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melodygatesauthor · 11 months

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The Best Kept Secrets - Steven's Story

dbf!Steven Grant X f!Reader

Not Beta Read - Masterlist - AO3 Link

Suggested reading order - Marc -> Steven -> Jake -

Marc's Story - Jake's Story

Summary:

You've just graduated college and you find yourself developing feelings for your dad's best friend after your graduation party. Three different versions of the same story all with different boys.

Tags/Warnings (for all three fics):

NSFW, age gap (reader is about 22 - boys are 40), reader is not race-coded, reader graduated college in America but isn't necessarily American, p in v creampie, unprotected sex, dbf trope, oral sex, coercion (sort of on both sides), Jake being Jake, Marc being Marc, Steven being Steven, forbidden relationship, forbidden sex, blowjob, mild bondage, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, car sex, bad puns

Word Count: 8.6k

You got out of the Uber when it stopped in front of your childhood home. Your dad was already waiting for you by the front door, smiling wide. He came over with his arms out, pulling you into a big hug. You grunted from the tight squeeze.

“Hi dad.” You choked out.

“I sweetie.” He let go of you and looked you over. “How was the ride from the airport?” He started taking two of your bags out of the trunk and walking back toward the house with you in tow.

“Long,” you said with a tired laugh.

“Well, hope you’re not too tired cause there’s a few people here to see you.”

He opened the front door and you were greeted by several relatives and family friends in the kitchen. They all shouted, congratulations! at once, holding up an assortment of beer bottles and glasses of wine. Knowing your dad, the drinking had been going on for a couple of hours before you arrived.

“Thanks everyone,” you said with a big smile, feeling a little shy having all those eyes on you.

You noticed the black and gold, congrats graduate, banner adorning the wall above the table in the dining area. With the initial excitement over, the crowd dissipated and you watched everyone start mingling once again. Your cousins came up to you and started exchanging quick updates on their lives while everyone else chattered around you throughout the house.

“What do you think, huh?” Your dad asked, coming up behind you while you admired the cake in the center of the dining table. He handed you a mixed drink.

“Dad, this is really great. There’s so many people! I really wasn’t expecting this when you said we were having a graduation barbecue. Thought maybe only a couple people would show up.” You looked to see your aunt talking with one of your dad’s friends in the living room.

“You know me better than that. Not everyday your kid graduates college,” he patted your back proudly, “shit, gotta go check the grill. I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, you watched your aunt and your dad’s friend finish their conversation. You’d known Steven since you were a kid, but it had been a long time since you’d seen each other. He came over to you and held up his drink as if to say cheers. He still looked nervous as you remembered, and you wondered if that would ever change. Looking at him now though, you found it a little endearing, the way he stood awkwardly next to you. He gestured to the cake.

“Looks like someone’s a genius,” he sniffed out a laugh, “you. Can’t believe you’ve graduated, seems like only yesterday you were leavin’ to go on your big college adventure.”

You pulled your lips into a tight smile, “yeah, I guess I’m a pretty big deal,” you giggled at your attempt to sound conceited, “heard the job market sucks though. Not looking forward to that.”

“Well, as long as you’ve got a good resume, shouldn’t be a problem for someone smart as you, right?” He gulped some of his wine down and then looked at you with those brown eyes that seemed to sparkle sometimes when the light hit them just right.

You felt your cheeks get flush over Steven endlessly complimenting your intelligence. This was the first time you’d really looked at Steven. He’d always just been your dad’s best friend. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but he always had a disheveled appearance, oversized clothes, and a nervous demeanor that didn’t exactly scream ‘lady's man’. The way he looked at you now though had your stomach fluttering with excitement. You noticed the way his eyes went half lidded as he looked you over too, as though you were the thing making him buzzed instead of the wine.

You cleared your throat, breaking the awkwardly silent trance you were both under.

“I actually don’t have a resume,” you said softly, realizing that he was probably going to think you were an idiot for not having the most basic thing you needed for a job in the first place.

“Oh we can’t have that can we? Tell you what,” his eyes seemed to light up, “I’m going to be gone two weeks on holiday after tomorrow, but when I get back, why don’t we go over that resume together? I’ve had to make one or two in my career.” Steven gave you his usual dopey smile, but this time you felt your stomach flutter.

You nodded, sipping your drink, “that would actually be amazing.” Someone called your name from outside, interrupting the casual conversation. “I gotta go, see you around, Steven.”

“Yeah…you too, love.”

After several hours and a few drinks later, you were sitting around the firepit with only your dad, one of your cousins and Steven. Steven was always telling fascinating mythological tales around the fire that had apparently bored everyone else in the audience. Your father was struggling to keep his eyes open while Steven rambled on about Khonshu, the moon god. Truth be told, you found it all extremely fascinating. You leaned on your hand, watching him and listening intently. He looked over at you and smiled. Steven’s smile was so fucking beautiful. Why hadn’t you noticed before tonight how good looking he was? This feeling you had was so wrong…but you wanted him so badly all of a sudden. It had to be the alcohol talking, that was the only logical explanation.

A little while later, you were tipsy and felt your eyelids closing involuntarily, no matter how hard you tried to keep them open.

They closed again, and when you opened them this time, it was only you and Steven left around the fire.

Closed again.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but the sudden movement stirred you awake. You were being carried by a set of strong arms. Did your dad come back to get you? No. He would’ve woken you up so you could walk to bed. You wrapped your arms around the man’s shoulders and buried your face in his neck. Steven, you thought.

He smelled like fresh linen sheets that had been on a clothesline all day. Your lips brushed the soft skin there, and you felt a strong sense of comfort wash over you. Alcohol had a way of making you forget to filter your emotions, and right now you were hoping Steven would never let go. You didn’t know why you felt that way. None of it made sense. It’s not like he’d made any sort of pass at you during your growing up. He certainly had been respectful all night.

When you got to your room, you stirred and looked up at him. He put you down gently, one foot at a time, but never took his eyes off of you, nor did you take your eyes off of him. You grabbed either side of his baggy denim jacket. You weren’t sure if the attraction was one sided or not until Steven grabbed your hip in one hand, and cupped your cheek in the other.

You went for it, closing the gap between your lips, not wanting to give the nervous man a second to reconsider. He must’ve drank too much as well just based on the way his tongue tasted in your mouth. It was delicious, exciting, and forbidden. Steven pushed you back onto the bed, never letting his mouth disconnect from yours. He climbed over you, taking you completely by surprise. You thought for sure that the usual ‘by the book good boy’ Steven wouldn’t dream of doing something with his best friend’s daughter, but here he was on top of you with his tongue down your throat.

Steven kissed along your jaw and moved to your neck, peppering soft and wet kisses there. You grabbed his hand, guiding it to the waist of your jeans. You clasped your hand over your mouth when he dragged his thick finger over your folds, finding your clit with ease. He teethed your earlobe, inciting a high pitched and muffled squeak from you.

“This is so stupid of me, shit,” Steven said through gritted teeth.

“It’s okay, we can just…we’re drunk, it will be like nothing happened tomorrow okay?” You looked at him, desperate for him to stay.

He peered up at you with a hooded and drunken gaze. His lips were swollen and glossy. He went back in for more sloppy kisses, moaning deeply into you while his fingers kept working over your greedy clit. You brought your hands up and tangled them in his locks.

You felt him churning his hips against your knee. He was hard, and from what you could tell he wasn’t lacking in size either. He never stopped working on you with his incredibly dexterous fingers though, rolling his fingers over that little nub that made you do the most morally questionable acts. You bit Steven’s lip, letting it snap back on his bottom teeth. He whimpered and you felt him start thrusting his hips faster against you.

“Steven, you feel so good. Don’t stop touching me please. I’m so…ah–so–close–I’m–oh shit.”

You came, cunt contracting in waves as Steven stole every moan from your mouth into his. He was grinding faster and faster against your leg until finally he stopped. You felt a wet heat soak through your jeans and onto your thigh while Steven was open mouth panting on top of you. Neither of you moved for a while. You weren’t sure what had him frozen in place, but for you it was the fear of looking him in the eye and realizing what you both had just done.

You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

You were the first to move, pushing him off of you and rushing to the bathroom to clean yourself up. When you saw yourself in the mirror you felt immediate disgust and regret. You shouldn’t have done that. That was your dad’s best friend, and you’d just let him get you off while he came in his pants on top of you.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

----

The next morning at breakfast, you and Steven kept stealing awkward glances at each other. He managed to make small talk with your father, not sounding much different than usual, but you and him both remembered what had happened the night before. You were struggling to figure out how things were going to go back to normal after that. How was he supposed to just keep coming over for get togethers and barbecues all summer now that you two had this weird thing between you?

“C-can you pass the orange juice?” You asked Steven, holding out your hand.

“You cold honey?” Your dad asked.

“Um, yeah a little, I’ll just put on a sweater when I go upstairs,” you damned your nervous stammering.

The moment your father went up to use the bathroom, you took the opportunity to talk to Steven who, at that moment, was clearly pretending to look at his phone. You were surprised to see someone like Steven using a smartphone. He always seemed like he was a little behind the times. You took a bite of your pancake and pointed at his phone with your fork.

“Whatchya lookin’ at?” You asked.

It seemed that actually talking to one another and pretending like nothing happened worked. Steven loosened up and showed you some pictures of the place he was going on his vacation. He was going to visit London, and talked excitedly about the museum they had there. He even joked that he’d like to bring you there some time. Except…it wasn’t a joke. Steven’s eyes were dead serious as he looked over at you.

“Steven I…we can’t…”

“I know…I’m sorry, sorry I shouldn’t have said anything, sorry.” He put his phone away quickly and sipped his orange juice.

When your dad came back downstairs, Steven seemed to have a hard time recollecting himself after his little comment. Breakfast ended abruptly with Steven looking at the clock and feigning surprise. He thanked your dad for letting him crash there for the night, made up some excuse as to why he needed to leave so suddenly and then waved goodbye to both of you before making a quick exit. You wondered if you were ever going to see him again.

----

For two weeks you fought off thoughts about your dad’s best friend. You tried so hard not to think about the way his arms felt carrying you up to bed the other night; so hard not to think about the way he smelled when you had your face buried in his neck; you tried so fucking hard not to think about the way his fingers felt brushing over your clit while he kissed you so passionately.

You were surprised when your father left for work and only a couple of hours later, Steven arrived. You hadn’t heard him come in, and nearly screamed when you heard papers shuffling downstairs while you were stepping out of the shower. You peered out the window and saw his car parked in the driveway. You let out a sigh of relief, realizing that there wasn’t a burglar in your home, but that initial fear was replaced with an anxiety that you couldn’t shake. Steven was there. He was actually there.

“He’s just here to help you with your resume,” you said to yourself in your vanity mirror, as though that was somehow supposed to stop the ache growing between your legs.

It wasn’t like it was easy to push away the thoughts that crept into your mind. You had to admit that there were a couple nights where you’d made a panting, wet mess of yourself while you imagined him buried deep inside of you, making you so cock dumb you could hardly breathe. Now you were alone together, and he was supposed to be helping you with your resume. You needed to pull yourself together. This was your dad’s best friend, and no good could come out of fulfilling your stupid fantasies.

When you finally came downstairs, dressed in something modest to help you both suppress your desires, you thought you were going to be able to stay strong. He was sitting on the couch, back to, fluffy dark curls in disarray as usual. Your mind, for a mere second, flashed to your fingers entangled in them, but you quickly shook he thought from your head.

You can do this, you said to yourself, it’s just Steven. It’s just good old–

The fucker turned around, bright eyes shining like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. You stopped in your tracks, pressing your hand to your chest like he’d just punched the air from your lungs. There were no words coming out of your mouth. You wanted to ask him how his trip was. You wanted to start discussing the pros and cons of putting certain extracurricular activities on your resume.

He stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. He was nervous. Why wasn’t he talking? You clearly weren’t going to be the one to say the first word, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. He didn’t talk, he just walked closer, each scuff of his shoe was deafening in the quiet air of your house.

“Stev–”

His lips were over yours before you could think, and you were falling into it hopelessly, grabbing the hem of his denim coat to pull yourself in closer. How was this happening? This was Steven, the guy who your dad trusted more than anyone, and he was grabbing both of your hips and pulling them tightly against his. You felt his prodding erection so strong and needy against your lower abdomen. If he couldn’t be the bigger person, you had to be. You pulled away from his arms while simultaneously pushing him back. He looked at you like a kicked puppy, lips pressed together tightly.

“Steven we can’t. We can’t,” you insisted, despite your wanting to let him bend you over the arm of the couch.

He nodded slowly, “I’m sorry I know. Sorry, I understand, truly love, it’s just…damn…sorry.”

He ran a hand through his hair and turned back to you. You walked up to him and put a hand on his back, looking over to meet his eye. He looked hurt by your rejection, but you knew he wasn’t stupid. You knew he understood why this, whatever this was, couldn’t continue for a moment longer. You both cared about your father so much, you couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him.

“S’not like I have girls throwing themselves at me y’know? I know I’m your dad’s best mate but…you’re so smart, you’re talented, not to mention incredibly beautiful I can’t–”

“Steven.”

“-and all they’ve ever done is laugh at me when I ramble on about the things I like, and you looked at me like—”

“Steven,” you repeated.

“-no one’s ever really cared about anything I’ve had to say. Not really and—”

“Steven!” Finally he stopped and looked at you. “I get it, and I’m sorry too. We just…can’t.”

You didn’t realize Steven had felt that way about you. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel the same, but you knew you couldn’t act on it. It wasn’t fair to your dad. After several more apologies, Steven determined he couldn’t bear to stay there and help you with your resume, so he grabbed his papers quickly and hurried out of your house.

----

After three weeks passed, you wondered if Steven would ever come back to your house. That is until your dad was on his way out the door for work and told you he’d received a text from Steven yesterday. Apparently he felt bad that you still didn’t have a job after being home all that time. Your cheeks grew hot immediately when you thought about the prospect of being alone with him again. Your dad left, and you just stood there wondering what you were going to do.

You could still remember what Steven’s lips tasted like, and what his hands felt like. You still thought about him when you were alone in your room gasping quietly with two fingers plunged deep inside your wet channel. You wanted him, but you were afraid. What if your dad found out? You couldn’t risk it…but maybe…maybe, Steven was worth the risk.

You thought for a moment about your alternatives; the men you were supposed to be interested in; the men who weren’t best friends with your father. In your experience, most of them treated you like you were an idiot and not worth their time. None of them acted like you were important to them. They certainly didn’t look at you as though you were the only woman in existence and tell you that you were smart, talented and beautiful.

They also didn’t know you like Steven did. Steven was there to talk to you on the late nights after a family barbecue when you couldn’t sleep and your dad was already in bed. He was there to help you with your impossibly difficult homework assignments, and he was there when you left for college, making sure you knew how to get around paying full price for your textbooks. – ‘Just buy them an edition or two under the one the professor asks you for, yeah? They’re pretty much the same thing and way cheaper.’ –

By the time he arrived a couple hours later, you realized that Steven was the obvious choice above all others, it was so clear. You walked down the stairs silently. Why were you still denying it? Was it because you knew there was no way it could really work out? Surely you’d be stuck perpetually lying and sneaking around to avoid getting caught. It would be an exciting endeavor at first, but it would stop being fun and eventually be downright exhausting. When you saw him this time, sitting there in your living room back to on the couch with his laptop and notebooks, you didn’t care anymore. All of that could get dealt with later. You wanted him in every way.

You wanted him now.

“Steven I–”

You froze in your tracks, seeing his laptop screen over the top of his head. He had a website open, a dating site. You could see the lewd messages between him and a pretty girl on the screen. Steven said a few curses while he tried to close the window, meanwhile you were trying to calm yourself down. You had no real reason to be upset. You’d turned him down, he was just doing what he should’ve been doing from the start, dating women that weren’t his best friend’s kid. That didn’t stop you from feeling the disappointment pool in your gut like a bad meal.

“Sorry, just…there.”

He finally got the window moved and now had a text document open. You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from collapsing on the floor. Why was this bothering you so much? It should’ve been a relief. He was moving on, and now you could too. It was simple. Life could go back to normal.

“Actually…” You gulped harshly, holding back the tears that threatened just behind the surface, “actually I wish dad had asked me before he texted you. I don’t need…” you gestured to him and the area surrounding, “this anymore.”

“What, you don’t need—oh, I see what’s happenin’ here,” Steven’s smile grew over his face, and for a moment you felt hopeful that he was going to scoop you up and kiss your sorrows away.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah…I do…you missy got a job and you haven’t told your dad yet!” He walked over and grabbed your shoulders. Was this the part where he kissed you?

Nope.

“Congratulations! See, I knew you were brilliant. Didn’t even need me after all.”

It would seem that the universe was looking out for you anyway. Your dad walked through the door having forgotten his lunch in the fridge earlier that morning. He mumbled about how he was glad they let him leave to grab it, but damned himself still for forgetting it in the first place. If you and Steven had been standing there, tongues down each other’s throats…you wouldn't have been caught so easily. It would appear the rejection was a blessing in disguise.

Steven kept your ‘secret’ about the job you didn’t really have and proceeded to strike up a conversation with your dad while you just felt the world crumble around you. You’d never felt such a pit of dread in your stomach. You felt numb, and walked up to your room, deciding to stay there for the remainder of the day.

----

You weren’t thrilled at the prospect of Steven coming by to check on you while your dad was out of town for the week. Steven had seemed to have moved on easily from you. You even heard your dad talking about how he had a girl he’d taken on a date a couple of times. You wondered if it was the same girl he was messaging on the dating site. Two dates within the last two weeks. He must’ve really been smitten with her. Meanwhile, you were spending your evenings trying to stop thinking about that stupid night you’d spent together, and how much you regretted all of it.

But mostly you regretted pushing him away when he’d come back from his holiday.

When he finally showed up, it was after dinner. You were sitting on the couch watching some crappy movie about five guys taking down a Columbian drug lord. You paused the movie and turned around to see him standing there. He was so handsome. Your stomach fluttered wildly, making you feel nauseous. You turned back to the tv and pressed play again, not saying a word.

“Hi love. Just coming in to check on you, y’know? Your father asked me to so…here I am,” he sounded timid, like he was trying to calm down a wild animal. He knew you were upset…was it that obvious?

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need him there anyway, checking in on you. You were twenty-two, not seven. He had no reason to be there other than your father acting over protective in a way that was even more annoying than he could possibly understand. Steven walked around to the other side of the couch and sat down. Looking up at the screen, he pointed and chuckled.

“Never seen this film before, but don’t think that’s very smart, burnin’ their money like that yeah?” He shifted, wiping his hands on his pants.

He was nervous again.

You finally looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay here. You can tell my dad you checked on me and just go.”

“I’m guessing you heard about Jane…”

“Didn’t know her name,” you said coldly, “but yeah, I heard about her.”

“I just thought that…if you really didn’t want this, whatever this is, then I’d better find some way to move on. Maybe you should—”

“I’ll be right back,” you slammed the remote down and started for the stairs.

“I’ll pause it if you—”

“Nope! Enjoy the movie Stevie!”

You had no right.

You had no right to be as angry as you were about Steven finding someone that he could spend time with out in the open. He could kiss her in the street, he could take her on a date, he could bring her over and put his arm around her in front of your dad. She could give him all the things that you couldn’t.

Now it was too late. You were sitting in your room, trying desperately not to cry so loudly that Steven would hear you from downstairs. Either you failed in your attempt to be quiet, or he was going to come up to your room whether he heard you or not, because he pushed your door open with a low creak. You looked up at him, standing there with his hands balled up in fists in front of himself. He looked almost like a child who was afraid of getting in trouble.

“Love?” He asked.

You wiped your eyes quickly, turning away so he couldn’t see you.

“Please go away, Steven,” you said in a nasally tone.

“Yeah, I will…in a minute.”

You felt the bed shift next to you and you turned your back to him completely, crossing your legs on the bed. You felt uncomfortable knowing he was right behind you. Your feelings of discomfort were amplified when you felt his hand on your shoulder with a light tug. He was strong, and you weren’t in a position to fight back, so you fell into his chest.

“Are we gonna talk about this or are we going to keep pretending we don’t feel…something?” He asked, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Y’know I only went out with her because you made it exceptionally clear that you were finished with me...but I never stopped thinking about you.”

“We’re going to keep pretending,” you turned around and looked at him deeply, “because it’s wrong, Steven.”

“So then let’s just…” he leaned in close to you, “we can just let it go if…” you leaned closer, “if you want.”

“We really shouldn’t…” his nose brushed against yours, “if we get caught my dad…” your mouths were almost touching, “he’ll be so mad I–”

It was over. You pushed Steven back onto the bed and kissed him sloppily, desperate to feel him again. You straddled him and already felt the strength of his erection pressing against you through his pants. He grabbed your hips and held them in place, rubbing himself against you hungrily. While it did feel good, having him dry hump you and feeling the sweet friction of the clothes you wore against your needy clit, you wanted more.

“Get your pants off, please,” you practically begged, working on discarding your own bottoms.

Steven complied, and when he did you froze in awe at the size of him. He was bigger than you’d thought he would be which excited you as you climbed over him again. You felt his fat tip prodding at your entrance, becoming slick with your juices. He rested a large hand on either of your hips, squeezing hard. You thought he was going to let you set the pace but…

“Sorry love, sorry I–” he grunted and thrust upward into you while simultaneously pulling you down, gasping as he did, “-oh just had to feel you—oh shit. Been thinkin’ about it f’so long now.”

“Oh-Steven oh my–” you fell forward, leaning down to kiss him while he jackhammered into you at an unforgiving pace.

The sound of skin slapping skin was deafening and he never slowed the speed at which he fucked you from below. You tried to keep your lips over his but you couldn’t so you sat upright, looking down at him. He licked his bottom lip and then trapped it under his top teeth. Both of his large hands were gripping your thighs, holding you in place with a bruising strength.

“Lean back f’me, love. Grab my legs.”

You whined as you did what he asked, arching back and grabbing onto his shins.

“There you go darling, now slide back and forth.” You started rocking your hips as he’d instructed, dragging his cock along your walls in a delicious rhythm. “Yeah, there y’go, just like that.”

Your jaw fell open when Steven pressed the pad of his thumb on your clit. He started rolling his finger over the sensitive nub, circling gently. You whined at the touch, looking down at him. His strong jaw was still clenched while he bit his bottom lip. You kept sliding yourself back and forth, taking his cock as deep as you could and feeling the way it would twitch inside of you on every pass. He felt so good, any reservations you had were gone, he was all you wanted…all you needed.

“Does that feel good, love? You’re squeezing so tight–god–it’s so…”

Steven was still using his free hand to hold onto your thigh and help your movements. You could feel him churning his hips what little bit he could in rhythm with your own. Thank goodness your father wasn’t home or there would be no denying what you were doing. You were practically screaming Steven’s name while he dragged his fat cock against that sweet spot deep inside of you. His thumb kept brushing over your clit, sending electric currents through your entire body.

“Feels so good Steven–yes ah!”

He shocked you when he sat up so suddenly, bringing his face close to yours. You kissed him deeply and started sliding up and down over him. He disconnected his lips from yours and looked at you, eyes so hooded with desire that you’d think he was drunk if you didn’t know any better.

“Love the way you work yourself on me darling. You look so pretty when you’re taking what you want from me. Don’t stop–mm yes–just–like–that.”

You’d never heard Steven’s voice sound so rough and wrecked before. He lifted your shirt and took one of your nipples into his mouth, humming into your breast as he did. When you looked down all you could see was his brown curls peeking out under your shirt. His hands worked to spread your ass cheeks and help you move while you continued grinding down on top of him. You felt a bead of spit trickling down your torso from Steven’s continued mawing at your chest.

“Steven, not gonna make it much longer!” You whined loudly.

“I know love, I can feel it,” he grunted. “Just let go f’me, I’m right there.”

If not for Steven’s strong arms continuing the pace, you would’ve stopped moving the moment your orgasm took over your body. It felt so good your legs went completely numb, struggling to hold you up. You felt your cunt squeezing around his girth, contracting and releasing while you gushed over him. His hips shot up, one harsh snap as his own climax peaked, hot white spend filling you so full that you felt it leak out around the sides of his cock.

You were both a breathless heap when you were done and coming back down from your high. You found yourself wrapped in his arms in your bed while sleep took you both over. You never thought in a million years that you and Steven would’ve done something so intimate, but now that you’d actually felt him, and been so close to him, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

----

Steven had awoken the following morning next to you and you wondered what would take place after that. Was he going to want to continue seeing you, or was he going to continue seeing that Jane girl?

He was going to continue seeing Jane…and then he didn’t see you again for another three weeks. When he’d left that morning after he ‘checked’ on you, he assured you that continuing to date her would be a way of throwing your father off your trail. The two of you would be able to keep seeing each other in secret, and your dad wouldn’t think anything of it. The only problem was, you weren’t seeing each other at all. Steven straight up blew you off, so when your dad told you he was coming over for dinner, you felt anxious almost immediately.

Dinner was almost ready when your phone buzzed on the counter. You picked it up. Joey, the guy you’d met last week at the local coffee shop was asking if you were still on for tomorrow night. You replied, ‘yes’, and then put your phone in your pocket. As hard as it was, going out with someone else was a necessary step in getting things back to normal. Steven clearly had no intention of pursuing things with you further, so why were you going to wait for him? It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell to let him go though, after everything you’d been through together.

When he walked into the house sporting his usual nervous smile and disheveled dark locks, you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was still so handsome. It’s not like you expected that to change, but you’d hoped that maybe you would’ve stopped mentally putting him on a pedestal by now so you could move on. But you didn’t, and you couldn’t.

“Hey, Steven.” You said coldly with a glare to match as he approached the dining table.

“Oh, hey!” He looked genuinely happy to see you.

You tried so hard not to look like you wanted to turn him to stone with your gaze, but you couldn’t help it. After the night you’d shared together, and the things he said you would do under your dad’s nose, him standing you up had done nothing but piss you off. You didn’t even want to go on a date with the loser from the coffee shop, you’d just wanted something…anything to help clear your mind from Steven, and yet here he was, sitting right in front of you, acting like nothing fazed him at all.

You wasted no time telling him about the date.

“Steven, I wanted to tell you how excited I am about tomorrow night, I’m going on a date!”

You looked up from your plate to see Steven with a forkful of mashed potatoes sitting in front of his wide open mouth. He seemed to be frozen by your words, and a snide smirk rested over your face. He popped the mash into his mouth, getting a little on his chin and shirt while he just kept looking at you.

“Well…” he said, mouth full and using his napkin to dab his chin, “that’s…erm…that’s good innit?” He took a huge gulp of wine.

You shrugged, “I suppose. Sometimes you just have to take what you want when things don’t go your way.”

The conversation wasn’t about you and Joey anymore.

You swigged your own wine down in one gulp. Steven’s whole demeanor changed, like he was mentally disconnected from the conversation, even while he spoke.

“Oh, erm, you like this guy then? He’s nice?” He wasn’t looking at you, instead he was poking the food on his plate nervously.

“I don’t know,” you tried to sound indifferent, “if nothing else he’ll be a good distraction. Keep things interesting.”

Steven nodded, and looked back up at you. He was forcing himself to eat, you could tell by the way he popped his fork into his mouth again unenthusiastically. His eyes were glossing over. You knew he was seconds from the waterworks and you hoped that your dad didn’t notice. When you looked in your father’s direction, he was fixated on his own phone, likely something to do with work.

Steven finally responded, “good…it will be good for you to find someone you can spend time with then.”

“He’s right, you know.” Your dad chimed in, seemingly oblivious to the private conversation you and Steven were having right under his nose. “You’ve got a good job, now it’s time to find someone who makes you happy right?”

“Yeah, he is right isn’t he? I mean…he’s got someone to make him happy, Judy, right Steven? So he should know how nice it feels.” You kept your eyes on your dad who admittedly looked at you quizzically when you said something so clearly pointed at Steven.

You just made it uncomfortably awkward…even more so than it already was.

“Who wants more wine?” You asked, getting up and going to the kitchen, effectively ending the awkward exchange.

The glasses of wine were filled while you and Steven continued to avoid looking at each other. You both guzzled down three more glasses each while your father and he entertained more small talk. When dinner concluded, he got up and went outside to start putting together a fire, and your dad asked you to do the dishes and join them when you were finished.

You did the dishes, but you didn’t join them. You told your dad you weren’t feeling well and instead retreated to your room. The last thing you wanted to do was continue the awkwardness that transpired at the dinner table. You thought that would be the end of it, that Steven would have enough sense to just let you walk away and let the spark between you both die down.

You were wrong.

Your father had gone to bed almost a half hour before you heard Steven working his way upstairs. You thought for sure he would walk right by your room and go to the guest room, but he didn’t. Steven twisted your door handle and walked in, closing the door quickly while he stepped inside. You sat up and looked at him with confusion, rubbing the fatigue from your eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” You asked. He stumbled so you got up quickly and put your hands on his shoulders. “Hey! Careful. Here…sit down.”

You helped him onto your bed hurriedly before your dad woke up to his drunk friend being a little too noisy in your bedroom. Steven groaned and covered his face with his hands, slouching over.

“I’m so dumb, I’m sorry. Listen to me love, please, just listen and don’t kick me out.” Steven looked at you with those eyes that made your body melt into a puddle every time you saw them.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “What?” Maybe you sounded a little too harsh, but to say you were angry was an understatement.

He took a deep breath, “I made a huge mistake. I am so sorry I tried to gather the courage to reach out to you, but then I thought about your dad and I started to feel a bit guilty.”

“It’s a little late for that isn’t it?”

“A bit…yeah a bit…but I still felt it. And like, wakin’ up next to you was the best moment of my entire life. I can’t even begin to describe it, it was like–“

“I know Steven, I felt the same.”

Relief flooded over his body and that love-dumb smile spread across his lips. He grabbed both of your hands and pulled you to stand between his legs, resting his face between your breasts. You felt a vibration across your sternum from him mumbling to you. You stepped back and looked down at him.

“What?”

“I said, I’m sorry.” His eyes were glossy again. “I didn’t have the courage to reach out to you, and then it had been over a week and I thought surely I shouldn’t reach out to you now because you’d be angry no doubt. I wanted to, I really, really–”

You were a certified moron for kissing him right then. He didn’t prove to you in the slightest that he cared about you, not with his actions anyway, but you were still a little buzzed from the wine you’d had earlier, and you felt the arousal building between your legs. Not to mention the small part of you that actually believed the words coming out of his mouth. When you tried to pull away from the kiss, Steven wrapped his arms around your bottom and pulled you close. You conceded, cupping his cheeks and sucking his lower lip in between your teeth.

If kissing Steven was one thing, it was messy, sloppy, and wet. He tasted like wine and something entirely unique to Steven. You wanted to devour him in every sense of the word, to feel him around you and inside of you all at once. He was faster than you, quickly removing his pants and getting them down around his ankles, staying positioned still on the edge of the bed.

The cheap lace panties you’d worn must’ve had a small tear already started, that or Steven was deceptively strong, because he ripped them all too easily. He threw them aside like they’d personally wronged him and you moved to straddle him on the edge of the mattress. The thick head of his cock was already prodding so hungrily against your greedy hole. You finally took your mouth off Steven’s and looked at him. He was so pretty, lips glossy and swollen from your oral onslaught.

“Did you fuck her?” You asked, breathless.

Steven shook his head, “no, couldn’t bring m’self to do that to you love. Not a chance.”

He leaned up and kissed you again, even harder than before, which you didn’t think was possible. You took your frustration out on his lips, still mad at him for leaving you high and dry for so long. Oh but you weren’t dry now, you were anything but dry. Steven grabbed your hips in both of his big hands and pulled you down roughly over his length. You moaned deeper into his mouth, attempting to keep yourself from alerting your father who was, hopefully, sleeping down the hall.

Steven grabbed your asscheeks firmly and started bouncing you like you were weightless over his girth. He was hitting you so deep, filling you so full you could hardly stand it. You couldn’t bring yourself to take your lips from his though. The way they felt, the fixation you had on making the flesh there all raw and slick was maddening.

He was so noisy, not only in the way the bed creaked with his movements, but his hungry moans that you gladly swallowed whole would wake the neighborhood if you didn’t stifle them somehow. You broke it off and looked down at him. His puffy lips, so swollen from your relentless sucking, were spit soaked and shining.

“You need to quiet down Steven or my dad is going to hear us,” you whispered softly.

“I know love I know it just-oh my God–it just feels–it feels so good.”

He grabbed the back of your neck for more sloppy kisses, as though they were his life support. Now one-handed, he relied on you to take over the motions, and you were happy to comply. You slid yourself up and down over his fat cock, feeding him your whines and whimpers while it split you open. He pulled your head back, breaking your faces apart once again.

“Don’t want you going on that date love, I don’t like it,” he looked at you so heartbroken you slowed your movements.

“I have to go Steven, we can’t let my dad know that we’re up to something, and if we’re both dating someone else then–” He interrupted you with his mouth again, “—then he’ll never suspect that–” another, “—we’re together.”

Steven shook his head, “don’t like the thought.”

He picked you up and laid you on your back without pulling out of you. Now you were both on the bed, him on top of you, thrusting slowly in what you assumed was an attempt to keep the noise to a minimum. You wished he could slam into you harder, despite knowing it would be a huge mistake.

“Don’t want you with someone else. Don’t want you makin’ these sounds for anyone else.” His face buried into the crook of your neck, leaving soft kisses there.

A sharp gasp escaped you when he nipped your neck. He started licking and sucking the skin there. You whined from the pain; he was drawing the flesh into his mouth harshly.

“Steven, you're going to leave a mark,” you warned, trying to pull yourself away from his mouth.

He hummed against you, fucking harder and sucking harder. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from alerting your father to what you and Steven were doing. That’s when you felt the arousal pooling like hot lava in your core. It came on so fast, hitting you like a wave until you were gushing and clenching around his wide girth. Steven choked out a low moan, finally releasing the hold he had on your neck. You felt him filling you, hot cum squelching out around him as he thrusted through his orgasm.

When you were both finished, he was breathing heavily with his face still resting on your neck. You knew why he was staying. You understood what he was feeling because you felt it too. You didn’t want to let go. An eternity could go by and it wouldn’t be enough time with him. He lifted himself up on his elbows and then leaned down to kiss you one more time.

“You’ve got to go on that date darling, I know you do but…I don’t want to ever hear about it alright? When we’re together, we don’t need to talk about any of it, I won’t talk about…her either. Please.” His eyes darted between yours rapidly.

You nodded, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “okay, not a word.”

----

You’d never felt so stupid.

There you were, standing in the rain outside of the restaurant where you’d been stood up. Your dad was gone for the weekend on business, and you didn’t know who else to call, that’s why you called him. He’d always be there for you, you knew that. No matter the situation, no matter the time, he would always come to your rescue.

Steven.

He pulled up to the sidewalk, stopping fast right in front of you, a little water splashing up and nearly getting all over your shoes. Steven was fast to run over, umbrella at the ready for the short walk to the car. You didn’t even need the thing, truth be told, but you weren’t going to tell him that. He looked so damn happy just to be your knight in shining armor.

“It’s pourin’ out, love! Why didn’t you wait inside?” He yelled over the rain.

You ignored his question, finding yourself only focused on the way his dampened curls framed his handsome face. Maybe you did need the umbrella after all; It kept you both dry while you grabbed his coat and pulled him close, slotting your lips over his in a deep, passion filled kiss. He used his free hand to tug you in even closer by the small of your back.

“Steven…” You looked up at him and found yourself lost in the beauty of his sparkling eyes.

“Darling, you’re gonna catch a cold out here if we don’t get inside the car,” he held out his arm, “how about I get you home to change and then take I’ll take you out on a real date, hm?”

Your stomach fluttered at the thought. A real date? With Steven? You took his arm and let him lead you to the car, but your mind was still racing. He got on the other side and started driving off.

“You want to take me on a date?” You looked over at him incredulously.

He started his usual stammering, “w-well I mean…if you’d like to, y-yeah. Not gonna make you do anythin’ you don’t want to, I was just thinkin–”

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to.”

You pulled down the mirror in the car. You looked like a drowned rat, and felt grateful that Steven had offered to bring you home prior to taking you out on a date. Your makeup was running down your cheeks and your tight red dress was soaked through. You chuckled and flipped the visor back up. You really did look like shit. You wouldn’t even want to take you out looking like that.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, it’s just, what about my dad? We can’t just go out together, what if someone sees us? And what about Jane? I’m sure if she catches you out with another woman she won’t be too happy.”

Steven pulled into the driveway. It was awkwardly quiet except for the rain pitter pattering on the windshield. You didn’t get out right away, you were feeling too overwhelmed to move. On one hand, you were seriously considering the future with Steven. It was clear that you were both too hung up on each other to keep this hidden. On the other hand, you couldn’t fathom telling your father about this. What would he say?

“Well for starters, I broke up with Jane,” you looked over at Steven, eyes wide and buzzing from his words. “I felt too guilty stringing her along while I knew my heart wasn’t in it and…” he took your hand in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles softly, “every time I was with her, I felt miserable that I wasn’t with you.”

“What do you think we should do then?” You asked, looking at him and hoping he had some magical solution that didn’t involve telling your dad…ever.

“We have to tell your father, love. I know it’s not what you want to hear but…I can’t keep doin’ this. I want to be with you. Not hidin’, not sneakin’ about. I want to take you out and spoil you and be a real couple, you know?”

Damn it.

“Alright,” you let out the breath you’d been holding for far too long. Despite the anxiety pooling in your chest, you smiled, “let’s go on that date then.”

----

Moon Knight DBF Masterlist

Moon Knight Masterlist

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tojisbbygworl · 9 months

Text

Just For The Night - Hobie Brown x Black!Punk!Reader epilogue

Summary: Two anarchists thought one night was all they had. Only one of them accepted it.

Characters: Mentioned-Miguel, Gwen

Featured-Hobie, Miles

Words: 4,090

Tags: 18+, 3rd person, Angst, Bittersweet, Hurt/Comfort, Hobie needs a hug, Sexually Explicit Thoughts, Mentions of Sex, Yandere if you squint, Doesn’t follow ATSV events, Miles/Gwen 17+, Hobie and You 21+Yearning, The authors barely disguised obsession with Older Brother Hobie/Younger Brother Miles head cannon, Slight OOC

author’s note: the moment y’all have been waiting for, the angsty epilogue and the FINAL part to JFTN. This lil series was very fun to imagine and I’m gonna miss these two, Ik y’all will too.

Okay have fun hope y’all cry!

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

"Come on...come on..." Hobie's tongue rested on his upper lip as he concentrated on finishing his latest project...his own interdimensional watch.

It was easy, really. There's so much tech laying around HQ that Miguel won't notice a couple gadgets missing from his arsenal. Hobie was a master of pick-pocketing and Miguel should know better. In fact, he should have expected this, what with being the leader of an elite group of superpowered geniuses. He bets he's not even the only one who's made their own and everyone else is just keeping it under wraps. Or at least, that what he tried to tell Miles.

"Don't listen to that arse," he had whispered to him upon leaving Miguel's 'lair', as everyone liked to put it. It was the day after their little get together and Hobie's...ahem...escapades. As he had expected, they were caught. It's really all Hobie's fault for staying with Y/N so long, but Miles definitely placed all the blame on himself. Miguel was his usual annoyed and angry self, but since it was directed at them, and Miles was such a people pleaser, he scared him good. Miles looked like a ghost leaving that room with Hobie. "He'll forget about it in a week, trust."

Unfortunately, his words went unheard as Miles continued to stare at the ground while they walked. Hobie pat him on the back. "Oi, cut yourself some slack. So you got in trouble for the first time, there's many more to come what with a boss man like that."

"Y-Yeah..." the kid managed to squeak out. Hobie frowned feeling regretful. It hurt seeing him so dejected. Needless to say, Hobie would not be asking Miles to dimension-hop any time soon, not that he would even want to.

Gwen gave Hobie an earful too; Miles was so afraid of being caught again that he only wanted to meet at HQ, much to her displeasure. "You better fix this," she said, finger waving angrily in his face.

So, here he was, many months later with his 3rd prototype, hoping and praying that it would work. He already ran the idea across Miles who swiftly rejected it. He was shocked at how many things Hobie had to steal to work on it, and his conscious would never allow for that. That's fine, Hobie can do all the stealing for him.

"Why are you doing this anyway?" Miles asked him on his 2nd prototype.

"Why not?" He obnoxiously responded. Miles huffed and rolled his eyes. “Maybe I want to see my bro again without Miguel hounding him for it.” He suggested. “Gonna make you your own when I’m done with this one.”

Miles held his hands up and shook his head. “Woah, nuh-uh. No sir. I don’t want nothing to do with that.”

Hobie shrugged. “Fine, then. I’ll make it for Gwendy instead.”

He seemed fine with that, and Hobie knew that at some point he would warm up to the idea of having his own watch. Until then, he didn’t mind traveling over to Earth-1610 whenever he could.

Hobie had to be completely honest with himself. Them getting caught and Miles’s paranoia was the the original reason he began this project, but it wasn’t the only reason. There was someone else he was trying to see on Earth-1610.

Since that day, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Often times he was caught daydreaming by his friends and colleagues alike. Hobie was never someone who had their head the clouds, it was very jarring to see. During these moments he was remembering her sweet voice, her amazing personality and even better music taste.

He had so much respect for her and what she’d been through. He wished he could just give her a hug. Pick her up and take her to where she’ll be safe. With him. For as long as possible.

He also remembered how mesmerized he was seeing her face for the first time. And her body. Her tits constrained by her fishnets with her nipples pressing against the string. How sweet she tasted while she gushed into his mouth, how good it felt when she squeezed herself around him, and wishing he could have came inside her instead of a condom. He’s become the owner to many injuries during missions and countless teasing from his band mates.

All the more reason to finish this watch as quickly as possible. Clearly, his brain was telling him that he needed to see her again. He needs to hear her voice, feel her touch, lick her clit, make her scream his name.

Okay, he was getting a bit carried away, but the point was, as time went on, the ache in his chest grew, and found himself missing her more and more. He’s been spending all of his free time on this hunk of junk, he needed to finish this for his own sanit-

There was a small beeping sound. Then, light.

“Oh, shit!” He exclaimed as it turned on. So as to not fuck it up, he placed it down gently onto his desk and backed away from it. When he tried to turn on the 1st one, it sparked then died. And the second turned on completely only to blow up in his face soon after.

He took in a deep breath, “Okay.” Grabbing the device with his sweaty hands, he pressed a few buttons. 1-6-1-0.

He stepped back and watched the portal open. He gave himself some time to calm down after jumping around and pumping his fists in the air, took another deep breath, and walked in…

…only to end up inside of his own bedroom.

“Ugh,” he threw his head back and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. So he created a watch that could make portals, just not inter dimensional ones. That’s okay. It’s a start. Next time, he’ll get it.

Okay, so he didn’t get it next time. This time, it goes to the wrong universe. It’s always nice seeing Spider-Sun anyway. It’s cool. It’s whatever. Next time.

So he didn’t get it right again, what’s the big deal? So what if this one only goes to one universe even though his last watch could do multiple? Next time for sure.

It caught on fire.

It melted.

This one just fell apart.

By the 15th attempt, Hobie was burned out. At this point, he was just doing it out of boredom. He was close to calling it quits, but something was telling him not to give up. The next one, for sure.

“Pfft, yeah right.” he scoffed to himself after turning on the 16th and final prototype. If this one didn’t work, then that was it. Gwen would just have to deal.

He stared at the forming portal in complete disinterest. At least it turned on this time, but he had the strongest feeling that this one was defective. Why wouldn’t it be? All the other ones were.

Hobie sighed and walked through it, ready to end up in the middle of a jungle in some other dimension. “Just one last time…”

Y/N’s not sure what she’s still doing awake. It was extremely late and she had accepted an early booking tomorrow. She should be asleep, it’s never good to tattoo when you’re sleepy. However, her body just refused to relax.

She was bored as all hell scrolling through Instagram and Twitter on her phone. There was nothing else better to do. She already smoked, ate, and gotten ready for bed. From her laptop the theme song to Pretty Little Liars echoed through the room.

Almost every night was this way, relaxing in the comfort of her own home, a show playing on her computer or music through her speaker, eating pasta, a joint in her hand. And as calming as it was, as much as she needed this serenity in her life, she wished there was more.

She’s not entirely sure what she means by ‘more’. She goes out with friends a lot, but after an hour or two, her head starts to hurt from the weed and alcohol and all she wishes is to be in her soft comfy bed. No, she definitely didn’t mean partying or nightlife. She had the smallest inkling that there was something out there. Something bigger than her. She wanted it so badly, but she doesn’t even know what ‘it’ is.

The last time she felt any sort of rush or excitement was months ago, the night of the concert. Whew. That man, Hobie, was the finest looking thing she had seen for a while. She doesn’t know what got into her that night, telling him all her business like that. Was she insane?

Was he? He did tell her he had killed a cop, and he proudly wears his achievement. As he should. She really really liked that about him. His boldness. And he wasn’t just that, he was also kind and respectful, even though she would have let him do whatever he wanted to her without having to ask.

He wasn’t afraid to let her know that he wanted her, badly. And that was probably the most attractive thing about him.

She woke up that morning feeling stupid when the cold bed made her heart pang and eyes water. Why was she even sad? This is what they agreed on. He finished the roach with her, took down her hair, fell asleep sucking on her tit, then left at some point during the night. No problems, no complaints. Maybe that’s what made her so sad.

She wished he stayed until she woke up, or at the very least, shook her awake when he was getting ready to leave. But, it’s on her for having a crush on him.

It got better as time went on. She still missed him dearly, but she began to accept that he was just one of those people you meet once and then never see again, but that you’ll never forget. She does know that if it was possible, she would be open to seeing him again, but it wasn’t.

Hobie wasn’t the only guy who had been plaguing her mind for the past few months. Recently, she found herself becoming more intrigued with Spider-Man. He was an enigma, no one really knew much about him or where he came from after Peter Parker’s death. She heard he was Puerto Rican, which she thought was pretty cool.

What intrigued her was sometimes Spider-Man wasn’t around. It happened around a year ago, now. He used to be everywhere. At every problem in Brooklyn from petty crime to another monster of the week. At some point last year, some crazy scientist at Alchemax had turned himself into a lizard and almost turned everyone else in the city into one too until he came flying in at the last moment. After that, it’s been extremely close calls. Y/N’s friend, Kailani, witnessed the whole thing from where the both of them were supposed to meet up. She said Spider-Man came in through a portal in the sky. Weird.

Things always turned out right in the end. Somehow, someway, he would show up eventually. But Y/N wondered, what could be keeping him so occupied?

The water from the shower turned off and she heard the curtains draw. After 15 minutes of rumbling in the bathroom, the door opened. She put her phone down to acknowledge the presence in her bed room. “Still awake, ma?”

She nodded although knowing he was about to join her made her eyes a bit heavy. Mattias turned off the light and hopped in bed. With his head on her chest, she felt warm and comfy as he completely engulfed her body. He was shirtless and had his arm around her waist. That along with the insulation from the blanket almost made her knock out.

Mattias put her phone on the nightstand. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” she said jokingly.

“You always looking at that thing,” he answered. “Time to give me attention.”

“Well that’s too damn bad ‘cause I’m about to go to sleep.”

He smacked his teeth. “So you can be awake all this time but as soon as I want to get in bed with you, you want to sleep?” She didn’t answer, giving him a fake snore as a response. “Ight, then.”

He starts to roll over in the bed until she grasps his torso. He laughs and adjusts the both of them so that her head was laying on his chest instead. “You still want to go to sleep, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” she says, her brain already shutting down.

“Go to sleep then, pretty girl.”

Ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of her head to check her blinds, she drifted off into a deep and comforting sleep, her last thoughts being Hobie, Spider-Man, and the unknown. She could feel in her heart that there was more to the world than it seemed (apparently scientists are theorizing the existence of alternate dimensions) and she desperately wanted to know more about it. Maybe even see it for herself. But, right now she was just a girl (wanted felon but whatever) who lived in a small apartment in Brooklyn, working at a tattoo and piercing shop and occasionally getting involved with dudes from Queens like the one laying in her bed currently. He probably wouldn’t be there next week and the week after there’ll be a different one. And she was okay with that…

…Hobie was far from okay.

When he stepped through the portal he walked to the edge of the building’s rooftop. When he looked at the gigantic Koka-Kola billboard he knew he was in the right place. “Finally,” he yelled. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, an overwhelming sense of pride filling him.

On another billboard, the time was 1:01 am. “Shit,” he said to himself pulling his mask over his face. He immediately got to swinging towards where he remembered she lived. “I hope she’s up.” And even if she wasn’t , he would come see her another day.

When he turned on the corner of her apartment building, he let out a silent “yes”. He could see her room light was on through her window. But, before he could reach it, he paused and took a second to think.

How was he going to greet her again? It was 1 in the morning, and she hadn’t seen him for a while. She thought she would never see him again. How would she feel about him knocking on her door right now? How would that make him look?

Hmm…maybe he didn’t think this through all the way. He should go then come back at a better time…but, what time would be better? He doesn’t know her schedule and he won’t know what time it is. Shit…what should he do?

Okay, maybe he won’t talk to her tonight. He has to come up with a better plan. But, at the very least, he just has to see her.

His heart grows frantic as he swings to her rooftop. He jumped side to side for a minute and took some deep breaths to psych himself up. Then, he climbed off the roof and down to her window. To anyone else, this would have been creepy and an insane invasion of privacy, but Hobie couldn’t find it in him to care. He ignored everything in him telling him this was a bad idea.

He should have listened.

When he first laid his eyes on her again, he felt the butterflies he felt that night, but tenfold. She was just on her phone, obviously bored. He wanted to kiss her and watch her poker face turn into a cute smile. She looked adorable with her little bonnet and oversized t-shirt. He was so busy admiring her that he failed to notice the man walking in until she acknowledged him first.

Watching some guy waltz into her room like he lived there, pants hanging low and his shirt missing almost made him fall. All he could do was stare as that same guy plopped onto her and her bored look became happy. Hobie watched the two of them fall asleep in each other’s arms then crawled back to the roof and sat on the ledge.

His mask made him expressionless, But underneath it, he was hurt. He looked at his hands in defeat. He tried to be numb, but then he continued to think about what had just happened. He was desperate to see her again, to talk to her, to hold her, to kiss all her problems away. Now that he had his new watch, he could have had something with her. But he couldn’t think that anymore.

His chest twisted and curdled in anxiety and dejection. He had to admit it, he was heartbroken. He knew the two of them had a connection that night. He knew she felt it. The second round was just as good if not better than the first. She rode him in her bed slowly and sensually. His voice cracked so much that night, she had him absolutely gone. ‘I wish I could stay inside you’. Why would she tell him she wanted the same? Was it just sex?

He’s being ridiculous. He knows what happened: she moved on.

He didn’t want her to. He really didn’t want her to. He should have told her that he would see her again. He should have…done something.

Hobie lifted his legs and turned around to sit down on the roof. With his legs angled and knees in the air, he pulled off his mask to reveal his anguished face.

Hobie looked into the night sky. He was way too hung up on this girl. Look at him, sitting on her roof fighting tears because she has someone who isn’t him. Serves him right for getting a crush.

Man, maybe Miguel has a point about universe-hopping.

bonus

Tap Tap Tap

Groggy as all hell, Miles blinked slowly as the sound on the window woke him up. He looked in annoyance quickly shifting to happiness then worry once he realized who it was. “Hobie?” He checked the time on his phone that was charging next to him. “After 1:15 in the morning, bro?”

Miles stood up and cracked his back. Hobie moved to the side as the window opened and took off his mask. “‘Ight man, what’s up? Anomaly? Miguel?” He sounded dead tired, but once he saw his downtrodden expression, his nerves were on 10. “You okay?”

It wasn’t the first time they sat atop the dormitory’s roof, but it felt different now. The mood was serene but heavy. Hobie hadn’t really said a word, just messing with something in his lap. He had started climbing and Miles followed.

Hobie was sitting up with his legs crossed whereas Miles laid on his back a bit of a distance away. His hands behind his neck, he stared at the star speckled dark blue sky. Every once in a while he stole a look at Hobie’s back. It was beginning to scare him just how quiet he was. He seemed out of it, he’s never seen him like this before.

But, he wouldn’t push him if he wasn’t ready. Maybe he just needed to be with someone right now.

Still, he wanted him to say something. “So,” he started, Hobie turning his head only slightly to indicate that he had heard him. “You finished that watch then?”

He smirked and huffed. “Yeah, I did.”

The small joy Miles felt from getting him to talk was fleeting. Hobie tensed up again and went back to fiddling with said device. He couldn’t believe how excited he was to finish this thing…to see her.

He sighed and laid on his back as well. Miles held his breath waiting for him to say something. “Miles…I’m sorry.”

The boy furrowed his brows. “What for?”

“I don’t think I ever properly apologized for getting us into trouble like that.” A distant star passed through the sky. “I know how much this job means to you. I was being reckless.”

Miles smacks his teeth and smiles. “Man, don’t even worry about it.” He closes his eyes. It was nice to hear that apology, even though he would never dream of holding what happened over his head. “I know what you was doin.”

They laughed together. Then, Hobie’s small smile faded and it got quiet once more. “I went to see her again.”

“I thought so.”

“She found someone.”

Miles hisses and rests on his elbows to look at him. “Damn,” He sits up fully. “I’m sorry, bro. That must suck.”

Hobie sighs. “Yeah. Lil’ bit.”

“Hey, don’t feel too bad. I bet she missed you just as much as you missed her.” He comforts. Hobie thinks about what he said for a minute. He hopes he was right. He hopes she wanted him to come back to her, but accepted that he wasn’t.

“That’s a nice thought,” he answers. ‘Missed ’ was an understatement.

From the way he grew quiet again, Miles could tell that Hobie’s heart was very heavy. He didn’t really know what to say. Miles wasn’t exactly an expert in relationships, or women in general; he was still trying to figure out his. But, he knows that if he ever found out Gwen was seeing someone else, he would need a big fat hug. So that’s what he did.

He got right next to Hobie and squeezed his shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. Hobie nodded and looked into the sky.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know…”

“…Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Will you at least watch over her for me? Make sure your dad doesn’t get his hands on her, yeah?”

Miles laughed. Of course the only girl he’s ever seen Hobie get choked up over is wanted by the police. To which extent, he didn’t know. And he really didn’t want to find out. “Yeah, I got you.”

bonus bonus

“You’re fucking lying.”

“I’m telling you, girl. Cameron said he saw Spider-Man outside your window.”

“What was Cameron doing outside at 1 in the morning?”

“Who cares what he was doing? Spider-Man is keeping tabs on you. Maybe you’ve been targeted by an evil scientist. Or some shit.”

“Stop playing.”

“Spider-Man might be following you around. Tell him I said hiiiiii~.”

“Bye, girl.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N hung up her phone. Tati had frantically texted her in the middle of a piercing walk-in saying it was an ‘urgent matter’. Thankfully, her client was cool enough to let her answer while she continued.

“What was that all about?” The boy asked her. He was a nice kid, and very nervous for his first piercing. The whole situation was a bit strange. He walked in with a friend and a guy that looks absolutely nothing like the either of them who couldn’t shut up about how he met Spider-Man the other day. Then he signed the written consent form and dipped.

“My home girl calling me about some crazy shit,” she answered, almost done preparing her station. “She thinks Spider-Man is spying on me.”

The boy cackles really hard and wipes his eye. She didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever floats his boat. “What?” He wheezed. “That’s insanity.”

“I know, right?” She took the alcohol wipe and cleaned his cartilage. He started shaking a little, and she could see how small his pupils were. He was also…really sweaty. Teenage boys.

“You okay?” She asked. “You didn’t eat, right?” He shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said nervously. He was a bad liar. “Just…excited.” A really bad liar.

“Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of you.” She clamps his ear and he yelps. The both of them stare at each other. “This yo last chance.”

He takes a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay then.” She grabbed the needle and prepared to puncture it through his ear. He was trying so hard to be brave but man this kid was afraid. She laughed a bit. “I promise it’s not that bad…what’s your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Mi-AHH!” It was over just as quickly as it started. She was right. It wasn’t as bad. Now he just had to worry about what he would tell his parents when they saw him with it. “…miles…”

“Okay, Miles. We’re all good.”

ending a/n: okay now that’s it! Y’all ain’t getting nothing else from this lil series so don’t ask!

Fr tho guys, this was rly nice to write. Hobie is a lil OOC to me here but I can’t help but write men being absolutely obsessed with their girl it’s my favorite flavor.

Also thank you for choosing the epilogue for those of you who did bcs not only do I not have any business starting a whole new story while I’m literally in the middle of two, I really was gonna break yalls hearts with the story. Y’all would have been MAD AT ME! Shit, I would have been mad at myself.

Anyway, pls check out my other ATSV fics and Toji if you’re into him. Finish this off by saying please go see Rico Nasty live before you die, stay super freaky, have great vagina, I luv yaaaaa🩵

Part 1 Part 2

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

Taglist: @otaku-degenarate

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x you #black reader #spider punk x black!reader #hobie my beloved #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader

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readyforthegarden · 3 months

Text

Breakable Heaven - Part Eight

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Female Reader

Synopsis: Being the maid of honor in your best friends wedding is already stressful enough without the best man being the ex-boyfriend who tore your heart to shreds. Stumbling across a dating app with dates for hire, you take a chance, inviting a perfect stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend for the weeklong celebrations. But how long can the charade last when the champagne starts pouring and feelings start growing?

Warnings: drinking, swearing, arguing 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

AN: I just want to say a big big big thank you to everyone who read this fic!! Thank you for the comments and tags, asks and reblogs and sometimes direct messages about it!! It means the world to me that so many people enjoyed it. This has been one of the most fun fics I've had the pleasure of writing, and I'm so happy it's resonated with others!! And an especially big thank you to @joshsindigostreak and @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine for workshopping this with me months and months ago and hyping me up to write it, and helping me work through blocks and double checking my writing to make sure it makes sense. I love you both so SO much!!!! I'll be taking a little break from writing just to let the cup refill but I'll be back soon, I have a few projects in the works, so keep an eye out!!

P.S. stay tuned for the epilogue next wednesday!!

WC: 4455

You had come to bed only a short while after Danny had, quietly tucking yourself in next to him and pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder before falling asleep. When you woke up, Danny was already gone from the room. You figured he was nervous to stand up in front of a new bunch of strangers and pretend he was a close friend of the groom. You gathered your things and made your way to the bridal suite, eager to start getting ready for the big day.

Entering Olivia’s room, you saw her sitting on the small loveseat, cooling eye patches resting above her cheeks as she sipped on a cup of tea. Her eyes met yours, and you rushed to sit beside her, seeing the tears shining in them.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong?” you gently took the teacup out of her hands, placing it on the table before taking her hands in yours. “Are you getting cold feet? Say the word, I can have us out of here in ten minutes.” Olivia shook her head, sniffling.

“No, no it’s not that.” she sighed. “I just was thinking how I never thought this day would happen.” she broke out into a smile. “How lucky I am to have family and friends here supporting us. How lucky I am to have you, especially.”

“Liv,”

“No, you have been the sister I’ve always wanted, that I begged my parents for when I was a kid and a lonely only child.” Olivia laughed. “I’m so happy that you’re going to be standing beside me through this.”

“Oh Liv,” you began to feel tears prick your own eyes. Letting go of her hands, you threw your arms around her, hugging your best friend so tightly. “I wouldn’t dare be anywhere else.” Olivia returned the hug, sniffling into your hair as the two of you embraced.

“Who knows, maybe in a few years, I’ll get to return the favor at your and Danny’s wedding.” she giggled, causing you to bite your lip to hold back a grin as you pulled back.

“It’s way too soon to think about that,” you laughed softly, looking down at your lap. To be honest, you had briefly entertained the thought. You blamed it on the festivities, but when you had been in the bath, listening to love songs, you couldn’t help but picture dancing with Danny at the reception to them, and then your bridesmaid dress slowly turned into a wedding dress. He held you the way he did in the ballroom, up on the stage, whispering sweet sentiments to you as you shared a first dance in front of family and friends.

Olivia watched your face and leaned in, nudging your shoulder with hers.

“When you know, you know.” she replied, a knowing tone in her voice. She reached out, touching the sapphire pendant you still wore.

“Oh god, I forgot to take this off.” you reached up to take the necklace off, but Olivia stopped you.

“No, keep it on today.” she instructed. “You’ll be my something blue.”

“It doesn’t go with my dress, Liv.” you protested softly, waiting for her to agree. Instead she took the small sapphire in her palm, smiling down at it. She glanced back up at you, a look in her eyes you couldn’t quite place.

“It goes with you.” she responded, letting the pendant drop back to your chest. “Besides, I’m the bride. You have to do what I say.” Rolling your eyes you were interrupted from replying by the suite door opening and the rest of the bridesmaids spilling in, garment bags in hand, chattering excitedly. The makeup artists and hairstylists bustling in after them, beginning to set up for the long morning ahead.

Downstairs, in a room less buzzing, Danny sat with the groomsmen, watching the random soccer match that was on the television. Most of the morning was just hanging out for them, no primping and preening to go through. Danny almost felt out of place, usually his getting ready took a bit, making sure his stage outfit was right, getting some makeup put on his eyes, some rhinestones. He felt like he was going to be woefully unprepared. His legs crossed, his foot jiggled anxiously on his knee as he toyed with the phone in his hand.

He had booked a plane ticket early in the morning, while laying next to your sleeping body. The blue hour light seeping in behind the gauzy curtains on the window made you look almost angelic as you slept, your nose wrinkling while you dreamed. Danny hurt himself then, thinking of how he would wake up this early every morning if it meant watching you look so peaceful. But it wasn’t meant for him to do, you apparently still had feelings for Gavin, and the bastard probably wouldn’t even admire you that way.

That’s what prompted him to grab his phone off the nightstand and book the flight home that evening. He thought about an earlier ticket, but if anything, Danny was a man of his word, and he couldn’t let Olivia and Mike down. He’d stay for the wedding, make it to the beginning of the reception, and then once he wouldn’t be missed, he could slip away and call a ride. He still hadn’t talked to Sam. Every time he thought about telling his best friend what happened, his stomach twisted. How could he confess to being so naive? And Sam had cheered him on it? The call to Sam would have to wait. At least until the airport before he boarded. Or maybe until tomorrow, after he took a cab home instead and wallowed in misery.

This. This is exactly why Danny stopped dating seriously. The heartbreak was too much for him sometimes.

“Are you okay?” Mike rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “You look like you’re the one about to walk down the aisle.” the man nodded towards Danny’s bouncing foot, and Danny forced a smile.

“I’m okay,” Danny nodded. “I’m just still not feeling super great.” Mike withdrew his hand from Danny quickly with a grimace.

“Okay well, I think Thomas has some Emergen-C or something, let’s get you some of that, and then just chill out for a while, and try not to get me sick before my honeymoon.” Danny chuckled slightly.

“I’ll stay back, I promise.” and Danny did just that. He took the vitamin C drink mix from Thomas, and excused himself to go back to his room. He knew you’d be in the bridal suite all if not most of the day, so he took this opportunity to sip on the drink while packing his suitcase, making sure nothing was left behind. One of his sweaters was missing, and he searched all over his side of the room and the bathroom for it. He had almost given up, when he saw it peeking out of the closet on your side, the cream and black design beckoning him over.

Taking it off the hanger, he held the soft material in his hands, smelling your lingering lavender and the scents of your perfume mixed with the faint hint of the bonfire from the campout. Memories of that trip started to spring up in his mind, and he quickly shut them down. He couldn’t think of weaving your braids out of your hair, or you sitting on his lap and drinking from his beer. He needed to build up that wall again, to keep himself protected.

“Wait until Danny sees you,” Olivia hummed as she watched the makeup artist put the final touches on your face. She had already been glammed up, her hair perfectly curled and cascading down her back. “He’s gonna fall over.”

“He’s probably too nervous about tripping or falling down the aisle.” you laughed, trying not to move too much. “I’m sure he’ll think it’s lovely after I’ve danced and sweat a bunch of it off.”

“If you sweat through this powder and setting spray, I’ll eat my hat,” the makeup artist joked. “And if that man doesn’t immediately say how gorgeous you look, I’ll come back and kick him in the shins.”

“You know what? Deal.” you giggled. You were antsy, you hadn’t seen Danny in action since dinner and all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around him and tell him everything that happened in the hallway. As you switched spots with Mila, taking her place in the chair in front of the hair stylist while she took yours at the makeup station.

The bridesmaids were simple, a low chignon bun at the nape of your necks, softly curled tendrils framing your faces. The makeup was natural, a small iridescent shimmer across your lids to stand out, and a mauve lip to complement the deep olive green of your dresses. Olivia’s vision was stunning, and was coming together perfectly.

You couldn’t wait to see Danny, his tan skin in the suit and matching green tie and pocket square. As one of the photographers traipsed around the room, snapping candid shots of the getting ready, you hoped that there would be some good pictures from the day and reception of you and him together, something to look back on from this moment in your relationship.

Danny stood in a lineup of the groomsmen, his tie being fixed by Thomas before the young man stepped back into line himself, and they all stood together, arms around each other's shoulders, grinning for the camera. Danny found himself relieved that his profession had taught him to fake a smile in front of a camera. Though it wasn’t hard to be happy for Mike and share in his excitement to marry Olivia. The two were contagious in their happiness.

After a few more photo ops, it was time to head out to line up for the procession. Danny felt sick, nervous at the thought of seeing you, he could already hear your excited laugh out in the hallway as the wedding planner made sure Olivia was tucked out of sight of Mike. It was like the twist of a knife in his back.

As the groomsmen filtered out of their room, you eagerly searched for Danny, seeing his curls a few inches above everyone else. Rushing over, you grinned up at him.

“You look handsome as ever,” you smiled. Danny glanced down at you, giving you a tightlipped smile. Your face fell slightly, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?” Danny took a deep breath.

“My stomach is just a little upset.” you nodded sympathetically.

“I can run back to the bridal suite real fast, I think I have some antacids in my emergency bag.”

“No, it’s okay.” Danny shook his head. He folded his hands at his front as music started, signaling the beginning of the processional. “I think you need to go take your place with Thomas.”

“Oh, okay.” you replied softly, feeling a bit hurt at how he brushed you off. You chalked it up to nerves again. “I’ll see you after the ceremony.” Danny just nodded, staring straight ahead as you moved away to the back of the line, where Thomas waited, crooked elbow ready to escort you.

“Everything good?” he asked, seeing you looking a bit crestfallen.

“Yeah, just anxious to get going.” you answered, taking your bouquet from the planner. You saw Olivia leave her hiding spot, as Mike had already walked down the aisle, and stand with her dad behind you and Thomas. Watching their moment together made you teary eyed and you turned around quickly, refusing to cry already. “And that’s going to make me sob.”

“You and me both,” Thomas sniffled, wiping a tear from his eye.

The wedding went off without a hitch, the ceremony as beautiful as it could ever be. Your eyes kept dragging away from Olivia and Mike to Danny, who seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid your gaze, only catching your eyes a few times before diverting them away. He did the same during photos in the courtyard, the vineyard and around the gazebo in the front of the estate. You hadn’t seen this side of Danny before, and it was beginning to perturb you.

Danny slipped away just after dinner, excusing himself to the restroom after the speeches and just as the dance floor started to fill up. He made it back to the room, grabbing his suitcase and doing one last scan of the room before he stopped. Something told him to double check the drawer of his nightstand, and when he did, he found the caramel apple suckers he had bought a few days before. The ones that you told him in a tipsy lilt matched his eyes. Danny sniffled, taking the handful of candy and tossing it onto the bed, feeling angry at the whole situation. Taking the pad of paper out of the nightstand, he wrote a quick note to you, ripping it haphazardly off and tossing it with the candy.

As he left the room, he glanced back, vowing to leave the memories of what happened between you exactly in this place.

“Hey, have you seen Danny?” you were pacing through the dance floor, trying to find your date. Everyone you asked shook their heads, and you began to grow frustrated. What was with him today? The wedding was over, he didn’t have to be so anxious anymore. He should be here with you, relaxing and drinking tequila to celebrate the week was over.

You left the reception hall, going upstairs to see if he was back in your room. Maybe he was lying down with his stomach ache. When you entered the room, it was dark. Tiptoeing to the bedroom, you didn’t see anyone in bed. You flipped on the overhead light, looking around confusedly. Danny’s side of the room was spotless, as if he’d never been there. Suitcase gone. You walked towards the bed, seeing the bright green wrappers of the suckers and picking one up, remembering what you had said to him and smiling softly, before noticing the piece of paper.

‘I hope you have a wonderful life with Gavin. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you. - Danny’

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned, rushing out of the room as fast as possible. You tripped over the hem of your dress and on the stairs as your chest heaved with sobs you couldn’t quite let out as you ran. You entered the reception hall, a brief moment of insanity as you thought maybe it was a cruel joke, that he was playing with you and ready to party on the dance floor. But he wasn’t to be found. As you searched, Olivia caught your eyes from the edge of the dance floor, halting her movements and rushing over, Mike hot on her heels.

“Hey, hey what’s going on?” she asked, leaning in. “You look like someone kicked a puppy in front of you.” you stared at her, feeling every emotion from the week bubble up in your chest, before they started spilling out of you.

“Liv, I’m sorry,” you started crying. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ve lied to you this whole week. Danny isn’t my boyfriend, I met him on an app and I hired him to pretend so I didn’t have to face this alone. He’s not my real boyfriend, but maybe now he is, everything is so fucked up I don’t know.” Olivia watched you crumble, reaching out to you and calling your name but you kept spilling your secret in front of her and Mike. “But now, now I’m pretty sure he’s the love of my life and he’s gone because of fucking Gavin!”

Olivia finally got a hold of you, stopping your rant and clasping your hand in hers, giving you a knowing look.

“I’ve known.” she shook her head. “There was no way you’d keep a man that fine and that amazing a secret. I knew if you were going to these lengths to keep from feeling awkward and alone this week, that it was just best to let you go and we’d talk about it later. But I got to watch as you and Danny fell in love with each other the whole time.” you sniffled, using the back of your clasped hand to wipe tears from your cheek.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have lied.” you shook your head. Olivia just smiled and pulled you in for a hug.

“You’re easy to forgive.” she murmured. “Now, what happened with Danny and Gavin?” you took the crumpled note in your other hand, unfolding it and showing it to her. Mike peeked over Olivia’s shoulder, reading Danny’s scrawled message.

“I didn’t want to start any trouble, so I didn’t say anything,” you took a shaky breath, trying to calm your tears. “But Gavin was still here last night, and grabbed me on the way to get the glue. He tried to kiss me in the hallway and begged for me back, but I slapped him.”

“Finally!” Olivia looked excited, then glanced back to the note, her smile falling. “Oh no, Danny,”

“I didn’t know until I saw that. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him.” your tears started up again. “And now he’s gone and I just…” you felt lost, the idea of a future without Danny too much to bear.

“I’ll get my keys.” Mike looked at you. “We’re going to find him.”

“What if he won’t talk to me?”

“If he won’t talk, then he’ll listen.” Olivia crumpled up the note in her hand. She grabbed yours again and started pulling you behind her, heading for the doors.

“Liv, you guys can’t leave!” you protested.

“It’s my wedding, I can do whatever I damn well please!” Olivia called over her shoulder. The two of you waited in the lobby anxiously while Mike ran up to their room to get the keys for his car. Every second felt like hours dragging on, and finally your impatience won out.

“I have to go, I can’t wait,” you let go of Olivia’s hand, gathering your skirt in your hand and running to the doors and down the steps. Danny could already have been at the airport, and running wouldn’t help get you to him any sooner, but your body needed to move. You could hear Olivia shouting at you to wait as you ran the best you could in your heels on the gravel drive. The warm lights strung up in all the trees illuminated the world around you in a soft glow, but you couldn’t stop and take in the beauty, all your legs could do was run.

The wind was cold against your tear streaked face, and you could feel your hair falling out of its low bun. Nothing mattered, nothing mattered at all until you could talk to Danny, sort out what happened, and tell him how you felt.

You’d made it down most of the driveway, coming to the gazebo where you’d all taken photos earlier that day. It was covered in lights, lit up and caught your attention in the dark of the property. You glanced toward it briefly, and ended up doing a double take. A tall figure was pacing inside it, causing you to come to a stop. You’d recognize that mop of curls anywhere.

Your heart beat out of your chest, body now feeling like it was wading through sludge as you made your way over. Danny hadn’t noticed you yet, preoccupied with his phone. It wasn’t until you took the first step in your heel up on the wooden gazebo that he turned, almost jumping before he turned his face stoic, almost glaring at you. He was still in his suit from the wedding, his suitcase waiting next to him, presumably for a ride.

“Danny,” you breathed. Your entire body felt like it was trembling. Terrified at the idea that he wouldn’t listen, that this man you’d grown to love in such a short time would hate you for the rest of your lives over a misunderstanding.

“Save it,” Danny shook his head. “I don’t need to hear it.”

“I just want to tell you-”

“I said I don’t need to hear it!” Danny moved away from you, causing the tears to well up in your eyes as he regarded you so harshly. “I hope you and Gavin have a wonderful, happy life together. Really, I mean it.”

“I’m not with Gavin!” you stomped your foot, feeling like a petulant child as you glowered up at Danny. Danny stared at you incredulously, stuffing his phone in his pocket and folding his arms over his chest.

“It didn’t look like that last night.” he shot back, clenching his jaw.

“Gavin was drunk and he grabbed me in the hallway. He begged for me to come back and tried to kiss me, and I slapped him.” you defended yourself, hands shaking as you started to lay out your heart to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Danny asked.

“You didn’t give me the chance! Danny I don’t want Gavin, I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Danny swallowed roughly as his face softened and tears once again spilled down your cheeks. “Danny, I am so in love with you.”

It felt like it happened in slow motion, as Danny’s long legs closed the gap between the both of you and took your face in his hands, bringing your lips to his in a searing kiss. Your hands grabbed at his suit jacket, clutching the material for dear life as you felt your heart explode in your chest. His fingers tangled in your hair, causing what was left of the chignon bun at the nape of your neck to fall down into loose waves. When he pulled away, you opened your eyes, looking into his hazel ones that were shining and glimmering.

“I fell in love with you the day we met,” Danny breathed against your lips. “I am so fucking in love with you, Honey.” he had tears in his eyes now, and you felt less silly as your lips broke out into a grin. Before you could help yourself, you let go of Danny’s suit jacket and tossed your arms around his neck, hopping up on your tiptoes and kissing him again as his hands found a home on your waist, pulling you into his body. The two of you reveled in your embrace and newly proclaimed feelings, feeling that insatiable urge from a few days before, but in a different way now. You didn’t want to go anywhere if Danny wasn’t going to be there too.

Hearing gravel fly, you broke away from Danny, seeing Mike’s car skid to a halt in the middle of the driveway. You lifted up a hand as Olivia got out of the car, beginning to bolt towards you. She paused, watching you and Danny carefully before Danny leaned down and placed another kiss to your lips.

“I don’t know about you,” Olivia turned around, looking at Mike who was leaning on his arms on the roof of his car, watching with her. He looked at his new wife with a smile as Danny and you embraced in front of them. “But I hear wedding bells when I look at them.”

“I do too,” Mike agreed with a grin. They gave you both a few more moments before beckoning you over. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a reception to attend, and some cake to eat.” Danny held the back door to the car open for you, helping you in and closing the door for you before jogging around and getting in next to you, leaning in and kissing your cheek as he got comfortable.

“I brought this,” Olivia handed you your makeup bag, and you thanked her profusely. “Mike, watch the bumps, and go slow.” you touched up your makeup on the short ride back to the winery in the glow of a light up compact. Danny assisting and helping you put your eyeliner on, his hands a bit more steady than yours.

Olivia and Mike were able to walk back into the reception, wolf whistles and smirks shot their way, which Olivia ate up. No one noticed you and Danny sliding back in a few moments later, or the grass stains on the hem of your dress, or the current state of your hair. You’d thought Danny would want to sit down, hash things out more, or at least eat that promised piece of cake, but instead he took your hand and pulled you out to the dance floor.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, your bodies were flush to one another as Danny swayed you both, looking down at you like he’d never seen anything so amazing in his life. One of his hands left your waist and cupped your cheek, his thumb swiping the apple of it gently.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have been so stupid.” shaking your head, you turned slightly, pressing your lips to the pad of his thumb before looking up at him.

“It’s okay,” you gave him a soft smile. “It’s okay, we have a long flight back tomorrow so that we can talk everything out. For right now, I just want to be in your arms and enjoy the last of this little bubble we’re in.” Danny nodded with a small smile, tucking you in impossibly closer.

As he rested his chin on top of your head, you realized you didn’t need to worry about your future with him. Your ear on his chest, you could hear his strong heartbeat in a steady rhythm, and you knew you would follow that beat anywhere.

“What do you think, about stealing some cake, taking it up to our room, and eating it in bed in our pjs?” Danny murmured in your ear a little while later. Olivia and Mike had made their official departure to get some rest for the honeymoon and the party was starting to die down. Smiling up at him, you pressed a kiss to his lips quickly.

“Sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“No, the best idea was agreeing to be some girls date to her friends wedding.” Danny laughed as he led you to the cake table, grabbing a plate and handing it to you before finding a few other little desserts and piling them on the plates.

“Mm, sounds like that was the best thing to ever happen to you,” you mused softly, watching his eyes glitter as he winked at you.

“Oh Honey, you have no idea.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet @gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @radmads-gvf @the-starcatcher @shineforever19 @earthgrlsreasy @demonrat444 @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @amethystars @mindastreamofcolours @peaceloveunitygvf @gvfsstardust @imleavingyoufornewyork

#danny wagner #danny wagner x reader #greta van fleet #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #breakable heaven fic #danny gvf #danny wagner fanfiction

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baronessblixen · 4 months

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O Holy No (8/10)

Today's prompt: sex toys for Christmas

Summary: A family gathering and a surprising present. (wc: 1,080)

Tagging @today-in-fic

No one says a word about him and Scully having spent the night in the same bed. Neither of them had meant to fall asleep, but it happened. By the time he woke up, it was already too late to pretend he hadn’t slept in her room, and he was too cozy to slip out anyway. He eyes Bill but Scully’s brother has turned into a docile giant who is currently busy trying to feed his son breakfast.

“Did you sleep well, honey?” Mrs. Scully asks, kissing her daughter’s cheek. Maybe he was too quick in thinking there wouldn’t be any questions. After all, Mrs. Scully is a Catholic. Mulder hides his nervousness by pouring himself and Scully a cup of coffee.

“I did. I’m sorry we didn’t come back down again. We were tired.” Even Matthew falls quiet, watching the adults and their strange behavior. It’s quiet in the kitchen, no one looking at anyone. Clearly, they don’t believe he and Scully had sex upstairs while they were down here having dinner. At least he hopes they don’t.

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” Mulder watches her, still silently sipping his coffee. “I came in to check on you,” Mrs. Scully admits almost apologetically. “Today is going to be a busy day and I’m glad you got some rest.” He can’t be entirely sure but he thinks Scully’s mother winks at him. An actual wink. He needs another cup of coffee. A stronger one.

“What do you mean by busy?”

“Did Dana not tell you? We’re having a big family Christmas celebration today,” Mrs. Scully says.

“Won’t be more than 20 or 30 people,” Bill says as if that weren’t a lot.

“30 people.” Mulder glances at Scully, who chuckles.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” she says softly, and that’s the only thing he needs.

The 20 to 30 people turn into a good 40. Mulder has lost count of how many people he’s said hello to. At first, he made sure to remember their faces and names. Now he’s lost. Most of them are Scullys. There are a few people from Tara’s family here, and a few neighbors and friends who aren’t related. Mrs. Scully introduced him as ‘Dana’s boyfriend and partner’ and at some point, translation must have been lost cause someone asked if he was the boy toy and another one called him Dana’s husband. He can live with both.

“Scully, your family is…” Mulder is cornering her, even though she’s carrying a tray with snacks for the kids. They’re already on edge, waiting for their presents. But he needs to spend two seconds with her before he can set her loose again.

“It’s not always like this,” she says. “Next year, it would be…”

“It would be what?”

“I didn’t mean to assume you’d want to do this again.”

“Scully, these people think I’m your husband. Or your boy toy, depending on who you ask. I will be here. If you want me here.”

“I do.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“Let me get this to the kids and then I’m with you, okay?”

He just nods, watching her put the tray down and interact with the children. She smooths Matthew’s hair and helps him sit down so he can snack with the older kids. They’re all beaming at her and Mulder knows exactly what that feeling is like. She catches him watching her but he’s not going to pretend he wasn’t.

Instead, he just smiles. She walks over to him and he puts his arm around her, just standing there, observing. Scully gives him a few tidbits about this cousin or that and as he just listens to her while she’s leaning against him. There's just this; no danger anywhere near them, nothing to take him or her away from here. He realizes - surprised himself - that he's happy.

Their moment doesn’t last long, because the kids get whiny, wanting their presents. So everyone gathers in the living room and the children are handed gifts. Wrapping paper flies around like confetti, some kids squeal, one of them cries, and it’s a new kind of mayhem. When it all slows down, and the kids are playing, the adults start exchanging gifts too. Mulder glances at Scully, because he didn’t bring anything. The only gift he has is for Scully and it’s still in his bag.

“Scully, I don’t have any presents for anyone,” he whispers into her ear.

“Don’t worry,” she assures him, patting his hand. “It’s the Scully version of a White Elephant exchange. Everyone brought a gift and everyone gets one. No one knows who it’s from.”

“Did you bring something?”

“Of course,” Scully says.

“The right present this time?” he teases her and chuckles. “What is it?”

“It’s a scented candle.”

“Very original, Scully.” She gently elbows him and he just laughs again, deciding to stop teasing her and waiting until it’s their turn.

Scully’s scented candle isn’t the worst or most unimaginative gift. There’s an ugly angel figure, a bottle of what Mulder is pretty sure is cheap wine, and his own personal highlight is an ashtray shaped like a lung. Then it’s Bill’s turn. Everyone watches excited as he unwraps the elegantly wrapped box. He lifts the lid and then falls quiet.

“What is it?” Tara asks, trying to see inside.

“Show us, Bill,” someone else says. He takes it out of the box and no one says a word for a good ten seconds.

“What is it?” One of the older ladies readjusts her glasses.

“It’s a chew toy,” Bill says, clearing his throat. “A chew toy for dogs. Next!”

“Scully,” Mulder murmurs. “That is- is that?”

“A purple dildo? Yes, it is.”

“Who brings a sex toy to a White Elephant exchange?” Mulder asks, scanning the crows. No one here looks guilty. No one is blushing. Bill has put the purple dildo back into the box and is looking for a good spot to hide it. “I want to say hello to them.” Scully laughs quietly next to him. “What do you think Bill will do with it?”

“Mulder, I don’t want to think about it. That’s my brother.”

“What if…”

“What if what?” She looks at him.

“What if we snatch that gift?” Her eyes grow wide.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

But he just grins, trying to come up with a plan to steal that very special Christmas gift.

#ficmas2023 #oholyno #we're almost done #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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ruggiethethuggie · 1 year

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HAPPIER THAN EVER

WC: 1722 tags: cater x reader, gn!reader, cussing, concerts, angst angst angst, toxic relationships referenced, i am so sorry, this bitch ain't proofread lmao

also be sure to listen to this song as you read to really feel the full effect 😈 ❤️ Spotify Link | Youtube Link ❤️

♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️

“Please go with me. It sounds fun; I don’t want to go alone.” Your friend’s words fell on deaf ears as you ignored them, aimlessly scrolling your phone instead. You felt your phone ripped out of your hands. “Please,” your friend said with pleading eyes and holding your phone high up in the air from you. “Fine,” you said as you snatched the flier from their hands. “What even is this?” You looked over the printed ad, staring back at your friend confused. “It’s a concert. They have tons of talent come in and they do covers of songs and sometimes you get to hear originals. Look, this is who all is gonna be there,” they pointed at the bottom of the paper at the list of group names.

“Red Royals, The V is For Vampire, Diamond,” you shook your head at your friend. “I haven’t heard of any of these people. What if this is ass?” Your friend scoffed at your words. “You never want to do anything fun. You haven’t wanted to go anywhere since you and whatever his name was broke up and that was like two years ago. Don’t you think you should try to be happy for once?” You rolled your eyes at their response, but they were right. That breakup was messy, the turmoil of the toxic relationship had finally erupted and you decided to end it. No one knew the real story of what happened, you kept that to yourself. Maybe it was time to finally move on, try to put yourself out there again. “This place is over an hour away, I’m not driving,” you said sternly. Your friend’s eyes lit up, taking that as a sign that you were going to attend the concert with them. “That’s fine, I’ll drive!” they exclaimed.

♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️ — ♦️

Later that evening you and your friend arrived at the concert venue. It was already packed before the first set ever played. “Wow, there’s so many people here. It’s just small bands, right? I didn’t think there would be this many people,” you said as you looked around the room. The crowd was so full it looked like everyone was standing shoulder to shoulder as they waited. “Some are small, but a few already have a good size following. Like The V is For Vampire guy? His fans are wild, I’ve seen them on the internet before. They’re insane. And that other group, Diamond, they have a good following, too,” you friend explained. You nodded your head as you saw the lights flicker off overhead. The crowd shouted in anticipation, the lighting change meant the first set would start soon.

You enjoyed the concert as the first few sets took the stage. Most of the songs they played were your typical rock covers of pop songs, but you didn’t mind it. You were actually glad you had been invited tonight; this beat sitting at home and wallowing in your self pity. You heard a few excuse me’s coming from behind you. You figured someone was trying to get through the crowd. You moved out of the way towards your friend as a band member for one of the groups made his way by you. You assumed at least he was one of the members, he was carrying an instrument case over his back and had his drumsticks in his back pocket. You could see the logo on the side of the case that read “Diamond” as he motioned for his other bandmates to follow him through the crowd.

Without even realizing, you looked in the direction he was gesturing to. And that’s when you saw what you weren’t expecting to see. The ginger haired, green eyed member carrying his guitar case on his back. You could feel your heart stop in your chest, the air in your lungs getting caught in your throat as he walked by you. “Cater?” you said puzzled as he was next to you. Hearing his name, he stopped walking and looked at you. His gaze looked annoyed, maybe it was because they were late to the venue? “Cater?” you said again. “Oh, hey,” he said with a small nod as his gaze shifted to other parts of the room. You hadn’t seen him since the day that you two had broken up, the day that you had ended it all. The day that you broke his heart. But seeing him here in front of you, it gave you a warm feeling in your chest that you didn’t expect.

The silence between you two grew awkward. “Cater, come on, man,” his band mate shouted from up ahead. “I have to go. But it was nice seeing you,” he said with a slight smile. “Yeah, duh, of course,” you said with a pause. “I- I can’t wait to see your set.” He lightly chuckled as he looked down. “Yeah, me too. I hope you like it.” He gave another small nod and made his way to his other bandmates, disappearing off backstage to get ready for their own set. You felt your hand grab your arm. “What was that about? You know Diamond?” they asked confusedly with their mouth hung open. “That’s … Cater…,” you said looking at the direction to go backstage. “Wait, you mean like the Cater? Like your ex Cater?” You didn’t think your friend’s mouth could hang open any wider than it was.

“Yes, the Cater,” you said with a sigh. Your friend huffed and crossed their arms. “Hmph, well. We don’t have to stay for his group’s set if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t wanna watch my shitty ex’s performance,” they said, narrowing their eyes at the stage. “No, it’s- it’s fine. We can stay,” you said quietly as the group on stage finished. Part of you felt guilty for what you told all your friends. None of them had actually gotten to meet Cater during the time that you two dated. He was busy working two jobs, trying to save enough money for the real dreams and goals he had. You had told your friends that the breakup was because of how toxic he was in the relationship, but in all actuality, you were the one who was toxic- always upset that he was putting his dreams first, upset that he tried his best to give you the time and attention you craved, but nothing was ever good enough for you. He was never good enough for you. Your breakup with him ended with you telling him that his love for you wasn’t ever going to be good enough because he never made you a priority and only gave you excuses.

The anticipation for his group’s set was agonizing. You knew he would write song lyrics in his free time when you were together, something you always said didn’t make any sense. You didn’t think he would be in a band actually performing. Would he be performing songs he wrote, or did another member write their music? Finally, after a while, you saw his group take the stage to set up their guitars and equipment. The crowd cheered as Cater approached the mic stand. “Hey everyone, uhh, thanks for being here tonight. We’re Diamond, hope you enjoy the songs,” he said with a heart melting smile and wink to the crowd as his group started their performance. Watching him perform on stage was mesmerizing. Why did you ever tell him that this wasn’t worth it? He looked so happy on stage, strumming his guitar and singing his heart out. They played a few songs before he spoke again to the crowd.

“You guys havin’ a great time?” he shouted with a wide smile. The whole crowd, including yourself, screamed in bliss. “Awesome! We have one more song. This one is an original; one I wrote a few years ago about the love of my life,” he said with a shake of his head and sigh. You could feel your friend’s eyes on you, burning a hole through your skull as they stared. “What?” you said harshly to them. They raised their eyebrows at you. “You think it’s about you?” They gave a playful laugh as you rolled your eyes at them. You figured that Cater had already moved on, the song was probably a love song about his new partner. But you were wrong.

He started to play the chords on his guitar and sing. “You called me again, drunk in your benz. Driving home under the influence, You scared me to death.” The lyrics of the song hit you like a truck as you thought back to after your breakup. You were reckless back then, upset at the world and blaming everyone but yourself. You remembered the night you had called him, a few weeks after you broke up with him, drunk and saying nonsense to him on your way home from the bar. That was the last time you had decided to go out before tonight. The venue felt like it and time were frozen, except for you and Cater, as he sang on stage. You could feel your anxiety rising, your whole body heating up as you tried to contain your emotions. Your friend didn’t even realize what you were going through.

“I don’t relate to you. I don’t relate to you, no. Cause I’d never treat me this shitty, you made me hate this city,” he sang with a silvery voice with his eyes closed, really feeling the lyrics and music. Your mind was blanking, your hearing muffling as he strummed his guitar. He opened his eyes and looked at you in the crowd as he sang the next part of the song. You couldn’t hear half of it, your anxiety high enough that you felt like you wanted to pass out. You stumbled as you turned around, trying to make your way through the crowd and to the bathroom to try and catch your breath. You felt panicky as you got into the bathroom, grabbing the sink to try and stabilize yourself. Cater’s muffled performance ringing through the bathroom. Your anxiety reached its peak as you stood there, tears streaming down your cheeks as you fought your body from hyperventilating. You never knew exactly how much you had hurt him that day, but now you did.

#~.writing #~.twst #twst x reader #twst angst #cater diamond #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #cater angst #cater diamond angst #twisted wonderland x reader

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alrightbuckaroo · 2 days

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Fic Pride Friday

Happy Friday, everyone! I missed this last week so I thought I'd make up for it this week! I don't have in me to go through 40+ works as of late, so I just pulled some from my long form work. Thanks to @carlos-in-glasses, @vineofroses, @bonheur-cafe and @literateowl for the tags!

Rules: Post your favorite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

tender eyes that shine:

TK’s thrusts are in rapid succession; the only thing keeping up with the rhythm is Carlos’ heartbeat. It’s as if TK, right now, in this moment, is a lifeline that Carlos is tethered to that’s born out of nothing more desirous longing and trust.

TK calls him “Baby” and the last thing Carlos thinks is that he can only hope Heaven will be half as sweet as the way that word sounds rolling off of TK’s tongue. Suddenly, the darkness that’s gripped him seems to ease itself. Darkness ebbs away as the light becomes something more tangible, something just out of reach. He opens his eyes, and he sees both TK and his father. Carlos isn’t sure if he’s been brought back from death or if he’s been left to his own devices in Heaven. He’s always thought that TK has the beauty of an angel that’s come down to Earth, one that’s replaced his halo with a fireman’s cap. When he sees his father standing above him, it comes as no surprise. Carlos has always considered him to be a martyr, fighting the good fight until the very end. With the warm golden hue surrounding the both of them, he thinks this must be the highest the sky can go.

summer slipped us underneath her tongue:

TK leans down, causing a dip in the bed as he leans in to give Carlos a kiss. He tastes like last night’s raspberry tart and all of Carlos’ dreams come true. He pulls away and says, “I’ll be back before you have the chance to miss me.” Carlos smiles, his face still cupped between TK’s hands. “It’s hard not to miss you. I love having you around.” There’s that word again: love. Love is a word that’s always tossed around casually, even by them; but the way it sounds rolling off of Carlos’ tongue causes TK’s heart to skip a beat. As if it’s a rock being thrown across a once still pond. Ever since TK realized that this, this thing with Carlos is no longer casual but something very real; the word love has hit his ear differently each and every time. He loves Carlos, and all he wants to do is tell him.

Carlos is spiraling well beyond his control. He’s trying to piece where he went wrong but then TK is grabbing his hand and saying his name like it’s the only word he’s ever know.

29 Going on 30

TK’s a little disheartened at the realization. He used to know this city like the back of his hand; now he feels like he’s wearing a glove.

“I think that part of living life is finding new ways to left love in,” Carlos continues. “Learning that love can be an afternoon serenade, a hideous sweater that you still found a way to look good in or the realization that the love that feels too good to be true is the love that you’ve been deserving of all along.” TK is quiet for a beat; a medley of mixed emotions overtaking him. Love that feels too good to be true is the love that you’ve been deserving of all along. Maybe Carlos is right, maybe he needs to let himself finally feel comfortable with the idea that this type of love isn’t meant to crumble. He won’t have to dig through the remains of what’s left to restore himself. This love has a foundation that’s meant to last. Quietly, he asks, “You still think I’m a dream?” “So much I almost can’t believe my eyes,” Carlos replies with a smile. “You deserve an everlasting love, Tyler,” The words are a declaration, a phrase that gives no room for argument. “I’ll always be here, wanting to be the one that gives it to you.”

come and take a walk on the wild side

It’s 4:02 a.m. and TK is standing on the balcony, smoking a cigarette. For the most part, the party has thinned out except for a couple of stragglers and those that had decided to spend the night. He holds the phone close to his ear; hearing the other line ring, once, twice, three times. He’s about the end the call before it can even start when a voice answers on the other line. “Hello?” The voice sounds groggy, and aged. TK still recognizes it all the same. TK doesn’t respond, feeling the words anxious to grab purchase. “Hello? Is anyone there?” TK doesn’t reply, and it’s not soon before the person on the other line hangs up. He brings the phone down, and whispers to himself, “Happy Father’s Day, dad.”

“I’d ask you to save the attitude for dinner, but,” Sam finally breaks eye contact, looking back down at his phone, knowing he’s about to win this back and forth between them. “We both know you’ll hold me to that.” TK hears the unspoken command: knock it off. He knows he should, just make the rest of the night easier for both of them; but there’s something in him that wants to fight against that feeling. Relieve himself of the weight that he’s holding for both of them. “Yeah? And give your dad another reason to hate everything about me?” TK decides not to think about the fact Winston brings out the worst in both of them. Sam doesn’t look up from his phone, wanting to treat TK’s response like it’s nothing but a low brow tactic. “He doesn’t hate everything about you.” TK snorts. “Oh yeah? What doesn’t he hate?” Sam looks up from his phone and stares directly at TK, giving him his undivided attention. His words drip with a scathing sense of frustration, “The way you know how to get under my skin.”

I'm a week late to this so I'm sure everyone has already gone, but if you haven't and want to share, consider this open tag for you :)

#come and take a walk on the wild side really is that girl when she's updated #fic: tender eyes that shine #fic: summer slipped us underneath her tongue #fic: 29 Going on 30 #fic: come and take a walk on the wild side #tag you're it #my writing

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picnokinesis · 1 year

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DOCTOR WHO POSITIVITY DRIVE

Hello everyone!

Alright, so I recently got the chance to go to Gallifrey One, which was absolutely incredible, but what struck me the most was just how positive the atmosphere was. I went there worrying that there would be a big, obvious divide between people who liked one era and people who liked another - but there wasn’t at all. Everyone was so friendly and nice, and it was such a celebration of the entire show, old and new. And it’s only really hit me now that I’ve come back to the online fandom after that experience that the reason I felt that way was because recently a lot of people seem to be either focusing on the parts of the show that they hate, or hating on other parts of the show to say why the part they like it good. And I’m tired of it - this is a show that tells us to see wonder in the universe and be kind to one another! - and after talking to a few people, I think a lot of folks are. And so I came up with this idea - a positivity drive!

Here’s how it works: if you want to, make a post about any part of Doctor Who that you like! Maybe it’s a specific era, or a specific character, or maybe multiple different things or just the show as a whole. Whatever you like - and then encourage other people to do the same! It can be as short or as long as you like. There are just a couple of rules:

Rule 1: Don’t be negative about any part of the show in order to say something positive about another part. This is about celebration, remember.

Rule 2: If someone else posts something for the positivity drive that you disagree with or that you actually really hate about the show - leave them be. Of course, if you want to make your own critical post, I’m not going to stop you, but the last thing I want is for people to start arguments on posts that are meant to be about celebrating the show. We’re all a community of people with different opinions and tastes, and so we like different things! And that’s okay!

Rule 3: Tag your post with #dw positivity drive so people can find posts and share the love. It’ll also help me because I would like to reblog as many posts as I can! And if you feel like encouraging other folks to join in too, that would be really awesome! I want this to span across as many eras and aspects of the show as possible

I’ll start everyone off by saying what I like about the show, but I’m going to put it under the cut because otherwise this will get too long. But if people are happy to reblog this and/or share it with folks in other ways, that would be really helpful! I just think it would be amazing if we could recreate that sense of love and joy that I felt at Gallifrey One - because isn’t this what fandom is all about? Sharing joy for the things that we love? I think it should be!

Since I’ve been watching the show since 2005, I thought I’d say what I liked about each showrunner era, because I love the RTD, Moffat and Chibnall era for a bunch of different reasons. And to be clear, if I say something I like about one era, that doesn’t mean I think it’s bad or not done well in another era - it’s just a particular thing I like about that era!

RTD ERA

I really love RTD’s characters - they’re always so vibrant and real, and he’s really good at establishing the characters quickly and giving us a really clear and consistent sense of who they are and what matters to them! It’s also really satisfying to watch the story arcs of these characters - I think of Donna in particularly, because I really love how she grows from a character with so little confidence in herself to someone who manages to save everything that she knows. And yes, I know she loses her memory too, but I lowkey love that - especially in the context of the recent series, with the Doctor suddenly discovering that their own memories have been erased - because the pain of it is so brutal and real, and it somehow feels even worse than if she’d died. I love angst and tragedy when it’s done well, and that’s another thing that RTD is excellent at! (Like the whole thing with the TIME WAR, guh, it’s such a good way to bring back a show that had been off the air for so long)

On that note!! He brought back the show!! And he did it with a wheelie bin burping what an ICON

RTD tends to put his themes and his message at the heart of the story he’s telling, and I really love that because it just resonates through the whole thing

Ok this is a silly thing but as a kid I always loved it when RTD would like...have a word or phrase that kept cropping up and you’d spot it in lots of episodes and it would suddenly become relevant in the climax? Like in s1 it was ‘bad wolf’, and then in s2 it was ‘torchwood’, and then less of a word/phrase but how in s4 they kept bringing up about the missing planets? It was just really cool and excellent storytelling to set up for what is coming for the end of the series

There are so many stories that I love in this era - it’s one I’m very fond of because I grew up with it, and honestly I think it inspired me so much to like sci-fi as much as I do now

MOFFAT ERA

The episodes in this era are always so bombastic and spectacular! There’s such a cool sense of scale for the universe, and so many cool new monsters and worlds are brought in that I really enjoy (like the christmas episode with the flying sharks? HELLO? I’m absolutely obsessed with that). And yet we also get this really cool dichotomy with the home life of the characters too, and seeing how their relationship with the Doctor and how their lives at home don’t always work well together, and it’s such a cool theme to really dive into.

Early Moffat era - especially s5 - has this really wonderful like...fairytale vibe, I guess? Just the themes of s5 are really nice, and I particularly love how we see them woven throughout the narrative and also just the style of the show and how the stories are told. It’s awesome

Moffat era has some absolutely CRACKING two-parters! I think one of my favourites are probably the crash of the Byzantium two-parter, but then the s10 finale is just absolutely BRUTAL but so, so well done. On that note, I absolutely ADORE s10 on the whole, like just Twelve, Bill and Nardole as a TARDIS team? And then everything between Twelve and Missy? I’m obsessed with it, it’s so so good.

The Doctor speeches!! So many iconic lines!!

Moffat has some REALLY awesome concepts that he delves into in his era - like the idea of a crack in time! The Pandorica! The confession dial! Aliens that make you forget you even saw them! Aliens from a two-dimension universe trying to invade ours! And then, of COURSE, the way he uses the black hole and time dilation in the s10 finale? Absolutely INCREDIBLE, it’s just SO cool!

CHIBNALL ERA

I know I keep going on about themes but I absolutely LOVE the themes of Chibnall’s era, especially in s12-13 and the way it digs so much into identity. It’s something that I myself really love to write about, as well as being something that really resonates with me personally, and so it’s just been an absolute TREAT to see it get dived into in a show I love so much, and done so well! I also really love how it explore memory and trauma and how that ties to identity, which is another topic I find really fascinating.

With Chibnall’s stories, I’ve really found that the more you dig into them and engage with them, and try and figure out how they tick, the more and more satisfying and enjoyable they become. It’s makes writing for and being in the fandom for this era in particular so wonderful, because even now, years after some episodes aired, I keep finding more connections and more things that I hadn’t realised about, and it’s AWESOME! I also really love how it’s all such a love letter to the show as a whole - the last episode in particular is a great example of that, but I really think the whole of this era is as well! There are so many references and connections back to both RTD and Moffatt’s era, but then also Classic Who as well! Like, for example, take the Timeless Child arc - the way it weaves threads that had been left hanging from previous seasons, taking inconsistencies that are natural for a show that has been airing for sixty years (!!) and make them fit in so beautifully into the tapestry of canon? It’s SO COOL!! And so satisfying! I think people sometimes say that Chibnall tore canon apart, but I actually think that’s the opposite of what he’s done - he took things like the Cartmel Masterplan and The Brains of Morbius and that one random scene in the Matrix from the Deadly Assassin...and he made them all FIT together! It’s amazing! And then in Flux too - I saw someone talk about how the Flux being created by Tecteun because of the Doctor actually makes the end of s5 make even more sense - because in the future, the universe is being destroyed because of the Doctor, and so all of Eleven’s enemies put him in the Pandorica! It’s brilliant. AND THEN bringing back Ace and Tegan for the centenary of the BBC!!! He finished off their story arcs DECADES after their last appearances, and it just the coolest thing

On that note! So many ties back to Classic Who!! We love to see it!! I also really appreciate the fact that Flux enabled so much Lungbarrow clowning, which I think had to be intentional because why would it have been there otherwise, plus we KNOW that Chibnall knows about Lungbarrow - so yknow. It’s silly but I love it yknow

This era is just so GORGEOUS, it’s absolutely stunning? Not just the CGI but also just the lighting and the amount of detail and love that goes into the set design and the costumes! There are so many details to enjoy and I love that

I love all the characters so much, they’re absolutely wonderful! Again, a lot of the characterisation feels quite under the surface, but the more you let the episode sit with you and look at the details, the more you see, and it’s wonderful. I’m also particularly attached to Thirteen for a lot of personal reasons, because it’s the first time I’ve ever been able to see so much of myself in a character - and yet she’s still open to interpretation, so other people can see themselves in her as well. And especially when at Gally One someone asked Chibnall about Thirteen’s autistic traits, and he confirmed that they were intentional - that was just SO wonderful, because as someone who is autistic, I’ve always found a lot of the way I see the world mirrored in the Doctor’s character, but this was especially true with Thirteen (it’s one of the reasons why I really love how she was portrayed alongside Telsa in s12 ep4). So to hear it confirmed as intentional was just awesome

I also really love how there has clearly been an intent to include more diversity and be more inclusive, both in front of the camera and behind it! Whilst there have definitely been slip ups, I think the right intentions have definitely been there, and I’ve seen the tangible impact that it’s had on real people around me. For example, with Demons of the Punjab, there were so many people (myself included) who knew nothing about the Partition of India, because it’s just not taught about in schools here (which is absolutely shameful!). I actually worked on a creative project about the partition after this episode aired, and the amount of people who said they only found out about it because of Doctor Who was significant. And I think it’s really great and really important, because it’s leading Doctor Who to explore parts of history that we don’t normally see portrayed or talked about. And Chibnall has also clearly worked really hard to focus the historical episodes on important women in history, especially ones who many people might not have heard about, such as Noor Inayat Khan and Mary Seacole! (I remember my Indian friend being so cross that she’d never been taught about Noor at school after watching Spyfall Part 2 - someone just like her, and she was only finding out about it in 2020!). I also hugely appreciate the fact that he baked into the lore that the Doctor being a woman wasn’t a one-off by introducing Jo Martin’s Doctor, who was also absolutely wonderful, as well as all the Timeless Child regenerations that we see. And then at the same time! Establishing that the Doctor hasn’t always been white! Chibnall gave us our first Black Doctor, and then gave us even more with the Timeless Child - and that’s awesome.

One of the things that has always struck me, but especially after going to Gally One, was how much love and joy there was for the show from Chibnall, Jodie, and everyone else involved in making it. They all talked about each other so positively, always praising and crediting other people for all the work that they did, and seemed to actively work towards making sure everyone on set felt welcome and included (even though Jodie claims that she was just nosy and wanted to talk to everyone haha - but regardless! The positive impact was so profound that every time people ask about how it was filming, every person mentions how wonderful Jodie is, unprompted). And Chibnall himself clearly cares so much about the show, and has so much of a passion for it - but is also just a really decent guy who just wants to encourage and enable other people, based on the interactions I had with him in person at Gally One. And I think that shows so much in his whole era

RTD2

We haven’t had much yet but NCUTI GATWA!!! AHHHH I am SO excited! He looks amazing already and I cannot wait

DONNA NOBLE COMING BACK?? IN 2023?? I’m not ready at ALL I’m going to cry

YASMIN FINNEY!!!

BEEP THE MEEP!! (but on that note!! How he’s bringing in obscure extended canon characters? Absolutely obsessed, I want more of it!)

The trailer just looks like so much fun and I’m hype

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funnylittlelad · 2 years

Text

A Touch of Humanity - Din Djarin x gn!reader

re-edited (Feb. 2023)

Read on AO3 - Masterlist

Part I: Nabu

Part II | Part III

summary: Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy. It doesn't even break his top ten. Grogu's ever-curious and troublemaking nature intertwines their lives with that of a local artist. Someone who is able to wrangle Grogu, comfort Din, and care for others without a second thought. Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy, but with you around it was quickly becoming that way.

word count: 9.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, the timeline is what I say it is just go with it, Din deserves a #1 Dad mug, Grogu is a menace, gift giving is Din's love language, I used canonical places and history until there was no more to go off of and then made up my own to flesh it out, mentions of forgetting to eat, descriptions of food, slow burn

Naboo is humid this time of year. It’s muggy, damp, moist, all the worst things to be when it's so damn hot. It’s the type of boiling humidity that Din can feel creep across his skin under his armor. He absolutely hates having to come to Naboo. A planet ripe with swamps, cities full of holier-than-thou pompous people, and don’t get him started on the Gungans. Din swears he’s not prejudiced, but if one more Gungan tries having a conversation with him he's shooting first and asking questions later.

Sure, everyone else in the galaxy might see Naboo as this idyllic planet, but Din just can’t. The scenery is beautiful, he won't deny that. Having to chase down a bounty here, however, isn't quite as beautiful. Democracy and civil order are great. Until they interfere with him doing his job because some lowlife seeks asylum in Naboo’s lengthy court systems. Rendering them essentially untouchable unless he wants the entire Republic on his ass.

The only saving grace of this hellscape of a planet is the mountains. It's quieter up in the Gallo Mountains. The people aren't as nosy or judgemental. They tend to their crops, their children, and their homes while minding their business. Outsiders are welcome, but not doted on. Something Din can respect. Maybe it's the closer connection to their Grizmallti roots, but the people of Dee’ja Peak are much more palatable than those from the cities. Or the Gungans.

Even in this sticky heat, the people of Dee’ja Peak go about their business. The buildings are stout cylinders with round roofs. Public buildings are taller than residential ones. Windmills are scattered throughout the town, generating all the energy they need. Some smaller gardens are used for personal crops, but otherwise, there are tiered fields in the mountainous terrain where they grow what is needed for the season. A river flows along the southernmost border, the water a glittering blue. No doubt if Din were to follow it he would come upon a waterfall over the mountain’s edge.

He spots what he’s looking for. There’s a corral where the younger children are kept during the workday. A few people are assigned each day to care for them. Din knows there's no place safer on Naboo than Dee’ja Peak. There’s also likely no one as qualified to watch Grogu while Din goes digging for information on a former resident.

“Stay put,” he orders the child after placing him in the corral.

Grogu peers up at him, cooing.

“Go play, I’ll be back soon.”

Grogu observes his surroundings with anxious curiosity. Once he starts to amble off toward the other children, Din stalks off to the Inn. It’s a neutral-toned building with a couple of floors. The door slides open once it senses him. A middle-aged woman sits behind the counter reading a newspaper. She looks up with her eyes only when she hears the door.

“How many nights?” She asks, looking back at her paper.

“I’m not here for a room,” Din says.

This gets her to fully look up at him. She looks him up and down with a critical gaze. Unlike most other places, the people here never seem too put off or intimidated by his presence. Din honestly appreciates the tonal difference here from the rest of Naboo, the planet. Although every Naboo, the people, has Grizmallti ancestry, the Naboo tend to focus on their newer identity. A side effect of fleeing due to civil war.

The people in the mountains, though. They don't consider themselves Naboo. They consider themselves Grizmallti herds who live in the mountains of Nabu. Grizmallti herds use the original name given to Naboo, the name of the deity they once worshipped. All things Din has to remember when dealing with the different sides of the planet. Their differences are small but vital. Not offending anyone or ticking someone off makes Din’s life easier whenever he blows through. Working knowledge of the cultures is just part of the job.

“What are you here for then?” the woman asks him, jerking her chin up at him.

“I need information on Sola Pellis. I was told to come to you.”

“You were told wrong.”

Din measures the woman. There’s definitely a blaster holstered to the underside of the counter. Her joints are swollen from wear and tear meaning her movements will be slow.

“What are you getting for hiding her? I can double it,” he attempts.

The woman snorts.

“I’m not hiding anyone. Only people in here are paying me to sleep. I don't have anything for you about Sola.”

“But you know who she is.”

Newspaper abandoned on the countertop, the woman sighs.

“Look, I recognize you. I know why you’re looking for her. If I had any information, I'd give it to you. Sola is no friend of Dee’ja Peak, or Nabu.”

Din can tell she's being honest. A dead end. Great. Perfect. Tracking down Sola Pellis is proving to be a headache. One he isn't sure is worth the credits.

“Do you know of anyone who may have more information?”

“I know the last time she was seen she was disappearing into the thick woods to the west. If that's true, you can kiss your bounty goodbye,” the woman tells him, going back to her newspaper.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because no one goes into those woods and comes back. The Gungans avoid the core of Nabu because of the sea monsters. The Grizmallti avoid the thick woods for a similar reason,” her words are ominous, but her gaze doesn't leave the article she’s reading.

Din mutters a thank you and leaves. The cooled air of the Inn does nothing but make the outside even more unbearable. Dirt crunches beneath his boots. Chatter fills the air as the townspeople live their collective lives. When he arrives back at the corral Grogu is nowhere to be seen. Panic seeps in, but instinct takes over. There’s a break in the wood of the corral fence. One just big enough for the adventurous scamp to squeeze through.

A set of small three-toed footprints lead away from the corral. Din follows them. He can see a couple of scuffs where Grogu must have taken a tumble. No doubt he was running to avoid getting caught doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing. The tracks lead to one of the many short cylindrical houses and end at the front door. With a sigh, Din knocks on the door. He’s more irritated with the kid than worried he’s in danger. In all his travels, he’s only ever come to this particular corner of Naboo for information. The seedy underbelly of the galaxy seems to steer clear of here. Like the whole galaxy has an unspoken but agreed-upon respect for Dee’ja Peak.

You open the door smiling over your shoulder. The smile falters as you take him in curiously. It only takes a second for realization to light up your face.

“You must be here for the little one,” your voice is as kind as your smile.

Din nods. You gesture for him to follow you inside. He does so cautiously. It’s a small space, but undoubtedly cozy. A couple of cushy-looking seats surround a small table. The kitchen is attached to the far curved wall, containing only the essentials. A stove, a fridge, a counter with three lower cabinets, and a sink. Grogu splashes around in the water in the sink. His clothes are folded on the counter. He coos and reaches out when he spots Din approaching.

“You’re giving him a bath,” Din states, just a hint of a question at the end.

“Yeah, he was covered in dirt and jelly. I hope you don't mind,” you say as you grab a dish towel to dry Grogu off.

“Jelly?”

“I think he smelled my jelly cakes and wandered over here. When I came out of the bathroom, he was laying on a plate of crumbs,” you chuckle.

Din turns his head so Grogu knows he’s giving him a disapproving stare. The kid gives him an innocent look in return.

“I’m sorry. I can pay you for them,” Din says.

You shake your head and wave him off as you wrap Grogu in the towel.

“No worries. He’s very sweet. Are you his father?” You smile as you redress the kid.

“In a way.”

You nod. When Grogu is once again dressed, you scoop him up. He happily coos as you make silly faces at him. Din is itching to get off this planet, but he doesn’t put a stop to it. Not for the first time, Din wonders if he’s doing the kid a disservice. He could tuck Grogu away somewhere here. Where it’s safe. At least, safer than anywhere else. The lonesome ache that ate at him when Grogu was with Luke comes back at the thought. Then the silent reminder that Grogu chose to live this life with him.

“Thank you for cleaning him up.”

You flash Din a smile that gives the scenery of Naboo a run for its money.

“It's really no problem. Like I said, he’s very sweet. Although, you should probably teach him not to wander into strangers’ homes. I know not everywhere is like here,” you give him a light lecture.

“I’m trying,” Din sighs.

Your smile turns sympathetic. With one last little boop of his nose, you hand Grogu off to Din. As you do so, you tell him your name. Din doesn’t return the favor, but you don't ask him to. You’ve seen him pass through before. No one knows his name. When parents are trying to scare their kids straight he’s the Man With The Metal Skin. To everyone else, he’s simply the Mandalorian.

“Who are you looking for this time?” you ask.

Din freezes as he looks at you. Only interest paints your features. His guard goes up.

“Why do you think I’m looking for someone?” he asks.

You quirk an amused smile.

“Believe it or not, not many bounty hunters come through here. Even less Mandalorians. People talk.”

He regards you for a moment longer.

“Sola Pellis. Do you know her?”

You go pale. Regardless of how you decide to answer, Din can tell the truth. You swallow around the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“I think we all know her.”

“Do you know where I might find her?”

An uncomfortable shift on your feet gives you away.

“Not exactly. She told me she was going to Jakku, but then I heard she was seen going into the forest west of here,” you tell him guiltily.

“Which would you believe?”

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment. There's a deep intake of breath through your nose then an exhale through your slightly parted lips. Once the calming action is complete, your eyes open again. They fix steadily on Din.

“I want to tell you to believe she went into the forest.”

“But you don't think she did,” he checks for confirmation.

“No, I don’t. My sister is many things, but suicidal isn’t one of them,” you sigh.

“Sister?”

“Estranged, but yes.”

Din chews on this unexpected bit of information. He spares a glance at Grogu. How the hell did the kid manage to kick up a lead like this?

“Do you have any idea where on Jakku she would go?” He knows it's a long shot, but it's also his only shot.

“I don't even know what’s on Jakku other than sand,” you admit sheepishly.

Din gives a short nod. That’s everything. Grogu coos at you some more, clearly infatuated now that he knows you possibly carry jelly cakes. It makes it hard for Din to move. Grogu doesn't even reach toward Peli like this.

“Thank you,” he says.

Another moment of standing there.

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

The words completely surprise you. He can see it all over your face. Your eyebrows raise, your eyes grow larger, and your face reddens just a tad.

“You’re just doing your job, right?” You give a sad smile.

He once again nods. It’s not the first time the job has left him feeling a little torn. The first time was Grogu. With that, he makes his leave for Jakku.

***

It’s a couple of weeks later when the Mandalorian is knocking on your door again. Surprise is evident on your face as you greet him.

“Would you watch him?” He asks without any prelude.

You simply blink at him for a moment. Grogu essentially materializes from beneath the Mandalorian’s cape. He had been tucked nicely into a leather bag.

“Really?”

“If it isn't too much trouble.”

“Y’know there’s the corral in-”

“I left him there last time and he ended up with you. I think he’ll be happier going with you, to begin with.”

Grogu’s big eyes watch you hopefully. He coos and reaches out for you. Maker, he’s adorable. With a smile, you accept him into your arms.

“Okay, how long will you be?”

“I won't be back until nightfall.”

Your eyebrows furrow. It’s morning now. That’s a long time to leave his child with someone who’s a perfect stranger.

“Where are you going?”

“Moenia, but I don’t trust anywhere else to be safe enough. He’s… special.”

The vagueness of the Mandalorian’s words piques your interest, but you put it off for another time. Moenia is a city below the mountains. No wonder he'll be gone all day. You give him a nod as Grogu tangles his hands in your hair.

“Good luck.”

The Mandalorian nods. He gives Grogu one last pat on the head before leaving. As long as you kept him fed and entertained, Grogu was pretty painless to watch over. You learned quickly that any inkling of boredom leads to increasing amounts of mischief. It took a broken plate, a chewed slipper, and a close call with a knife to teach you that lesson.

Night has settled over the Gallo Mountains when Din returns. He seems a little worse for wear. You can tell even through all that beskar armor. His shoulders are a bit slumped and his knock wasn’t as strong. He expects you to hand Grogu off and then to be on his way.

“He’s asleep and by the looks of it you should be too,” you tell him with an amused smile.

Din follows you into your house. Grogu is out like a light on one of the cushy seats. A too-large blanket covers him to his chin. Din waits and watches for a second. A calm rushes over him when he observes Grogu’s chest moving lightly. When his attention is turned back to you he finds a soft smile already facing him.

“Was he any trouble?” Din asks quietly.

“A little, but it was a fun trouble,” you shrug slightly, “He’s a good kid.”

“Thank you for watching him.”

“Anytime. Now, you’re clearly tired and the kid is asleep. You’re welcome to stay the night. I have a cot I can bring out,” you offer kindly.

He has to mull it over. The thought of sleeping in his armor tempts him to go back to the Razor Crest. The exhaustion in his bones and Grogu’s peaceful form pull him to stay. He can stand a night of sleeping in his armor, he decides.

“I would appreciate that.”

***

Morning comes slowly on Naboo. The daylight takes its time creeping over the mountains to warm up Dee’ja Peak. Din awakes with a crick in his neck but is otherwise rested. He sits up and tilts his head left with a satisfying crack. Then he tilts his head right, earning another satisfying crack, alleviating the crick.

“That sounded like it felt good,” your playful voice says from the kitchen.

Din looks over and sees you at a little table pressed against the wall. Grogu is across from you all but swimming in a bowl of warm oats. It makes him ache a little, how at home Grogu seems to feel here. Din knows what he’s made to do as a Mandalorian. He knows what is expected of him as he raises a foundling. Still, he can't help recalling his own youngling days. He remembers wishing that he could just stay in one place for longer than a few days. He suspects that’s why he’s prone to revisiting familiar landscapes. It gives him a false sense of stability and he hopes it may for Grogu as well.

“It did,” he admits.

The deep cool tone of his voice skates across your skin leaving subtle goosebumps. You’re not sure if it's the modulator in his helmet, but his voice is so soothing.

“Do you want some breakfast?” you gesture to the pot on the stove over a low flame.

“No, that’s alright. We should go when he’s done.”

You nod and go back to what you were doing. He hasn't noticed the paper in front of you until now, or the furious scribbling of your hand. The tip of your tongue sticks out as you focus on the drawing you’ve been working on.

“Is that… me?” he asks, befuddled and flustered.

On the paper before you is a drawing. An extremely good drawing. It’s Din on the cot, one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach as he sleeps. The morning light filters through the window, shining off his armor. Over him is Grogu, peering down from where he was once asleep on the seat. The shading is soft and photorealistic. He imagines you’ve been at it for at least an hour. Something deep in his chest stirs, waking something else deep in his belly.

“Oh- uh- yeah, sorry. I was waiting for you to wake up and… force of habit I guess,” you stutter out, face flushing.

“You have a habit of drawing people while they’re sleeping?” he questions.

“Well, not exactly, but I have a habit of drawing whenever the inspiration strikes without really thinking,” you rub the back of your neck, embarrassed.

Din allows himself a moment to study the image. It’s like a graphite photograph. You have some real skill with a pencil. Maybe even more than Din has with a blaster.

“Could I have it?” he asks, an edge of anxiousness nudging in at the end.

You brandish a smile that makes the inside of Din’s flight suit a little hotter. Maker, it’s been too long since he’s taken care of himself.

“Yeah, of course.”

You put a few finishing touches on the drawing before rolling it up and handing it over. Din almost wishes you could see the soft smile he offers up.

“You’re very good.”

“Thank you,” you smile bashfully.

“You've been very kind to us. Thank you.”

You nod, still sporting a small smile. A glance between Din and Grogu doesn't go unnoticed.

“You’re both welcome anytime… Could I ask you a question, though?”

Din can see the apprehensiveness rolling off of you.

“You can ask, but I can’t promise an answer.”

“What happened with my sister?”

A beat of silence. Well, silence outside of Grogu’s munching.

“I’m still looking. Jakku was another dead end,” he answers honestly.

“What… what are you going to do with her when you find her?” You ask slowly,

You stare him down. A good minute goes by with no words and an intense gaze you can feel from behind that helmet.

“The bounty doesn't specify dead or alive. It’s up to her how I bring her in.”

You nod, a sigh slipping out. It's no secret that Sola Pellis is the worst the Gizmallti has to offer. The people of Dee’ja Peak usually keep to themselves. They conduct their lives up in the mountains and don't get involved with the affairs of other places. What drove Sola to become a mercenary, you don't know.

You do know that she mostly took jobs and money from the worst people. Sola has hurt a lot of people, a lot of children. Somewhere along the way whatever moral compass she had deteriorated. It’s no surprise someone put a bounty on her head. If anything, it’s a surprise it took this long.

“So, where to next?” You ask as you take your bowl and Grogu’s now empty bowl to the sink.

You place the dirty dishes in the sink but turn to face Din again. Your lower back presses into the edge of the sink as you lean back.

“Tatooine.”

“Tatooine that’s…,” you pause a moment to think, brows furrowing creating a wrinkle between them before your face brightens, “desert planet with two suns, right?”

Din nods. He scoops up a gurgling Grogu. There’s something about the hard lines of the Mandalorian contrasting the softness of the kid that ensnares you. He’s so gentle with the tiny ball of trouble. So much gentler than you’d expect someone of his background to be capable of being. In fact, whenever he’s in town the Mandalorian is extremely peaceful. He’s civil. A strange juxtaposition from the stories you’ve heard about the group.

“That’s a kinder description than I would give it,” he says after a moment of consideration.

“What description would you give it?”

“A boiling Sarlacc pit.”

A laugh tumbles off your lips. It's a soft sound that gives Din the same sensation as hearing distant wind chimes. A sort of contemplative calm that allows his chest room to feel the steady beating of his own heart. A brief moment of acknowledging his own humanity.

“Have you been to a lot of places then?”

Once again, Din nods.

“Have you been to Coruscant?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Do you like any places you’ve visited?” you chuckle.

“I like it here,” it hangs in the air for a moment before he snatches it back with a clarification, “in Dee’ja Peak.”

“I’m glad Nabu caught your affection,” you smile with a hint of pride.

“Not Naboo,” he shakes his head slightly.

An amused quirk takes over your smile.

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say it like that.”

“I’m sorry, Nabu.” Din takes care to emphasize the ah sound a little more and shorten the last syllable.

“No worries, just be careful when you're out there. People tend to get very defensive about the Naboo around here.”

Din nods in understanding. It was a careless slip-up on his part. He takes it as a sign that he’s gotten too comfortable here.

“Thank you, again.”

He takes his leave, you giving a chest-height wave after him.

***

You aren't answering the door a week later. Grogu coos curiously up at Din from his pod. The afternoon air hangs temperate and still.

“I don't know,” Din answers the question in Grogu’s eyes.

He stalks off into town to ask around. He would have left Grogu with the newly fixed corral, but the kid made it clear he misses you. Whenever he wanted to bother Din about seeing you again, he would place his hand on the drawing. Din has it taped to the back wall of the cockpit on a smooth panel. Every time Grogu puts his little hand on the drawing and coos at Din with wide eyes, he can only respond with a soft soon, kid.

He spots a shopkeeper who is reorganizing the farming tools they have on display outside. Grogu trails lazily behind him as he goes up to ask if he has any knowledge of your whereabouts. The store is next door, separated by a chunk of dirt road and a windmill. The gruff older man tells Din you’re likely by the riverbank honing your craft.

Grogu spots you first. His excited gurgling and quickened pace in the pod tip Din off. Din’s gaze follows Grogu’s trajectory to find you. Sure enough, you’re set up on the riverbank sitting on a wooden stool. An easel is in front of you, your steady hand painting the rolling landscape before you with the tip of your tongue sticking out. Next to you sits an open case of paints, brushes, and other tools Din can’t place. When you hear Grogu you look over your shoulder with a bright smile.

“You found my secret spot,” you say teasingly as you place your paintbrush onto the lip of the easel.

You pick Grogu up and place him on your lap. He immediately cuddles into your chest. The part of the riverbank you’re on is only a few yards from the edge of town. The backs of houses cast shadows that reach out for you, but fall a few feet short.

“The hardware store owner told me where to find you.”

“Ah, Gus. He’s a good one. If he notices I haven't come back for lunch he’ll bring me some,” you smile fondly at the memories.

“Grizmallti take care of their own,” Din recalls a saying he’s heard on occasion around these parts.

You give him a pleasantly surprised look and nod.

“How long d’you need me to watch him for?” you ask, looking down at Grogu as you scratch behind his ear. Grogu is absolutely eating up the sensation and the attention.

“Until tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“I’m happy to. Where are you off to this time?”

“Endor.”

You perk up when he says it.

“I've always wanted to go to Endor! Have you been there before?” Excitement is written all over your face.

Din finds it endearing, which spooks him. He thanks his Maker that you can’t see it on his face.

“I have,” he nods.

“Let me guess, you hate it there too,” you tease amused.

You’re sitting there teasing him, Grogu is on your lap looking up at you adoringly, and the warmth of the sun is kissing your skin. Din’s breathing picks up a little, but not enough to alert you to the change. It’s an image he’s allowed himself to think of briefly before falling asleep. Pictures of someone faceless caring for Grogu when he can't. Not having to worry about the kid’s whereabouts and safety. What a comfort it would be to be able to just know Grogu is safe and happy without worry. Maybe that faceless person provides some companionship to Din as well sometimes, but that’s just a happy side effect. The real fantasy is a second more stable, but equally loving parental figure for Grogu.

“No, I don’t mind Endor.”

“Well, now I really want to go there. That’s a raving review from you,” you chuckle.

“Have you ever been off Nabu?” he asks.

“I've never left Dee’ja Peak.”

“I get the sense people don't leave here often.”

You shake your head.

“Less than people visit, that’s for sure.”

Grogu gets his hands on the paintbrush. You quickly reach to snatch it, but he manages to get in a swipe with it. A light purple streak paints diagonally across your face. You were using the color for the more distant mountains. Grogu gurgles at you innocently and you take the paintbrush from his hand. A smile is concealed by Din’s helmet.

“Okay, I think that's enough painting for one day,” you announce and place Grogu back in his pod.

“I’ll be back tomorrow evening at the latest.”

You smile and nod.

***

Din knows you're home this time. He’s later than he expected. Stars twinkle above and the warm glow of the lights through your windows lies ahead. He knocks and it takes you only a second to call out for him to come in.

When he enters he finds you and Grogu at the small table in the living room. You’re sitting crisscrossed on the floor. Grogu is kneeling on top of the table, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper with a blue crayon. You color more lightly on yours with a green one.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he says as he approaches.

“It’s okay, once I got him some crayons he was set. He’s been at it for hours,” you chuckle and gesture to the pile of drawings behind you.

Din flips through some of the drawings. They’re all a mishmash of multicolored scribbles. Over your shoulder, he can see you’ve drawn Grogu drawing. It’s in crayon, but still somehow incredibly accurate. Grogu coos for Din once he’s satisfied with the amount of blue on the paper. Din pops him onto his hip. He immediately finds the small talisman hidden in a pocket of Din’s belt. Din takes it from him, clenching it in his fist.

“I brought you something from Endor,” he tells you tentatively.

You peer up at him with wide eyes.

“You did?”

He holds out his hand and opens it. In his palm is a small semi-flat talisman of an Ewok with a hood and spear carved from a deep green stone. You take it tenderly, running your fingers over the curves and ridges. It’s cool to the touch and vaguely smells like the Endorian forest. Din watches you study the talisman in awe. It’s something he spotted in passing and only cost him a few credits. It’s not the same as going there, but it’s a small piece of Endor in the palm of your hand.

“This is beautiful, thank you so much,” you look up at him with an astonished expression, “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s nothing. Consider it a token of appreciation.”

“I feel very appreciated, thank you,” your voice is soft and genuine like your eyes.

There's a brief moment where Din gets an urge to reach out for you. He doesn't know where the impulse comes from. He just knows that the kid likes you, which means you’re good. You’re good and help him out. You give him a place to rest, you give the kid a place to be a kid, and you do it all with a smile on your face. Din probably has the most respect for you out of anyone he knows.

“Will you be staying the night? I can't imagine taking off in the dark is a good idea,” you offer with a knowing smile.

There's the telltale slump of his shoulders. He’s tired. It’s like your gaze is piercing his beskar.

“If you don't mind.”

“How could I mind after a gift like this?”

In the morning, the crayon drawing of Grogu is already rolled up next to Din. He hadn't even had the chance to ask for it.

***

“Grogu,” you scold.

He’s on the counter, a hand literally in the cookie jar. Those big eyes stay on you as his hand continues to inch forward into the jar.

“If you take a cookie out of that jar your father will be hearing about this,” you warn him.

Grogu gives a displeased gurgle. His ears droop. With one last longing look at the cookies, he removes his hand from the jar. You pick him up off the counter.

“C'mon, let’s spend some time outside.”

You bring him out and set him loose in the grass in front of your house. This way he can hunt the snails that have infested your garden. He gets snacks and entertainment, you get a cleared-out garden and a second to breathe. The Mandalorian is a day late. You’re seriously beginning to worry, but are trying really hard to not let Grogu catch on.

Din knows he’s in trouble the moment he sees you outside. Not because he’s late or limping. Because you’re sitting on a big flag rock, smiling affectionately at where Grogu is pouncing on snails. He has the strange sensation of returning somewhere that's waiting to welcome him, of returning home.

That drop in his stomach, that buzz in his chest tells him he’s in trouble. The kid has softened him so much more than he’d realized. Since when did Din desire a family? Worse, that faceless person caring for Grogu and giving him companionship is beginning to look a lot like you. Worst, he’s silently given up on the pursuit of your sister. You are just the latest way Naboo makes his job more difficult.

“Don’t let him eat too many of those. He won't stop until he throws them up,” Din says as he limps up to you.

You’re whipping around and standing in an instant. Relief washes over you, but worry still covers your face.

“Maker, I was afraid something happened,” you breathe as you look him up and down.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, clocking his limp.

“I’m fine. I just need to sit,” he grunts.

Suddenly, you’re ducking under his arm, tossing it over your shoulders. You place your own arm around his waist, the beskar so cold it stings. He hisses when the pressure of your hand irritates a sore spot on his side. You loosen your hold.

“Sorry,” you mumble and start to guide him into the house.

Grogu scurries in at your ankles, looking up worriedly at his father. You help him to the nearest seat in the living room. He sighs in relief.

“Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?” You hover over him, not sure what to do.

He shakes his head slowly.

“I’m fine, I swear. I’m just… bruised.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Din studies your features for a second. You're so incredibly kind it’s almost funny. It almost feels fake. He kind of feels like he could reach out right now and you would poof out of existence like a cloud.

“The cot,” he grunts.

You nod and quickly go to retrieve it. Once the coffee table is out of the way, you set it up. Din moves onto it, laying back. Trying to rest in his full get-up looks uncomfortable, it always does.

“Let me help you get your armor off,” you say and reach toward his pauldron.

“No,” his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist.

“Your flight suit and helmet can stay on, but all the external metal… I just think you'd rest easier without it,” you explain softly.

His gloved fingers remain around your wrist for a beat.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly.

You help him unfasten and take off the different bits of beskar. Piece by piece you peel back the Mandalorian’s shell, placing each shiny part gently on an empty seat. You even fold up his cape and hang the satchel that he had around him on the back of a chair. Din sighs once he’s able to fully settle back. It is a lot more comfortable without the armor. His helmet still props his neck at an awkward angle, but that's something he can deal with. It's something he has to deal with.

“Will you tell me what happened to you, or are you going to just look at me silently from under that helmet like I can’t tell?” you ask, teasing lightly.

Din is eternally grateful for the cover his helmet provides. His face is on fire and the helmet is swallowing the flames.

“A Corellian welcome.”

You give him a look that says you aren't satisfied with that answer.

“I don't know what that means and you know it,” you cross your arms.

He does know it. Trying to circumvent the conversation, but appease you is a dirty Mandalorian trick.

“Corellians say hello with their fists. They say hello harder when you’re after one of their friends,” he elaborates, hand crossing his body to brace his side at the memory of slamming into a table.

“Remind me to never go there in my many travels.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You chuckle. Tension that you didn't know had gripped your shoulders eases. Sure, part of you was concerned because of Grogu. Both because you didn't want the kid to be an orphan and because you simply aren’t prepared to be a single parent. Watching the kid on your own for a couple of days at a time at most? Sure. Permanent and sole responsibility? No. A bigger slice of the concern goes to the Mandalorian himself.

He’s been by more than a dozen times at this point. Each time you find yourself sinking further and further. You're up to your knees in him. Wading through uncharted waters, unsure you’ll ever reach the dock on the other side. Yet, each minute spent in his presence pushes you forward. His care for Grogu, his stories, the way you can tell he’s growing more comfortable around you when he jokes back. All little glimmers of light beneath the surface below your knees. Glimmers that lead your way.

“Inside my bag, front left pocket,” he tells you.

“What?” you stare at him dubiously.

“There’s something in there. Grab it.”

Without another word, you begin searching the soft leather bag. Grogu gurgles up at Din from beside the cot. Din drops a gloved hand over the side, allowing Grogu to take hold of it. The small gesture is what keeps gravity working on him, Din’s sure of it. All the aching, and the soreness, eases with the assurance that Grogu is okay. Proof of that is his tiny grip around Din’s thick gloved finger.

“What is this?”

In your hand is a smooth square piece of fabric. The size makes you think of a bandana, but the material is soft. It has an almost liquid quality to it. The colors are beautifully pigmented. A rich blue, a pattern of small white fish dotted all over, and a golden trim. This piece of fabric is likely the nicest thing you’ve ever held in your life.

“It’s for you,” he says like those three words explain everything.

“I- what?”

“It’s Corellian silk. Pieces that size are good for wrapping around your head. It keeps you cool, absorbs moisture, but stays soft,” he explains.

You can't tell if he’s peering at you through his visor. All you know is your mouth is slightly parted in awe.

“I can’t possibly accept this.”

You begin to put it back, but he grunts in annoyance.

“Please.”

Your eyes bounce from the Corellian silk to the Mandalorian. It’s truly gorgeous and would do wonders when you’re painting on especially humid days.

“I just wish I could thank you properly.”

“Just saying thank you is enough.”

You crack a small amused smile.

“I mean that I still don't know your name. Names are important to my people. I didn't want to push you, I know your people value boundaries and privacy.”

The Mandalorian is quiet for so long that you begin to worry. He can tell by the way the silk wrinkles in your grip. Right when you open your mouth to apologize for crossing the line, he speaks again.

“Din. My name is Din.”

A wide relieved smile breaks out on your face. Din is starting to think that of all the stunning landscapes and views Naboo has to offer, your smile is his favorite.

“Thank you, Din. It’s beautiful. I’ve never felt anything like it,” childlike wonder invades your tone, “I’ve never owned something so nice before.”

He watches you fold the fabric into a triangle then tie it around your head. It covers your head from your hairline back, leaving what’s left of the length of your hair pouring out the back. When your hair is fully out of your face, Din’s breath hitches.

He gets an unobstructed view of your features, no distractions. The curves of your cheekbones and nose create a smooth mountainous backdrop for the lush valley that is the rest of your features. Every inch of your face makes Din think of the flourishing environment of Naboo. Especially because, like many of the people around here, you have an ageless quality about you. Something that’s shared with the planet itself and its architecture. This moment convinces Din that every good thing Naboo has to offer has accumulated in the mountains, mixed together, and created you.

“You look good. Nice things suit you,” Din comments once all his breath comes back to him.

You are acutely aware of the heat that climbs up your neck until it reaches the tips of your ears. A small, coy smile appears on your lips.

“Thank you,” your voice comes out hushed, but you can tell he hears.

Grogu begins a free solo up Din’s arm. It’s clear it causes Din pain with the way he tenses, but he doesn't do anything to stop the kid. He’s a little bit of a pushover for the pint-sized menace, something that warms your heart. You quickly extract Grogu from Din’s arm, but not before he reaches his shoulder. Din relaxes when the weight and pressure of Grogu are lifted. Knowing the kid is now cooing and chirping in your arms provides an extra layer of relief.

“Let’s let your dad rest, yeah?” You give Grogu raised eyebrows, looking for confirmation.

Grogu’s ears lower in disappointment. Din really really likes when you call him Grogu’s dad. When you talk to the kid like his life is normal.

“I know we missed him, but we can terrorize him tomorrow,” your voice is honey-like.

The words hit Din in his chest. Almost as hard as that Corellian bartender.

“You missed me, huh?” A smirk toys at the corners of his lips.

Maker knows this helmet has made it impossible for him to school his expression at this point. There are certainly some tricks you can't teach an old dog. How to not show every single thought on your face is definitely one of them. Not after a lifetime of not having to.

“Don’t get too smug, now. It’s not becoming,” you chide playfully.

A deep chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. It lasts a second before turning into a pained hiss.

“Din, you're clearly not okay. Let me get you some ice at least.”

He gives a curt nod. Din watches you go to the kitchen, grab a dishcloth, and start digging in the icebox. You plop some ice in the cloth and tie it all up into a makeshift ice pack. Grogu watches curiously from your hip the entire time.

When you offer the ice to Din, Grogu nuzzles further into you. It almost feels like he’s thanking you for caring for his dad. Din accepts the ice and holds it to the bottom of his rib cage. A moment of deep thought crosses your face as you watch him, unaware that beneath that helmet he’s watching you as well.

“Stop,” he says suddenly.

“Stop what?” you furrow your brows.

“Stop worrying over me. We’ll be gone by morning, you don't have to worry.”

You shake your head.

“No, I’m not worried about you being here. I’m worried about you leaving too soon and making this worse. I can talk to Melda at the Inn about letting you use a bed if the cot-”

“Right, I forgot how you people are.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Din knows as soon as it's out. You bristle. If you had fur, he’s sure he’d be watching your hackles raise.

“How us people are?” You question.

“I didn't mean anything by it,” he tries to diffuse the situation.

He only adds fuel to the flames. You take his words as dismissive rather than explanatory.

“There’s no way to say that and not mean anything by it. What exactly are my people like?” you're more forceful this time, demanding an answer from him.

A real answer, not some vague Mandalorian partial truth.

“Kind.”

The answer causes you to pause. Any building anger halts, any budding snap response disappears, and confusion takes both their places.

“Kind?”

“Yes, kind. Any other planet and I would have already been at the Inn or my ship. The Grizmallti are known for treating their visitors like locals. You have a saying about it,” he explains.

“Give to each child of Nabu as if you are giving to yourself,” you say softly.

“Mandalorians don’t have anything about giving. Mostly just taking. That's why I like it here.”

The thought is so incredibly comforting. Din likes being here because of the nature of you and your people, not despite it. You feel validated. What Din finds solace in is what drove Sola away. You can recall one of the last times you spoke to her. She spat venom when you attempted to reason with her Grizmallti roots. Scolded you for not living for yourself, for following the ways of Dee’ja Peak like a lemming.

What she never understood is that you are living for yourself. You love your community and your way of life. Sure you’d like to expand your horizons. You'd like to explore the far reaches of the galaxy and see everything there is to see. Still, you always pictured yourself coming right back here when you’re done and continuing to care for those around you when you do so. There is nothing more fulfilling for you than caring about and for others. You have hope that if Din doesn't fully understand that now, he could in the future.

“Have you ever thought about staying?” The question slips out before you can catch it.

“It’s not what we do.”

“What’s not?”

“Staying in one place.”

You simply nod. The silence gnaws at your ankles uncomfortably. You shift on your legs in an attempt to rid yourself of it. Grogu starts trying to climb up your torso. You chuckle as you let him. He clambers up until he’s holding onto your head and standing on your shoulder. You tilt your head to give him more room and reach up to steady him with your hands. Din watches fondly as the ice does its job.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” he asks.

Your gaze snaps back over to him. A small, almost sad smile appears.

“All the time,” you admit.

“Why don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple. Like you said, people don't leave here often.”

You lift Grogu off of your shoulder where he was playing with the silk on your head. The sun has fully set outside. Trilling can be heard through the windows from the bugs. You set Grogu into his pod. He lays back easily, pooped, and is ready for sleep.

“That doesn't mean they don't leave at all,” Din points out gently.

The pod shuts itself as Grogu drifts off. No doubt dreaming about those pesky snails. You finally allow yourself to sit, taking the seat beside where Din lays.

“I suppose it doesn't,” you sigh.

“Why don't you?” He repeats his question.

You open and close your mouth a couple of times with false starts. A frown settles in when you can't find an excuse that satisfies you.

“I don’t know… I’m scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’ve never been further than the river. I know it probably sounds silly to someone who travels for a living, but I’m afraid I won't make it home if I leave,” your voice is pillow soft and contemplative.

Din takes a steadying inhale through his nose. Then he places a heavy gloved hand on your knee. As his heart pounds in his chest, he gives a comforting squeeze.

“That’s not silly.”

You swallow the lump that’s suddenly in your throat. This is the first time you find yourself wishing you could see Din’s face. The beskar has always just been a part of him. Now that all of it but his helmet is shedded it fully hits you. There is someone underneath all that armor. Someone with skin that isn't blaster-proof. Someone whose body is likely warm rather than icy to the touch. Someone whose face is looking at you, reassuring you, and making an expression you’ll never be able to see. Oh, how you long to see how he looks at you.

“Thank you, Din.”

You place your hand over his. The material is rough to the touch, but it still comforts you. It’s still Din’s hand bridging a gap that’s never been bridged before. He’s offering a tender touch that you’ve only seen him give to Grogu.

“I’d ensure you make it home,” he states.

All you can do is blink at him for a moment.

“What are you saying?” you ask it slowly, beating down the rising hope and heartbeat.

“You can come with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

His voice is certain and unwavering. That hope you were beating down wins, bursting into your chest. The smile that grows on your face is blinding and breathtaking. Din has the terrifying thought that he would do whatever he can to make you continue smiling like that.

“Are you sure I won’t slow you down?”

“I already travel with a child. You’ll be easy.”

You nod enthusiastically. Dank farrik, Din must be absolutely melting in his helmet. There’s no other reason his brain is short-circuiting like this.

“I guess this way you don't have to come all the way back to Nabu to bring me gifts,” you tease.

Another circuit in Din’s brain pops.

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Where would we go first?”

“Mos Eisley first, then wherever the bounty takes us.”

“Mos Eisley?” You ask feeling just a bit stupid.

“Tatooine.”

You nod thinking of what to pack. Tatooine is a desert planet, but you’ll be going to places of all temperatures and weather. At the same time, you don't want to pack too heavy. How are you going to fit all your art supplies into a bag? Will there even be room on his ship?

“My easel and supplies, will there be room? I suppose I can always just stick to sketching and paint when I get back,” you mumble the end to yourself.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make room.”

A small gesture that carries such big implications for how you’ll fit into his life from here on out. Din will no longer be entering your space. You won't be the one adjusting and making room. He will. Din is going to alter everything about his life so you can fit neatly in it.

“Y’know, that’s the first time you’ve told me not to worry that actually made me stop worrying,” you muse.

“You worry too much.”

His hand squeezes your knee further.

“It’s hard not to with you two around,” you tease with a playful smile.

You can't hear it, but you can see the light chuckle move in his chest.

“You should hit the rack. Big day tomorrow,” Din says softly.

He gives your knee one last squeeze before removing it. Your knee is suddenly cold. Din misses the warmth he was able to barely feel through his glove. He wonders how warm you are without the glove.

“Big day, indeed.”

***

You don't mention saying goodbye to any family the next morning. Din doesn't ask. If your sister is any indication, family is likely a sore topic. You hug various people as you walk to Dee’ja Port. Din recognizes Gus, who sends you away with a basket of bread and a firm order not to forget to eat. Another person you introduce as Luka gives you a bottle of spotchka. Then Melda, the woman Din spoke to at the Inn, shoves over a rolled-up blanket. It seems to be made of every hue in a Naboo sunset and woven together with thick soft yarn. He watches your eyes widen.

“Melda, you must need this. I can't take it,” you say and attempt to hand it back.

Melda shakes her head and holds her hand up to stop you.

“We have plenty. I want you to have a piece of home with you when you need it. Nothing more Dee'ja Peak than one of my blankets,” she insists.

You give her an extra tight hug. When you set off again you explain to Din that the blanket is one used on the beds in the Inn. Melda hand makes them. She sells them during festivals and sometimes even takes commissions. They’re expensive, though. They take a lot of work and material. Her giving you one is a heart-swelling gesture.

All in all, it takes the two of you twenty-five minutes to make the ten-minute walk to Dee’ja Port. Every few buildings someone is stopping you to give you a hug and wish you well. Din and Grogu watch in silent awe at the sheer amount of love you are showered with on your way out.

Dee’ja Port houses four bays and cheap docking. The Razor Crest is sitting in the furthest bay. He leads you to her, telling you what she’s called. It feels like he’s nervously introducing you to a family member. You give him a warm smile that you then direct to the Crest. You place a gentle hand on the side of her body.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” you hum.

Din chuckles, drawing your attention.

“She’s a piece of garbage, but she’s our piece of garbage,” he says.

He helps you to secure your things in the cargo hold. Priority is to take off, then you can figure out where exactly everything will go. It’s strange imagining him existing in this space. While you can see him in the way everything is organized, there’s nothing else that feels like Din.

From the cargo hold you pass the small living quarters and climb up into the cockpit. You sit to Din’s right, Grogu on your lap. Grogu coos and reaches out to the left. When you follow his little hand you find your drawings on the back wall. The one you drew of Din and Grogu that first morning and the silly little crayon sketch. Your face heats up.

“I didn't think you hung them up,” you comment.

Din glances at you and then over his other shoulder.

“Oh- the-,” he clears his throat a little, “the kid really likes them.”

You smile as Din faces forward. Din swears his beskar must be red and gooey with how hot his skin is.

“Awe, you like my drawings, Grogu?” you coo down at the kid.

He looks up at you with his ears perked up, gurgling.

“I’m glad because there’s only going to be more,” you say, eyes darting up to where Din is flipping switches and pressing buttons.

Grogu coos happily. The Crest roars to life, causing you to jump a bit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles as he continues readying the ship.

When the ship starts to move it really sinks in. You’re leaving Dee’ja Peak. You’re leaving Nabu. Din looks at you over his shoulder. You can see your reflection in his visor, wide-eyed and anxious.

“Ready?” Din asks.

You take a deep breath.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Din nods and looks forward again. Another few flips and clicks then the ship is off. As you leave your home and everyone you know behind, your eyes stay glued on the beskar-clad man in front of you. You watch him open up an entire galaxy of possibilities to you for no reason other than the desire to do so. The blue of the atmosphere gives way to an endless expanse of stars, but you’re sure the brightest of them all is in this cockpit with you.

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #down the din hole i go #the mandalorian x gn!reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din dijarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction

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fe-fictions · 8 months

Text

Saizo x Corrin Commission (Corrin goes to the nearby tavern to do some recon...and Saizo is not pleased!)

The army had to gather new intel. The Vallites were ruthless, and everyone was exhausted. But to continue forward, you had to use every method of getting new information. Even if that meant scraping the bottom of the barrel. Which, at this point, meant goin

Saizo immediately objected when you volunteered. But you knew he’d be tagging along even if he hadn’t admitted it outright.

So naturally, within a few minutes of your trek into the village, you felt Saizo’s eyes on you, watching his wife’s every movement and making sure nothing bad could possibly happen to you on the walk there.

“You’re welcome to join me, you know. I’ve gotten very good at sensing when you’re nearby.” You glanced back, meeting the sharp glare hidden in the canopy above. The moment you blinked, a red-haired ninja loomed over you, arms crossed.

“This is a waste of time and you know it, Corrin. Why did you volunteer?”

“Because someone has to, and I knew you’d tag along.” You said, earning a flick to the forehead.

“You abuse my devotion. Wasting our time and resources like this is too much. Maybe I should let you go by yourself while I make myself useful at camp.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’d really leave your defenseless, beautiful wife to the whims of strangers in enemy territory?”

“Stop acting foolish.” He flicked your forehead again, “Otherwise I really will abandon you.”

“All right, all right. I’m sorry,” You laughed, before you linked arms and rested your head on his bicep. “Why don’t you be my date tonight? If you’re with me it’ll keep trouble away.”

“Feh. It’ll be a waste of time no matter how we go in, but I’d rather keep an eye on you from a distance. I need to be able to identify as many threats as possible.”

It wasn’t your first foray into the world of greasy food and overflowing mead, but this place was on a whole other level. The place was stuffed with rowdy people clamoring for food and drink, shouting slurred profanities at each other.

It was loud, but at least it was jovial. Nobody would be fazed by a woman with pricked ears in Valla, so your sense for potential danger was low.

“Do you wish for me to stay close?” Saizo murmured in your ear, close enough to hear despite the pub’s intensity.

“No, I’ll be fine. Go see what you can find- I’ll stay at the bar and do some recon.”

“Be safe.” He squeezed your hand, and faded into the crowd. Reassured that your red shadow wouldn’t be far, you took your place at the counter, placed your order, and got to work.

Within thirty minutes, you were sure it was a failure. After having your shoulders bumped and being startled by boisterous laughter right next to you, it was about time to call it. But as you readied to leave, a large figure entered your peripheral.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?”

Your ears twitched at the unfamiliar voice, finding a man who was definitely too drunk teetering in front of you. His smile was broad, but his eyes gleamed with mal intent.

“I’m afraid I have some urgent business to attend to, sir.”

“It can’t be that serious if you’re here, of all places- but if you insist, why not leave this shithole and have some fun with me somewhere else?”

“I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that! Maybe you just need some more time to loosen up.” The man grinned, gesturing for the bartender. “Bring this pretty little lady another round!”

“Er…well, I suppose, if you insist.” You twisted a lock of hair behind your ear, inviting more intrigue from the heavily inebriated man. He plunked down onto the seat next to you, emboldened by your accepting his invitation.

“Of course! You’ve only just got here, and it’s always exciting to meet new people! Especially a fella as manly as me, buying a drink for a beautiful stranger like yourself.”

“You’re too kind.” You took a swig of the drink, “You’re a local, aren’t you?”

“As local as they come! Want me to show you around?”

“Actually, I don’t suppose you’d know anything about a small town called ‘Lumme’, would you? I was hoping to visit with some family who moved there, but Valla is difficult to navigate.”

“They moved all the way out there? I wouldn’t bother even trying to reach it.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Curiosity piqued, you pressed.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I heard the royal army’s setting up near there. If they haven’t cleared out the village, they’ve certainly blocked it off. You’re better off staying here rather than going that way.”

“But surely if it’s a Vallite citizen, they can make an exception, right? I mean, it is for family, and I haven’t been able to see them in so-”

“And who is this pretty little thing?” A new voice interrupted, this time a rather elegant woman. “You’re way out of this bastard’s league. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, instead?”

“Shut up, you crusty old witch.” The man laughed, throwing a heavy arm around your shoulders. You fought the urge to toss him. “You’re just jealous you didn’t spot her first!”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t steal her away…besides, I’m not the only one interested.”

It wouldn’t take long for it to become a group of three, then four, then five. The man wouldn’t release you from his hold. The noise and the heat was overwhelming.

While some information you pulled from the conversations was worthwhile, it wasn’t enough. You moved to get out from under the brute’s arm, pushing the pint away.

“Thank you for your hospitality, everyone, but I must be going. It’s past-”

“C’mon now!! We’re just starting to have fun!!” The arm you managed to slip from reached out again, this time grabbing your wrist. You took a deep breath, readying your fist to crack the drunkard’s nose. But before you could even turn around, a shadow cut in front of you.

“Let her go.” Saizo’s growl commanded attention, forcing his body between you and the man, and pulling you to his side in a single movement.

“What the hell is this, huh? We were just having a good time with my new lady friend!”

“She isn’t interested. Leave her alone.” He snapped, “I will not repeat myself.”

Saizo did not speak another word to anyone in that tavern. To be fair, he didn’t need to- when they tried to protest, a fierce glare was enough to silence them.

Your husband strode from the town, silently brooding until you were halfway home.

“Saizo, dear- you’re holding me too tight. Can you ease up a bit?”

“Why did you stay so long? It was obvious you weren’t going to get any new information an hour into the night. It was a waste of time, just like I said!”

“Not completely! The village we’re heading to is overrun with Vallites, and there was mention of an alternate route we might be able to take from that suave woman who was talking me up. She didn’t get far into explaining it, but-”

“‘Suave’.” He clicked his tongue, his pace quickening. “Those people were vultures, nothing more. Especially that bastard who wouldn’t keep his hands off you.”

“I mean, we got a lead out of it! And I’m sure you got good surveillance intel, right?”

“I didn’t bother,” He huffed, his gaze forward. “I was watching the crowd for potential threats. It was too dangerous for you to go at all, and to let those varlots close by was-”

“Time out, Saizo.” You tugged your wrist from his grasp, forcing him to stop. “I can handle myself. It’s not like you to intervene.”

“Because you were about to start a fight. I wasn’t going to let you get hurt by acting foolish.”

“Please, I would never lose a fight like that. But now I know why you’re upset.” You hummed, “I can hear your heartbeat is faster, and your body language is more rigid than usual. Your temper flares every time I mention my new friends-”

“-Obnoxious bastards-”

“-Who I was sitting with. You were jealous, weren’t you?”

“Jealous? Of them?!” He was aghast at the thought. “Why would I be jealous of a bunch of drunkards? They simply should not touch a Hoshidan princess with their filthy hands!”

“You didn’t want their filthy hands to touch your wife.” You corrected him, teasing.

“You’re ridiculous.” He grumbled, earning a laugh from his far less serious wife.

“Saizo, c’mon!! I was just kidding!” You hurried after him, closing the distance easily and catching his hand. You threaded your fingers together. “I was teasing, my love, honestly! I know you were looking out for me, like always. You wanted to keep me safe.”

“Of course I do.” He rolled his eyes, trying (and failing) to conceal his reddening cheeks. “I care about you too much to let something bad happen to you. Seeing those insufferable morons get so close was right at my limit.”

“I understand. Thank you for looking out for me. I’m so lucky to have you by my side.”

You stood on your tippy toes, kissing him over the mask. With a growl, his arms wrapped around your waist, the mask disappeared and you were caught in a searing kiss from your dearest one.

You gasped into the kiss, your hands flush against his chest, feeling his heart thunder beneath your fingertips. He all but lifted you off the ground to hold you as close as he possibly could.

It was dizzying when he finally released you, both of you trying to catch your breath. His hand fell to your waist, steadying you from his aggressive display. You laughed softly, leaning into his chest.

“So you’re definitely not jealous, huh?”

“I cannot be sure until we’ve returned home.”

“That’s fair. You need to be thorough in making sure they didn’t do anything untowards.”

“You will not be leaving our room for at least 12 hours. I hope you’re aware of that.” He said before he turned, resuming his march to camp with much more vigor.

Of course you happily trailed along, giddy at the thought that you had a very jealous husband to assuage. Saizo was always the cutest when he was jealous. It was rare to see him so riled up, but knowing it was because he was enamored with you made it adorable.

It also meant he’d be getting teased more…once he was placated, of course.

#posted it on the wrong blog LMAO #saizo #corrin #fe 14 #fire emblem fates #fe fates #saizo x corrin #sairin #fe fictions #fe-fictions #f!corrin #f!mu #fem!corrin #jealousy prompt #cute fluff stuff #commission #writing commission #like i said before these are still open so #feel free to DM me for moer! but for now we're back to the regular requests U V U

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kipscorner · 1 year

Text

-- Anything in parentheses (abc) feel free to delete! -- Anything in square brackets [abc] feel free to change! -- This is a long post, so please remember to tag “long post tw” or some kind of varient of the sort so you don’t clog mobile users dashes/people who don’t have “shorten posts.” turned on! :D

“Doesn't this seem like a bit much?”

“This is what Christmas is all about! Can't you feel it?”

“You guys, where are we? I think we should go back.”

“Serves them right, those Yuletide-loving sickly-sweet, nog-sucking cheer mongers!”

“I really don't like them. No, I don't.”

“I've been much too tolerant of these (Whovenile) delinquents and their innocent, victimless pranks.”

“So, they want to get to know me, do they?”

“I guess I could use a little social interaction.”

“Yeah, you bet. Ho, ho, ho, and stuff…”

“You see, [name]? The city is a dangerous place.”

“Now, please, don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason.”

“Well, it's just, I look around at you and [Mom] and everyone getting all kerbobbled. Doesn't this seem...superﬂuous?”

“I think they were up on the mountain playing with matches, or defacing public property, or....”

“Take a look at his mailbox, (sweetie). Not a single Christmas card, in or out… Ever!”

“And for the rest of you: Jury duty! Jury duty! Jury duty! Blackmail. Pink slip. Chain letter. Eviction notice. Jury duty!”

“Well, that worked out nicely.”

“[Max], let's go. Our work here is finished.”

“Don't you know you shouldn't take things that don't belong to you? What's your problem? Are you a wild animal?”

“Saving you? Is that what you think I was doing? Wrong-o.”

“You've been practicing your Christmas wrapping! I am so proud of you.”

“My, I've never seen so many beautiful Christmas lights, [Betty Lou!]”

“It's handcrafted and almost 100 years old.”

“Come on, hurry up, Slowpoke.”

“What's that stench? It's fantastic!”

“One man's toxic sludge is another man's potpourri.”

“Did Christmas change or just me?"

“First floor, factory rejects.”

“But we did our worst. And that's all that matters.”

“At least I scared the bejeebles out of that little [girl] at the post office. [She]'ll be scarred for life, if we're lucky.”

“Funny she didn't rat on us, though. Must be afraid of reprisals.”

“If you utter so much as one syllable I'll hunt you down and gut you like a fish!”

“I've got all the company I need right here.”

“I'm an idiot!”

“You're an idiot!”

“Am I just eating because I'm bored?”

“In your own words, please tell me everything you know about [the Grinch.]”

“Hey, honey, our baby is here! He looks just like your boss.”

“It was Christmas Eve, and a strange wind blew that night.”

“Do you want a Christmas cookie?”

“Don't forget, tomorrow is our big Christmas gift exchange.Everyone bring a special gift for a special someone.”

“You don't have a chance with [her].”

“It was a horrible day when they were so cruel to [him]. And I could hardly bear it.”

“And that was the last time we ever saw [him]. The very last time.”

“I hate you.Hate, hate, hate. Hate, hate, hate. Double hate. Loathe entirely!”

“Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!”

“I may do something drastic.”

“You made that up! It doesn't say that.”

“But the book does say: The cheer-meister is the one who deserves a back slap or a toast. And it goes to the soul at Christmas who needs it most."

“Blast this Christmas music. It's joyful and triumphant.”

“The impudence! The audacity! The unmitigated gall!”

“You called down the thunder now, get ready for the boom!”

“Gaze into the face of fear!”

“You see? Even now the terror is welling up inside you.”

“Run for your life before I kill again!”

“Maybe you need a time-out.”

“Kids today. So desensitized by movies and television.”

“"Holiday Whobie-what-y"?”

“I know you hate Christmas, but what if it's all just a misunderstanding?”

“I myself am having some Yuletide doubts.”

“Award? You never mentioned an award!”

“Was anyone emotionally shattered?”

“Come on, a minute ago I couldn't shut you up! Details, details!”

“I don't know if it's that adorable twinkle in your eye or that nonconformist streak that reminds me of a younger, less hairy me.”

“Who knows? This Whobilation could change my entire outlook on life!”

“You can make snow angels later.”

“The nerve of those (Whos). Inviting me down there on such short notice. Even if I wanted to go, my schedule wouldn't allow it.”

“4:00, wallow in self-pity. 4:30, stare into the abyss. 5:00, solve world hunger tell no one. 5:30, jazzercise. 6:30, dinner with me… I can't cancel that again. 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing… I'm booked! If I bumped the loathing to 9:00, I'd have time to lay in bed stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness.”

“It's not a dress, it's a kilt! Sicko!”

“This is ridiculous. If I can't find something nice to wear, I'm not going! That's it, I'm not going.”

“Ohh, ahh, mmm… That's it, I'm not going.”

“[He] isn't here. What? [He] didn't show? Who could have predicted this?

“All right. I'll swing by for a minute, allow them to envy me grab a handful of popcorn shrimp, and blow out of there.”

“But what if it's a cruel prank? What if it's a cash bar? How dare they!”

“All right, I'll go. But I'll be fashionably late.”

“All right. I've made my decision! I'm going, and that's that!”

“Come on, while I'm young!”

“But first, a little family reunion.”

“Are you two still living?”

“Sweater? What are you talkin' about? No, I can't! I can't do that!”

“No. I can't do it, honestly. I'm not ready. It's too much, too soon!”

“I've got a lawyer. There'll be hell to pay!”

“Look at the time. I really should be getting back.”

“Bring it on! Is that all you got? Is that all you got? Come on!”

“That's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what it's always been about!”

“Look, I don't want to make waves, but this whole Christmas season is stupid, stupid, stupid!”

“There is, however one teeny-tiny Christmas tradition I find quite meaningful. Mistletoe.”

“Burn, baby! Burn!”

“Evening, folks. Mind if I ride along? You might want to scooch over.”

“You fellas all right? How about a nice hat?”

“I'm hurt, [Lou]. I'm hurt, and I don't hurt easily.”

“But you and your family.... I'm so disappointed.”

“I just wanted everybody to be together for Christmas.”

“Suffering snorkelblatz! They're relentless!”

“Oh, no. I'm speaking in rhyme!”

“I must stop this whole thing. Why for year after year I've put up with it now.”

“Are you having a holly, jolly Christmas? Wrong-o!”

“If you're not going to help me then you might as well…”

“You're as cuddly as a cactus and as charming as an eel.”

“Just face the music, you're a monster.”

“Your heart's an empty hole.”

“I asked for three-quarters, not five-eighths. Stay focused!”

“Air bag is a little slow. But that's what these tests are for!”

“Talk about a recluse. He only comes out once a year, and he never catches any flak for it!”

“Probably lives up there to avoid the taxes.”

“No, forget that part. We'll improvise.”

“Saving Christmas was a lousy ending. Way too commercial.”

“We're gonna die! We're gonna die! I'm going to throw up, and then I'm gonna die!”

“[Mommy], tell it to stop!”

“Almost lost my cool there.”

“It's Santa! Go right back to sleep.”

“[He]'s planning a double-twisting interrupted forward-flying 2-and-a-half with a combo tuck and pike. High degree of difficulty.”

“Blasted water weight! Goes right to my hips.”

“Okay, fellas. Show time.”

“[Mr. Santa], what are you doing with our tree?”

“[Santa], what's Christmas really about?”

“I know [he]'s mean and hairy and smelly. [His] hands might be cold and clammy. But I think [he]'s actually kind of sweet.”

“Nice kid. Bad judge of character.”

“Clearance sale. Everything must go.”

“That wasn't so bad, was it, [Max]?”

“What an embarrassment! I've been robbed!”

“I wonder who could have done this.”

“But did anyone listen to me? No.”

“[Cindy], I hope you're very proud of what you've done.”

“You're glad. You're glad everything is gone. You're glad that [the Grinch] virtually wrecked.... No, not wrecked, pulverized Christmas. Is that what I'm hearing?”

“You can't hurt Christmas, [Mr. Mayor], because it isn't about the gifts or the contests or the fancy lights. That's what [Cindy]'s been trying to tell everyone! And me. [She]'s been trying to tell me.”

“What's wrong with you? This is a child!”

“[She]'s my child. And she happens to be right, by the way.”

“I don't need anything more for Christmas than this right here, my family!”

“Now for the final note in my symphony of downright nasty not-niceness! The crescendo of my odious opus! The wailing and the gnashing of teeth. The bellowing of the bitterly bummed out! It'll be like music to my ears!”

“Somehow or other, it came Just the same!”

“How could it be so? It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages, boxes or bags!”

“Maybe Christmas doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

“Help me! I'm feeling!”

“What's happening to me? I'm all toasty inside. And I'm leaking?”

“All right, that's enough! Knock it off! beat it! Get out of here! One step at a time!

“Wait! This can't happen! It shouldn't! It couldn't! It mustn't! It wouldn't! Not now, not then, not ever again!”

“What are you doing up there!?”

“I came to see you. No one should be alone on Christmas.”

“I got you, [Cindy Lou]!”

“Are you kiddin'? The sun is bright and the powder's bitchin'!”

“Now scoot over! It's my turn to drive!”

“Now you listen to me, [young] [lady]! Even if we're horribly mangled there'll be no sad faces on Christmas.”

“By the way, these lights match your outfit perfectly.”

“This could be more difficult to negotiate.”

“Out of the way! I have no insurance!”

“Run for your lives! Watch out, I can't stop!”

“Aren't you gonna cuff me? Put me in a choke hold? Blind me with pepper spray?”

“Sorry but my heart belongs to someone else.”

“Cheer up, dude. It's Christmas.”

“There's nothin' like the holidays.”

“Too late! That'll be mine.”

#rp meme #inbox meme #sentence starters #the grinch meme #christmas inbox meme

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chirpsythismorning · 1 year

Note

I dont even think the tag is dead at all tbh. We were really spoiled last summer with 2k post per day, and something crazy happening everyday like Mikhailgate, scriptgate, sock anon or people impersonating Ross duffer, but if you check most tags on this app, that's rarely the case. The thing is, it's been a year since season 4 came out and we're still getting around 300 posts per day and I need people to realise how crazy that is. Before season 4 the tag had like 5 k followers and there could be days without a single post. The fact that it's been a year and we still surpass 200 posts, AND we've already made it through the most content drought phase of the hiatus (since filming is about to begin and we'll increase the daily posts again) is crazy. This tag is still very much active, even for a show that hasn't released any new content for a year. And also AO3 is still active. The fact that for a whole year, there's been writers who still update fics or create new ones everyday is something I'm not used to coming from other smaller fandoms.

I get it's a bit more boring right now and we are looking back to the may-august craze, but we've already made it through the worst and we only need to hold on for one more month

This is definitely the best way to look at it!

I think I’m also maybe sad bc a lot of familiar faces aren’t as active, like some folks I remember seeing daily are gone. Which is fine!

And even despite that you’ll see posts in the tag get like hundreds of likes, so there are definitely a lot of people still lurking just not posting. Which is also fine!

It’s so true though that we are a lot more active than we realize.

Tumblr in general I used to think of as like a no man’s land pre-s4 bc it tends to really only be active in specific fandoms where like the unity is on point bc the content is just rolling in.

So many fandoms reside here at a point, but dwindle over time, and I feel like we are very fortunate to have made a big space here bc it is a cool platform when you have a lot of people that like a certain thing and want to talk about it.

And we’re fortunate enough to be so massive and not only that but this is sort of just the beginning. Imagine how many followers we’ll gain leading up to s5, during and after…? Or the aftermath of people coming here to look at theories and be like YOU GUYS WERE RIGHT! All the queer fans who kind of talked down on us (understandably) for potentially falling for queerbait, joining in and being like wow this is surreal, it finally happened. It’s going to be magical.

For now I guess it just makes me wonder if I should take a break too?? Like seeing yourself over and over in the tag is almost a wake up call that I should step back like everyone else is for the time being? Bc like idk if it’s maybe annoying to see the same person over and over? Or if it’s just the reminder of how inactive things are and that’s what makes people step back too?

Not even a bad thing necessarily like you said, bc this is still an unprecedented case of a fandom being quite active despite the circumstances.

Honestly though, even if there isn’t much news going into May and in the couple months after it, beyond like the bare minimum of what we’re expecting, I’ll try to embrace it and maybe step back or even focus on more detailed posts instead of the day to day fodder.

I also hate myself for this, but I rarely go in the top posts tag??? I’m always like living in the recent posts part of it and that’s probably also the problem 😭

So reminder to anyone that’s like me who does the same, we gotta support more of us that have top posts too bc I will literally remember the top posts exists, go there, find absolute gems (obviously it’s top posts???) and then be like why the fuck don’t I come here more often??? That’s another way I could probably curb my disappointment about us not being as active as I’m used to. And it’s super simple.

There’s a lot of stuff like that I could do better at to contribute to the solution of this being a better experience for myself and other still active on here!

Thanks for the pep talk anón 😇🙏

#byler #byler tumblr #ask

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allaganexarch · 4 months

Text

wip whenever (s'unfinished sunday ♥)

thank you so much to @myreia AND @thevikingwoman for the tags!!

I haven't written anything that wasn't for school/work in awhile and unfortunately I'm still on the verge of burned out so it will prob be a bit. so here is more original thing from the nano times! it is once again a long segment (4.8k words LOL) bc i very much want to inflict it on ppl. part one is here

i'm doing the cop-out and saying i'm tagging anyone who wants to share!! but frfr! do it and tag me! merry crisis-eve everyone!!

slight general content warning, but i think part 1 sets the tone

Blissfully, a hard knock at the door comes to her rescue, and she promptly excuses herself from any further discussion on the matter of her many failings.

“Tamsin, I’m so glad I caught you!” It is Penelope at the door, who always seems to know what’s going on with everyone in Godsplace. Penelope has a round, pleasant face like that of Mrs. Burkow, and although she is not of noble birth, she has a similar freckled complexion and strawberry blonde hair, done up in a proper, fashionable style.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Tamsin wonders, smiling fondly. She imagines she’d have been relieved to see just about anyone right now, but Penelope holds a special place in her heart. Penelope is the kind of person who can change the whole mood of a room just by walking into it.

Penelope takes her by the hands, positively trembling with excitement. “You’ll never believe it—there’s a Keeper in town!”

“A Keeper,” Tamsin echoes slowly. The term is familiar, but it’s not the sort of thing one hears every day. “Not a Memory-keeper?”

“Just so!” Penelope shakes her hands, and is already halfway to tugging her out the door. “Someone just spotted her going into the tavern—oh, I wonder if she’ll stay the night? Come on, we’ve got to—“

“Tamsin?”

Mrs. Burkow doesn’t like Penelope. Which makes her just about the only one, by Tamsin’s estimation.

“Oh. Hello, Penelope,” Mrs. Burkow smiles thinly. “What’s this I hear about a Memory-keeper?”

Penelope tenses her shoulders a little. She is acutely attuned to other people, their moods and peculiarities, which is one of the reasons Tamsin likes her so much.

“Yes, ma’am,” says Penelope, with a small nod of respect. “May I please steal Tamsin away from you, just for a little while? Why, the last time a Memory-keeper came to Godsplace must have been…”

“I’m afraid not, Penelope,” says Mrs. Burkow, wielding the brunt of her kindly features with a note of sorrow in her warm voice. “Tamsin has just come home, after all, and here it’s almost time for supper. Lots to do for the big day, you know!”

“Oh, of course! Of course, well,” Penelope has not quite let go of Tamsin’s hands. She is still trying, and Tamsin loves her for that. “Well, maybe just a quick peek? The tavern’s not far, and we’ll come right back, and I’ll even—“

“Penelope,” Mrs. Burkow cuts her off with a note of motherly disapproval. “Don’t you have something better to do than going to that dreadful tavern to gawk at some…person we know nothing about?”

Penelope falters under Mrs. Burkow’s steadfast disapproval. She knows it is unwise to speak too fondly of a Memory-keeper, particularly when someone has just cast doubt upon the woman’s scruples. As far as the people of Godsplace are concerned, there’s only so much difference between a Memory-keeper who deserves respect and a common witch who deserves to burn.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, Mrs. Burkow,” says Penelope with a sigh. She squeezes Tamsin’s hands in a silent apology before she lets go. “You know me,” she continues with a self-effacing shrug, “I can’t help getting all excited when something new happens. Sorry to disturb you both.”

Tamsin watches her go, feeling just shy of hopeless. On the one hand, her mother is probably right. With the way things are in Godsplace, it’s probably better not to go within a stone’s toss of anything magical. On the other hand, she’s never seen a real Memory-keeper before. Stories paint them as wizened old crones, backs bent low from an impossibly long life, but the last time a Memory-keeper came to Godsplace was long before Tamsin or Penelope were alive.

As she closes the front door, Tamsin wonders with a twinge of annoyance if Bryce knew about this and didn’t tell her, if this was the source of his strange comment about her being careful. It makes more sense than anything else she can think of. She suppresses a sigh and sets about preparing dinner. It’s unlikely she’ll see him before the wedding, and she’d very much like to give him a piece of her mind.

“Have you ever seen one?” Tamsin wonders cautiously as she chops vegetables.

Mrs. Burkow perches herself at the table to continue her knitting while Tamsin cooks. “What, a Memory-keeper?”

“Mhm.”

“Goodness, no. And why would I want to?”

“I don’t know,” says Tamsin, as casually as she can manage. “It’s just interesting, is all.”

Mrs. Burkow scoffs. “It’s only interesting because you think you’ve never seen it before. But that business in the Square you hate so much? It’s the same thing. No sense in putting some old bat on a pedestal just because, what?” She chuckles derisively. “She got a fancy education in witchcraft? The whole thing is ridiculous, and I expect anyone with more brains than young Penelope won’t be shy in telling this ‘Keeper’ exactly that.”

Tamsin knows better than to argue. Still, the idea sits uncomfortably at the back of her mind while she cooks. Memory-keepers are women who wield magic, and they’re supposed to have a special place in society wherever they roam. Tamsin has heard that in some places it’s a punishable crime to deny basic aid to a Keeper. If she asks for a bed to sleep in or something to eat or a sip of water, one is expected to give it to her.

Most places, though, don’t need laws to enforce such things, at least as far as Tamsin has heard. The fear of magic is more than enough to elicit compliance.

It’s something Tamsin has thought in passing, and something her mother has just explicitly said—that a Keeper’s magic is the same as what makes the people of Godsplace gather in the Square to put overgrown children to the flame. Maybe Tamsin wanted to go and see so that she could know whether it’s different or not, as though a person could know just by looking. What makes this Keeper so very different from the little girl in the Square?

Tamsin stokes the fire and watches the water boil in silence. She imagines Mrs. Burkow would be happy if she brought up the wedding, but the idea turns her stomach. Particularly now, when she’s angry with Bryce just in case he’s lied to her. Anyway, what is there to say? She’ll go over to the Davensay estate to get ready, they’ll go and have the ceremony, and then it will be over and done with.

Mrs. Burkow will probably try to sell this little house. Tamsin wonders if she’ll start trying to dress the way the older noble ladies do, with heavy skirts and extravagant furs. It would suit Mrs. Burkow, in a way.

Tamsin serves them both a hefty portion of stew, her mind still on magic and burning and lingering screams. When Mrs. Burkow stifles a yawn, Tamsin wonders if perhaps she can sneak out. She’s got a lot to attend to, after all, and there’s no telling whether she’ll be too late by tomorrow. The Memory-keeper may be run out of town by then, and Bryce will be busy doing gods-know-what all day. If she’s smart about it, perhaps she can catch a glimpse of the Keeper and make her way over to Bryce’s to demand an explanation.

It would be better if she could engage in conversation, but she just can’t bring herself to do it. This is exactly why she’ll make such a poor noblewoman. How is she supposed to make small talk when there’s only one thing she could possibly want to talk about?

“Goodness me, but it’s been a long day,” says Mrs. Burkow with another yawn. “I hope you won’t mind if I leave you with the dishes?”

“Of course not,” says Tamsin. Mrs. Burkow always leaves her with the dishes. Mrs. Burkow always leaves her with everything. Then, because it is the only ingratiating thing she can bring herself to say, she amends, “Honestly, I like doing them.”

“Ah, there’s our Tamsin,” Mrs. Burkow drawls happily. She stands with a stretch and collects her knitting. “Enjoy it while it lasts, then. Soon you won’t have to trouble yourself with such things any longer.”

Tamsin scoffs. She collects the bowls. “You really think I won’t have to do my own dishes?”

“Of course not!” says Mrs. Burkow, delighted to have landed at last upon her favorite subject. “You’ll have maids and servants and whatnot to attend to all that.”

“And what will I do?” Tamsin wonders genuinely.

“Why, relax and enjoy yourself, Tamsin! What else?” Mrs. Burkow yawns again. “Oh, my, but it has been a long day. You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” says Tamsin, as plainly as she can manage. “Get some rest.”

“See that you get some rest, yourself!” Mrs. Burkow points at her. “It won’t do to have you looking all worn out on your big day!”

Tamsin forces a shadow of a smile. “I’ll try,” she says.

She cleans the kitchen quietly and with care, and listens for signs that Mrs. Burkow has fallen asleep. For a mercy, she is a heavy sleeper, and won’t likely rouse so long as Tamsin is careful.

Tamsin slips on her shoes and her coat, and waits in perfect silence at the front door for several more minutes before she dares to turn the handle. The house answers her with an easy silence, and so she sets forth with a short-lived sense of victory.

Her confidence falters as soon as she closes the door behind her, and she is shrouded in darkness. She wishes she could have gone to the tavern when it was still light out, and with Penelope for company. Now that she thinks about it, it’s mostly men who go there, usually much older, plus the odd traveler in need of a room.

And anyway, she doesn’t even know if the Keeper will still be there. It’s been hours since Penelope came by, and the way things are going, the tavern-keeper could easily have thrown her out on lofty accusations of witchcraft. Indeed, Tamsin coming around asking about her could be viewed with great suspicion, particularly if whatever happened earlier didn’t go over well.

Just like her mother said, she doesn’t know anything about this woman. She barely knows anything about the Memory-keepers in general.

Not so long ago, she’d have gone over to Bryce’s and he’d have joined her. But she doesn’t know whether he knew already and chose to keep the information from her, and if that is the case, she doesn’t know what it means. Is it just because they’re on such uncertain terms now? Or is this the way it’s always going to be, now that she’s to be his wife?

“Hey, Tamsin.”

Tamsin is so lost in her thoughts that she startles at the sound. The streets are mostly dark but for a few lights in windows, and the dim glow from a lantern hung over Teddy Page’s small, open barn. Teddy himself is cast in shadow against the doorframe, leaning back with arms crossed.

“What are you doing out here?” she asks him.

Teddy Page is a quiet sort, somewhat nondescript in looks, and Tamsin doesn’t know much about him. She knows that his family lost their animals in the last Season of Frost, and since then they’ve gotten by selling excess feed and cut grass, which is all the small barn now holds. She has heard other rumors about Teddy and his family, but she doesn’t put much stock in such things. There are plenty of rumors about her, too.

“Same as you, I guess,” he says.

“You heard about the Memory-keeper at the tavern?” Tamsin wonders skeptically. Little as she knows about Teddy, she’d have guessed he held an opinion similar to Mrs. Burkow’s.

“Oh, is that it, then?” Teddy drawls, in a tone that makes Tamsin’s skin crawl. She wishes she hadn’t said anything.

“Don’t tell me you’re not the slightest bit curious,” Tamsin tries.

“Your new husband know you’re out at night?” Teddy wonders sourly.

Tamsin averts her gaze. “He’s not my husband yet. And anyway, it’s none of his business where I go.”

Teddy chuckles mirthlessly. He moves from leaning on the doorframe to standing upright. “He’s in for a nasty surprise. You’d think a girl like you would be a little more grateful.”

Although the words set her nerves on edge, she tries to laugh it off. “You sound just like my mother.”

“Your mother has a good point, then,” says Teddy. He approaches, his shadow slowly eclipsing the dim glow from his lantern. “Come on, what’s a girl like you doing going to the tavern at this hour?”

“What’s that supposed to mean, a girl like me?” Tamsin asks him, but she is trying with all her might not to retreat from him on pure instinct.

“Nice, respectable girl,” says Teddy. “Girl with a future. Girl who doesn’t want people getting the wrong idea.”

Teddy is standing too close now, close enough that she can see the vague outline of his features even in near-darkness, but Tamsin is too proud to take a step back. “The wrong idea about what?” she asks, and hears her own voice tremble.

Teddy grabs her by the arm. It’s not a rough grip, but his hand is large and strong, and Tamsin almost flinches.

“About what she’s there for,” he says darkly.

Tamsin tries to swallow, but her throat has gone dry. “I don’t understand,” she says. “What do you mean?”

Part of her is screaming that she should run. She doesn’t even know where. It hardly matters. Just away. But the sensible part of her is telling her that she knows Teddy, even if she doesn’t know much about him. Surely there is simply something she is failing to understand.

Teddy lets out a soft huff of air. He is so close now that Tamsin can feel his breath on her face. Revulsion courses through her, and she tries at last to free herself from his grip. It doesn’t even seem to faze him. He grabs onto her other arm, and she is trapped.

“You really don’t know?” he wonders. He is too close, too close, and still getting closer. “I can show you.”

“Teddy, what are you doing?” Tamsin squirms, and his wet, open-mouthed kiss lands somewhere around the line of her jaw. It is a sickening sensation, and so shocking that Tamsin stops struggling. “What are you—?” she asks again, but panic runs like ice through her veins, and she’s not sure she can even trust her legs to hold her anymore.

This whole thing was a mistake. Perhaps the worst mistake Tamsin has ever made. Bryce was right. Her mother was right. Even Teddy himself was right. What does Tamsin care for some strange old woman in a tavern? Tamsin should only be so lucky as to marry someone kind and decent, should only be so lucky as to have a home with a mother who looks out for her. Tamsin is a nothing, a nobody. She has no family name, no past, and without her mother’s perseverance and Bryce’s kindness, she would have no future.

“Teddy, stop, enough,” Tamsin murmurs, but her arms and legs have gone numb, and she can barely bring herself to move.

Teddy is kissing her neck in that same wet, uncomfortable manner, and she thinks he is saying something, too, but her head is spinning, and she thinks she’ll be sick. She can’t see anything, and she has no idea what to do. Could she scream if she tried? Would it make any difference? In the back of her mind, she still hears the high, thin scream of the little girl in the Square as the flames met her skin. That little girl will never stop screaming, and it doesn’t make any difference at all.

Apropos of nothing, Tamsin starts to feel angry again. Will she be put to the flame now, too, if the truth comes out? Bryce is already marrying well below his station. A nameless peasant girl without even her virtue is surely a step too far, even for him. Even if it’s her.

It doesn’t make any sense, but Tamsin can’t help but wonder if this was that little girl’s crime—not actual witchcraft, but the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, such that a man she’d previously thought very little about had suddenly decided he could resist her wicked wiles no longer.

Did Bryce know? Another thought that makes no sense, and yet Bryce was so cagey earlier that Tamsin cannot shake the certainty that there is something he wasn’t telling her. Did Bryce know why the girl was burned? Is that why he warned Tamsin to be careful, practically begged her to come to him if she needed anything?

She is so furious with Bryce that she momentarily forgets the precariousness of her circumstances. “Enough!” she cries, in a voice barely her own, and with inhuman strength throws the hulking Teddy off of her and onto the straw-covered floor of his barn.

Teddy is staring up at her, now fully illuminated by the lantern, pure loathing etched into his unremarkable features. Reality crashes back into her, and she nearly staggers from the force of the impact.

“You little—“ he starts to stagger to his feet.

There is a…sound. Like a whistle of wind, barely even perceptible. Except that Teddy stops speaking abruptly, as though the air were rent from his lungs. Then, it’s like something is constricting him, like an invisible rope wraps itself around his body and pulls, tighter and tighter, until he is gasping for breath, and his feet aren’t quite touching the floor.

“I think that’s quite enough out of you, wouldn’t you say?”

An unfamiliar voice, sharp and commanding, comes from just over Tamsin’s shoulder, and Tamsin whirls around to face its owner. The stranger is barely illuminated by Teddy’s lantern, and the hood of her cloak obscures the precise shape of her face. But her eyes are…glowing, almost, as though they were their own source of light.

To Tamsin, she is an angel and a savior.

But the cloaked woman ignores her, strange, glowing gaze fixed upon Teddy, who is now fully suspended in midair.

“Disgraceful behavior from a young man,” says the woman. As she approaches Teddy, Tamsin notices that she is holding her hands at her waist in a very peculiar manner. It’s like she is controlling something, like the invisible rope that constrains Teddy is coming from her.

“Tell me. Isn’t it a crime in this Gods place to force oneself upon a young lady?” She speaks the name, Godsplace, like it is two separate words, and with such derision that it sounds like bitter sarcasm, the same way some people will mutter Gods-forsaken-place, or Place-the-gods-forgot.

Teddy sputters a disjointed reply, which contains the phrase “—asking for it.”

“Really?” the cloaked woman wonders, as though genuinely considering this. “Because, you know, I was just passing by, and I’m sure I heard the lady tell you to stop.”

To punctuate her judgment, the woman…flicks her hands forward, and in doing so, throws Teddy hard against the wall of the barn. He lands in a sputtering heap, just as enraged as before, but now at a distinct disadvantage.

“Foul, cursed witch,” he blusters. “What’ll you do, turn me in? You can’t hurt me.”

“Can’t?” the woman repeats, again like she is considering this proposition seriously. “Hmm. No, you must be mistaken. It’s not that I can’t hurt you, not at all.” She looms over him now, like some kind of ancient hero just before he strikes the killing blow. “More precisely, I have sworn not to harm the likes of you. But vows can be broken, you see. And so I suppose it depends upon whether you believe my word means anything to me.”

This seems to strike genuine terror into Teddy. Tamsin would never admit it out loud, but it is somewhat gratifying to witness.

“You can’t!” he stammers, petulant. “You can’t do anything to me!” And then, so quiet Tamsin thinks she imagines it, he amends, “Please.”

“Oh,” the woman drawls, “now we’re getting somewhere. I suggest you run along, and quickly. I won’t ask twice.”

Teddy does not take long to weigh his options. He scrambles to his feet and staggers through the barn, knocking Tamsin to the ground with the full weight of his body as he goes. “You’ll pay for this,” he snarls, but he does not stop moving. He runs clumsily all the way back to the front door of his house, slamming it behind him without a care for the lateness of the hour.

The cloaked woman approaches, and offers her a hand. “Are you all right?” she asks.

Tamsin is stricken by the stark difference in her tone. Although there is still a certain sharpness to the way she speaks, all the coldness, all the malice is gone. She takes the woman’s hand, and the woman easily pulls her to her feet.

“Fine,” Tamsin stammers belatedly. “I’m fine. Thank you. Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

“I pray you forgive me my lateness,” says the woman with a small bow of her head. “I would have intervened a moment sooner, but your casting caught me off my guard.”

“Casting?” Tamsin echoes blankly.

The woman’s head inclines by a fraction, a quick, minuscule motion. “When you pushed the boy away. Did you not see it? Feel it, perhaps?”

Tamsin shivers involuntarily. “All I felt was angry.”

The woman nods slowly. “Of course,” she says curtly. “No matter. Shall I walk you home? There’s something I must discuss with you.”

“With me?” Tamsin’s mind reels.

The woman nods again. “You’ll need training, of course.”

“Training?”

“For the magic.”

For a moment, Tamsin thinks she really must be dreaming, or else she’s surely about to faint. Nothing about this moment feels remotely real, or even possible. “Magic?”

“As I just mentioned, before, when you pushed the boy away?” the woman clarifies patiently.

“But—“ Tamsin flounders. “That can’t be possible. I can’t. I couldn’t—“

“Oh, but you can,” says the woman. It is a kind statement. Her severe expression softens into a subtle smile. “I’ve just seen it.”

When Tamsin doesn’t respond, the woman’s smile disappears, and she gestures that Tamsin should lead the way out. “But you cannot stay here,” she continues. “Not with the Gift. You know perfectly well what happens to young ladies who try to hide their talents. You bore witness just this afternoon.”

“The girl in the Square,” Tamsin murmurs, without entirely meaning to speak. She looks up. “Was she really—? I mean, were you there? Could you…I don’t know, tell?”

She has accepted, because she wants to, and because there is no other reasonable explanation, that this woman is the Memory-keeper Penelope spoke of. She still cannot quite fathom why this legendary figure would have any interest in talking with a nameless peasant girl, and so she thinks that she ought to ask every question she can think of while she has the chance.

“I saw…traces,” says the woman. “It’s difficult to tell with certainty, however. Many who possess the Gift never even know it.”

“Never know it?” Tamsin echoes. “How could that be?”

The woman hums thoughtfully. “How shall I put this? The Gift manifests itself on…a spectrum, shall we say? Some are so weak in the Gift that none would ever notice, while some are so strong that they couldn’t possibly deny it. And of course the vast majority are not magical at all.”

Tamsin considers this. This seems somehow more acceptable to her. “So…you think I am…I mean, that I do have the Gift? But if it’s only a little bit, then maybe—“

“Oh, do not mistake me, uh—“ The woman stops short. “Forgive me, I’ve forgotten to ask your name.”

“Tamsin. And…yours? If I may ask.”

As though directly counter to Tamsin’s lackluster introduction, the cloaked woman brings a hand to her heart and offers a regal curtsey. “I am Althea Blackthorne,” she says. “Althea, if you please. Keeper Althea, if you’re inclined toward formality.”

Tamsin takes in a shuddering breath. “You really are a Memory-keeper,” she murmurs.

Again Althea’s severe features soften into a smile. Tamsin only now notices that her eyes are a shade of grayish-blue, striking but decidedly ordinary, and no longer glowing. Although her smile wrinkles her eyes faintly, she is far from a wizened old crone. Indeed, Tamsin thinks Althea can’t even be as old as Mrs. Burkow.

Althea inclines her head toward the road. “Shall we keep going? There’s much I have to tell you, and very little time to prepare.”

Tamsin nods mutely and turns to lead the way back home. Although, now that she thinks of it, she doesn’t have the faintest idea what she’s going to do when she gets there. Wake up Mrs. Burkow to tell her that not only did Tamsin sneak out of the house, but she’s brought back the very Memory-keeper Mrs. Burkow would call a common witch?

“Right, as I was saying,” Althea continues, “while some people are so weak in the Gift that no one would ever take any notice, such is decidedly not the case for you, Tamsin.”

Tamsin almost trips over her own feet. She can feel her heart hammering in her chest. It’s simply not possible.

But Althea keeps talking, either ignorant or indifferent to Tamsin’s internal turmoil. “And while it is true that someone weaker in the Gift might never discover her talent, even she could not deny it once it made itself known to her. The Gift wants to be used, you see.”

Althea makes a sweeping gesture toward Tamsin. There is something particular about the way she holds her hands, even when she is only talking. Like she could reach out and pluck at the threads of the universe with little more than a thought.

“Magic is not merely contained within the Gifted,” says Althea, gesturing toward Tamsin. “Magic is in you, but it is also all around you. You are a source, but you are also a conduit.”

Tamsin averts her gaze. She wraps her arms about herself. “You’ll understand if this is still a bit…hard to believe.”

Althea hums. “Yes, I suppose it would be. You said you didn’t…see anything?”

Tamsin thinks back. Although she hardly noticed anything before Althea’s intervention, she imagines she will remember that for the rest of her days. “It looked like…like Teddy was being held by an invisible rope. And I saw the way your hands looked, so I could guess you were controlling it. But that’s all I saw.” Then, ashamed, she amends, “I’m sorry.”

“No need for an apology,” Althea shakes her head. “It’s not unusual. I expect you’ll meet many sisters who struggled to see the Gift at first.”

“Sisters?” Tamsin echoes.

“At the Academy,” Althea clarifies. “It’s not so much a familial term as it is a term of respect. All the Forgotten will be your fellow sisters.”

This, like Memory-keeper, is a term Tamsin recognizes only vaguely. When Keepers first enter into training, they must cast off all their worldly bonds, foreswear home and family, friends and loved ones, and their loved ones are supposed to do the same. They become Forgotten.

Althea glances toward Tamsin, and tries to interpret her uneasy silence. “Perhaps the terms sound harsh to you, but in practice it’s not nearly so dire. You’ll be quite busy during your training, and you may freely reconnect with your family once it’s complete.”

Contrary to Althea’s perception, Tamsin is still trying to wrap her head around the very idea that she could possess any kind of Gift. What does she care for the idea of becoming Forgotten? She is a nothing, a nobody. Who would even bother to remember her?

They’re getting close to Tamsin’s home, but Tamsin is no closer to a solution on how to proceed. “My mother won’t be happy to see you,” she says, for lack of any better way to start. “That’s…a bit of an understatement, actually.”

To her surprise, Althea laughs. It is a gentle sound, and unexpectedly warm. “Yes, I’ve been getting that reaction quite a lot today.”

Tamsin lingers uncertainly. “She won’t want me to go.”

“Of course not,” says Althea. “But staying isn’t an option. Surely you see that?”

Tamsin opens her mouth, but words catch in the back of her throat. This has to be the moment she wakes up, right? She sat down for a moment when she was finished cleaning the kitchen, and she fell asleep. And now she’ll wake up, gasping for breath and with a dreadful pain in her neck, and this whole thing will be one strange, vivid, terrible, wonderful dream.

#exciting tag for writing things #original fiction #personal #nano nonsense #long post #parts 1 and 2 are collectively the first chapter LOL #out here writing prisoner-length chapters like a SUCKER #but god it's so fun to do intensive world-building like this again

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