi? From the first day?” 

“I’ve memorized every single thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

You can feel your cheeks flushing, Levi’s hands returning to squish the sides of your face. You grab one of his hands, opening up his fingers and placing it flat against your chest. You move his hand around, until you’re sure he can feel your heart - which is pounding in your chest. 

“Heart rate can give away a great deal. The biomarker can help you understand a lot of different emotions. Figure out which one I’m feeling, Levi.” 

He leans forward, pressing soft kisses all over your face as he starts asking. 

“Anxiety?” - a soft kiss, right on top of your head. 

“No.” 

“Stress?” - a light kiss, right on your closed eyelids. 

“No, Levi.” 

“Companionship.” - a sweet kiss, right on your lips. 

“Yes. But that’s not the one I was looking for.” 

You watch a smirk spread across his face as he leans down, spreading soft kisses all along your neck. He murmurs against your neck, a hint of teasing in his voice. 

“Sexual attraction?” 

“Levi. Quit being a tease.” 

“Shut up, brat.” 

“No. You missed one, Levi.” 

“What was it?” 

“Love. A heartbeat can give away a great deal - can even be used to indicate and understand romantic feelings.” 

He press his hand against your chest again, your heart still hammering. 

“It’s fast. What does that mean?” 

“That I love you.” 

You see a big smile spread across his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. You see him now and you think it’s the best he’s ever looked - messy black hair, pink cheeks, squinted eyes. He reaches down, opening your fingers and placing them against his bare chest. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Fast.” 

“Yeah. Means I love you too, smart girl.” 

- 

#am I manifesting a crush on someone at the research lab #we will see #levi ackerman #levi #levi x you #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #levi fluff #aot fluff #attack on titan #aot #snk fluff #snk #shingeki no kyojin #aot x you #aot x reader #aot x y/n #snk x you #snk x reader #snk x y/n #captain levi #levi aot #seeingivywrites! #read more break

[lovesickbtch]

Lo'ak dealing with drunk reader

THATS RIGHT IM BACK BITCHES

Pairing : Aged up!Lo'ak x Drunk f!reader

Summary : Lo'ak, Neteyam, Kiri and Reader go to a small abandoned building. Reader finds some type of alcohol and drinks a littleeee bit too much, moving to sit on Lo'ak in the corner. He realises how much more ditzy she is and takes care of her. Best friends to lovers wohoo.

Warnings : NSFW, Alcohol use, Degrading, Dry humping,u

Notes : YES IM BACK YALL I WONT GIVE AN EXCUSE FOR NOT POSTING, IM GLAD TO BE BACK. Oh and also I might be like this a bit often so sry lol

"I think I found it?" Lo'ak pointed ugto an abandoned shack in the distance.

"We'll be quick alright? Before it gets dark." Neteyam replied.

The four of you heading into building with Kiri leading the way.

"Bleugh It smells horrible in here" She held her nose.

"This better be worth it"

The four of you were looking for things from the sky people, a human had been living there for a few years before they had gotten killed.

===============

After venturing for a few minutes Kiri had turned on something which played some type of "sky people music" and you had found a bottle of some type of clear liquid.

"Lo'ak wanna do a challenge?" You asked.

"Ehhh depends what's the challenge?"

You hold up the bottle showing it to him.

"Whoever drinks the most"

"Y/n I don't know if you should drink th-"

You pop open the bottle smelling inside. It had a bitter scent, not smelling how you thought it would.

"Hm- seems good to me! You still sure you don't want any?"

You wave the bottle in his face.

"Nah I'm good, just don't start crying to me when you don't feel so good."

He replied in a mocking tone walking into the lounge area.

"Well- more for me"

You look inside the bottle checking for anything before take a large sip of the drink. Soon turning into a quiet coughing fit.

"Woah that does not taste normal"

You take one more sip, with it being a lot more than before placing the bottle on a shelf nearby.

"Ew why did I do that"

You soon forget what had just happened, shifting over to see what Lo'ak was up to.

"I'm surprised your dumbass is still awake, you'll probably get sick from that"

He was sitting on a small couch, his legs spread across the chair.

"Y/n look at this"

He held up a snowglobe shaking it around at focusing on it quite a bit.

You were interested in it too, but for some reason you felt like moving closer to Lo'ak. Too close, but you soon after could feel your legs getting wobbly.

"H-hey Lo'ak can I just-"

Your ass landed right on his crotch him.

"Y-y/n are you alright??"

He was suprised at first, but seeing your eyes lowered and your face flustered.

" 'm sorry" you said trying to move up.

He held you down with his hands around your waist.

"No Y-y/n are you alright? What happened?"

Sure you've sat in his lap a few times but usually it was just with some light hearted jokes.

But right now did not feel like a joke.

You sat back in his lap with one of his legs separating your thighs.

"I- I dunno, can we stay like this?"

"U-uh y-yea just-"

He was too flustered to think of a proper answer, too focused on your body on top of his.

After a few minutes a conversation was going and he started to feel a bit more confident. You however started to feel dizzy and hot.

Being so close to him, your bodies connected. You could feel his warm breath flowing down your neck. Not to mention your core was resting right on top of his thigh, which didn't help because of your horny and dazed state.

He was rambling about some funny events about him and his siblings, being so caught up with what he was saying that he didn't realise what you were up to.

You found yourself slowly sliding yourself up and down his thigh, slow enough to look like nothing's happening from afar.

Even you didn't realise what you were doing till later on. He did though, he was so flustered. The thought of you getting off of his thigh, he thought he was dreaming. But he couldn't let this moment go to waste, so he watched you as you cutely moved around on him.

You could feel the build up of how damp your clothed cunt was, too tired to care about him slutty you felt.

You slightly picked up the pace, making your heavy breathing hard to control.

You looked up at him regretting everything you'd done. This was the worst way to show a friend your true feelings for them. Especially when you're seconds away from cumming.

His eyes were glued to your body movement, the way your thighs were gliding across his.

He could feel your hot cunt getting rubbed all over him. He watched how your perky tits moving in sync with your hips.

"What's wrong? Done already? Surely you aren't, not a dirty girl like you"

Your eyes widened in embarrassment and terror.

You got up straight away but his pair of arms were glued around your waist.

"I don't think your finished yet, cmon get to work"

#Loak #Loak x reader #Loak x yn #Loak x you #Atwow loak #Atwow smut #Atwow x reader #Atwow x reader smut #Atwow x yn #Atwow x you

[conitagray]

"i’m still into you, morales."

pairing: miles morales !1610 x reader

genre: angst to fluff:)

inspo song: still into you. - paramore

warnings: cursing, blood, near death experience for reader, angry miles:(, green goblin being a creepy ass bitch, weapons.

words: 1.2k.

summary: the only way he can keep you safe is by breaking up with you for your safety, but months later you run into him and fortunately, you’re still into him.

a/n- ill be taking a small break after writing this due to my mental health literally crashing but i promise yall once im back ill post something😭 this is a small fic bc im currently focusing on other stuff at the moment AND i wanna thank @smokeywhalee for giving me the idea on the last part love ya mwahh❤❤

can't count the years on one hand that we've been, together.

miles and you have been best friends since you were small— quite frankly your whole childhood. miles was always right by your side through thick and thin, and you did too.

but when our fingers interlock, can’t deny, can’t deny you’re worth it.

and that’s when you started dating miles, you realized he fell in love with you the moment he saw you and his love grew fonder and fonder as he grew older.

you recount the night that you first, told his mother, and on the drive back to your house, he told you for the first time he loved you.

and you felt the weight of the world fall off your shoulders, and you sing along to the start of forever—

but that ended soon.

ever since miles became spiderman, his life started to become more dangerous — and you were worried sick.

everyday he would climb to your apartment, wounded and injured and you’d always patch him up, and he would always leave you worried.

so that’s when he decided to leave you for his own safety— and yours.

when he broke the news to you, it’s like your whole world stopped— you were frozen and so was time, but it was for your own good and his.

“i’m so so sorry mi corazon, it’s for your own good, i promise. please don’t cry anymore.” he whined, cupping your jawline as he wiped your tears.

you could see his glistening eyes, his tears waiting to fall as if they were impatient, you felt your heart shatter even more every minute you looked into his eyes.

you grabbed the said hand that was on your jaw, holding it tightly and savoring the last moment you both were witnessing.

he gave you one final goodbye kiss and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

you couldn’t do anything now that your love of your life was gone, you couldn’t believe it that your last moment with miles is with him leaving.

———

hours of sleepless nights, days of overthinking and sadness burying you, and weeks of crying passed since miles left you and you couldn't even tell time anymore, you were still into him but what could you do now?

it was not until everything went downhill for you.

the green goblin has been miles's archnemesis for god knows how long ever since he became spiderman— and the green goblin was determined to find you, the love of his life, and make him miserable, so he used you as bait.

as you were walking down a sketchy road to pass the convenience store to get a snack, you heard a loud clang in a sketchy alleyway and you stopped in your tracks, turning your head to look at the gloomy area— and before you knew it, the green goblin glided out and took you in, covering your mouth to prevent you from screaming and his other hand holding a knife.

he took you to a rooftop in a sketchy area, the moon and street lights being so dim you can barely see anything. the green goblins breath over your neck as the knife he was holding was now on your neck, as he glided through the surface of it and making you bleed and wince in pain.

“what do you want from me? let me fucking go please!” you screamed as tears planted your face— trying to escape from his grasp.

“now now sweetheart, i need your little boyfriend, you’re useless to me— i just need to kill you and then kill him next.”

he whispered into your ear as you cringed back— his words echoing in your mind over and over again, the realization hitting you that he’s gonna kill miles— when you heard a voice from afar, a familiar voice you’ve always known.

“let ‘em go.” the voice was demeaning, when you lifted your head up and saw.. “miles..?” you whispered as tears began streaming down your face, when the green goblin shut you up by slicing another cut with the knife as you cried out in pain.

miles webbed the knife onto the ground as he stepped closer and was ready to pounce on the green goblin, he’d do anything just to keep you alive— even it means he had to face the opposite.

“hold on now— if you’re gonna kill me you’ll be killing them now wouldn’t you?” he said, his free hand now gripping on your neck as he choked you— your struggling making your breath shorter every second.

miles put his hand down as he looked over to the green goblins glider that was on the side of the door— he grabbed it by webbing it and slid it off the rooftop, the web still holding on to it as it was dangling off the rooftop.

the green goblin gasped as he let go of your neck, leaving you to fall on the ground as you gasped for air— the sight of you making miles want to punch out the green goblins guts for doing this to you.

“it’s either, you give me them or i’ll drop your precious little glider.” miles protested, his voice was low but angry— a side of him you’ve never seen before.

the green goblin didn’t answer as he kept stepping closer to miles, and miles backing away in his every move.

the green goblin got tired of his little game and grabbed your hand and threw you over to miles, which in result making miles more furious.

“there, you have them now give me back my glider.” the green goblin protested as he walked closer to miles.

“come and catch it then.” miles let go of the web resulting the green goblin shouting a “NO!” — the glider falling down as the green goblin jumped to get it.

miles then looked over to you, bending down to your height as you sat on the floor— in pain and helpless.

“are you okay?” miles panicked, his both hands on your shoulders as he scanned for wounds other than the one on your neck.

you nodded as you swallowed the lump in your throat, causing you to tear up again and this making miles even more worried.

“i’m.. i’m still into you, morales.” you blurted out, causing miles to look at you with admiration.

“i should be over by the butterflies already but, i’m into you,”

as you sighed shakily to look up at miles, his hand reached for your jawline as he caressed it softly, wiping the blood away from your neck as he kissed you softly.

its like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever, now that the green goblin was gone (or was he..?)— he had you all to himself with no worries.

he pulled away from the kiss, chuckling softly as your forehead pressed on his, your nose brushing over his.

“god how i missed you and this moment, mi vida, i’m so sorry i left you— there want a day that passed by that i haven’t thought about you.” he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer to him as your head was on his shoulder.

“i missed you more, and i’m glad you’re still into me.”

© hearts4hobie, all rights reserved. do not steal, translate, and rewrite without permission. love y’all mwah♥️ 💋

#conitagray #fluff #angst #across the spider verse #astv x reader #astv #miles my beloved #miles morales #miles morales 1610 x reader #miles x reader #miles morales 1610 #spidermanacrossthespiderverse

[strwberri-milk]

hello! may i request valentine's day with kaeya? 💕💕

bc i dont wanna post this too late im posting it pretty quickly!! i was gonna do more of a fic but ive got a lot of work to do so!! just doing this hc/drabble format helps me mitigate the time it normally would - it's also going to be posted at not my normal time for the same reason !!! this is actually pretty long but!! it is only lightly proofread and will be read over properly later!! there is a Valentines Day Crisis i am going to go resolve but!! i hope yall have a good day <3

Valentine's day is...a little stressful for Kaeya. He's not too sure what he wants to do for you, sure that even if he were to take the planets out of the solar system it still wouldn't be enough to prove to you just how much he loves you. Buying gifts is also hard since he buys you so many little trinkets whenever he spots something that reminds him of you.

Ultimately, he decides to put himself out of his comfort zone, inviting you over for a homecooked meal, complete with a few courses and a handmade dessert. It took him forever to learn how to make it, cramming in cooking lessons between his patrols and spending time with you but it's all worth it to see you smile.

The preparations for this special holiday began well before, Kaeya making sure that not a single thing was out of place. Everything was going to be the epitome of perfection, having everything prepared down to the placement of cutlery on the table.

It wasn't within his nature to be so precisewhen it came to doing anything with you, loving the look on your face as he acted spontaneously, but this was something he did not want to risk.

Kaeya takes a deep breath when he hears your knock on the door, running through his mental checklist one more time before finally letting you into his home. The smile you wear is so bright he doesn't think he needs the lights of the candles to brighten up the room. No, just your presence was enough.

"How are you?" you greet, pulling him in for a kiss that he happily returns.

"I'm doing alright," he replies, clearing his throat to try and eliminate the last minute nerves.

"Much better now that you're here."

"Oh, as if I haven't heard that one before," you roll your eyes, following after him as he leads you to his dining room.

Already, you can see the beginnigs of a lavish meal being put doiwn, about to sit when he interrupts your motions and pulls out the chair for you. You chuckle a little, entertained by this extra chivalrous knight persona he was wearing today.

"How kind of you sir," you joke, making him laugh softly in kind.

"Well, only thebest for the love of my life, don't you think?" he says softly, making your heart flutter a little.

"It is Valentine's after all, and just asking you in a grandiose way wasn't enough for me."

You think back to how he asked you, remembering the giant bouquet he insisted on buying and the lovely little poem he wrote and attached to the flowers.

As you ponder, you feel him press a kiss to your cheek, looking up at him adoringly.

"Have I told you I love you?" you say dreamily, making his hear melt.

"Yes, you have," he replies, sitting you down and helping serve your meal.

You didn't know what else to expect after dinner. The two of you were a little tired from your daily routine anyway, finding the time today to spend together to be enough for you. Maybe another day you can make a grand spectacle of it but not right now.

Instead, you focus your attention on returning his lavish attention and flirting with him, loving the way he averts his gaze when your sweetened words are too much for him to handle. However, he retaliates by upping the ante, both of you caught in some battle of affection. That comes to an end.

"Dessert is served," Kaeya says proudly, brandishing a plate of chocolates he made himself. Your eyes go wide, the intricate looking snowflakes decorated prettily on the plate making you gasp.

"Kaeya! This looks incredible. You made these?"

"All by myself," he huffs, taking one off and bringing it to your lips.

"Here, give it a taste."

You take a bite, happily chewing when you reach a creamy center. He can't look any happier you think, practically vibrating as he watches your reaction.

"Well? What do you think? Good?"

"It's amazing! I can't believe you did all this!"

"Anything for my beloved," he replies, taking a piece for himself.

You suddenly remember that your chocolates are definitely not up to par, simply a package you bought. That's not to say they weren't nice - they just paled in comparison severely when it came to your boyfriend's efforts.

"Well? What about mine?"

He pulls you into his chest by your waist, looking at you expectantly.

"You were carrying a bag when you came in here and I can only assume it's filled with sweets for me."

"Well...yes," you say hesitantly, pushing against his chest slightly.

"Then? Won't you give it to me?"

"I could, but they're not as good as yours," you mutter, fiddling with your hands.

"And?" he asks again.

"You still want them?" you say, surprised. "They're not that great Kaeya."

"They come from you, so as far as I'm concerned they're amazing. Is that not good enough for you?" he pouts again, making you sigh and get the package.

He was right. He didn't really care where they were from as long as they came from you. Honestly, you probably could have given him a rock and he would have reacted just as happily, hugging you tightly and telling you how this was the best day ever.

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, hugging him close as you planned how to make it up to him next year.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic

[knifefather]

my favorite drv3 boys catch you smoking pot

Yall should have expected this out of me lmfao. I haven’t posted in a while so boom! Headcanons!

content warnings: marijuana usage (obvi), character x reader platonic (mostly), mentions of death/murder, suicidal thoughts, Shuichi gets a contact high, Kokichi is a bastard. 100% unedited 😎 👉👉

𝙍𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙤 𝘼𝙢𝙖𝙢𝙞 ღ He finds you in the game room shortly after the killing game began. You ran off right after the announcement, so he had to sate his curiosity and follow you. Not following you could mean the difference between life and death for everyone.

ღ Once you made it down there, you slumped against the door of the game room, trying to calm your racing heart. This killing game... being in this school with a bunch of strangers... It was so anxiety-inducing that it felt as though ice was pumping through your veins.

ღ You supposed that you couldn't just stand around. Something had to be done to occupy your wandering mind. You pulled back from the door abruptly, only to hear a clink in your pocket. Your brows knitted together in confusion. Shoving your hand inside, you pulled out one of your favorite pipes. Part of you was appalled that it made its way into the school with you, but the other part was grateful. It looked like it was still mostly packed, sans the burnt top layer.

ღ You plopped your ass down in the seats of one of the many racing arcade games. Looking at the shitty, pixelized screen, you realized that you had played this one as a kid. Procuring a lighter from your pocket, you sparked up, not caring about the smell. You were all going to die anyway.

ღ Rantaro saw you dart inside the game room and shut the door behind you. Cautiously, he pressed his ear up to the wood a few moments after you entered. He heard some light movement, then silence. Then, after a moment, some more movement. He pulled away from the door, frowning.

ღ He was ready to walk away when he heard coughing on the other side of the door. Is someone being killed? Is this a trap to kill him? He was faced with a decision--potentially be killed, or allow someone else to be killed. He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, hesitating for a beat. The coughing only worsened.

ღ Rantaro pushed the door open, the creaking being lost to the sound of your coughs. His eyes went wide as he saw you doubled over in the seat, holding your chest. Smoke permeated the air, sounding alarms off in his head. He approached you, saying your name urgently.

ღ "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" He pulled your hands away from your chest. His tense shoulders relaxed as he observed no blood or injuries from you. But he did notice you clutching the pipe in your hand, the bowl still cherried. "Oh."

ღ You finally caught your breath and you were able to speak. "I'm fine... Just hitting the ganj one more time before time runs out. Sorry for worrying you."

ღ A shadow fell over his features. "Don't worry about the time running out. I know a way to end this killing game." His change in tone made a shiver go down your spine. You decided to change the subject.

ღ "Do you want to smoke the rest of this with me? There's not a whole lot left, but it's still something."

ღ Rantaro was shocked at your offer. "Why would you share with me? You don't even know me." He was genuinely curious.

ღ "You don't even know me, but you came to check up on me. Please, take a hit, if you want." You held out the bowl and lighter to him, setting them in his open palm. He accepted them hesitantly from you before taking a seat in the racing game seat beside yours.

ღ "I've...never done this before," he said with a nervous chuckle.

ღ "Wait, really? You kind of seem like the stoner type," you responded, eyeballing his khaki pants and jewelry. You were already pretty high, and your words were coming out more loosely.

ღ "I don't think it's right to generalize people like that. But, I can understand how you would think that." Your expression changed when he said that. "A lot of people make assumptions about me because of how I look," he backed up. "That I'm a stoner, a playboy... Those kinds of things."

ღ "I'm sorry," you murmured. You really were. People said all kinds of things about you too, based off of your appearance and Ultimate ability. Rantaro paused to take a hit off of the bowl. If you didn't know any better, you would think that Rantaro was a pro. The flame of the lighter flickered to life, reigniting the flower. He took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed as the smoke passed through his lips. You felt like you could fall in love with him.

ღ He held it for a moment. You thought he would gracefully exhale, but nope. He coughed, hard, all of the smoke rushing from his mouth and nose at once. He struggled to breathe, holding his chest much like before. You couldn't help but laugh at the irony, and the fact that the weed was making you giggly.

ღ You urged him to take another hit when he tried to pass it back to you. His next hit was much more controlled. He exhaled shakily, but without choking up. He passed the bowl back to you, his eyes red already.

ღ "I think that is finished." You dipped your finger in the bowl only to be met with ash. You nodded and stowed it back in your pocket. Both you and Rantaro just sat in the game room for a while, making small talk. The intense expression on his face from earlier died down, leaving the smile of a normal teenager. You tried to enjoy your high with him, knowing that this may be one of the last times you may ever be high with a friend again.

𝙆𝙤𝙠𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞 𝙊𝙪𝙢𝙖

ღ Catches you hitting a joint after a class trial. Another one of your friends has been murdered. Another one of your friends has been a murderer, then murdered themselves. You were tired of all of the senseless death and carnage. Your stomach was queasy from beholding the execution. You learned how to control you vomit one or two trials before this one.

ღ You all dispersed from the trial grounds as usual, heading to your rooms. You hung back from the crowd, watching them all enter into the dorm. That left you in the courtyard, alone.

ღ Hands in your pockets, you decided to take a walk. You had a joint stashed in your shirt pocket that you had specifically rolled for an emergency occasion. You considered wanting to kill yourself and get everything over with an emergency. Your mind was jumbled, thinking a thousand thoughts at the same time as thinking nothing at all. Plus, your stomach was still uneasy. You started off towards the sight of a previous murder--the pool.

ღ The heavy door wooshed open, the dim evening light pouring into the space. You flipped on the lights, the iridescent glow suddenly illuminating the room. Even with the lights, it was still quite dim inside. When you gazed down into the pool, you noticed that the debris from Ryoma's murder was now cleared. You took a moment to remember him.

ღ Sitting down on one of the folding chairs, you fished the joint out. You sparked it hastily, eager to pull a blanket of haze over your thoughts for a while. The crackling sound of the bud was comforting to you. You inhaled deeply, watching it burn. As you exhaled, the smoke of your joint was caught in the moonlight streaming through the large gym window overhead. The tendrils seemed to be dancing with each other, performing a complicated number to the tune of the night.

ღ "Woooow! I didn't think I'd find you here! What's that smell?"

ღ You groaned outwardly and looked to your side. Kokichi was standing there, smiling with his arms held nonchalantly over his head. Dread settled in your belly.

ღ "Why are you here?" you inquired, ignoring his comment.

ღ "Welllll," he started, coming closer. You stood up from the chair. "When Tsumugi asked if you were okay earlier and you said yes, I could tell that you were lying." The purr in Kokichi's voice as he said "lying" sent a strange feeling to your chest. You chose to blame it on the weed.

ღ "So, I came to see what you were up to. I can now see that you're up to no good," he teased. You had poorly attempted to hide the joint by stashing it behind your back, but Kokichi could see the smoke rising from behind you.

ღ "Why does it matter to you?" You stopped trying to hide the joint, inside taking a long drag right in front of him.

ღ "I was just worried about you! I worry about all of my lovely friends here." A lie. You blew your smoke right in his face, triggering a coughing fit. "W-Why did you do that? I have asthma," he said in between coughs. The way he was hunched was exaggerated, as well as the heaving of his body with every cough. Another lie. ღ "Stop fucking around," you hissed. All you wanted to do was smoke in peace, but it seemed that you couldn't even have that.

ღ "Okay!" Kokichi exclaimed. He was immediately fine--no more hacking. That made you even more pissed off. ღ "Can you go already?"

ღ "Why do you want to be alone? You know, it's pretty dangerous to be all alone in a place like this at night. Especially after another killing just happened." His words should have been sympathetic and caring, but they were anything but. The cute, small smile on his face hid malintent. Another shiver rippled through you. His smile widened.

ღ "Isn't it obvious? I wanted to smoke. Alone. Without anyone else around. Including you."

ღ "Aww, you're not gonna share with me? How rude. I definitely wanted to smoke that with you." Yet another lie.

ღ "You done?"

ღ "I'm being serious! Let me have some! Pleeeease?" Kokichi whined, looking at you eagerly. You couldn't believe it. You looked from your joint to Kokichi. As much as you disliked him, you couldn't pass up an opportunity to make a smoking buddy in this hell school.

ღ "O-Okay, I'll let you hit it. But don't hog it, okay?" He nodded fervently. You held it out to him, and he gingerly grabbed it between his fingers. He gazed at it for a moment, observing the red-hot cherry. He brought it to his lips with little hesitation. You were surprised that he was being so confident.

ღ Just as the tip of the joint touched his lips, he pulled it away. With a giggle, he chucked it into the pool with a plop. The fire sizzled out, along with your sanity.

ღ "Wh-What the fuck!?" you exclaimed, dejected. You had more stashed away in your room, but you didn't know how much longer your stash was going to last.

ღ "Because drugs are bad for you! I would never, ever do drugs~" he sang, giggling. "I'm just looking out for you because I care about you so much. I can't steal your heart if you're dead." His expression was blank.

ღ "Anyway, I'll see you later! Bye!" Kokichi smiled at you one more time before leaving the pool room. You watched him go. Then you turned your gaze to the pool. You could see your joint floating around in the water, but you knew there was no way that you could retrieve it. It was against Monokuma's rules about using the pool at nighttime.

ღ You returned to your room, Kokichi's words swirling around in your head. Laying down on the mattress, you desperately wished for sleep to come. The slight buzz that you had from earlier certainly helped. You tired yourself out by trying to discern Kokichi's lies from the truth.

𝙎𝙝𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙞 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖 + 𝙆𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙤 𝙈𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙖

ღ Shuichi found you in the courtyard. You had been planning this smoke session for a few days, and you had a pretty solid strategy. The plan entailed waiting until nighttime and then sneaking out to the courtyard. You would carry your bong and bud in your backpack and then bust it open on a bench somewhere. Preferably close to the side of the school, where you couldn't easily be seen.

ღ Tonight was the night. You packed away your things in your bag was you planned. You dressed in something comfy and black. Drawing in a deep breath, you opened the door to your room. Peaking your head out into the hallway, you looked back and forth to ensure that you were alone. You didn't hear a single sound.

ღ Swiftly, you jetted from the room and down the stairs. You made an effort to keep your footsteps light. You then snuck out of the dorm rooms and out into the night. A cool breeze hit your face as you started towards the school, stopping you in your tracks.

ღ Tilting your head to the sky, you watched the stars twinkling above. The air tasted sweet, and for a moment, you almost forgot that you were in a place that you didn't want to be. Removing yourself from your thoughts, you continued your path to the side of the school.

ღ While you were lost in thought, you didn't notice that someone else had joined you outside. Shuichi watched you disappear into the shadows, panic rising in his throat. His immediate thought was that you were planning a murder. A twinge of pain crossed over his face. He really liked you. He hoped that you would never do something like this, that he wouldn't have to expose your crime. But here he was once again.

ღ He followed you to the side of the school, always staying several paces behind you. He felt strange following you like this, but he had to make sure that you weren't going to hurt anyone. Finally, you came to a stop at the tables in front of the dining hall entrance.

ღ You set your bag on the table and began to remove its contents. First, you took out your bong, then you removed your lighter and grinder. The table was illuminated by one of the nearby lamps lining the sidewalk. You made yourself comfortable in one of the chairs and packed the bowl, happily humming yourself. You felt triumphant in your endeavor. You lit the bowl and puffed away, the water bubbling noisily.

ღ Shuichi was stunned. You weren't planning to murder someone, but you were using drugs. He didn't know how to feel. Revealing himself was the next wisest option.

ღ Suddenly, you heard your name. You looked towards the lamp near the sidewalk to see Shuichi emerging from its shadow. He stood in the warm yellow light, his black hair and clothes absorbing it. He said it again, worry and fondness in his tone. "Why are you doing that?"

ღ Your eyes went wide as you witnessed Shuichi. Your plan was ruined by one of the most innocent people that it could be ruined by. "Sh-Shuichi! I... Well, you see... I..." you struggled to find something to say. He came closer, but still retained his distance. His brow was furrowed as he observed the glass piece in your hand. You felt ashamed. "Why are you out here anyway?" you interrogated.

ღ "I train with Maki and Kaito every night. I was leaving to meet them when I saw you wander off. I had to make sure everything was okay. But then I... er, interrupted you."

ღ "I didn't think anyone was following me. Listen, Shuichi... I smoke weed to relax and take my mind off of things. I think that we could all use that right about now. Besides, it's legal in the country that I'm from." Your explanation wasn't the best, but he seemed to buy it. He uncrossed his arms and dropped them to his sides with a sigh.

ღ "That would make sense that it's different in your country. I'm sorry for judging you so quickly. I'm just not used to people doing that kind of thing around me."

ღ You weren't exactly sure how to respond. "It's all good."

ღ "Well... I'll leave you to it. I'm sure that Kaito and Maki are wondering where I am."

ღ "Shuichi! There you are!" Both you and Shuichi saw Kaito approaching the table, arms outstretched. "Where you been, man? I've been waiting for like, ever!" As Kaito came closer, he saw your items out on the table and the glazed-over look in your eyes.

ღ "Are we smoking?" he asked, his friendly smile morphing into a wicked grin. Shuichi's mouth hung open, whereas you began to grin as well.

ღ "Hell yeah we are. Care to join?" you pointed the bong in Kaito's direction.

ღ "Why not? Maki isn't showing up tonight, anyway. We can always train after we're done here," Kaito proclaimed, taking the bong and lighter from you.

ღ "Kaito!? You too?" Shuichi's face was red and his hair was disheveled

ღ "You smoke and then exercise? You're built different," you joshed.

ღ “I used to smoke all the time before I started training to be an astronaut.” Kaito lit up the bong without a thought, taking a good-sized rip before trying to pass it to Shuichi.

ღ "I'm good," he replied. Kaito didn't pressure him, and instead handed it back to you. Shuichi, at this point, was starting to feel light-headed from all of the smoke around him. The buzz in his head was almost pleasant, especially as he sat around and chatted with you and Kaito. The smiles on your faces brought a small smile to his face as well. Maybe this wasn't so bad. Maybe this was just what he needed.

#danganronpa x reader #rantaro amami x reader #kokichi ouma x reader #shuichi saihara x reader #not sfw #minors dni #mdni #cw marijuana #cw death #cw suicide #my work

[braintapes]

The Hotel Podcast Season 3 Analysis: Part I - The Manager

@zombified-queer @subsequentibis @thehotelpod <3 <3 <3 hearts for yall. Thank you for encouraging my madness :-)

This is gonna be long and windy due to the nature of Season 3 and because I have a lot to say about it. As in like, I wrote this post and then when I was done, realized I'd HAVE to break this up into multiple posts because I have so damn much to say. Bear with me.

I'm going to approach this from a purely in-universe, Watsonian perspective as much as I can since I find that more fun. And of course, this is all just my own personal interpretation of the text/audio. Would be very happy to see anyone's additional thoughts or alternate takes!!!!

With that...

I believe S3 takes place simultaneously before the show begins, sometime after season 1 specifically, and also is occurring periodically as time progresses. This is not the usual manifestation of the Hotel, but more of a dreamscape, the blurry subconscious of the Hotel entity. It is the place, time, and series of events that the Hotel and, specifically, the Hotel Staff (old crew) spring from and it is where and when they will inevitably, always return to.

After all, no one escapes the Hotel. No one leaves. Certainly not the guests, and certainly not the Staff. You can't just have a Hotel without the Staff to run it.

But I think I'm getting ahead of myself. Was that yelling I heard just now…?

Season 3 is made of distinct segments - the Manager's perspective, the Lobby Boy's perspective, and finally the Owner's and the Hotel Herself's perspective at the end. So I'm going to tackle this in 4 distinct segments breaking down each arc before I tie it all back together at the end. At least, that's the plan, anyway. Let's do this.

(Do ya see it?)

Part I - The Manager

We begin the very first episode of season 3, Forest Fire Night Beast, with these lines from the Manager:

"I arrive, finally, at the place it will be. A jagged mountain, almost invisible against the night storm."

Right off the bat, this episode establishes all of the elements of importance that will show up throughout the season and wrap around to its finale. The mountain specifically will be important near the end, so let's stick a pin in that one for now.

Even though we get the Manager's narration, her music isn't present in the beginning of the episode. Instead, we get howling wind (more subdued, NOT the Owner's) and the sounds of the Manager's ragged breaths. Already the tone is eerie and unnerving. The listener can feel the Manager's discomfort and unease alongside her as she pushes through the dark, frozen forest. Occasionally, in the background, we hear a yell whoosh by.

The Manager is looking for something, though it's impossible for her to see anything. Something is pursuing her, a different something. She pushes onward, her steps more hurried and her breathing quickened and raspy until she finds it - the place she's supposed to be at. Her theme begins in the background as if it's a landmark. As if it isn't something attached to the Manager, but something the Manager attaches herself to.

And she does attach herself immediately, as soon as she's able. She seeks safety from the gibbering creature and finds solace in her role as Manager. She comforts herself with the certainty of the Hotel:

"The walls are thin, and brittle, and safe. In here, I am the pursuer. In here, endless will die, but never, ever me. From this one room, this one root, a new system will grow and change and consume. They will come to me and let themselves be swallowed like glass takes the night."

Then, she adds:

"But this night, when I should be alone to begin my work, I have to keep the fire lit in my little shack."

[Bolding is mine]

Here we see the light/dark dichotomy come up again. Recall 2.7 Return. I could gesture to basically the entire script for that episode, The Hotel Herself goes on the whole time about extinguishing the fire/lights/living beings that ended up inside her. Near the end, after sighing dramatically for a few minutes about the ennui and boredom of no longer getting satisfaction from killing, she says:

"Something is still roaming the rooms inside me. Painting with bright colors and vivid shapes. Something is taking those lights and turning them in godly tapestries.

Three lights of my own making couldn’t be put out. I turn my self inward and investigate the hollows of the worlds that live in me. What I find gives me for the first time, an exciting pang of surprise."

[Bolding/italics NOT mine]

I'll expand on this specific quote more in the Hotel's part. For right now, what's important is that the old crew staff are 'lights,' but not the same lights The Hotel has extinguished before. The way I see it personally, they're a composite, made from the leftover bits of thought and knowledge that float around the cosmic Hotel stew, if that makes any sense. They're more people than the Hotel is, but they're not really people at all.

From the Manager's dialogue, we can see what she doesn't understand at this point in time: Her role as Manager does not save or exempt her from death/darkness.

I'll get to where I consider s2 in the hotel time soup uhhh at some point in a later part. it's a whole thing. But for RIGHT NOW, if we're coming off of season 1, the Manager has never died before. And again, in the early seasons specifically, the staff feel like...almost people. Not human, but not not human.

The Manager has spent the first part of this episode pushing herself forward to escape the dark that has "frozen and obsidian limbs [that] threaten to shred [her] coat with tugging fingers." She shows her persistent, steadfast nature and incredible grit. But no matter how stubborn she is, no matter how perfectly she does her job...She's still part of the darkness. She facilitates it, invites it as she invites the guests in, but doesn't consider it a part of her. She clings to her role as Manager out of fear of death.

She holds down the fort, or in this case the tiny shack that is, I guess, her office. She tends the fire, though it gets smaller. The space that the Manager is inhabiting is…forming. Becoming itself, for lack of better wording. The lobby has started forming at this point. If she can just hold out long enough, then....But the gibbering creature, which "belongs here but [is not] supposed to be here," is there too. The dwindling fire doesn't keep it away.

The Manager attempts to grip with white, bleeding knuckles the safety of her position. She reasserts herself, reasserts the inevitability of escape at the Hotel in a futile attempt to glare down the gibbering creature. For her failure to understand, it bludgeons her to death.

(Until you have an understanding, you will receive only pain and time.)

The Manager wakes up to the sound of hammering in episode 2, Hammering Bones. It's no longer nighttime now. She observes the Hotel taking form as it's being built by laborers:

"For a long time I walk and trees bleed and weep and die and sweaty men who's faces I can't see hammer endlessly."

When she looks at them, her head tingles, presumably the lingering phantom pain of being clubbed to death earlier. She says she can feel them in her bones, quote, "hammering me together out of something cold and empty, while something cold and empty watches them."

She narrates as if she is the trees that are being cut down, clubbed with hammers and built into place. Her descriptions of the bleeding and dying trees here read to me as a dream within a dream, some subconscious part of herself grappling to force the sequence of events into a sensible shape.

That part of her, I think, is the human part. The fire, the light, that grants her the warm facade of the front desk manager allows her to draw in the guests. That part of her, then, would naturally fear being extinguished.

She remembers the gibbering creature, but does not run from it this time as it nears. It attacks her, hits again and again and the trees fall as she breaks apart. As she lies in the snow, bleeding and fracturing to death, she imagines the laborers now as "hurried, frightened men" who frantically try to build the lobby as fast as they can. But the Manager, who is entwined with - who IS - the lobby, now, imagines killing them. She imagines breaking them the way she was broken.

I take this as revenge fantasy for sure. She notes that as the workers die, she doesn't need them to hammer in order to build her (the lobby) up anymore. Their deaths sustain and build her.

Though she is satiated by this for a bit, the Manager once again remembers the 'nightmare,' the gibbering creature. Some of it comes back to her but she grows panicked trying and failing to remember what happened "in-between" her dying and waking up again this episode.

3.2 shows us the Manager's mindset and imagination. She entwines herself with the trees and the lobby. For a brief while in this dream-within-a-dream, she is as the Hotel is. A place. A lobby. But as she remembers, her fear creeps back in, overpowering her. She's not quite there yet. For her failure to understand, she is killed again by the gibbering creature.

(We haven't opened for business again yet.)

I don't have as much to say about 3.3 She Is Not Alone. We see the Manager in her element, here much more comfortable in the lobby. She wonders about the guests briefly as she examines and makes her way around the lobby. Though it is a fully formed lobby, it seems to be full of shadows that grow and shift around the place. The gibbering creature is still here too, of course.

Of it, she says:

"Something…something in my mind, not just my Hotel. I can almost remember and I rub my tingling face with a sharkskin-rough hand. What was it? Something inside me, something seeing me, something I could never escape."

[Bolding mine]

The shadows continue to engulf the lobby, slowly and steadily. She starts to remember that something happened, but decides she doesn't want to remember as the lobby dims further and further. The elevator dings, the doors open and close but nothing is there. The yelling in the distance is back, then flies by. The gibbering creature closes in.

But this time when the darkness approaches the Manager, she does not run from it. It surrounds her and she already knows she has nowhere to go, so she doesn't try. She lets it swallow her up and says:

"The cold I expected to feel wasn't there. The sharp, icy shadows only looked like they would cut; instead it folded me up in the dark warmth of the heart of the world and all that was left was me and-"

Then, the Lobby Boy shows up, signifying that the Manager's arc is near its end. We can see from this episode that she's coming to accept the darkness. Though it still unnerves and bothers her somewhat, she regards it, acknowledges it, and lets it wash over her and consume her (gay asf). Consequently, for her almost understanding, the gibbering creature does not kill her this time.

(I make so many pretty things...Listen to them gibber.)

Going into episode 4, the Manager seems to be back to her usual self - at her front desk, waiting and ready for the guest. By this point, she understands.

(Sidenote here: Part of why I feel this season is something that keeps happening is because this understanding doesn't completely stick to the Hotel's satisfaction. My read on the Hotel's dynamic with the old crew is that they keep being too annoyingly human and it's getting in the way of all the fun killing and like, really harshing her vibes, so she keeps putting them in these nightmare worlds as a sort of time-out punishment room. But they just keep coming back!)

Anyway, the Manager behaves as she would in, say, any given season 1 or early season 4 episode. She takes note of her lobby and her Lobby Boy. She sees the gibbering creature and recognizes it fully as a guest, a welcome and normal and expected part of the Hotel. She doesn't fear it, doesn't run from it. She only continues to do what's expected of her. She is the Manager. So, she manages.

As she does so, the Lobby Boy recoils and refuses to go along with this out of his own fear. For this, she's killed again by the gibbering creature. I think that one was just for funsies. (and also, for the lobby boy as we transition into his arc).

The gibbering creature is an element that will come up later towards the end with the Owner, but for now I want to talk about how it relates to the Manager specifically. To me, it represents her fear and the inevitability of death. She runs from the grabbing hands of the darkness, the shadows symbolizing death. She attempts to keep it at bay, imagines her attempts to fight it and get revenge on it. But no matter what she does, it always kills her....Almost.

The only time it doesn't is when she turns away from the memory of her death(s). She observes the darkness take over her lobby. And she simply accepts it. Remains as part of it. She lets it come as another inevitability of the Hotel. She understands now that death will come and take her again and again. But again, she is the Manager. She manages, and this is no different. She's stubborn, but adaptable like that.

Also, I didn't know where else to put this, but gah I LOVE how the Manager's arc starts with her outside the Hotel. With each death, she slowly moves more and more into it, even though she's also been in the lobby the entire time. She considers herself outside the Hotel's purview (that being, of course, death). Yet, each episode, she takes a step closer to understanding. By 3.4, she begins and ends in the lobby, fully integrated with the Hotel.

See, what I love most about S3 its tightness and cohesion. In the Manager's arc alone, we have thematic elements relevant to the Manager specifically, but also to the rest of the staff. They are individuals, but they're also like. cosmically attached at their cores to the Hotel. The writing, voice acting, and sound design all work together here to portray that.

Is it as linear and direct as, say, the Madam Hotel arc in season 4? No, but it doesn't need to be. As a story it does what it sets out to do and does it well. But I'll probably say that again in my next posts.

(We have nothing but time here. Time and pain, if you want it.)

As for the Lobby Boy....Join me next time, I will edit this portion with links to the next parts once I have them all posted. And thank you for reading if you got through all this!!! <3

#the hotel podcast #hotelpod analysis #CAN YOU TELL THE MANAGER IS A FAVE OF MINE #just wait until i post abt the hotel herself. cataclysmic event impending.

[tiny012]

So I'm back! Let's continue!

So Usagi Tells the girls the story on how she felt she wasn’t good or mature enough for Mamoru when she enter his apartment and spilled her cookies on his coffee table, that she is going to fail at being his wife becasue of the burnt cookies in which he eats one to make her feel better  and tells her that  she is fine the way she is which he fully embrace her for imprecations and hugs her.

I mean Mako just because we ALL know you can cook cookies with your eyes closed but can't tell the differences between your senpai....

Which the Mina proceed to say that they hope Mamo didn’t get an upset stomach.

Which further proves how dumb they made Mina because he would not get a upset stomach from eating the cookies if they would fully cooked and since they were slight burnt they were fully cooked.

Which Ami have to be miss smart ass and put her two cents about if it's fully cooked which I just stated. I said this before a long time ago but Ami can sometimes be a low key bitch they hides behind her text books and intelligence. Some of the shit she says to Usagi be sometimes up there with Rei but you don't expect it from her like you expect it from Rei. Rei is the fire while Ami is the ice. She's icy with her shit. Because that was uncalled for because it was her being a straight smart ass bitch to Usagi. She's using her intelligence to make Usagi feel small and that's the reason why everyone was about to take cover thinking Usagi was about to blow after Ami said it.

And Rei being the bitch of it all laughing at the whole thing..

Which they thought Usagi was going to get mad and blow but she's trying to keep it cool and good after her breakdown in Mamo's apartment.

Which them doing this and talking about if her cookies was cooked or not cooked don't help the situation at all because she thinks she's not good at anything. She broke down in his apartment thinking at the age of 15 she's not going to be a good wife because she burnt some cookies that one day she'll get right with practice and because she didn't understand his science textbook and instead of her friends being like " don't be so hard on yourself. It's all good. " they are making fun of her yet again which feels like bullying??

Which they are always like " Well you need to be studying and bettering yourself for Mamo because you supposed to be future queen. "

and before yall say " Well Tanya/Tiny this supposed to be a light ribbing!"

Ribbing - an act or instance of teasing, the act of harassing someone playfully or maliciously (especially by ridicule); provoking someone with persistent annoyances, the act of tormenting by continued persistent attacks and criticism

Bullying -ongoing and deliberate misuse of power in relationships through repeated verbal, physical and/or social behavior's that intends to cause physical, social and/or psychological harm. It can involve an individual or a group misusing their power, or perceived power, over one or more persons who feel unable to stop it from happening.

I mean if you have to worry about her blowing up at yall "ribbing" her at the thought of her trying to give HER MAN stomach poisoning or trying to kill him. When it supposed to something that is light hearted and lighten her spirts. When you have to ALWAYS worry about her getting mad or crying when she is constantly being put down on her grades, cooking, weight, drawing skills, leadership etc ..

Do you really think it's "light ribbing"?

Especially when light ribbing can mean what I put up above?

The act of tormenting by continued persistent attacks and criticism??

It's good natured when the person you actually joking about is actually laughing and having a good time...

Note: I have a poll asking was the senshi bully or ribbing Usagi base of the definitions I posted here.

Because to me I think it's a combo of both. With Rei and Ami it's bullying ( Because they did slap her) and with the other girls it's ribbing.

and just think

I'm not even finish yet. :-)

I'm just getting started.

There's more. lol

#Tanya liveblogs S #Tanya liveblogs Sailor Moon

[no-droids]

Home

gif credit: @javier-pena

Part Eighteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.5K

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

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

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

Day 5–11:13am:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Extravagant, magnificent are both words.  Floral is another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5—5:04pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:17pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s here… isn’t he?

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

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

This… this is a taunt.  

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

“You okay, Nerida?”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s when you see him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unless…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–5:24pm:

Din is fucking furious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–6:59pm:

This water is quiet here, but it sparkles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Din.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Day 5–7:37pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Naydee smiles and nods.  “Sounds perfect.”

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

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

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

***

Day 5–11:32pm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something catches your eye.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rigid steel that bends only for your touch.

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

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

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

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

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

—Bong—

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

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

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

One o’clock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—ve you—I l-love y—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It takes you a second.

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

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

“Ma—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Commotion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crib—he forgot the crib—

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

You raise your voice.  “Din?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, well.  You could just about fucking cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home.

***

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

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

[onmyyan]

Straight Venomous Ch.4

AN: Lil chapter for yall hope ya enjoy, TW//Canon typical violence, feedback keeps me alive okay ily bye💗🖤 (TYSM to the lovely person who brought the dookie ending to my attention I posted this originally half sleep so I hope ya like the edited fixed version, hopefully it blends a lil better) EDITED 1/11/2023

Damian Wayne was shaping up to be the most infamous Robin. (Yes somehow more infamous than the murderous one- well more murderous)

If you’d ask him he’d say he was the finest to dawn the iconic ‘R’. He’d also say he was one of the best in the game right now, he had the intelligence of both his parents combined and the skill to take on anything and anyone, he was more than confident in his abilities, so how exactly did some untrained oaf of a woman put him on his ass so easily?

He struggled to free himself from your grip, it reminded him of that big headed Kryptonians brutish strength, the way your eyes narrowed down at him had his heart racing, and he’d never admit this aloud but for the first time in a long time he felt a twist of excitement in his gut, he could go all out on you and not feel guilty. The challenge of a stronger opponent never caused him to sweat from fear, but rather the palpable and building anticipation of a real battle, so he took the moment to calm his urge to put you in the ground and analyzed you.

You didn’t look to be that much older than him, your clothes were old, but taken care of, ears littered with piercings, and your eyes held a dark look of boredom in them, the emotion seemed misplaced for the situation at hand. 

He knew his father was up to something, that much was obvious to the man. After a little bit of digging and a few well-placed threats to Grayson, it was easy enough to find out you were the mystery woman the older male had trouble finding, he reviewed the footage himself and some light hacking later found your address, he also discovered his father had identified you a few days ago, but made no move to question you to Damian’s growing curiosity. 

What he couldn’t figure out was why Bruce felt the need to hide you. What exactly did you do to capture his father's attention in such a way? One would imagine his first priority would be to make contact and find out why you were there that night, but he didn’t. 

He’d taken it upon himself to get the answers he desired, never one to limit himself he was perched above your place in no time. Granted the youngest Wayne wasn’t all too eager to stake out your shitty apartment, the area was one of the worst parts of the city, but you didn’t seem to mind, you stayed inside the whole first day he watched you, the second day you finally left for something, either for food or work he didn’t get to find out.

When he moved to follow you, it was like you’d vanished into thin air. His eyes scrunched in disbelief, it took one second to lose you. Though he soon found out you hadn’t gone far. 

“Why are you watching me?” A voice suddenly spoke from behind him, out of instinct he threw a Batarang, the metal stuck halfway out the flesh of your shoulder, before he could feel bad you roughly yanked it out and tossed it over the tall imposing edge. “That was rude.” Was all you said, the noise of it hurtling the ground below filled the air.  

Silence passed between you two for a short moment before you shot out like a bullet, and just like that he was on his stomach, the gravel on the floor dug into the exposed flesh of his face, much to his annoyance.

”Lemme’ rephrase because you didn’t seem to hear me the first time.” Your grip tightened ever so slightly, “Why are you on my jock so hard dude?” The tone you used was rather casual for someone holding another in a death grip, one of your hands held both of his arms, the other pressed in between his shoulder blades. 

He craned his neck at a painful angle to meet your smothering gaze, downright refusing to break eye contact, like whoever looked away first was the automatic loser.

”Unhand me, wench-“ you put the slightest bit of pressure on the knee digging into his spine, instantly stopping his insult before he could finish it, for god's sake he was the next in line to lead the league of assassins, he was certain if his mother could see him now she’d be furious, having been trained brutally for these exact situations, trained to think outside the box if his opponent was bigger- in this case, stronger, he’d picked fights with the best of the best and won, it was insulting to be caught off guard by a civilian, clearly though, not an ordinary one.

 His suit came equipped with a taser for these exact predicaments, but the trigger was in his gloves and your hold wouldn’t allow for any of that. 

“Who the hell do you think you are? You’re manhandling a hero you know that right? I can have you committed for this.” His tone was confident, he just needed one second, one moment to change the tide of this battle.

“That’s pretty funny coming from the asshole who’s been watching me like a creep .” He heard you laugh, your face leaned closer as if to intimidate him. Had he been anyone else it would have worked.

”How would your boss feel if he knew you were out here using your power for no good, harassing innocent citizens.”

”You’re hardly innocent. Incompetent more likely.” 

“Says the one eating dirt right now.” Another scoff came from you and in that moment of distraction, he was able to reach the trigger. A strong electoral current surged through his suit, it wasn’t designed to be lethal but was powerful enough to knock a grown man senseless.

As soon as your weight lifted he kicked himself off the ground, spinning to face your unconscious form.

Only you weren’t unconscious. 

”Well that wasn’t very nice birdie.” Your voice took on a rather gruff tone towards the end, the air growing thick with tension, the current between you two grew with every passing moment, he felt the threat in his gut as he observed you, your relaxed stance from before now much stiffer, your shoulders squared as you eyed him up and down, almost like you were serious now.

Your voice was significantly deeper too, the danger dripping off your tone like tar. He reached for his belt, you took a large step backward. “Not so sure of yourself now are you?” He stated, his air of smugness suffocating even on the open rooftop. He couldn’t bite back this ever-growing curiosity. Just what were you made of?

Your eyes took him in, glancing around your surroundings with an ever-hardening glare, “Just trying to stay out of trouble.” You suddenly gripped your head, swaying a bit, “Getting electrocuted hurts, doesn’t it? Are you starting to understand your position yet? I’m in charge here and you’re going to answer my questions.” He spoke pointing his bat-shaped projectile toward you. “You can’t V- he’s a no-no.” You spoke to yourself, ignoring his statement completely, his head tilted at the scene.

”Playing crazy won’t get you off the hook.“ he chastised, matching your pace to attempt to close the distance. Your face grew more and more frightened the closer he got, an uncomfortable shake in your step.

”Stay over there- Seriously don’t come any closer-” 

“You’ll die if you do.” You spoke much softer than before, the reality of the situation seemed to have sucked the bravado right out of you.

”It’s cute you think you could land a hit on me, that first one was a fluke.” Another step forward, his was matched with your own in the opposite direction, until you stood at the roof's edge.

”I can’t be responsible for what happens next if you try to hurt me.” The warning seemed genuine, your eyes pleading for him to listen.

He cocked his arm back, and the weapon's sharp edges caught the light, glinting with the promise of pain. “I don’t take well to threats on my life.”

”Neither do I shitface- seriously keep your distance.” Your face scrunched in pain, and a hand harshly gripped the side of your pant leg, just what were you holding back?

”Fuck it, if you wanna die so bad be my guest.” Like a switch had been flipped a wild look came to your face, eyes wide with excitement, he paused cautious of the sudden shift in your mood.

Everything happened in a second. That’s all it took for your unimposing form to be replaced by a behemoth shrouded in darkness. Like a shadow consumed your body, suddenly all he could see was black. All imposing, shiny, and, moving, the oil-like texture glinted in the dim light of the evening.

Before he stood a towering beast, the (height) sized woman was now a being well over seven feet, Robin’s eyes widened behind his mask as the monster stared him down.

”Awh-Is the little man scared now? What happened to all that bass in your voice?” The thing spoke, its jaw twisted into the most unsettling smile, razor-sharp teeth lined its mouth promising nothing but violence, its eyes cold and void of life. Faster than he anticipated, the monstrosity was before him, a large ink-like hand gripped his Kevlar cape with a vengeance, and just like that he was being held over the edge, and as much as he wished to break the wrist holding him, he knew it was a death sentence to fall from this height. His cape could help guide the fall however, that’s if he could grab it in time.

”You starting to understand your position yet?” The beast taunted his previous words at him with a grin brimmed with malice, giving the 6 ft man its grasp a jiggle. 

Damian remained silent, his mind running a mile a minute for a way to win this fight.

Fear shot through him as its grip loosened the slightest, jolting his body that much closer to becoming a paste.

”Stay away from us, next time I won’t be so nice.”

 It all but barked before throwing him with enough force for his body to land a few roofs down the block. His back slammed into the railing keeping him from the painful fall, and he would never admit this but he was impressed by your sudden show of strength. 

Damian was quick to stand, biting down the pain from his bruised back, and a few curses in his mother tongue, he quickly leaped after you, thankfully you seemed too preoccupied with your, situation, to hear him stealthily take aim, his hand poised to strike you while he could, now he knew not to underestimate your abilities, who knows when he’d get another opportunity. More importantly, he wanted to know if your head could grow back.

A large hand cloaked in black quickly caught his wrist in an unforgiving grip, his imposing aura only being heightened by the now darkened sky.

The shorter of the two males could feel the disappointment dripping off his father as he snatched back his hand, re-sheathing the sharp projectiles. 

“I see you’ve been busy.”

”Doing my job.” The younger male all but hissed, tone full of accusations, too many silent questions lingered in the air for your tastes, a genuine look of fear graced your features, and the three of you stood in a pregnant silence. A cold wind began whipping against your bodies, small harsh water droplets hit you all as you waited in silence, and still, nobody moved.

Your wide eyes glanced at the scene wearily and like he could hear your thoughts the larger and bigger threat took a cautious step towards you. 

“I wouldn’t. Even if you can outrun me now I will catch you eventually. I just want to have a conversation.”

His voice was unreadable, especially with the panicked symbiote yapping in your ear, determined to get rid of the threat himself if you didn’t do something, in an effort to calm the both of you, an almost pained grin grew on your lips. 

“Easy there big guy- who said anything about running away?” You anxiously wrung your hands, clearly unnerved by his overbearing presence, “Only thing I’m running is late to work. Captain dickweed over there held me up.”

The Bat watched you through his mask for a moment, obviously observing you, his stare had you shifting from either foot, you’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel real fear. The kind that had your face hot and anxiety bubbling over in your guts.

All the shit you’d done to get here played through your mind in a fucked up montage, was this about your boss? Or maybe It was Venom, had to be, what other reason did the big bad bat have for showing his face like this? You tried to calm your racing heart, knowing if you became too unstable Venom would take over and handle the situation his way. And besides eating that dude's arm wasn’t technically against the law, sure murder was frowned upon but every sap you’ve digested thus far has had it coming a mile away. A nervous, albeit charming smile replaced your strained one.

”What can I do for ya big fella?”

”You can start by explaining that thing.” Robin sneered out, a threatening finger poked in your general vicinity. “How did you turn into that beast? Deal with the devil? Home experiments? Lose a bet?”

”That’s enough Robin.” His tone left no room for argument, his hand once more clasping the shoulder of his partner. He turned his icy gaze back to you much to your displeasure.

“All I ask is if anyone else knows about what you can do and if so who and when did they find out.”

You couldn’t help but scrunch your face at the question, not that any of this was his business but that in particular was a weird thing to ask.

”Uh not really? I mean no. No one saw us like that and-“ you cut yourself off, not too eager to explain your body count just yet. Or get your roommate even more caught up in your shit, or let it get back to your boss you’d been canoodling with the enemy.

”Yeah no one knows anything. Of course except boy wonder over there, and uh, you too I assume?”

He simply nodded his head before reaching around his belt for a small flip phone. Its old model caught your attention before the action fully registered. The two of you ignored the fuming man beside him, your brow rose questioningly at the device being held a few feet in front of you.

”In case any more trouble finds its way to you.” He gestured to the male beside him. 

“In my defense, he fully started it.”

“Batman arrest this criminal.” He suddenly demanded, arms crossed in obvious distaste.

A genuine smile stretched its way across your mouth, he really hated you didn’t he? ‘All worked up over a little throw off a roof.’ You thought huffing in amusement. His fists clenched so hard you could practically hear the leather gloves he dawned crackling.

A cross between a scoff and a laugh left your lips, “And what crime did I commit exactly? Besides putting you on your ass.”

”Attempt assault for one, obstruction of justice-“

”Obstruct this dick in your mouth.”

”Do you plan to use your abilities for evil?” The larger of the two spoke deeply, once more interrupting your spat. 

”Uh no? I mean has anyone ever said yes to that question?” The corner of his mouth twitched to lift but remained stoic. Once more his large gloved hand reached out towards you, closer than before, your body flinching instinctively before you hesitantly took it. “I know it can be frightening to have your world flipped, so when you’re ready to talk, give the number in here a call.”

“I might know a few people who could help you with your situation.” Your face went from confused to stoic in a second, his tone was firm and you couldn’t help but feel like he meant ‘get rid of your problem’ rather than help, with this in mind you sternly thrust the device back into the man's chest. “I’m good. We’re doing just fine.” With that, you took off, casually stepping off the side of the roof like it wasn’t a fall to your death. They watched you merge into the bustling crowd of gothamites going about their day, loosing sight of your tense figure made Damian's skin burn with a dangerously festering irritation. “We’re just letting that thing walk away? You do understand how dangerous she is.”

Bruce placed a large hand on his youngest’s shoulder, a reassuring squeeze given before he spoke.

”Having her come willingly is more beneficial than force,” Robin rolled his eyes underneath the mask ready to argue, only to be interrupted once more. “Although if she slips up and gives us a reason to take her in is another story entirely, and I get the feeling it’ll be the ladder.”

You spent the entire walk to work looking over your shoulder, V assured you the two spandex junkies weren’t close, having got a good whiff of them on the roof. This did little to reassure you however because they knew. They knew about you and everything you’d tried so hard to keep in the dark was certain to come to light. Anxiously picking at the tears in your jeans helped as your mind ran a mile a minute, you could ask Jason for help but felt bad enough for endangering him and Roy by simply sleeping in the next room. The thought struck you as soon as the purple lights of your workplace came into view.

“So this is kind of a weird request but I figured what the hell so- do you have any place I could maybe hide out for a while? Someone, uh, kinda difficult found out about my, er uh, talent?”

”Who found out?” His once bored expression was replaced with one of amusement.

”Batman.” There was a pause, and a dangerous combination of emotions flashed through his dark eyes. All amusement vanished in a moment, the twitch of his fist was subtle against his neatly arranged desk.

”Not to worry my dear I have the perfect place, Butch will take you there after work but understand I’m not doing this as your kind boss.” His eyes were sharp as ever, holding you in place with a gaze brimmed with the cruelest intentions, Your calm mask slipped for a moment, face scrunched in confusion at the vague warning, weighing the options you signed heavily through your nose.

Steeling yourself with a quiet  “Whatever it takes.” You met his piercing stare with your own.

”You owe me, understand?” You couldn’t help but swallow thickly, your throat suddenly dry.

”I think so? Yeah, yeah I got it. Favor for a favor.”

”What a smart girl I’ve found, I can’t wait to do business with you again dear (Y/n).”

#yandere bruce wayne #yandere batfam #yandere damian wayne #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere dc imagine #yandere dc #yandere reader insert #straight venomous

[daverygalskisbff]

could we get some allura & lance friendship prompts? i LOVED your other ones btw 💖💖💖💖

HI I'm sorry this took forever I have honestly no idea why bc I adore these two and I ADORE this prompt so my brain should not have shut down the way it did. anywayz to make up for the wait i tried to make this a bit longer than my usual posts :) I hope you like it!

(also, as usual, everything here I came up with myself, and if there's any similarity to someone elses post I apologise and promise it wasn't intentional)

now without further ado,

Lance and Allura!

similar to lance and pidge, the two are decidedly Not close in the beginning 

i had an entire thing about how i imagine they became friends at first written out, but it was a tad too long and i didn't want to clog up the post with too much exposition. so instead, let's just skip forward and get into their dynamic after they become buddies :) (however, if anyone wants to see the backstory I would not be opposed) 

although he no longer has a crush on her, lance makes it a point to hype her up as much as he possibly can 

at first allura was confused, because she thought it was him trying to flirt with her still, but once she understood what was going on she was more than willing to join in 

lance when allura completely destroys the training droid: WOWZA ladies and gentlemen of the jury may I present to you the icon the legend the moment herself her royal highness princess allura of altea!!!!! if you thought that was impressive just WAIT till she gets warmed up because this is just the beginning!!! she can even do it in heels- 

shiro: lance, please focus, this is really important that we- 

allura: no no, shiro, please. let him finish. 

they both show their friendship in slightly different ways. lance's way is that he is physically incapable of not humouring the princess

allura when lance shows her his cartwheel: incredible!!!!!!! i have never been more impressed in my life!!! do you think you could do it in heels?? 

lance: uhhh. y'know princess I'm really loving the faith, but- 

allura: :)? 

lance:.... what if you don't have my size? 

lance fractured his ankle. allura has yet to stop apologising. 

allura's way is definitely safer, but it's also a lot more... cluttered. to say the least.

allura, returning from a recon mission with a tiny bag filled with what looks like tiny, glittery dinosaur figurines made of glass: lance! look at what i bought for you! 

lance, taking one look at the contents of the bag: wow, 'lurra, this is… so nice of you

allura: lance, are you. are you crying? 

lance (definitely crying): what? NO! of course not!! I'm just. allergic, to. uh. oxygen. 

allura: what. 

allura never had any siblings back on altea, but she always wanted them

this, paired with how much lance misses his own family, means that the two of them kind of gravitate towards each other in terms of siblinghood. 

as a child allura would imagine what it would be like to have siblings, but especially a twin. she would fall asleep to dreams of secret handshakes, finishing each other's sentences, and swapping places to trick people

she doesn't realise the brother she has found in lance until a long time after they've become close (how would she recognise a dynamic she has never been privy to?) 

this realisation happens on just a random day in the castleship lounge. she is talking to hunk, when suddenly lance, who she didn't even realise was listening to their conversation, butts in and finishes her sentence. 

she's annoyed at being interrupted at first, but then what happened sinks in, and suddenly she's fighting off tears. lance doesn't know why she's crying, but he hugs her anyway. 

the two of them match accessories a lot 

with allura's love of pretty things (and the abundance of stuff in her closet) paired with lance's natural dramatics, nobody else on the team is entirely sure of whether this is intentional or not. 

it started off as intentional. it is now second nature. 

one decision, however, was completely planned and thought out for exactly twenty minutes, and then deeply regretted by both parties for the next 48 hours

allura pierced lance's ears 

now before you get judgemental, you try making a smart decision at two am space-time while very giddy and slightly buzzing on some weird old alien candy that not even your resident alien is sure the ingredients of. then talk to me. 

pidge: okay so you're gonna need a needle, ice, and… yeah I'm pretty sure that's it 

lance: don't we need a potato too

pidge: … why the fuck would you need a potato 

lance: I dunno!!! my sister pierced her friend's ears one time and she mentioned a potato!!! I'm just trying to make sure everything goes well, pidge! 

allura: I love these earth customs you two are showing me!! when I got my ears pierced it was done with some kind of laser, but your way sounds much more fun :). 

allura: also, what is a "potato" and where can we find one? 

it goes about as well as you would expect 

the excited buzz on lance lasts about three ticks into the process, and then the screaming starts

pidge (the genius who came up with the idea) gives him some altean taffy to chew on to stop him from making too much noise, and allura, the angel, is babbling right along with him 

allura, with tears in her eyes: how was I supposed to know it was going to hurt mine didn't hurt well it was 10,000 years ago and I was very young altean children don't have very strong pain receptors you know, maybe that's why my parents had it done at that age, or maybe your people are just completely barbaric, who thought this would be a good idea?? pidge why did you suggest this poor lonce is in tears lonce I'm so sorry but if it's any consolation at all at least now your ears won't be nearly as hideous as before and you can borrow as many of my earrings as you want except for the sparkly green ones that dangle those are my favourite well they're actually my second favourite I'm wearing my favourite - you can't borrow those either, by the way, but you can have any of the others I promise 

lance, also crying and still chewing the altean taffy: hhb, llura yub domf hoff do bologuys, ss long'ss yub sanstsd thu niddle frst 

allura (who did not remember to sanitize the needle), now crying freely: I don't understand what you're saying 

(pidge records the entire thing)

the next day lance wakes up with ears that are very sore and slightly green, and allura faints

they spend the entire morning avoiding shiro in case they get in trouble and trying to figure out how to get the healing pods to work

lance: what do you mean you don't know allura you literally lived in one of these 

allura: I was asleep the whole time!!! don't put this on me!! 

lance: don't put- you are the one that pierced my ears, allura, of course it's on you!

coran, who has been watching this entire interaction in silence: oh, I thought i noticed something different about you, number three! 

lance and allura: [screaming] 

coran helps them set up the healing pod 

unfortunately lance has to take the earrings out, so the holes close back up, but fortunately coran just so happens to know how to pierce ears the correct way that they did on altea 

lance, after half a day in the healing pod, watching coran advance upon him with a literal handheld flamethrower that shoots lasers: is it too late to go back to the ear infection 

coran is surprisingly very adept at the skill of altean beautification (an activity that has a surprisingly long and rich backstory, which lance and allura get an in-depth lesson on for the hour that it takes to do lance's ears properly) 

they're exhausted afterwards, but lance looks great, so they're in good moods regardless 

they like to teach each other about things from their respective planets - both for fun, and because it helps them feel less homesick 

whenever allura is particularly down about the loss of altea, lance will visit her in her room, and the two of them will just lie together on her bed. 

they don't say much, most of the time, just link their pinkies together and stare at the ceiling 

when they do talk, it's quiet, and always allura who starts it - she might share something she remembers about altea, and lance listens quietly and then responds with something he misses about cuba 

it isn't always sad tho - sometimes they just talk about things they remember that pop into their heads, or explain things to each other that they wouldn't otherwise know 

at the space mall, they make a game out of pointing things out to each other and trying to guess what it is (allura can only guess when they're in the earth shop, but it's okay because she more than makes up for it in enthusiasm) 

lance, holding a my little pony collectible: okay princess. what is this.

allura, completely serious: a weapon

lance: ... close

allura, holding up a set of magnetic heart necklaces to the light: what does… "biffs" mean? 

lance: it's "bffs," princess, it means "best friends forever" 

allura: oh! you mean like me and you? 

lance: 

lance: 'lurra what did we say about making me cry in public, we've talked about this- 

(they buy the necklaces. obviously.)

they mess with each other's hair a lot

once allura learns that lance's hair is naturally curly, and that he just straightens it all of the time, she makes it her god-given mission to convince him to wear it naturally more often

this mission includes plans such as stealing his hair straightener, "donating" a bunch of curly hair products to him because she "doesn't have the space", and getting keith to say he thinks curly hair is cool one day in the rec room

she still thinks it's the funniest thing ever that that actually worked

other than week-long sabotage plots, they both think it's fun to have lance braid allura's hair

he used to braid his sister's and niece's hairs all of the time, so he has a knack for it that allura did not expect at all but is obsessed with anyway

allura, coming to lance's room a few hours before another diplomatic party: hey..... how yall doin.....

lance, already prepared with a million different brushes and bands: oh my god just get in already

lance and allura have a lot in common 

one of these things, they learn very early into their relationship, is that they are both disasters when it comes to pretty girls (and boys, but that's a lance-exclusive situation)

so they become each other's wingmen

they both tend to get… a little too into it 

the team: [at a diplomatic ball]

lance, seeing a pretty alien girl looking allura's way and "politely" speedwalking over to her: alluralluraalluraalluraalluralluraalluraalluraalluralluraalluraallura pretty girl look over there eleven o'clock LOOK she's gonna walk away looklooklook

allura: lance darling thank you so much for your help but I am in the middle of talking to the president 

and alternatively: 

allura tries to set lance and keith up all the time. at first she was worried she would be overstepping boundaries, but after one particular sleepover where lance spent an entire hour lamenting his "bad luck" she decided to take things into her own hands 

this includes, but is not limited to; sending them on supply missions alone together (often), mentioning particular things lance has done to his appearance to keith every time she can, and talking about specific paladin bonds more than she maybe should 

lance hates it

keith, walking into the lounge: h-

allura, immediately: hello keith!! help settle an argument, will you :)? 

keith: um… okay 

allura: lovely! now, tell me, do you think lance looks cuter today than he did yesterday? we can't seem to agree on whether or by he's stunning or simply handsome. what do you think? 

keith: uh-

allura: oh, and while I have you, have you noticed that his ears are pierced? 

lance, beet red: allu-

allura: what :(?? can't i be proud of my handiwork?? 

lance, to keith: I am not associated with her

after a week of this keith literally sets up a system where if allura is in a room he walks into he just does a complete 180 and walks back out

one time, at a diplomatic meeting, an alien politician mistook them for a couple and they both choked on their drinks at the same time, and then got offended that the other one agreed that the concept was insane 

allura: what happened to being the princess of your dreams, lance?? I thought I MEANT something to you. obviously! i was wrong! 

lance: oh yeah?? then why did you GIGGLE, allura. what's so funny, huh?? my good looks??? my charming charisma?? how far out of your league I am??? 

allura: 

lance: okay maybe that last one was a bit of a stretch 

another thing lance and allura do is pronounce each other's names wrong

they call each other lonce and allora 

it started as lance kind of making fun of allura's accent, but turned into just one of their Things 

allura honestly didn't know it was a bit until the habit had been long constructed

#pippa.post #pippa.canon #vld lance #vld keith #vld allura #klance #vld pidge #pippa.ask #vld shiro #i added klance bc i know you like it gia i hope this was up to your standard <3 #vld coran #vld team

[technowoah]

THESEUS - a dsmp story ( DreamSMP x Queen!Reader)

CHAPTER FIVE : AND I REALIZE THREE FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS AT THE EXACT SAME TIME.

Chapter Summary: You had gotten what you wanted, but at what cost? Nightmares ensue, and Dream’s true colors begin to show.

pairing: c!wilbur x queen!reader

an// IM BACK!! hopefully yall like this chaper cause this is the last one that I wrote in the past, Im writing chapter 6 rn so it might take a while. Also sorry for not posting requests I really wanted to get this chapter out there

⚠︎ swearing, dsmp spoliers(?), angst, arguing, smoking, explosions, gaslighting(?), not proofread.

Series Masterlist 

"Good job you two! This is all yours now.”

Dream had led you and Eret back to the castle, all of them still battered and bruised from the war they recently had. You had already taken off your armor and now you were wearing underneath your L'Manburg outfit that was torn and burnt showing some of your skin which was also burnt or cut. You had noticed on the way to the castle that Dream had kept on looking at the outfit that Eret and you had on with disgust, like a taunt.

You could finally relax in the huge castle that you apparently deserved because you and Eret had taken the first lives of the citizens of L'Manburg. In your heart you knew that L'Manburg was still a country. They all have two more lives and they will build the country up again with those two lives. You sighed then kept walking into the throne room. you looked at the two big thrones that sat next to each other. One for a king and one for a queen.

"Why are you standing there? Sit down! Relax!" Dream patted one of the thrones.

You and Eret had sat down on the thrones next to each other looking around the huge throne room and Dream smiling right in front of them. Once you both sat down you tried to sit up straight, but you wanted to slump down into the comfy, plush, velvet and gold chair. The two of them sat on velvet and gold thrones while in burnt and torn L'Manburg uniforms. It was a sight to see, and if someone didn't know the context of what just happened, this scene would've made sense to them.

"I'm happy you did this. You deserve all of this." Dream said while walking along the marble floor.

"It's beautiful, but I'm exhausted." You let your head fall to the side. You sighed wanting Dream to leave so you could finally get some rest.

"I bet."

"Eret are you okay?" You spoke up after Dream.

Eret had a look that you couldn't make out. He just stared off into space in his own mind. He shook his head after you called for him again.

"Yeah, yeah I am fine. I'm just thinking." Eret quickly responded.

"What are you thinking about?" Dream said in a monotone voice.

"If we did the right thing." Eret sighed.

You slowly nodded because you were thinking the exact same thing. They were traitors, you had built somewhat of a connection with those people you helped kill. And now what? you're living in a huge castle and apparently you "Shouldn't be feeling this way", Dream claimed.

"You two are overreacting. They are fine." Dream said bluntly while staring at them with a straight face.

That was a huge lie, their lives were taken today. They're not just “fine”.

"You two were never a part of that place anyways. This is your home! Why would you need to wear those hideous colors? They look bad on you, it's unflattering. There is no need to go back." Dream explained.

You hang your head not knowing what to say to the man, there wasn’t really anything to say but you spoke up hoping the words will come to you.

"I don't-"

"You don't have to say anything, it's okay. You're safe now. Did you get hurt?" Dream asked.

The bruises and scars said differently.

"Remember when I said that?" Dream pushed the question.

You rubbed a burn mark on your wrist and laughed a bit. "No! Actually I don't. We're safe now, but that doesn't mean we aren't hurt." You chuckled in disbelief.

"Well maybe if you listened to me you wouldn't be so anxious. If you listened you wouldn't have been so hesitant. You're safe." Dream said sternly.

"Maybe you're tired, Dream. We're all tired. Shall we go to bed?" Eret stood up and held out his hand to help you up from your seat.

You accepted his hand and started to follow Eret through the huge castle making your way through the huge, high ceiling halls. The three walked towards the king's and queen's room in the castle, Dream kept a slower pace and walked behind the two wanting to get one more word in before leaving the castle.

"If you two are ever in doubt just remember that you are on the right side of history." Dream said then turned around to leave the two alone.

You both stopped and turned around to see Dream’s back facing the both of you as he walked away. You and Eret eventually made it to your new bedrooms. There was a big door which held a huge room made for the both of them to sleep in and two separate rooms next to the bigger door which were made for one person. Eret and you stood in front of the bigger door staring at the intricate designs on the door not speaking to each other.

"So?" Eret laughed.

"So!" You exclaimed while chuckling.

"Are you okay sleeping in that huge room tonight?" Eret asked.

"I'm not totally comfortable with that, but it would be weird if we slept in the same bed. Don't get me wrong! You're a great friend, but-"

"Y/N/N stop! I'm okay with that too. I wasn't looking to sleep in the same bed. Yes we're married, but we're just staying friends, hey we might get a divorce later." Eret explained.

"If I do, we won't be king and queen anymore." You said softly to your husband.

"Is that what you want? To be "queen"?" Eret asked while putting air quotes around the word queen.

You paused for a moment then answered his question.

"I don't know where I'm supposed to be, Eret." You looked up at him sadly and he pulled you in for a hug. It took you everything you had to not cry into the L'Manburg uniform Eret was wearing. Today drained you mentally and physically, your hands were raw from shooting arrows, you had burn marks on your skin and your feet hurt from running through the kingdom. You weren’t sure about where you would go, because this didn't feel like your home.

"Let's go to bed and we'll talk in the morning. Rest on it because I'll happily divorce you so you can find your place in this huge kingdom." Eret laughed and let you out of his arms.

You chuckled and then let him go walking into what was supposed to be the queen's room and right next to it was the king's room which they both walked in after saying goodnight and closing their doors finally having time to themselves after a long day.

You finally took off the L'Manburg uniform and laid it on a velvet chair in the corner of the huge room. You stared at the uniform before going to the nearest closet and picking out something to wear for that night. The queen's room was basically the huge couple's room that you found before, but just with a smaller bed. There were still trinkets, jewelry and even clothes in the closet. you took a nightgown out of the closet and sat on the plush bed. You ended up laying down staring at the high ceiling thinking of the predicament Eret's question brought.

You finally retired for the night and crawled into bed and got under the soft covers. The window was open so a soft cool breeze was blowing through the room letting the curtains flow with the breeze. If you left you wouldn't have anywhere to go except back to L'Manburg, they would never let you back even if you tried. They probably hated your guts by now, so maybe divorcing wasn't a good idea. You had a set home here, you had food, clothes, and you weren't under attack every minute. you didn't have to watch your back for any enemies.

Your mind slowed down as you finally lulled yourself into a deep sleep forgetting the troubles in your mind for only a moment.

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

The sunset fell over the horizon making it a gold, red color. It was beautiful. The trees were illuminated and the lakes had a certain glow to them. you could see mobs began to crawl out of the ground and caves, but you was safe up here.

You looked down and saw the familiar obsidian walls. It seemed like a faint memory, but in reality the walls were real. It was like you could feel the stone underneath your feet at this moment. you could see inside L'Manburg.

you saw Tubbo and Tommy laying in the grass talking to one another. you saw Fundy sleeping in the grass next to them. There were two new faces you had never seen before. It was a woman with short pink hair and another man with a shaved head. It might've been your mind putting people in your dreams to fill space. Then you saw Eret sitting by a small river letting his bare feet flow in the water. It was a peaceful scene.

"Beautiful sunset isn't it?" A voice showed up beside you.

It was Wilbur. He had his uniform on, it was clean like the war didn't even happen.

"It is really beautiful." You agreed watching the sun continue to lower over the trees.

"You know everything the sun touches is yours? It's all of ours. It just so happens that you can see the sunset and sunrise from L'Manburg. You can do anything as long as you see the sun rise and fall." Wilbur said, keeping his gaze soft at the sunset.

You hummed but stayed quiet admiring his words and the sunset.

"Let me tell you what I wish I'd known when I was young and dreamed of glory. You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story. After you took one of my lives away I understand now. You can't control other people and their motivations."

You hang your head in disappointment, but then Wilbur continued.

"But I know that we can win. I know that greatness lies in you, but remember from here on in that history has its eyes on you. History will forever have its eyes on you no matter what you do." Wilbur looked into your eyes as the sun set on the two of them the stars began to shine.

The light brown eyes Wilbur had turned darker because of the sunlight being gone. You looked out back at the mobs in the forest and the huge towers in the sky made the kingdoms members. you turned around and looked into L'Manburg. Or what was considered L'Manburg.

There was no one there anymore, instead of people there were huge amounts of TNT that filled the walls behind them. you could hear faint voices around them, people that you didn't know. It sounded like chaos. you whipped your head around to Wilbur who was dressed in a brown tattered trench coat, brown pants, and a white shirt instead of the L'Manburg uniform.

He had a cigarette in his mouth and matches in his hands. He smirked at you as the voices around you got louder and your head sounded like you were in the middle of a tornado. your head was buzzing as your eyes couldn't focus on Wilbur in front of you. It felt like these moments were happening right in front of your all at one time.

"You want to be a hero Tommy?"

"You know if I die, this country goes down with me."

"if respect is the only thing protecting you from a knife in the back, then respect is nothing, right?"

"Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me! Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Look-"

"You know Y/N" Wilbur started next to you. He lit a match and turned around to L'Manburg which was now filled with TNT.

"Somethings. Somethings were never meant to be." He threw the match into the huge pile of TNT and all in a second the obsidian underneath your feet disappeared as you fell into the explosion beneath you.

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

"Fuck! Where am I?!" You shot up from your sleeping position in a cold sweat.

You frantically felt around the bed trying to convince yourself that you were physically at the castle in your bed. You finally caught your breath and laid back down in your bed finding yourself staring at the ceiling again. Even with the window open blowing cool air into the room, your skin still felt hot. You ended up tossing the covers off of you and making your way towards the entrance of the kingdom to get some air.

That dream was so much stuff in it you couldn't comprehend all of it. It was like Wilbur was there as if he was talking to you directly and it wasn't a dream and it made you second guess yourself and think that it may have not been a dream. You finally made it outside and sat on one of the steps that led people up into the kingdom. you sighed and breathed in the fresh air and it immediately relaxed your body and mind. You were alive, you were here and sadly Wilbur wasn't there. You closed your eyes and felt the breeze around you until you were startled by a figure beside you.

"You're up late. I thought you said you were mentally tired." Dream chuckled sitting beside you.

"I had a bad dream." You sighed.

"Hey don't take my name in vain like that" Dream laughed trying to bring up your mood.

Dream sighed and stood back up when he didn't get a response from his companion.

"Come one, let's go. Let's get your mind off of the one bad dream." Dream held his hand out, gesturing to you to take it.

You took his hand and then released it letting him lead the way to wherever the wind may take them. The dream is currently still stuck in your head. The voices from different people confused you and made your head spin.

"You want to be a hero Tommy?" What did that mean? Was someone threatening Tommy? Will someone threaten Tommy? You grew to care for that kid.

Who said "If I die, this country goes down with me"? What country. L'Manburg?

"If respect is the only thing protecting you from a knife in the back, then respect is nothing, right?" That one stumped you the most. you didn't even know if this was being spoken to you or to someone else. All of them except for the Tommy one.

Were they all even dreams? The one that haunted your mind the most was the one where someone was telling a man named Phil to kill them. Were you there for that moment? Did Phil kill the person? Who was Phil? All these thoughts and questions plagued your mind so much that your feet mindlessly carried you wherever Dream led you to.

"Here we are." Dream led You on top of a hill, a tall enough hill to see the main attraction. The place you missed the most, L'Manburg.

Tears started to form in your eyes and you tried blinking them away. All the moments of that dream appeared in your brain, but even stronger. you never felt these emotions before. Maybe L'Manburg was your home all along. you missed seeing Tubbo, Tommy, Eret and Fundy doing their own thing while your and Wilbur had a deep talk inside the van. you had spent weeks with them growing too attached to them and then ended up becoming a traitor.

"That place. You never belonged there. You're too good for them." Dream started and you stayed quiet watching the stars begin to disappear.

"Do you trust me?" Dream asked.

You stayed quiet not having the answer he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear you say that you trusted him when in reality you couldn’t, you weren't fully there yet, not anymore. 

"They lied to you. It's not your home." Dream continued on letting you listen and not talk.

"How did you know if someone said it was my home or not?" You asked, startled.

"I might've been keeping an eye on you. I wanted to make sure my flower was okay." Dream kept his gaze on L'Manburg.

"Stop calling me that." You sighed.

"I never started. This was the first time I said that. Who called you flower?" Dream suddenly got serious, staring at you.

you kept your sights on the obsidian walls, not sparing him a glance. The stars began to fade and the sun peeked over the horizon. As they stayed longer the sun rose over the walls of L'Manburg. You started to remember the words in the dream you had.

"You know everything the sun touches is yours? It's all of ours. It just so happens that you can see the sunset and sunrise from L'Manburg. You can do anything as long as you see the sun rise and fall."

L'Manburg stands for independence. Independence. That word kept ringing through your head like a mantra until a few voices below the hill and near the walls alerted you.

"HEY! Hey Wilbur! Give me back my shit!" Tommy yelled as he stomped after the older man.

"Wilbur get Tommy to stop shouting and give him his swords back please!" Fundy yelled trailing behind the two.

"No not until he learns not to go start stabbing shit!" Wilbur yelled back at the other two.

You missed that. you missed the bickering and the nonsense they all shared. you were upset that Tommy still hadn't learned his lesson and you wished you were there beside them at that moment.

Dream spoke up giving you a look you couldn’t quite get. "You are never allowed to step inside those walls again.

"What gives you the right to tell me what and what not to do? Who does that make you? Who do you think-"

"YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO GO IN THOSE WALLS!" Dream yelled getting dangerously close to you.

You continued to stare at those blue eyes as the bright sun rose over the dark walls of L’Manburg. you didn't say anything but descended down the mountain alone with the sounds of Tommy, Fundy, and Wilbur bickering in the background, wishing you were there and not next to the man next to you who was staring at you angrily.

"I know what’s good for you! I know what's good for this country! Just trust me Y/N!" Dream yelled starting an argument

"Would you calm down! You came here to be all quiet and now you're yelling at me. You might want to be quiet before Wilbur hears you. Or do you want me to get him myself?" You yelled back, getting furious.

"Oh you wish! He doesn't care for you as much as me, Sapnap and George do! They agree as well!"

"Don't put words into his mouth!" You accused

"Oh! So if he cares so fucking much he would've help save you. And do you know what would happen if he saved you?! You would've died! I saved you! You were in a perfect situation and all you had to do is not complain! You're always overreacting." Dream ended with a huff and rolled his eyes while turning away..

you were speechless at this point. Overwhelming emotions consumed you. you couldn't believe you were overreacting. Maybe Wilbur wasn't everything you needed. you were overreacting, you were being selfish too. Dream was right. Dream walked over to you pulling you in a hug with L'Manburg was still in your sights.

"I did everything because I love you. You're too precious for them, you're not for them. They don't deserve you, you deserve someone who wants the best for you. A flower that needs a home and I'm here to give it to you." Dream softly explained.

Your eyes kept tearing up at the words and different emotions flowing through you. The sights on L'Manburg make your memories and questions come back. Where did you belong? But more importantly who was telling the truth?

Taglist: @hi-imuwu @k-l-a-w-s

#mcyt blurb #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt angst #mcyt headcanons #dream smp x reader #dream x reader #wilbur soot x reader #c!wilbur x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader #c!dream x reader #mcyt writers #mcyt writing #dsmp fanfic #dream smp x you #dsmp spoilers #mcyt platonic #platonic mcyt x reader #lmanburg #wilbur soot headcanons #george not found x reader #sapnap x reader #eret x reader #lmanburg x reader #idk what to put here now so... #technowoah! #mjtings! #dream smp x y/n #dsmp x reader #dsmp headcanon

[i-write-boop-spoops]

Jealous! Leon Headcanons

jealous champion hcs are back, now in purple-haired himbo flavour!

the requester wanted solely nsfw hcs, but i decided to do sfw ones as well, since i thought it would be interesting.

this is just leon being a lil grumpy and jelly, nothing too serious or dire. Mild references to sex, yall know the drill by now homies

nsfw part 2 here

Enjoy!

One would think Leon would have no need to be jealous

After all, he’s the most enviable man in the entire Galar region

If not the world

People either want to be him

Be with him

Or both

Even Steven Stone is envious of him

THE silver haired dreamboat himself!

However

One would be extremely incorrect

As his partner, you found this out first hand

Leon is uber-competitive

Vain and insecure in equal measure

Fiercely protective too

Maybe even a little feral 👀

So jealousy comes so easily to him

Luckily, since he’s such a chipper and kind chap

He doesn’t really get angry or mean

Just clingy and a little grumpy

Basically anything can set him off

Cashier being a little too smiley with you?

Suddenly, he’s pulling out his sleek, exclusive, league-issued, black credit card to pay for your two pints of milk and some discounted gum

A compliment by some old school crush on your latest photo?

Surprise, surprise, he insists the next picture you post is of you two snuggled up and kissing

A random guy lifting weights, minding his own business, at the gym in a tank top, while you two are there to exercise together?

His shirt is off in less than a second, before you know it he’s benching twice his weight next to the dude

Who btw, is very confused and bewildered as to why the champion is 1. shirtless and 2. working out right by him

You telling him a funny story from your job about a colleague he’s never met?

Very quickly the subject is changed as he scoops you up for some cuddling

And bonking

He can be so petty, it’s kind of adorable and amusing

While usually he keeps PDA pretty light

Due to his approachable, family-friendly image

Expect a tighter grip on your hip

And to be pulled flush against him

Maybe even a steamy kiss or too if he’s feeling particularly threatened

When he spots a potential love rival around

He’s constantly finding ways to show the world you’re his

Even though the press and most people know you solely as the champion’s sweetheart

It’s mainly though having you wear his clothes

not his ugly champion uniform, thank arceus

You thought you were being sly and sneaky by “forgetting” to give his hoodie back after hanging out one day

That was his plan all along

You were playing draughts while he was playing 4D chess

He thinks you look so cute in his shirts and jumpers

Plus, you say they smell like him and make you feel like he’s always hugging you

Not only is that totally, heart-meltingly adorable to him

It’s a total confidence boost!

Something similar happens when you wear his merch

Seeing you proudly rep him really makes him smile

Especially when you wear it to his matches!

Naturally, he likes to mark your skin too

Via love-bites and the like

But that’s more for him to relish in than for anyone else

Besides, you usually have those areas covered up by your clothing anyways

Since Leon gets jealous pretty easily

And pretty obviously

Raihan loves to take advantage of this and mess with his bestie

By being flirty and taking a lot of selfies with you

Of course, you know what he’s up to, but you humour him for a bit

Watching Leon’s cute pout become increasingly more pronounced the whole time

Until he blurts out some half-baked excuse and whisks you away

To remind you that you’re dating the champion

And not someone who’s lost to him every time they’ve fought

Oh, and he reminds you with his dick, just fyi

#champion leon #champion leon x reader #trainer leon #trainer leon x reader #champion leon headcanons #trainer leon headcanons #leon pokemon #leon pokemon headcanons #request