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netherfeildren · 8 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VI : Sisyphus

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Blood and Gore; Explicit description of injury; Use of misogynistic language; Threat of SA but none occurs; Ass play; Anal sex

A/N: It's all downhill from here, baby!!!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 10K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VI : SISYPHUS

DEATH: Why the bow, if you’re breaking no laws?

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

You’re in the dark again, warm and sated, together. He’s propped up on one elbow, practically half on top of you while you lay on your belly, pressed into the soft blankets and the blistering heat of his body; your cheek, smooshed into the ball of his shoulder while you let him explore your skin at will. He’s been biting and licking and kissing all over for what seems like hours after having fucked you halfway to delirium, and you can do nothing more than hum and whimper when his teeth get too hungry, his bite too sharp, listening to the sounds he makes. Low rumbles of appreciation deep in his chest that you feel vibrate into the bones of your back, breathy huffs where he takes in your scent, mingled with the flavor of his own sweat and come. You’re damp and sweaty and a little sticky in the soft crevices between your limbs, and maybe it should be disgusting, but he tastes you everywhere anyways.The tip of his nose dragging down the line of your spine, a soft nip to your waist, a sharper one to the inside of your bicep, that vulnerable and ticklish swell. He rolls you slightly further towards him to expose your breasts to his explorations, and you feel the tickle of his armpit hair on your cheek where your face is tucked into his side. He sniffs below the damp line of your hair at the nape of your neck, mouths wetly at the satiny skin, and you drag your fingertips up his arm, barely there, pulling a shiver from him and a soft moan. “What’s your favorite place in the galaxy?” Your voice barely a break in the silence, the soft song of your breathing.

A wet suck to your nipple, “Balls deep inside of you,” entirely serious in that monotone way of his.

“Disgusting.”

“Nuh uh, delicious,” a long swipe to the other nipple, pad of his thumb brushing over the dip of your navel. A whine of his name, and he gives you a laugh, the sort of laugh that changes the trajectory of a person’s life, the sort of laugh that is so real it could almost be confused as imaginary. He moves up, lets you savor the sound of it, and there is no better taste than this: someone else’s laughter in your mouth. You twist your fingers in his curls, run your tongue behind his teeth, belly pressed to belly. “I’m being serious,” you remind him.

He buries his face in your neck, a soft hum, “Here, on the ship.” With me? You want to ask. “What about yours?”

“I like water.” You always had, had always been a swimmer when the moment allowed.

“Then we shall have to find some water for you, won’t we?” His fingers have snuck down to your bottom, and he kneads your soft flesh, the line of his once again swollen erection trapped between your bodies. Yes, you’d like that, you think, to be in water with him. You dig your fingers into the rock hard muscles of his shoulders as his mouth resumes its explorations.

“I want a loth cat,” you tell him next.

Mhmm.

“Din?” His mouth is once again latched at your breast, and his cock has begun to thrust and grind against your belly, sticky tip drooling against your skin.

“Please, be quiet,” he says with your breast still in his mouth. “I’m very busy.”

You ignore him, twist your fingers tighter in his curls, arching your chest further into his mouth. “Will you get me a loth cat?” Voice all soft and breathy and breaking as you lift your thigh around his naked hip.

Distracted: “A what?”

The man really, really does not listen. “A loth cat. Will you get me one?”

Finally, he pulls his head back. “No. What is that?”

“You’re saying no, and you don’t even know what they are!”

“You’re not bringing any animals on my ship,” and even though he can’t see it, you roll your eyes at him.

“It’s a pet. Not an animal.”

“Explain the difference to me.” He bends his head to your breast again, all teeth now.

“A pet is fluffy, and I will love it.” But he brings his cock back into the mix then, and there are no more allowances for ridiculous requests for quite some time after that.

“Now you’re going to be good and stay here like I’m asking you to this time, right? Where you’re safe.” He’d landed the Razor Crest a conservative distance away from Niima Outpost; didn’t want you too far isolated in the sand dunes while he left you to go out and fetch his bounty, but not so close you’d be easily noticed.

“Oh, you are soooo stern,” you pout up at him from where you’re curled up in your bed.

His only response: a long suffering sigh, hands on his hips. You roll your eyes at him, nuzzling into the pillow that smells just like his hair. “Yes. I promise I’ll stay on the ship this time. Where it’s safe.” He comes to one knee beside your shared bed, he’d never crawled back into that tomb of a bunk again after that last time together, this was your shared place now. He brushes a gentle thumb over the pout of your bottom lip, tipping your chin up to the dark tee of his visor, “What a good girl you can be… when you set your mind to it, little one.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him again, but feel your cheeks heat and your lower belly go tight and fluttery. Your pussy clenches with a slight twinge, and you feel the slow thick drool of his come seep out of you. He’d taken you hard earlier, savage and rough and without restraint – like he was angry at having to leave you and taking it out on your cunt.

“Only when I try very, very hard,” you tell him. He dips his chin once, and then unfolds to his great height above you, another nod, another paused moment to take one last, long look at you, and you want to beg, so badly, for him not to go. It feels like the first time he’d left, all those weeks ago. Your first experience staying on the Crest without him while he went out to hunt his bounty, and at the same time, all the worse. You know him so much better now, you need him, you… You what? No, you can’t think of it now. It’s a non possibility, something you aren’t capable of. But a pesky, perilous corner of your mind whispers, like the Force healing? A non possibility of that sort? You want to ask him to take his helmet off and kiss you before he goes, you want to beg him to stay, you want to ask him why he’s not called you that sweet name again since that last time, the only time, in the heat and damp darkness of the fresher when he’d whispered it into your skin, cyar’ika, and you want to cry, just a little bit, if you think on it too much. On the fact that he’d not repeated it, at the possibility of it having been a mistake or a slip in the heat of the moment. But you say none of those things, and ask for no kiss, and look after him with regret and an inkling of unsettled trepidation as the broad expanse of his back lumbers down the lowered plank and then disappears with the closing of the hatch into the scorched badlands and marching dunes of Jakku.

The hull is left dark and serene with his departure, quiet, and yet it sends a small shiver up your naked spine, bare and wet beneath the warm covers like he’d left you. He keeps the space meticulously clean, but now it’s littered with small signs of your presence in his life, of your life together. Your tunic thrown over the lone stool where he forces you to sit when you take your meals with him crouched at your feet, obsessively watching to make sure you have your fill, strange and lovely man that he is. He has a complex about the food you consume, as if it’s imperative to him that you eat as much as you can, that you’re always satisfied in the ways he cannot, or will not allow himself to be. He doesn’t eat enough, never as much as you know he’d probably secretly like to, and for a man of his size and brawn, surely not enough as he needs to, and it’s slowly fostered an angry kernel of resentment within you. He should always have all the things that he needs and wants, as much food as he desires, always, and anything that would keep those things from him you’re bitterly coming to detest. It even, in a strangely convoluted way, makes you angry at yourself, that your presence here with him prevents him from freely and comfortably discarding his helmet to take his meals. If you weren’t here with him he could eat as much as he wants whenever he wants without worry of being seen, and sometimes, try as you might, you can’t let go of the thought.

He’d left the pair of his thick socks you’d appropriated for yourself draped over one of the steam pipes that are warm to the touch, so that when you’d put them on they’re nice and toasty for you. The sight of them makes your heart kick and flip and burn in your chest, and you turn over to face the other way, towards the wall so that you’ll not be forced to look upon the empty hull and the warm socks and the Din-less space and remind yourself how much you hate when he goes away. He’d said he’d be back quickly, only a few hours he estimated, and you comfort yourself with this as you tuck your hands beneath your cheek and slowly drift off into a restless sleep.

“Hello, beastie.”

You’re thrashed into wakefulness by an agonizing grip twisting in your hair trying to rip the very strands from your scalp. You screech, disoriented trying to kick out, get your bearings, but the hull is still darkened from the way Din had left you. You feel another pair of hands trying to grasp at your ankles, and you kick out savagely, bracing yourself against the cold floor, and then the sickening crunch of the bones in your hand as a heavy boot slams down on your fingers, agony, agony, what is happening? An alien dialect in a language you can’t discern, rough and grating is spit back and forth between several voices, and then the first voice comes again and an old, hunched female steps into the dim light from the shadows. You recognize her reptilian Thalassian aspect immediately, and your heart drops into your stomach. Slavers. You double your efforts, kicking and screaming and trying to claw at the hands in your hair, to rip yourself away while your crushed hand screams in agony. The old female comes closer, beastie, beastie, we’ve caught ourselves a beastie, she sing-songs in a hollow voice. Another boot to your belly, kicking the air out of your lungs, sending fire through your ribs and bile up your throat, but when you turn your head, you make eye contact with one of the old crones henchmen, another Thalassian, and with a single thought you send him slumping to the ground, brains oozing out of his ears in a melted, bloody mess.

“Murderous little beast!” the female screeches, and she’s unraveling a whip from around her forearm, and before you can even brace yourself, snapping it at you so that it’s splitting open the meat of your cheek. Searing agony spreads across your face, your vision goes in and out, and you try and shake it away, but then more of that guttural unknown language and an order from the crone, and your arms are being jerked forward so harshly it feels as though your bones will be wrenched from their sockets, and they’re clamping something around your wrists. Something cold and sucking and terrible. You slump forward, tangled in the soft blankets of yours and Din’s shared bed, still naked beneath, and you try to reach for the Force, for your strength, for Din’s mind out there in the desert, but there’s nothing. Acute silence, unbearable nothingness. All your strength zapped and stolen away in the blink of an unguarded moment, like an amputated limb.

The female is hunched over the body of the one you’d killed, leaning heavily on a thick walking stick, spitting hissing sobs, and when she turns back to look at you, you can see there are tears marring her ugly, wrinkled face. “You killed him! Creature! Dark creature!” She spits. “Pull her back, let me look at the little whore’s face.” Unforgiving claws in your hair again, and your head is ripped back and angled towards the weak light of the fresher, the blanket covering your modesty slipping to reveal your nakedness beneath. Fear and shame and fury curdle and burn within you like acid. If he comes back and finds you gone, or worse dead, he’ll be devastated, so hurt, so angry, he’ll blame himself. They can’t – they cannot put him through that. You have to think, calm yourself, get out of these binders they’ve put you in, some sort of Force suppression technology at work. The things glow a sickly purple color, nothing like the lovely warm violet of your saber. But before you can even get a firm grasp on your thoughts, collect yourself, the woman slides the walking stick in her grip, and pulling it back behind her shoulder, swings it forward with all her might to hit you in the face with the heavy, bulbous end of it, right over the split from the whip. You feel the very mass of your brain jostle within your skull, a sickening crunch, the vision in that eye going completely dark. Maker, they’re going to kill you if they’re not careful. A terrible sound rips from your throat, something worse than a mere cry, going slack jawed, whacked further into the pit of unconsciousness. One of the others says something to the old Thalassian and turning away from you, she hisses something back. She goes still for a few moments, leaning on her stick heavily once again, the sound of her wet panting breath, and when she seems to have finally collected herself she turns back to you again. In basic she says, “I know what you are. I’ve heard what they’ve been trying to do to your ilk. How they mine you for that sweet little nectar that runs through your veins, through all of us – the Force. There are rumors of you circulating the Outer Rim, did you know? We heard of you and came searching. Received word from our Huttese friends, whispers of a Mandalorian mercenary and his dark pet roaming about the dunes of Jakku, an old gunship spotted lurking where it should not be. We’ve been searching for you, beastie,” she whispers, coming closer to inspect you, voice maniacal with cruel glee. The pain in your face, your head is a numb throb sharpening to acute fire, vision fading and then glowing bright white and burning. Your head, Maker, they’ve knocked it clean off your neck. “There are many clamoring to get their hands on you. Tell me, what does it feel to be whittled down to nothing more than the worth of an invisible and illusory thing? The Force,” voice contemplative and disgusted, all the same. “To be worth nothing more but that unseen ether flowing through your veins. How does it feel to be nothing? Look at you – playing the whore to some Mandalorian brute. Pretty thing…” She pushes back at your shoulder with the butt end of her stick, “Before you went and made me angry. Hmm… perhaps, I shall sell you with that same offering, as well? Would you like that? I wonder what will fetch a higher price, your blood or your cunt.” She laughs and her thugs join around her. You can feel the wide split in your face drooling blood, throbbing in agony, the sound of their raucous and cruel laughter creating a painful symphony above the pounding of your blood in your ears. “A magical whore!” She cackles, flashing her rotting grimace. “Yes, I quite like that idea. Stealing you away from that murderer – mercenaries, the lot of them, those Mandalorians. They hide behind the conflated righteousness of their Creed and their failed history, but they are nothing but another murderous cog in the wheel that would subjugate those of us they deem lesser.” The laughter leaves her suddenly, going serious, and you feel such fear in that single pause of silence. He’s going to

be so angry when he finds you gone, and you– you cannot be enslaved again, you can’t, you won’t. You’ll kill yourself before you allow it. “Monster,” she hisses, “This is nothing worse than what a thing like you deserves after the sort of evil your ilk spread. Imperial slut,” she spits at you, and her saliva lands like a glob of acid on your bare chest, burning. “Grab her. We’re going before her Mandalorian brute returns and kills us for taking his pet.” Her underlings say something in that unknown language, gathering to grip you under the arms and around your ankles, and a frenzy ignites in your heart. Through your broken and torn face you begin to howl, writhing and kicking your legs with as much strength as you can muster despite the broken ribs. “No, no! I will not go!” You screech, getting one in the face. He jerks away and lets your bottom half hit the hard floor with a harsh thud. “Let me go! I will not– I will not go!” You won’t be taken from him, you won’t, you won’t. The one holding your upper half shoves you painfully to the ground, your poor, battered head slamming once again, and another brutal kick lands to your ribs. Maker, you’d not missed beatings like this. The crone begins to scream at them, garbled sounds you can’t make out, and you lay your head on the cold floor. You just need a second to breathe, that’s it. You can endure much, much more than this, it’s only the binders stealing your strength, you just need a moment, and then you’ll fight again or break out of these terrible things and kill them all, but your head, Maker, your head feels as if it’s been split open down the middle. Their yelling reaches a crescendo, an added shrillness to it that was not there before, and then one of the henchmen is toppling painfully over your prone form, a heavy knee to your spine as he lands diagonally over your body, but his weight is instantly ripped away from you. More screaming and oh, the sound of blaster fire, the piercing screams of the old Thalassian, you turn your head slowly, slowly to the side and there, through the bloody and matted strands of your loose hair, that bright and familiar gleam, a flash of burnt red. You bring your manacled wrists slowly up to your chest, hunching into as small a ball as you can make yourself, cradling your broken hand to yourself.

He’s here.

He’s here, it’ll all be okay now.

You let your eyes flutter shut and listen to the Thalassian’s screaming reach a crescendo, and it sounds a little like that long ago familiar sound of flesh tearing from flesh. You don’t want to see. You don’t want to see him commit atrocities in your name. It’s a funny thing, you think, the nature of his violence. He is a Mandalorian, and like the Thalassian had said, yes, perhaps, mercenary, and so it would stand that he is a man who commits violence, but you’d found – Maker, you hurt – you’ve found… that a thing that commits violence is not always also, or at once, a violent thing by nature. The moment makes of us what it needs us to be, but that does not always indicate our true selves. Violence committed in an instant of necessity, the peril of threat, does not always mean that we are bad or violent in our hearts, and Din… your Mandalorian does not have a violent heart. Beneath all of that uncompromising beskar is a soft heart, a good heart. It’s why you–

The scream stops.

No, no, no, no, no– “Look at me, look at me, cyar’ika. It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here now. They’re gone, it’s okay.” You’re a crumpled, bloody, broken heap on the ground. He’d left you. He had left you here alone for this to be done to you. There is something hot and terrifying crawling its way up the inside of Din’s chest, searing his throat, turning it to char. He turns you over with all the gentleness he can muster, his shaking hands slippery with blood, the broken, dead bodies littered around the two of you as he pushes your bloody hair from your face and takes in the way they’d savaged you.

And Din– Din feels a fury the likes of which he’s never felt before in his entire life. And in the wake of a sort of fear he’d never experienced previously either, not even at the sight of his child self watching his mother and father murdered, the image of their crumpled and broken bodies becoming smaller and smaller as he was taken away into the unknown by the Mandalorians who’d saved him, it leaves him unbalanced and of tremulous control as he pulls you into his arms. You’re cupping one of your hands strangely in the other, and when he takes your manacled wrists you let out a painful, garbled sound. Your hand is mangled, fingers darkening already and bent sickeningly in incongruous angles, and he wants, very badly, to look away from the sight of your pain. It causes a physical ache inside of him, nausea and fire and thunder, like a blaster bolt to the belly, a knife to the lung. “Look at me, cyare,” and your eye blinks open, the darker of the two, the one that whispers silently at him when he looks at it too long, the other, the bright one like a scream, is too swollen to open, but you, miracle of miracles, for you are a miracle wrapped in the shape of a girl, give him the tiniest of attempted smirks; something like the creation of myth unfolding before him. The side of your face not broken and bleeding, lifting into a crooked little half moon, and bloody smile full of sharp, menacing teeth you croak, “I knew you’d come.”

Din knows in this instant that he is going to love you for the rest of his life. It is not a question, or an uncertainty. It is simply fact. Truth like his Creed, like The Way.

“I’m here. I’ll always come for you,” he tells you in lieu of saying that which sits heavy on his tongue now, which is that he’d let you eat his very heart out of his chest if you so desired it, that he belongs to you intrinsically. “I’m so sorry. I’m here now.” The hand not mangled grips the fabric around his throat and Din feels a sob in the shape of your name build in his chest. The Mandalorian, on the verge of tears. He gently presses you closer, tries to breathe, tries to swallow his howls. They were slavers, he’d marked them from the moment he’d spotted them through the open hatch of the Crest, dropping the long dead bounty he’d found half buried in the sand to sprint towards you. He’d worried about the possibility of this for some time now, the threat of someone coming for you, recognizing what you were, thought he’d prepared for it. Rumors were difficult to avoid or quell and despite his attempts to keep anyone from getting too close to sniff you out, you attracted attention. It was inevitable. Too beautiful, too alive, too alluring. He’d been afraid of something like this happening, and he’d thought the best way to keep you safe was to keep you here, hidden away on his ship, security system set and impenetrable. He’d been a damned fool.

He takes in the sight of your bare limbs, the beginnings of nasty bruising over your naked abdomen. The idea of someone taking you from him, severing his claim, keeping you away from him… and like this, when you were supposed to be safe here in this place the two of you’d made a home of together, while you were bare and waiting for him as he’d left you, when you were still full of his semen, potentially full of his–

He swallows the thought. There are certain things you believe about yourself that Din is doubtful to agree with just yet…

“Take them off,” you whisper up at him, “I’ll–” a pained swallow, “I’ll heal. It’s okay, Din. Don’t be afraid,” you say with such earnestness, a tiny life of an eyebrow, but he is anyway. You shouldn’t be the one telling him not to be afraid right now, split open as you are, but you do anyway, and Din is deathly afraid – of this, of you, of everything, of not being fast enough, strong enough, good enough to protect you, to keep you. Din feels more afraid now than he has ever felt in his entire life.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay. It’s not that bad,” and at the same time, your words make him so angry. At what life had made you believe, at what the galaxy had made you believe was okay. This is not fucking okay. Seeing you hurt like this is not okay. He moves to gently, as gently as he can possibly be, disengage the binders from around your wrists, careful to not jostle your broken hand too much.

“It’s not okay.” He looks at your mangled face, the blood running into your hairline, your swollen eye, that lovely and luminous eye that makes his heart feel split into a million different pieces, all engraved with the etching of your name, “This is not okay.” And then his gaze lands on the blood splattered gem of your earring. This sight he must close his eyes to, he cannot bear it. That tiny sparkle, the significance of your relationship made material, covered in your own blood and his failure to protect you.

He opens his eyes again to take in your wet gaze, unseeingly staring up at him, dark and fathomless. It shutters closed, long lashes clumped together in the sticky mess of your blood and tears. “It will be. I’ll heal soon. This is not the worst that’s been done to me,” voice thin and reedy, as if you’re embarrassed, ashamed to say the words out loud. As if you recognize them for the travesty they pose. He has to look away, swallow another sob. Din can’t remember the last time he cried, the last time he felt like crying, but he feels it now. Eyes hot and pinched and uncomfortable.

He should have never left you. He will never leave you again.

Wrapping you in the blanket, he makes sure your modesty is covered, and with as much care as he can, takes you in the cradle of his arms and moves you back into your bed.

“Where’s your bounty?” You croak.

“That doesn’t matter now. Rest. I’m going to–”

“Of course, it matters. It’s–” a pained swallow.

“Don’t talk, cyare. It’s okay. We can–”

But you press on, cut him off. “That's the whole reason we came here. We’re not going to let this be a waste.” This being your savaging, split open, almost stolen. Din feels his heart drop down into his stomach. He nods once, swallows, tries to cough up the knot of agony lodged in his throat.

“I dropped it when I saw them. They did something – fucked with the system and deviated the signal so I wasn’t alerted when they broke in. The bounty was already dead. Beacon signal still going. I found him and came straight back – saw the open hatch and knew something was wrong–” You give a soft, pained moan, brow folding into an agonized frown. Maker, he’s not going to survive this. He feels like a fucking coward. Terrified, sick to his stomach, angrier, weaker than he’s ever been in his entire life.

“Slavers. Thalassians,” you whisper, resting your head against his chest plate, broken hand clutched against your chest. “I need you to reset my fingers before they heal wrong.” Fuck, he’s never had a panic attack before, but he worries he might be having one now. He tries to swallow the scream for you, thinks he whispers something like, alright. Shifting you in his lap, he pulls his blood soaked gloves from his hands, and when he reaches for your hand he takes in the tremor of his own fingers, feels a humiliating wash of shame curdle inside of him. He’s a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake, a warrior, and yet the sight of your pain, your hurt, leaves him unraveled, as frightened and green as a child. He has never experienced the dilemma of having someone he– someone that matters, hurt. Carefully propping your back up against his bent knee he pulls you in close so that your hip is tucked up against him, he grasps your wrist tenderly between his fingers, soothes the pad of his thumb against the soft inner slope of your wrist, the webbing of blue beneath the thin skin is comforting somehow, you’re alive. He made it in time, he’s going to fix this, take care of you. “It’s okay, Din,” you whisper again.

A sharp jerk of his chin, “I know. I’m going to make this right.”

He smooths his thumb up the base of your palm, trying to settle, comfort you, the both of you, he rubs a gentle circle into the center, feels you tremble and jerk against him, and he hums low in his throat, a deep sound to remind you that he’s here, he’s got you. “It’s alright, little one. It’s alright, it’s alright,” keeps murmuring low reassurances in your ear, unsure whether they’re more for you or for himself, as his fingers slide up slow and light and grip your ring finger first, grasping it at the base to hold it securely and pulling on the tip to straighten it out, quick and efficient movements, a muted snap. There’s one. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”. Moves to your pinky next, so tiny gripped between his own large, rough fingers. He has to grind his molars together, bite the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. He holds the base of that vulnerable little finger, the fine bone almost nothing beneath his touch and straightens that one too, listens to the hollow pop of the joint righting itself back into place. That one pulls a swallowed screech from your throat, you turn your face sharply away, and he sees your legs shuffle and kick in his periphery, your breathing fast and shallow.

“Hurt– That one hurt,” you choke, and he watches a single tear squeeze out of your swollen eye and make a slow, devastating track down the slope of your mangled cheek, losing itself to the shredded gash.

“What did that to your cheek?” He grits at the same time that he rights your index finger into place, tenses his knee to keep you steady and upright as you jerk. Panting wet breath hiccupping, trying to swallow back your cries for a moment, he cradles your bruised hand in his, wishes he wasn’t wearing this fucking helmet so that he could kiss the back of it, lick your wounds. He feels like screaming.

“A w– a whip.” You don’t turn back to look at him, and Din feels his blood turn to frost. Something so painful moving through his chest he struggles for breath.

“They whipped you in the face?” He looks at the pieces of Thalassian surrounding the two of you and curses himself for killing them so quickly. He should’ve been smarter, more patient, drawn it out. Made them suffer.

“It’s okay–” voice short, tense. “I’ll heal.” Face still turned towards the open hatch and the hot Jakkuian night, he watches another tear fall.

“It doesn’t matter–”

“I’ll heal. I’ll–”

“That doesn't matter–they hurt you. You can be hurt. Just because you can heal, just because you don’t care about what happens to you doesn’t mean that I don’t.” He cups the back of your head, begs you to turn back towards him with his touch. “You being hurt hurts me, do you understand me?” Voice soft as he can make it go, trying to make you see what he’s saying in the only way he thinks will penetrate the fog of your painful history.

And you do turn back at that, finally, thank you, thank you, he can see the edges of the wound start to knit themselves back together. A girl and a miracle and a myth all woven into one. “Do you understand me?” He asks again, cupping your chin, gathering the wet of your freely falling tears now, pressing the pad of his thumb to the corner of your eye.

“No, no, I don’t understand,” face crumpling, you press your forehead beneath the edge of his helmet. They hurt me, they hurt me, you cry over and over, and Din knows that you don’t only mean the Thalassians. He wishes he possessed the hand of the Maker. That he could reach across to the far corners of the galaxy, the most shadowed depths, the blackest pits, and wipe away any speck of darkness that’s ever touched you, anything or anyone that had ever done you harm. He wishes he could give you his very heart as an offering, anything that would settle the sound of your anguish. But then he thinks that an impossible sort of thing, for his very heart is held right here, sobbing in his arms, living on the outside of his chest.

After he insists on you allowing him to spread bacta along your cheek and hand, despite your protestations that it’ll close on its own, that you’re fine, you remind him that his bounty is still lying dead and forgotten out in the sand sea beyond the ship. He goes out to retrieve the pitiful thing, felled by the wrath of Jakku, most likely, and you make an agonized attempt to stand and dress yourself. Your ribs and back ache, the line of your spine feels on the verge of fracture from the last blow you’d taken, and you shuffle about slowly, trying to force yourself to hurry and get yourself covered before he returns, not wanting him to see the extent of the damage done to your ribs and back. You manage to get on a pair of underwear and one of his shirts before he’s stomping back up the gangway, dead bounty slung over his shoulder. He bends to shuck the thing off, the limp body hitting the durasteel with a harsh thud that snaps your mind into focus for a millisecond so that you’re taking in the carnage surrounding you. The release of gas from the carbon freezer sounds around you as you find the old Thalassian – her head seems to have been ripped clean from her neck somehow, you cock your head slowly, taking the sight in. He’s moving about, dragging the pieces of the bodies and chucking them out the hatch, and your mind feels like a piece of elastic snapping far out and away from you, and then shooting back in a painful reverberation, vision going hyper focused, too bright to bear, and then murky, as if viewed through a broken pane of glass. You hear the whirring, metallic shifting of the closing gangway, and your head swoops, belly twisting with nausea. There are pools of blood coagulating thick and disgustingly viscous on the floor, and you reach out for the wall to steady yourself as your blood rushes in your ears, but he’s immediately there, gentle hand to the curve of your waist and the bend of your elbow to pull you to himself. “It’s okay,” he says again. And he keeps saying so, but seeing this, what he’s done for you, something feels distinctly not okay.

You think of the Corellians who’d attacked you all those weeks ago, the Corellians you'd slaughtered for him. And the memory somehow makes the sight in front of you worse, some sort of horror. You’d turned him into you. You’d forced him into repeating your own horrible actions. In a moment of startling, sickening clarity, you’re confronted with the reality that he is only encased in beskar, he is not made of it. And one day they will go through him to get to you. Because there will surely be more, there will surely be another day, another time, another planet; more slavers or dark siders or someone of equally low measure will come for you again, and he can’t protect you forever, nor you him.

This time, please, let it end differently.

It’s all you ever do, you think, beg and plead for a different sort of fate. The duel of the fates, over and over again, but it is only ever you, alone, at odds with destiny itself. Fighting against what must be, what already is, what always has been. Your own sick ouroboros; eternally destroying and recreating yourself and the things around you.

He leads you back to bed, grabs his socks from where they’d lain draped over the warm steam pipe, and you return his own past words to him while he kneels before you, pulls them over your cold feet, looking over his shoulder the world seems inverted, mirrorlike, the black puddles of blood filled with dark mercury. They would have taken you from him. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.” Your voice sounds hollow and cold, unlike yourself.

He pauses his care of you, helmet tipped down, and you wish you could see his eyes right now, you feel, strangely, like you need them, like it would make everything better, more clear and stable. Taking one small foot in hand, he wraps his fingers around the entire thing. “You’re right,” he tells you, and your stomach flips with bile and fear again. “I shouldn’t have had to do it because I never should have let it happen. This is on me. I shouldn’t have left you alone for this to happen.”

You reach for his wrist, wrapping your fingers around the thick of it to feel his pulse beat against your fingertips. Something furious in the fluttering thrum of it; something of a monolith about him, steadfast, unmovable, the strongest thing in the entire galaxy. There’s a tinge of crimson rage swallowing him, and you can tell he’s doing everything in his considerable strength to keep it under reign for your sake; the proof is in the strew of bodies he’d littered the floor of the ship with. “They’ll always come for me, Din. As long as I’m alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they’ll come for me. They’ll never stop.”

The helmet snaps up, the yawning tee of dark transparisteel whispers its rage at you. “Then I’ll make them,” he grits. “I’ll find a way. I’ll protect you. We’re going to fix this. I’m going to fix this.” And you feel so–so strange. So sad. Devastated. The wave of fate swallows you whole, and that dark red thread crumbles to dust. You feel so unbearably sad for the both of you that your tears are renewed. Sad and old and at the end of your line.

And again: A person without a soul cannot cry. And so this must only be proof of the fact that you still possess yours, as shriveled or weak as it’s been made, you must still have one. You must. You must.

It’s his now. Undoubtedly. Whatever of your soul has bloomed back into life belongs to him now. You bring your trembling fingers up to the face of his shining beskar helmet, warring wishes wrapped into a strange tangle for what you know will not be the last time: that it wasn’t there, that you could have all of him, and, at the same time, that you too had something of such strength and conviction to protect you as his Creed protects him. What a comfort it must be. “I know you will.” Lie.

He goes to initiate takeoff and get the ship into hyperspace after that, and you can hear the uncharacteristic frenzy of his movement echoing in his rushed steps as he flits about the cockpit. Settling into your nest of blankets, you face the wall so you’re not made to look at the mess that’s been left, and when he returns, you listen to the sound of him divesting himself of his armor, the rustle of falling clothes, you can feel his panic now up closer, pressing against the confines of your skin like some living thing, trying to sneak its way into whatever break in you it might find. He was frightened, he is frightened. For you. If you weren’t struck stone cold you’d perhaps laugh at the idea of it, but strange memories flash in your mind, highlighted by painful bursts of bright light behind your closed lids, memories of darkness and pain and being so alone another person, a real person, existing in the entire galaxy seemed too far fetched a thing to be true. The sort of loneliness that forces you to forget that other living things exist. You curl in on yourself, still tucking your now halfway mended hand close to your chest, cupping your other palm over your eyes to hide yourself away. Shocked into a subdued, humming terror. A peripheral thing, the reality that you should be afraid or shaken, and you are, kind of, but interrupted by that memory of similar or much worse things that make this small mishap seem inconsequential in the shadow of all the rest, all the past.

You listen to him move towards the fresher to throw the two of you into darkness, and you panic, “Don’t turn the light off, please,” you murmur, still hidden behind your palm. If you cannot see the world, perhaps the world cannot see you either. “I’m sorry to ask – I won’t look, I promise.”

He pauses, silent for a moment. “Don’t apologize. Don’t. It’s okay. Anything you want.” What you really wish he’d say is that he doesn’t care if you look or not, a selfish and rotten and horrible feeling rolling in after the thought.

He crawls in behind you, sliding up against you bare and burning hot; an entire sun held inside the heart of a single man. He keeps his hands to himself at first, and you enjoy the brush of his chest up against your back on every one of his inhalations, the symphony of his breathing, but eventually he braves the salted earth and passes a gentle hand down the line of your spine.

“What do you need?” His voice is the deepest thing in the entire galaxy, you think. Space has nothing on it.

You press your hand tighter over your eyes. “Nothing.”

“You are strong and capable,” he says after a moment, and you worry you might vomit. “But you don’t always have to be. I don’t want you to have to fight when you’re with me. I only want you to be comfortable and cared for and well. Let me help you.”

“Okay,” barely a sound breathed through the part of your lips. And it takes several hours, but eventually that thing they’d come for, the very thing they’d attacked and tried to take you for, heals you. The Force. What is it to hate the very thing that makes you up, the very marrow of you, the sustenance of your life? Agony, madness, bitter, bitter resentment. Loneliness. To be alone within yourself. Terrible pain. Every bad thing that’s ever come to you throughout your entire life has been done in its name. And you’re angry at the fact, you think. For years and years things were done to you to honor that invisible giant, and it built an anger within you that is incoherent, unidentifiable, inconsolable.

You ache like you’re recently made.

But he holds you so gently while you knit yourself back together, seam by seam, so that the possibility of pain is removed entirely from the equation. He holds you like he loves you, and you want to ask him if he does, if he thinks he could ever love a thing like you, even if you do not deserve it. Even if he does not deserve it.

You fold it away instead.

Tell me, what does it feel to be whittled down to nothing more than the worth of an invisible and illusory thing? To be worth nothing?

Like spitting salt through an open wound, the agonized phantasma of an amputated limb.

You’re nothing.

And Din? He’s everything.

From behind your hiding spot you tell the quiet: “Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you. I want you to know that.”

“Do you?” His hand slides up the line of your vertebrae to cup the back of your neck, and you tremble beneath his heat, as if he were anointing you with the power of a sun.

“Yes.” You wish you had the courage to say more, to say everything. A real confession, the cutting sort: I was made to be nothing more than a weapon, but now I am a human, now I am alive. Now I am only myself. And I hurt, and I wish I were a girl again: only half savage, unmarred and free. But despite all of this, I am still only yours.

“I know already.”

Cyar’ika. Cyar’ika.

And so what does it matter if you hurt when he calls to you so sweetly? And yet, a quiet and unused part of you whispers back that it should not be so, that the thought is not quite right. Focus, focus, call them growing pains if you must. Focus only on him. And you realize that there is something about him that makes you fragile in the face of his strength, for some reason and most importantly, in a way that you like, in a way that is appealing to you like nothing else you’ve ever experienced before. Something that tells you that you need him to be strong in ways you’ve never had or needed to be strong before, a strength that is soft, something that is unyielding for the vulnerability you allow yourself with him. You can’t understand it.

“And I will let you take care of me.”

“I’m going to. This means something,” he says very quietly, the words bouncing off the back of your neck, and you know it is true. “This means something.”

It does. Everything. The two of you mean something together.

You finally turn to face him again, eyes closed, seams more securely knitted together and press your forehead to the notch of his throat, cracking your eyes open to look down at the expanse of his abdomen. You run a flat palm down his belly, feel the strength of him. If there is nothing else, perhaps, there can be Din.

“Close your eyes,” he threads his fingers through the back of your hair, “Let me kiss you,” and you feel your heart break and melt into desperation all at once. You press your eyes shut tightly and tip your face up towards him, parted mouth and bated breath, ready to receive the taste of him. He licks into you, pulling a moan from your belly and onto his waiting tongue, and you wish there was something more you could give him, something deeper, more significant that could translate all you feel for him. “I need you to forgive me,” he licks the words into your skin. “I need you to tell me you forgive me for letting this happen.”

“Don’t say that. There’s nothing to forgive. There’s nothing–”

“I should’ve been more careful. Smarter, more prepared. We shouldn’t have wasted time in that fucking desert for so long.” But you’d distracted him, kept him from going out, seeing to his responsibilities.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you say again, tipping your head back to bear your throat for him.

He licks a line up the slope, tasting your pulse, the proof you’re still alive. Plants a kiss at the hinge of your jaw and then presses his forehead there. “I’ve failed you,” he whispers.

“Din, listen to me, listen to me. You could never do that. Never. Do you understand me?” If he only knew all you’ve not told him, all the ways in which you’ve failed him. You’re sure he’d see you in a very different light.

“It’s not going to happen again,” he promises, and you’ve not the heart to tell him again that they’ll never stop. That the life of a hunted creature is the only sort of existence you could ever live. You pull his mouth back to yours, kiss him with a renewed fervency. If you cannot give him anything more you’ll put everything you have into this.

“Just kiss me, please,” you beg, twining your arms around his neck and opening to him. He drags his mouth along the inner slope of your bicep, ending at the dip of your elbow and laving his tongue at the sensitive dip. Gripping the bend of your knee he hitches it against his hip and rolls the two of you over. Settling between the cradle of your thighs, he levers himself up off you, careful not to demand you bear his full weight, and finally, you feel ready for the dark again. With a single thought you submerge the two of you into the almost dark again, a weak stream of light coming from the fresher, rattle of the Crest moving through hyperspace sounding around you. He prepares you to take him softly, slowly, with intention. The gentle pad of his thumb to the slick seam of your cunt, parting your folds to get to the wellspring of your desire for him. A single finger and then another hooked against that place inside of you that seems now branded with his ownership over you. Nothing like this has ever existed, and you press the thought into his mind as he tastes your tongue, brings you to orgasm for him with slow and exploring fingers, the slick slide of his thumb over your swollen clit, and the whisper of your name to the shell of your ear. When he feeds his cock into you, slowly, so that you’re made to feel every curve and ridge and then meeting the end of you, so deep you can’t tell where he ends and you begin, it brings tears to your eyes and all sorts of confessions to your tongue that your more rational mind knows should be kept in the shadows. But very like the sun, he shines a light on all the dark and derelict parts of you better left unseen.

When you come for a second time, thick cock splitting you in half, there’s a screaming desperation for more urging you on. “Remind me–” you beg him.

“Of what? What do you need?”

“That I’m yours. That I belong to you. That I’m alive.”

“Do you need reminding of that?” He squeezes your bottom, presses you tighter to himself, his wet mouth sliding against the slope of your shoulder. “Don’t you know always? No matter what?”

“Yes.” Soft, soft, soft, but you don’t need it like this – you need it more– “Remind me anyways.”

You’re as close as can be, but he tells you anyway: “Come here, come here. I’m going to take care of you.” He pulls out, a wet and sucking sound, and turns you in his arms so you’re back to belly, and pulls you open again, thigh thrown over his hip. He runs his hands over the hills and contours of you, cups and squeezes your breasts, rough fingertips softly at your nipples, and you feel your cunt clench and gape, hungry for filling. He cups you over that soaked, ravenous place, slides his hand back and forth over the wet, swollen mess, and then further back, his fingers pressing and prodding gently at your ass. “I’ll have you here now, little one. Yes?” All you can do is nod back against his shoulder where your head is propped, a tightening so intense it’s almost painful strangling your throat, your heart, your cunt. Nothing more than a knot of abandoned want. A thing that doesn’t know how to take without devouring, and you do, you want to devour him. You think he might even let you. He presses a slow finger into the knuckle, and you go tight, bearing down around the invasion, spitting his name out in the shape of a wail into the quiet hull.

“It’s alright,” he gently thrusts that probing finger, hooking and wriggling it. Making space within to fuck you open on his cock. “You’re so tiny here, little thing. But you’re going to take me so well. I know you are.” He pulls his finger out entirely, and then there are two pressing back in as slow as possible, petting first, stretching second. “How’s that? How does that feel, my sweet girl?”

“I don’t– I don’t know,” moaning and shifting, trying to plead for more with little hitched arcs of your hips. “More, please.”

“You want my cock?”

“Yes–”

“How badly do you want it? Tell me–” He twists his wrist, stretching, claiming, all while the hill of his palm rubs against your cunt, so wet you can hear the slick sound of its desperation echo in the quiet.

“So badly,” you moan and sob, “More than anything.” He pulls his fingers from you and grips the root of his cock, fat head at your ass and starts to press in slowly, slowly, stretching you open around the incredible girth of him. Your breath comes in puffs and gasps, an unbearable heat flushing through your body, pulsing in your face and swirling in your belly, tightening the tips of your breasts into painful knots. You moan out his name, please for more, for harder, for faster until he’s buried to the root and you’re strangled into a hiccuping silence. Overwhelmed and overwrought by the feel of him buried in your ass so deeply. There’s no space for anything else inside of you, stretched to the brim and so full you can barely breathe. He’s everywhere. Gripping your hip you feel his breath against your cheek, the sweating, curling hair around your ear ruffled as he pants and groans, gritting his teeth and rumbling deep in his chest as he starts to thrust slowly into you.

“How’s that?” Voice strangled. His other hand comes around to thrum gently at your clit, the swollen mass of bundles pulsing with each punch of his hips. Your cunt leaks down to where the two of you are joined, and he picks up his pace, fucking up into you harder, faster, that strumming thumb flicking more quickly. He flattens his fingers against you, rubs at the length of your leaking sex, and you’re beyond words. Impaled and cock drunk. All you can give in return is an approximation of his moaned name, and he gives a quick, sharp slap to the top of your mound. “I want you to tell me how it feels,” voice ragged, almost broken. You tighten almost impossibly at his roughness, clenching down around him so he’s gasping, shocked ah, ah, ah’s, ending on a ragged groan. He brings his forehead to your shoulder, and you listen to his overwhelmed sounds. The first time you think you’ve heard him so close to the precipice of losing control. “Most perfect fucking ass in the entire galaxy,” he grits. All mine, mine, fucking mine.

“Feels–” His fingers resume their exploration of your cunt, “Feels so– so good,” your voice is nothing but agony made pleasure.

“Yeah? Feels good?” The sound of his hips slamming against your ass, wet and lewd, the press of his heavy balls to the round of your bottom. “What about this?” He begins to slowly press two fingers into your gaping, grasping cunt, and oh, it’s too much, your orgasm hits like an exploding star, singing all coherent thought along the way. You feel your pussy gush, go tight as a knot, and he snarls at the curve of your ear, bites down on the line of your shoulder, not halting the thrusting of his fingers inside of you. “Fuck, yes–fucking come for me. Come for me while I fuck your ass–”

“No–no, I can’t anymore, please, I can’t,” you cry.

“You can–you can. I know you can. My fierce little cyar’ika, soft only for me. Aren’t you?”

And how can you deny a man such as this anything. One that holds you so, one that fucks you like he loves you. You’ll lie to yourself, like so many other lies you tell, and pretend that this is the touch of love, that it’s something you deserve. His fingers, his cock are ruthless within you and they force another soaked orgasm out of you, shaky and weak, before he’s following suit, fucking the searing heat of his spend deep inside of you. He rolls you over onto your belly, levers himself up over you and slows his thrusts until you feel the last spurt of his cock kick inside of you, the low reverberations of his pleasure sounding from his chest. When he pulls out he spreads you apart, thumbs at your swollen skin. “It gapes so pretty for me,” he murmurs as he plays with the milky white drool, smears it into your slick, stretched skin. “This is how you should always be, covered in my come, beautiful thing.” All you can do is bury your burning hot face in the blankets.

When the two of you have finally settled later, cleaned yourselves up, and he’s made sure you’ve had enough water and a snack, when your panic has gone dormant, you remember your earlier request. A sniffle, and then voice broken and wet, just for added insurance: “You’ll get me my loth cat now, won’t you?”

A long suffering sigh, but he squeezes you tighter to his chest, presses a kiss to the crown of your head you feel sizzle all the way down to the tips of your toes. “I’ll get you anything you want, anything.” You smile into his skin, a miracle all of its own, that after everything he still provides you the ability to smile.

But later, right before he falls off the precipice of consciousness into the ebony deep and serene lake of sleep, you whisper into the thrum of his life force right at his neck: “We will take care of each other, won’t we?” Again – the both of you, together.

“Always,” he says, and it rings with such promise, in a way you know only someone such as he could swear, and you’ve always been a liar, but you do not want this to be a lie.

This time, please, let it end differently.

Chapter VII

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syllvane · 1 year

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familiar hearts- tolya yul-bataar x reader

a/n: half based on a request but kind of took on a life of its own! gender neutral, Nikolai’s sibling. can be read as a sequel to soldier, poet, king, but can also be read separately. marche is the reader’s privateer name.

They kill the Healer first, hands bound and throat slit, ruby red blood staining their garments and nothing they could do except scream, alert the rest of the ship that there are intruders.

They have Grisha of their own as well, ones who engage the Grisha on the Volkvolny.

And the Grisha on the Volkvolny are outnumbered, but they are excellent.

Tolya and Tamar fight in complete synchronization, perfectly able to predict the others move before they’ve even done it.

Tidemakers work in tandem to try and keep the sea calm while knocking off the otkazat’sya pirates, trying their best to even the numbers, Durasts bend the metal of swords and rifles, making them all but unusable.

Even you and Nikolai are in the fray, as much as he would prefer that you stay safe, you would hear none of it.

The crew of this ship are more your family than the royals preening in Os Alta and besides, you’ve never been one to shy away from a fight.

Nikolai is swordfighting the captain of the other ship, though he seems to be verbally jousting as well with them, judging by the remarks that you’re able to overhear.

You make your way through several of the otkazat’sya pirates- they are good, but they are not you.

You are a flash of blade and blood and for a moment, you see that Tolya hesitates while he’s admiring you, doesn’t block when he should and a blade plunges into his flesh.

You don’t allow yourself to scream, to distract anyone else as you dashed towards him, blades tearing at your skin, and put yourself in front of him, protecting Tamar’s blindside and her brother.

You’re easier prey for the Heartrender that Tolya was fending off, and you can feel your heart begin to slow as you swing wildly.

You don’t allow yourself to fall, even when you should be unconcious on the ground next to Tolya, and when you think you’re about to, a gunshot rings out and the Heartrender falls dead.

Your brother, livid, holds the smoking gun and with the rest of the pirates dead, rushes over to you.

“Are you okay? Do you realize how stupid-” His sentence stops, his gaze going behind you, to Tamar kneeling over her dying brother. “Oh.”

You collapsed to your knees as well, looking at the man that you would’ve died to save.

You put your hands on his arm gently, shaking your head.

“You can’t go. You can’t die.” You said, your voice breaking.

“You looked… magnificent out there.”

“No, Tolya, you don’t get to die. Not yet.” You said, more assurance in your voice and Tamar looked at you miserably.

“There is nothing you can do.”

Nikolai grabbed your shoulder, as if to pull you away and you shook him off.

You closed your eyes.

You can’t die. Don’t leave me.

You don’t see it, of course, but tissue begins to stitch itself back together- slowly, a Healer with no experience at all was trying to mend something that they loved.

Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

“Marche.” Nikolai said hesitantly. You ignored him.

It’s gruesome to watch, how flesh moves like thread to reconnect itself.

“Marche.” Tolya said, his voice no longer weak and you opened your eyes in surprise to see him sitting, leaned against his sister and everyone on the ship looking at you.

And before you can notice your handiwork, your head hits the deck of the ship and the unconsciousness that you’ve been staving off greets you like an old friend.

When you wake after what feels like the longest sleep in your life, it is in Nikolai’s chambers and with Tamar sitting next to you.

Before you can say anything, she turns to look at you, feeling your heart speed up.

“You saved my brothers life,” She said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’ll spend my life repaying that debt.”

You shook your head.

“Whatever I did, I did freely. Out of love.”

Tamar smiled and sniffed.

“He’s been in here reciting poetry to you, whenever he isn’t above deck.” She said, a smile appearing on your lips before she looked up at the ceiling. “He’s been listening for any differences in your heartbeat, so I’m sure Nikolai and him will be down here any moment.”

As if on cue, there was frantic knock on the door and without wait for an answer, the door opened, revealing Tolya and Nikolai.

“Be gentle.” Tamar said sternly. Tolya paid no attention, rushing forward and embracing you tightly, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Thank you.” He mumbled quietly, his words a prayer against your skin.

“It was nothing.”

Nikolai cleared his throat and Tolya smiled, pulling away from you and granting Nikolai access to you.

He smiled at you, striding across the room to hug you, more gently than Tolya.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like the Volkvolny ran me over while I was asleep.” You half-joked before realizing your mistake as Nikolai began to fret over you. “Nik I’m fine, I feel fine.”

“You scared me. You scared all of us. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know either. Is everyone else okay? How many losses did we suffer?”

“You need to worry about getting better before you start worrying about others. I say this as your brother and as your Captain.”

“Tolya?”

“We’re in rough shape, but most of the crew survived.”

“Since when have you started taking orders from her?” Nikolai frowned. “Don’t answer that. Promise me that you’ll get your rest before you start healing others.”

“I don’t even know how I did it the first time.”

“Exactly, all the more reason to rest and wait until we can make a stop in Novyi Zem where you can learn from teachers.”

“Nik, I can-”

“No. I love you, and I know you just want to help our crew. I want to help them as well, but I can’t lose you. You have no idea what it was like, watching you fall unconcious.”

You didn’t say anything before nodding silently.

“Okay.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking a step back.

“Well, I better go make sure that the crew hasn’t mutinied.” He said lightly and you rolled your eyes.

He smiled, giving you a nod before exiting. Tolya made to move but Tamar reached her hand out, shaking her head.

“I’ll go. You two can chat.” She smiled and Tolya gave her a grateful look, moving to take her seat as she exited, the door clicking shut.

“How did you heal me?” He asked slowly and you sighed, shaking your head.

“I… I don’t know, I just kept thinking over and over again that I couldn’t lose you. So, sheer willpower, I guess.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Loving you has always been easy.”

#six of crows imagines #six of crows imagine #six of crows x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #tolya and tamar #tolya yul bataar x reader #tolya yul bataar #tolya x reader #nikolai lantsov

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deepouterspacecandy · 3 months

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Ink and Paper Hearts: Part Two

This is the second part of an earlier piece that I absolutely loved writing and had posted for Valentine’s Day. Like its predecessor, this one is over 8k words. We’ve got a bit of everything here. Light angst, fluff, a slice of smut. Violence, gore, and sexual themes. Heavier in tone than the first, for sure. 18+ only.

Dogs barking at a murder of crows outside jolt you awake—their high-pitched caws cutting through the dawn. You suspect the birds have homed in on a corpse beyond the fences or food scraps someone has carelessly left behind for them to scrounge.

The sounds of paws hitting the pavement echo, signalling that someone has already taken the four-legged crew out for their morning walk. The exhaustion in your body is grateful.

Five more minutes to curl up in this stark, sterile cell Isaac has forced you to call home for the past two months.

The hardest part of getting out of bed is no longer the lack of sunshine, but the shock of the frigid floors against your bare feet. Heating a prison that was probably already in disrepair long before Cordyceps hit is a gargantuan task.

Abby’s letters and dried flower trimmings adorn the plain walls, filling the space with a bright fragrance. Nobody at the prison dares read them, every soldier respecting the already dire lack of retreat the barren walls provide.

That doesn’t stop them from teasing you for being the only one in camp brave enough to journey beyond the walls for office supplies.

It also doesn’t prevent them from offering generous trades for a few pens and some paper of their own when you return.

A chilly nose nuzzles against your palm, urging you to confront your troubles and venture outside so that she can serve with her comrades.

“No sleep for the wicked, eh?” you groan, your voice causing her floppy ears to rise. “Oh, no—don’t even think about it!”

With a joyful whine, she eagerly tackles your tired body, making quick work of reducing all your blankets into a messy heap on the floor.

“Troublemaker,” you giggle, letting her spin into oblivion over the soft material before giving her a gentle shove so you can put your bed back together.

“Should we shower first or write to Abby?”

The familiar name triggers Navigator, causing her to bark and spin with enthusiasm. To be certain, you break it down for her one more time, making sure she comprehends.

“Shower?”

She lets out a tiny, impatient whimper.

“Write to Abby?”

Her shrieking bark echoes through the prison, and you wish you had the means to share it with the girl in question. The dog hasn’t even met her yet, but she knows.

Abby is a beacon of light to her handler.

“Alright, alright, you win,” you say, the hazy cloud of your breath reminding you to grab your coat.

Writing to Abby during sunrise would be a beautiful way to start the day. You glance into the hallway to make sure the pathway is clear and turn to your pup.

“Navi—who’s there?” you ask, the command changing her demeanour instantly.

She stiffens and lowers her head, listening.

Before panting in your direction to give you the all clear, she attentively scans her surroundings but detects nothing out of the ordinary.

“Good girl, Navigator—yard,” you say, and she’s almost too thrilled to compose herself.

She bumps into the chair beside your desk, giving the object a quick sniff before moving through the familiar doorway. Her shoulders graze the steel bars, but only enough to help her right herself and course correct.

Your hand instinctively searches for a pen, but catches on a delicate bracelet, its intricate chain hindered by a broken clasp. It didn’t arrive to you that way, but after many sleepless nights constantly clutching it under your sleeve, it eventually gave in.

It makes you miss Abby even more.

Chilly air stings your lungs as you look out at the most recent delivery spilling from an eroded shipping container just outside the gates. These intermodal containers clutter the field, creating an unsightly and hazardous environment.

The level of chaos seems to be escalating, and it’s unclear if Isaac is fully aware of it.

The prison is evolving into a central hub for storing resources, and speculation about Isaac turning it into a medical facility is increasing.

Someone forgot to close the hatch on the one closest to the entry gate, the dented door of the container left ajar. You whistle for Navigator. Two of her more seasoned companions join her on either side, ears perked at full attention, watching her six.

“Navi—check,” you command.

It’s a new obstacle, and her busy nose finds the perimeter first. You swallow against your racing heart, praying that nothing has crept inside overnight. Navigator is capable, but she faces unfavourable odds, and everything in this world happens fast.

You have conflicting feelings about helping her develop into a stronger soldier, yet wanting to keep her close to you.

She wags her thick tail as she maps the object and waits for your command.

“Good. Check,” you repeat, and she slows to a silent crawl, her ears on a swivel.

She clips her hip on the rusted lock as she disappears inside the metal box, her nails clicking against the wooden floor. You draw your gun and wait.

A full minute goes by before her nose cautiously peeks out again, and there’s a rush of relief as the tension drains from your body.

“Good, Navi. Good job,” you exhale, crouching to touch her face and run your hands over her in search of injury.

A soldier, who you can only assume arrived with the shipment, makes his way towards you through the mud.

“Who left this open?” you ask, your tone garnering the attention of others in the field, still nursing their morning coffee.

The crew within earshot nonchalantly shrug their shoulders, and the indifference stirs up a storm inside you.

“I guess we’ve got ghosts!” you laugh humourlessly. “If you leave room for trouble, trouble will find you—and then it will find me and my crew. You must close the damn—,” but before you can finish, you’re plunged to the ground, a rancid jaw snapping at the back of your neck.

Gunfire sends every crow to the sky, the blast leaving a deafening buzz ringing in your ears. Your chest heaves on the damp ground as you try to gather your bearings, sweaty palms pressing into the soil against the rotten weight on your back.

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

Abby,

I don’t know what it would look like for you to leave it all behind, but I know it would be better than this.

With enough force to chew through it, you gnaw on your pen cap while reading over the start to your letter. Paper is a precious resource and you’re not above scribbling out the odd mistake, but this requires a new sheet. Considering the stress Abby is already facing, it’s best not to add anything more to her plate.

Abby,

What was the first thing you did when you woke up?

Give me details—what did you eat for breakfast? Did you go to the gym?

I’ve got your letters up on the wall beside my bed and it’s the first thing I see. The first thing I feel… well, that would be Navi’s cold nose. Usually, it’s somewhere at the back of my neck, but today it was my hand, so I’d say all in all, it has been a decent morning.

She’s doing better. We had a minor mishap earlier, but it’s no different from any other dog I’ve trained, really. They all have their quirks. I know she’ll be able to handle everything with a little more practice.

She already likes you, and you haven’t even met. You’ll see what I mean soon. I talk to her about you a lot, she’s a good listener. I still can’t believe we found each other the way we did.

It’s getting crowded around here. I’m starting to appreciate the long walk to town! There’s this abandoned gym I pass by sometimes and it makes me think of you. Maybe I should grab a set of weights and start training. That would only make me miss you more, though.

Oh, any chance the stadium has adopted a jeweller? I accidentally broke the bracelet you sent me and I’m rather grumpy about it. Still makes me smile as much as the first time I saw it.

Maybe you’ll be here whenever it’s fixed, to put it back on for me. Or take it off. The choice is yours.

Is that too much? I’m going a little stir crazy.

It’s too quiet here at night!

P.S.

Did you have someone before this? Another Dragonfly Firefly?

Abby’s next letter arrives after just a week, and you sprint up the stairs to the top of the guard tower to absorb it. As Navigator curls up beside you, her solid jaw rests comfortably on your lap, creating a soothing weight as you pet her. You notice her spine feels different under your touch, no longer as bony as it was when you first brought her back.

Maintaining a connection with Abby is helping you stay grounded while you cope with life outside the stadium, and so is the growing bond with your affectionate pup. You’re counting down the days until those worlds collide.

Dragonfly,

You make my face hurt. In a good way, obviously.

Bah, should I rewrite this? I’m running low on paper, so I guess I’ll embarrass myself.

Hi, pretty girl.

That slip up was super cute. Did you know dragonflies can live under water for like two years after they’re born?

Do you like to swim?

I bet Navigator loves the water. Can I take her to the lake sometime? Mama, too, of course.

I never thought I’d say this, but I’m jealous of your dog, big time. The thought of waking up next to you does things to me.

Breakfast? Well, I wolfed down a salmon bagel this morning and hit the weights early. I didn’t go to the gym, just me and my dumbbells today. I enjoy working out on my own, gives me time to think. Mostly about you.

If you’re serious about working out, I know an excellent trainer who would love to help you. (It’s me.)

They served me a glass of wine tonight, so I’ve got the warm fuzzies going on. Sitting here with your letter, I’m realizing that this is how you make me feel—like the edges of everything, somehow hurt less. I think about that night on your living room floor, and it gives me butterflies.

Hitting me with the big relationship questions, are we?

Do you remember Owen? He was still around for a while when you got here, I’m pretty sure. He was the only Firefly you speak of. A chapter I’m glad to put behind me. There’s a new one I’m reading and I’m thinking this book might be a keeper.

Nothing you say is too much. Sometimes I worry you’re holding back, like maybe you don’t want me to know how bad things are out there. Please tell me everything, even the bad stuff.

I’m dying to see you all grouchy, but I’ll still fix your bracelet. Don’t need a jeweller for that.

I think you know what I’d vote for, but I’m down for either of those things.

(Just in case, the answer is off. I’d vote for taking it off.)

I made myself blush when I wrote that.

Think of me.

Yours,

Abigail

You crunch the letter against your face with glee, the pup on your lap tilting her head quizzically at your outburst.

“I like her so much,” you say, releasing Abby’s letter in favour of squealing into your cupped hands. “I like her so, so much.”

Navigator searches for them, nudging at your fingers to gauge your emotional state.

“These are happy sounds,” you tell her, dropping a smooch on her snout.

She takes your word for it, cozying back up next to you.

After rereading Abby’s letter, you find yourself lost in thought as you stare out at the quiet grounds, your mind overflowing with things you want to write to her.

And some things that you don’t.

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

The Stalker who attacked you didn’t breach the protective layer of your clothing.

You still find yourself obsessively checking your reflection in the D-Block bathroom mirrors throughout the day—running your fingers lightly along your shoulder blade, feeling for any cuts or abrasions.

Close calls happen, but this has niggled inside the darkest corners of your mind, dive bombing into your nightmares.

As idiotic as those soldiers were, and maybe as green as Navigator is at surveillance, this is how easily it goes down.

A random, insignificant day, before the sun has even risen above the treeline, another human ceases to exist. You’d never considered it before—how you’d prefer it to happen. You know one thing for sure, you’d rather it didn’t shake out at the hands of someone too lazy to keep the area secure.

“Shit, sorry,” a voice groans out. “I didn’t think anyone used these showers.”

As you turn, your eyes meet those of a stranger. She stands before you, a towel tucked neatly under her arm, hair pulled back to prevent her glossy curls from getting wet. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and you can see it’s because she’s exhausted.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, rushing to slip your shirt back on. “I normally don’t use them, but you’re more than welcome.”

“What’s got you back here, then?” she asks. “You good?”

With her narrowed, inquisitive gaze, she reminds you of the importance of conducting thorough investigations on everyone you come across.

“I’m fine,” you say, pointing to the rusted handles protruding from the wall. “Crank it to the left and you might get lucky, but hot water isn’t really a thing around here. Decent pressure, though.”

“So, I’ve heard.”

You hesitate, and she extends her hand with a low laugh.

“Nora,” she says. “I’m a medic. Isaac’s got me here setting up shop.”

“Right, makes sense,” you say, feeling the tightness in your muscles dissipate.

“Did you want me to take a look at that?” she asks.

She’s pointing to the spot where you had the closest contact with the infected and your stomach churns, blood rushing into your ears. You spin in the mirror, yanking your shirt collar down.

“I’ve checked a thousand times! I swear there’s nothing.”

With a calm demeanour, she places her hand on your arm.

“I believe that. But I’m thinking maybe you don’t,” Nora says.

Her touch is enough to keep your heart from ejecting from your throat, but only barely. Her bedside manner alone sets her apart as one of the best medics you’ve encountered.

“Keep focusing on your breath,” she continues. “Are you comfortable lifting your shirt?”

You nod, and she assists you in bunching the fabric under your chin.

Nora slips a knackered flashlight out from her towel, placing her sheathed knife onto the countertop. Clicking on the flashlight, she illuminates the ominous bathroom, casting eerie shadows in the mirrors and around the room as she moves it from side to side.

“I heard about what went down,” she explains, pressing the pads of her fingers into your skin. “Not cool.”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at her casual evaluation, but your own mistake in the incident quickly comes to mind. You wiggle your fingers into Navigators’ fur; the pup quietly leaning against your leg.

“Shit happens, I guess.”

“Yeah, well,” Nora says, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before letting the shirt fall to your sides. “Some mistakes shouldn’t happen twice.”

With your head dipped, you shuffle towards the entryway, hesitating at the threshold of the haunted corridors.

“Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s not make it a habit,” she smirks, the faucet screeching under her grip. She raises her voice above the rush of water. “I can think of one person who’d be rather livid if she found out her girl was in danger. That would be all bad.”

Abby’s reputation for being tight-lipped about personal matters makes you suspect that they’re friends, and your chest constricts.

“I shouldn’t tell her, then?” you ask.

Nora plunks a bar of soap onto the partition between shower stalls.

“Not what I said,” she grins, undoing her belt buckle. “Hey—do you mind leaving him?”

She tips her chin at your dog.

“Navigator?” you say, sending the dog’s tail into a helicopter spin. “Uh—yeah. Of course. But she’s not really—she still needs time.”

With tenderness, Nora bends down and cradles the dog’s head in her hands.

“A little lady, huh?”

She runs the pads of her thumbs beneath Navigator’s eyes, whispering something into her ear that is overpowered by the sound of water tearing into the tile ground.

“We’re good,” Nora says. “Now, what’s it going to take to get a little privacy around here?”

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

Abby,

Is the new chapter with me? Please tell me it’s me.

I can’t put a face to Owen. That time was a blur for me, but I remember Mel. She examined me when I first got there. I hope everything went well with the baby.

Uh oh, now you’re asking me all the hard hitters!

Promise not to laugh, okay?

I have no fucking clue how to swim. I could probably… not drown… for a solid minute or two.

When we were little, my siblings told me there were infected in the lake. After that, I always felt too scared to try. When I got older, I’d go in on horseback because they really loved to swim. Luckily, nothing grabbed my feet. That was always my biggest fear.

I miss the smell of horses. That probably makes me a weirdo, right? I’d like to have one again someday. They’re such gentle giants.

Reminds me of you.

Speaking of which, all this gym talk has unlocked fun new cravings in my brain. You could ask me about them, or I could show you.

You make my face hurt, too.

I want to be that for you all the time, which is why I’m scared to tell you this next part. Please try not to worry either, because I swear, I’m okay.

I got jumped by an infected. The fucker laid me out. It’s getting hectic around here and someone forgot to close the shipping container. It was an accident, and nobody got hurt, thankfully. Everyone is being more careful now, I think. But the deliveries are constant and it’s getting a bit out of hand. It doesn’t feel secure here the way it does back home.

On the plus side, I think I saw a radio being carried in today! Do you figure they’d let us use it? I’d really like to hear your voice.

Please be safe.

Dragonfly

From the porch of the administrative building, you hear the unmistakable sound of an engine starting up, followed by the sudden beam of headlights cutting through the darkness of the field beside you. It’s not common for groups to travel after dark, but you make your way to the fence to satisfy your curiosity.

“Where are you guys headed?” you ask.

A woman with pigtails and a wicked scowl casts a sharp, sidelong glance in your direction. “What’s it to you?”

“Are you heading into the city, by any chance?”

She braces herself against the truck’s hood and analyzes you.

“It’s classified,” the woman mutters, tearing apart a strip of jerky before tossing a piece to Navigator. “What’s the matter—she got something against beef?”

You whisper a command, patting the grass in front of her. The pup easily locates the source of the incredible smell, but you can feel the weight of the woman’s scrutinizing glare.

“We could really use some better lighting out here,” you say, holding up your folded letter. “If I ask you to take this to someone at the stadium, what would you want in return?”

She works you over for a moment, nodding at the multi-tool on your belt.

“Done!” you say.

As you busy yourself with taking the tool off its leather strap, she grunts, “Who’s it for?”

You survey your environment for any potential eavesdroppers, heat creeping up your neck.

“Anderson.”

With a contemptuous snort, she propels herself off the hood.

“Abby? What’s your deal with her?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s classified,” Nora interjects from the shadows, grabbing the letter from you through the fence.

The paper lands against the woman’s vest with a sharp slap. You suddenly feel a wave of concern that she might crumple up the letter and fling it out the window before the convoy moves ten feet from the prison.

Nora turns on her heel to load a crate onto the truck before raising her brow at the disgruntled soldier.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” the woman says.

“Great!” With a wink, Nora begins her slow, determined walk toward the main gate.

You get to keep your Leatherman, too.

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

During morning training, Navigator’s keen sense of hearing allows her to mimic the movements of her peers closely, effortlessly blending in with them. The day kicks off on a high note, as every dog under your care triumphs in their practice missions.

Under the cloudless blue sky, the sun casts its vibrant energy into everything it reaches, including you. Perfect timing since you’re already needing to make another run into town.

It’s an easy trek for the first while until you get closer to the roadways. Rusted vehicles marred by fallen trees make it a challenge to explore.

“Navi—up,” you say, keeping your voice low. She sniffs to find her obstacle and seems to recognize it as the mossy log it is. “Careful, it’s slippery.”

You should heed your own warnings, but alas, the ground is so uneven that you stumble and slip about ten times before reaching your destination.

Although there is no post office, there is a pharmacy that shares its premises with a convenience store. You’ve had good fortune in locating supplies, particularly towards the back where someone has stacked boxes in front of the door marked Staff Only.

They act as a barrier, and you have no desire to uncover the mystery of what they’re obstructing. You take what you need and scram.

You notice a city mailbox and contemplate attempting to pilfer what’s inside. When you pull at the drop box handle, it gives out a loud, metallic creak that reverberates through the streets. Navigator goes rigid, her ears pinned as she notices something you don’t.

With your pistol in hand, you carefully sweep your gaze across the area, straining to discern any movement amidst the jumble of abandoned cars. The dog growls, a quiet rumble in her chest at a Runner, rocking unsteadily in an alley. As your blood chills, you quickly backtrack, moving the both of you to safety.

It takes longer to reach the prison, but the detour keeps you whole.

You release your companion to lounge leisurely in the sun with her friends and decide to face the dreaded ice shower. It demands serious mental toughness to withstand being both cold and wet in a cement dungeon, and you’re not quite conditioned for it.

The system you’ve come up with is laughable and miserable, but it somehow convinces you it’s the optimal solution. A bucket, filled to the top, that you can pour over your head to prevent fully submerging yourself.

With a sense of desperation, you lean forward, silently hoping that today will be the day when someone fixes the water tanks.

After subjecting yourself to hygiene torture, you wrap your towel snug around your frame, contemplating the idea of building a firepit inside the bathroom.

A voice unexpectedly pierces the dark and startles you.

“That is a great outfit.”

In a state of shock, her powerful physique and honeyed tone instantly bring you warmth.

“No freaking way!” you shout.

“Get your butt over here, smoke show. Don’t make me wait,” she says.

With a sprint and a leap, you throw yourself into Abby’s arms, your towel slipping from your hand. She holds you so tight it doesn’t shift an inch.

“How?” you ask, your body trembling. “How are you here right now?”

“I took a leave of absence,” Abby murmurs into your damp hair.

She giggles as you wrap your arms snugly around her neck, your legs a vice around her waist.

“Tell me this is real,” you say, voice breaking as you inhale her deeply. “God, you smell so good.”

Abby shifts her weight in a rhythmic sway, soothing you in her embrace as you suddenly crumble.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she whispers, hushing you gently as you sob against her shoulder. “You’re safe now.”

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

Abby decides you’ve been cold, and towel bound long enough so you throw on your clothes and lead her outside, where you emerge with the sun’s last kisses appeasing your icy skin.

The golden light transforms into a hazy cotton candy glow, casting a celestial hue that electrifies every blade of grass beneath your feet.

With a bright, lopsided grin on her face, Abby lingers a few paces behind you, adding a pleasant energy to the air. Her army fatigues, rugged and worn, serve as a reminder of her toughness, yet her movements with you are graceful, as she effortlessly synchronizes her steps with yours.

“You’re too far away,” you say, keeping your pace. “I’m all alone up here.”

The moment she tackles you, a boom of surprised laughter escapes from your throat. She seizes the opportunity to launch her attack as the last hours of sunlight hit your eyes, raising you carefully above her head to place you on her shoulders.

“Don’t you dare drop me,” you warn, her grip on your legs helping you defy gravity. “I’m slipping!”

With a sigh, she cheerfully tickles your thighs, poking fun at your theatrical antics.

“You’re fine,” she says.

“I can see everything!”

“Now you see what I see,” she murmurs, launching into a series of small hops to readjust you above her.

Her words settle within you, and it’s clear Abby is making her father proud, bearing an uncanny resemblance to his sentimental ways.

The years you spent on horseback have honed your core muscles, enabling you to toy with her earlobes as she trudges on. When you take full advantage of your special access to her neck, the sounds she emits are soft as peach fuzz.

Striding through the vast field, she exudes a sense of purpose, as if leading you both home.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You talk too much,” she teases, pressing her lips to the inside of your thigh.

You feel it consume your body, leaving you breathless. Abby circles her thumb over the spot her lips met your leg, like maybe it was having the same effect on her.

She moves through sparse brush to a crumbling shack, its bones tilting above a flowing creek, summoning the earth to wash it away.

Abby easily adjusts to the incline of the muddy bank while you clumsily flail about. Extending your hands in front of her, she grabs hold of them and steadies you.

“Everything good?”

“I can walk,” you offer.

“Is that what you want?”

“No,” you confess.

She smooths her hands over your calves, before stepping onto the sunken pebbles.

The bubbling stream welcomes her steady boots, and you close your eyes. Up the trunks of the trees, small claws scamper, accompanied by the fluttering of wings that turn the forest into a harmonious amalgamation of nature.

“I’m not hurting you?” you ask.

She knows what you’re really worried about. With a knowing huff, she easily scales the other side of the bank, as if to prove a point.

“I could deadlift you in my sleep.”

“Move over universe—Abby’s ego is coming through!”

You feel her body vibrate with laughter, and you’re thrilled to be connected to her gales of happiness. But truthfully, the strain of trying to keep your equilibrium and extend your hand to touch her is causing a dull ache to spring up in your back.

When you tap out, it’s in one swift motion down the length of her back. Your feet hit the ground and you wobble for a few steps before becoming reacquainted with your sea legs.

“I like how strong you are.”

“I like that you like how strong I am,” Abby says, her brows arching suggestively, adding a mischievous twinkle to her eyes.

You catch sight of a towering white wall, its grandeur diminished by years of wear. It’s supported by the framework of sturdy steel truss, not intimidated by time or extreme weather the way the rest of the place seems to be. As wildflowers merge with a mob of ancient vehicles, the lot becomes a kaleidoscope of colours against the sunset, bridging the gap between the past and the present.

A weathered marquee sign stands as a charming centrepiece, teeming with prosperous vines. The wind has stolen away a significant number of the movie titles—what remains evokes a profound wave of sadness.

Look for the light.

“Abby,” you whisper, reaching for her hand. She laces her fingers with yours. “What is this place?”

With her hand still tightly woven in your grasp, she steps in front of you, passionately describing the nostalgic charm of a Drive-In movie theatre. Although she had never been, her dad had shared numerous stories of them.

“So, you’d just sit in your car and eat snacks and stuff?”

“Well, the families did,” Abby snorts.

She plucks a purple flower from the wheel of an RV before slipping it into your hair, her warm breath tickling your face. Your scalp tingles pleasantly at her touch.

“And the others?” you ask, reaching up to feel the soft petals of her affection against your fingertips. “What would they do?”

You weren’t born yesterday, and she quirks a knowing brow at your play of virtue. Your lips moisten with anticipation. Abby tilts her head, her gaze flitting to your parted mouth.

“It’s hard to explain,” she lies, scrunching her freckled nose. “Want me to show you?”

A shiver at the base of your neck sends your temperature rising.

“I think that’s probably best,” you say.

As Abby moves closer, your foreheads accidentally collide, causing both of you to break into hushed laughter, becoming even more enchanted as you feel your breaths mixing.

She swallows, and it’s a loud squeak at the back of her throat, your heart thumping erratically at how timid she has become. It empowers you to tease her, brushing the tips of your fingers along her jaw, tracing the corners of her smile. Your forefinger dips below her chin and drags along the column of her neck.

You gently explore the hollow of her collarbone until her yearning drives her to lean into you.

“The way you look at me,” Abby whispers. “You make me weak.”

“I wonder what happens if I do this, then.”

Your lips skim hers in a slow, teasing sweep until she whimpers against your mouth.

“Please,” she begs.

The taste of her full lips and the sweet glide of her tongue leaves a forest fire burning deep inside you.

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

The moon’s glow penetrates the dense foliage, causing hallucinations that morph ordinary plants into nightmarish beings, making the journey back to the prison a sensory maze.

Your body longs for Abby’s touch, but your mind advises against begging her to pin you against a nearby tree.

“Speak, chatterbox,” Abby teases, pulling you against her side so you can both stumble through the dark. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

“I’m really turned on right now,” you blurt, and Abby barks such a rich laugh into the peaceful forest that it instantly becomes your favourite tune. “I think I’d put Manny to shame.”

“Wow. I’m that good, huh?”

You imitate the piercing static of a HAM radio, holding up an invisible mic. Your juvenile behaviour nearly causes her to collapse with laughter.

“This is Dragonfly calling Abby’s ego,” you say. “Can someone put my girl back on the air?”

Abby comes to a halt at the edge of the field, her wide eyes transforming into an inky sky. Her gaze bursts with ethereal stars.

“Can I see that for a second?” she asks, gesturing to the invisible mic in your hand.

Your cheeks sting with euphoria as you hand it to her.

Pretending to adjust the coiled cord, she puts on quite a show, and you’re smitten.

“This is Abigail calling Dragonfly,” she says, her confident voice dripping with authority.

When you don’t pick up, she playfully lambasts you.

“But you took my mic!” you squeak.

She cups a hand over the one she stole from you, to whisper, “Grab another one—they’re all over the place out here.”

Your adoration for her leaves you entranced, enabling you to produce another microphone out of thin air. You feel a rush coursing through you, from the roots of your being to the tips of your extremities. You’re not sure if you’re walking or floating.

“Dragonfly here. Standing by,” you say.

As Abby pulls you close, a glaring flashlight steals your vision, its blinding beam eviscerating the little world you’d built together.

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

Nora paces the makeshift medical bay as Abby braces herself on a bedrail.

“She was by my side the whole time,” Nora explains, her face twisted up in anguish. “The delivery squad pulled their truck through the gate and forgot to secure it. Navigator must’ve slipped out. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, feeling the anger well up inside you as you think about the lax protocols of the prison. “There are too many people coming and going.”

“She knows where home is, right? I mean—it’s wherever you are,” Abby says, rubbing your back.

“Not sure,” you admit, fear taking hold. “I have to find her.”

You gather a small bag of supplies and Abby stops you before you reach the door.

“It’s not safe.”

“You don’t understand, Abby. She isn’t—she can’t be out there alone.”

“Where do you want this, Nora?” a soldier asks, his arms loaded to his chin with boxes.

Abby marches across the room and slams him against the wall.

“Who left the gates open?” she roars.

“Christ, Anderson! Chill out. I don’t know,” he wheezes. “We got the orders to unload and go. Where’s your gate patrol?”

“We’re a skeleton crew, there is no gate patrol,” you say, hands shaking. “There’s a sign out front for a reason.”

“Isaac hasn’t sent anyone yet?” he asks, shouting over his shoulder as he ambles back into the passageway. “That’s suicide out here.”

“Tell me about it,” you groan.

Abby’s jaw clenches and she balls her fists. “Enough of this shit,” she says. “We’re finding your dog and I’m taking you back with me.”

“Isaac won’t like that. You know it,” Nora warns, pressing her palms into her eyes. “Let me try him on the radio.”

“Wait, did you hear that?” you ask.

Navigator’s familiar, lancing bark reverberates through the prison yard, prompting the three of you to sprint after the sound. Trapped outside the fence, she paces restlessly, her nose sniffing the ground in search of a way inside.

Nora disappears to take matters into her own hands, assigning someone to patrol the gates for the night.

“Will you meet me in the guard tower?” you ask Abby. “There’s something I want to show you.”

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

Flames crackle and hiss inside the base of a small metal drum that Abby hauled up the stairs. Standing in front of the window, her silhouette watches over the field she had explored with you only a few hours earlier.

The fire radiates so much heat in the tower that Abby has abandoned her jacket altogether. You watch from the doorjamb in awe as Abby takes tools off the carabiners on her cargo pants one by one and arranges them neatly in a pile.

Up here, it’s usually silent except for the occasional visit from a curious barn owl. The dilapidated space comes alive under her presence.

“Someone wants to meet you.”

Every movement Abby makes is sluggish, as if she’s drained of all energy, but her smile makes your heart stutter. With a gentle gesture, she kneels and raises her bent arm towards your pup, presenting the relaxed knuckles of her hand.

With the jitters still lingering from her unexpected journey in the woods, Navigator moves slowly, searching for her new friend.

“Hi, sweet girl,” Abby says, her tone softening as she takes a seat and crosses her legs. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”

Startled by the unfamiliar voice, the pup cautiously inches forward, her nose quivering as she takes in the scents of the surrounding air.

“You’re okay,” Abby hums tenderly.

Navigator settles into her gentle palms as Abby carefully examines her face, tracing the patterns of freckles that decorate her cheeks.

Abby looks up at you with benevolence.

“She can’t see me,” she whispers.

Upon shaking your head, you immediately feel a tightness building in your throat. You wrap your arms around yourself and take stock of how this indestructible woman can so easily tap into an ocean of empathy.

“But you can hear me, can’t you, sweetheart?” Abby says.

As Navigator’s tail blurs, merrily slicing through the air, it leaves a trail of embers that float and twirl toward the open window.

“Tell her your name,” you suggest.

Bending her head, she meets Navigator halfway, voice brimming with affection.

She murmurs her name as she reaches for her coat, ensuring that her scent lingers for the puppy to recognize.

When she repeats her name a second time, Navigator lets out a buoyant bark, spinning across the floor and back onto Abby’s lap in a heap of excitement, her paws barely gaining purchase before covering Abby’s face in hyper kisses. She braces her arm behind her to keep from toppling over, chuckling through the battering. As they become acquainted through cuddles and play, the tension within you fades.

“You never mentioned it in your letters,” Abby says, encouraging the dog to settle between you.

It’s not long before the soothing ambiance of the fire lulls her to sleep.

“I couldn’t take the chance. If someone intercepted them, you know?” you explain, mind racing with the consequences. “It ends badly in the wrong hands.”

“Isaac, you mean?”

“Isaac—really anyone with his intolerance for weakness,” you say, messing with a piece of kindling before adding it to the fire. Within seconds, the flames engulf the tinder. “He was always intense. But he’s cruel, now. Power blinds him and he just doesn’t care who it burns. There’s no way he’d let her stick around if he thought she couldn’t fulfil her duties.”

“He’ll find out,” Abby utters, intertwining her hand with yours on Navigator’s back.

“I know,” you confess. “That’s why I can’t stay.”

Abby takes a deep, concerned breath before straightening up, crossing her arm sheepishly over the other. Her chin trembles and tears well up in her eyes.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

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

When Abby speaks about the regrets of her past, she does not mince words. She gets candid about her missteps and how the loss of her father confused her relationships. Abby tells you about Mel, her father’s surgical protégé, a girl who was supposed to be her friend first—instead of becoming a shoulder for Owen to cry on.

She alludes to their covert flirtation building over time and tells you about the painful day Owen asked for her blessing.

He still sheepishly proclaimed his love for Abby, which tipped her world upside down until she launched herself into work and training to keep from falling apart.

Abby faced great difficulty in dealing with her grief, and it was particularly hurtful for her to witness her own people capitalizing on her vulnerability during a time when her world was in chaos.

While recounting the events of their transition from Fireflies to the WLF, she doesn’t overlook the trauma experienced by her friends. But she allows hers to matter, too, and you respect her immensely for it.

She reaches for your hands when she tells you about that night, almost as if she fears you’ll get up and leave.

A regretful one-night affair tinged with a jar of rank hooch and unrequited love. A night which offered Abby closure but only served to open the floodgates for Owen and a world of heartache for Mel.

When Mel was in her third trimester with their unborn child, Owen made a plea to Abby to stay with him—help him make it work.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t in love with him anymore,” Abby sighs. “I cared about him, but I could never give him what he wanted. Not after everything that happened. He needed to get his priorities straight.”

“You deserved better,” you say.

“So did Mel. You should be upset with me.”

She lays her imperfections bare before you, and you only see her resilience. A woman forced to learn how to rebuild herself with bricks made of loss and betrayal. You shake your head and press a kiss to her palm.

“Would it have happened if the roles were reversed? If it were your pregnant girlfriend waiting around for you?”

“Never,” Abby states, her piercing gaze locking with yours. “It’s not even a question.”

“Exactly. It sounds like he was trying to escape his situation, with or without you.”

Even before the affair, Mel griped Owen wasn’t content, and she wasn’t the only person who shared that belief. The gossip had turned into a string of hushed rumours after Isaac had offered Owen a place to stay in Section Ninety-Six. A dedicated area for young families—a home with Mel he’d never set foot in.

In his pursuit of a different path, he seemed to prioritize his own needs above all else.

Perhaps they all had their own personal demons to confront.

By immersing herself in her responsibilities to the WLF, Abby could keep her mind off things until Owen’s desertion caused everything to unravel. The chain of events ultimately resulted in Abby defying orders, Isaac losing his most skilled surgeon to another faction, and Abby finding herself trapped further in the WLF because of her perceived debt to Isaac.

“Owen went AWOL?”

“Yeah,” Abby responds, her brows furrowing as she recalls the memory. “He got himself into some trouble and hid. When I found him, he was trying to fix his boat so he could leave.”

Absentmindedly reaching for Navigator, you mumble, “I’m noticing a pattern.”

Abby’s gaze softens.

“I did the wrong thing,” she says. “There’s no excuse.”

Her fingertips trace a soothing circle on the back of your hand. Your vision blurs as you reach for the imaginary HAM radio once again.

“Dragonfly to Anderson,” you say, barely audible to the human ear. “Do you copy? This is Dragonfly for Abby—over.”

“This is Abigail.”

She anxiously chews at her chapped bottom lip, and you gradually pry it from her teeth with your thumb until it glistens against the firelight.

“Welcome to being human, Abigail,” you say into the mic, and she stifles a teary laugh, patiently waiting for you to release the invisible button.

Giving her time to process it, you carefully study her features.

“You’re allowed to make mistakes,” you continue, one hand on the mic, and the other on her cheek. “And you’re allowed to be loved as you’re learning to let them go. Don’t let them be the reason I can’t love you—over and out.”

Her eyes dart between yours, and the frown on her face dissolves into something so fragile you cup her jaw to keep her from shattering.

“Isaac blames me for what happened,” Abby says. “He won’t let me go without a fight.”

“Neither will I.”

Swiftly, she maneuvers you over the sleeping dog until you rest comfortably on her lap.

“I know who you are now,” Abby murmurs.

“Who am I?” you ask, captivated by the woodsy scent of her hair as you carefully untangle her braid. “Debrief me.”

You quiver as her hands skim the hem of your shirt; her nails leaving a trail of heat at the small of your back.

“You’re the one I want to dance in the kitchen with.”

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

Moonlight seeps through the crevices of the tower, and Abby is angelic in your arms. A thin film of sweat draws light to the hard edges of her muscles and the depth of her scars. She’s a work of art.

The sleeping bag she unrolled for two tangles between her legs and your sated body as she sleeps.

The woman is a devout soldier, but she’s also a voracious lover. Your skin hums as tiny bruises bloom across the tender surface. You smoulder in the afterglow.

You reflect on her closemouthed moans, and the hungrier ones that slipped through. How she readily poured pleasure into you, yet she was reluctant to let herself feel any in return. It was a profound and intimate moment when she entrusted you to unravel her, powerful hands guiding your mouth across her tight body.

“Quit wiggling,” Abby whispers.

A knowing smirk lifts her drowsy face.

“Go back to sleep, bossy.”

“I can’t,” she groans, her hand kneading your hip. “Your thoughts are too loud.”

“First, I talk too much, now I think too much. What do you want from me, woman?”

She snickers against your ribcage, her lips leaving behind a hungry ache with every lazy, peppered kiss.

“I want you in my fucking bed,” Abby grumbles, and the gravel in her tone makes you shiver.

“Whoa, your filthy mouth is really doing it for me,” you tease.

Abby hides her bashful face in the crook of her arm and giggles. It’s so sweet you can’t help but wrap yourself around her.

“Tell me a story,” she says.

“I don’t have any stories,” you gripe, playfully wrenching her from her hiding spot to poke at her bottom lip. “What are you in the mood for?”

Abby traps your finger between her teeth and sucks at the tip. It makes a wet sound as she pulls off and moves to the next finger.

“I’m trying to be serious here,” you say, a throb pulsing below your navel at the sensation of her tongue. “You need rest.”

Abby hums, pressing her thigh between yours as she torments your knuckles with her mouth.

“Recovery is important,” she grins. “But you make it so tempting to over-train.”

When she finally acquiesces, she gives your ass a slap of defeat.

“How am I supposed to behave myself when you look like that?” she pouts.

“Where’s your discipline, girl?” you ask.

There’s a split second where you can almost hear the growl of her dominance, making you wonder if she’ll charge at you and assert it. Part of you hopes she will.

She tucks a flyaway behind your ear and kisses your forehead.

“Tell me about the day you found Nav.”

Right off the bat, you know she’s going to wince through most of it. Abby puts herself in danger daily, but the thought of you being in harm’s way leaves her dangling restlessly on the edge.

“You sure?” you ask.

“I can handle it.”

You stagger to your knees to tend to the fire until the wood crackles. As soon as you’re within arm’s reach again, Abby pulls you into a tight hug, her arms clinging to you as if you’ve just returned from war.

“Okay, but you’re not allowed to be mad,” you say.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Abby says, pulling you on top of her.

You nestle into the inviting space between her breasts and clear your throat.

The area you frequently scavenge had been a bitch to navigate your first time around.

The constant rumble of delivery trucks and the sight of patrol vehicles passing by on the nearby highway attracted infected, but the soldiers never ventured inside the nearby towns to eradicate them. Your intention was to gain a strategic advantage by exploring an area that was avoided by everyone else.

But even your innovation and quick-thinking left you at the mercy of a deranged, agitated Runner.

In a state of panic, you found yourself inside the grocery store, desperate for a hiding spot. You ultimately ended up cramming into a stand-up freezer, watching the decaying cadaver pace back and forth, inches from you.

“That’s horrifying,” Abby balks. “You must’ve been so scared.”

“I was,” you admit.

You thought you were out of the woods, but on his third round past the doors, he saw you through the glass. He almost collapsed his own skull, attempting to break through it with his head.

“How’d you handle it?” Abby asks, her fingers tracing a delicate path along your spine. “I can’t imagine being trapped like that.”

“Took a deep breath and prepared to fight for my life.”

“Good girl.”

“He was loud as hell, making so much noise,” you continue. “I thought I was toast for sure—and then I hear this huge crash. Navigator tore a flat of bottles off a shelf a few aisles down. Started barking and running laps, luring that fucker away. She saved me.”

Abby reaches out her arm to stroke the dozing dog, who remains blissfully curled up by the warm fire, before she presses a slow kiss to the top of your head.

“You want to know why I even bothered with those boring letters?” Abby asks. “The property debt and the mortgage stuff?”

You look up at her as she plays with your hair.

“Humour me,” you tease.

“I thought they might help me find the cabin my dad always promised my mom.”

Your heart squeezes.

“Abby.”

“I found it,” she whispers.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby

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thebibutterflyao3 · 5 months

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Day 1 - Prompt: Day @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 499 words

**Series 2/5 in a continuous multi-ship story**

<<<Previous Series OR Beginning

Sirius traipsed along the pavement idly following Padfoot’s bushy tail as the dog drifted from ice-crested grass on one side to scrubby plants on the other. His massive head bobbed as he attempted to sniff every rock, plant, or insect that appeared in front of his nose. Padfoot’s shaggy black fur naturally fell over his eyes, despite Sirius’s attempts to train it with clips. More often than not, Padfoot aimlessly wandered through the day unconcerned about anything further than a metre in front of his face.

“Let me know if you find anything interesting, mate,” he said, grinning when the dog sneezed. “Or just snot all over it. That’s fine too.”

Padfoot’s tail wagged at the sound of his voice, but he was far too enthralled in his olfactory exploration to acknowledge him. That was fair, really. Wales was new to him and filled with interesting scents.

Sirius appreciated his interest. With a coastline seemingly carved by a giant spoon, brine-filled sea air, and crisp, citrusy fir trees, southern Wales had a magical quality to it. Each time he returned, the freshness of it wrenched the urban mustiness from his lungs.

He studied the rocky cliffs that jutted into the sea. Every one of them wore a grassy toupee atop their jagged limestone heads. Perhaps Wales needed a trim too, he mused.

“Hello there, Padfoot.”

Sirius’s head snapped up, surprised to find a stranger crouching down a few metres ahead with his hand outstretched. The man wore a brown beanie that crushed honey-tipped curls against his face. He hadn’t noticed him approaching from the other side of the path’s curve.

A stranger to him, but clearly not to Padfoot. The dog woofed excitedly as he dragged Sirius forward. Given the bloke’s relaxed demeanour, he wasn’t at all bothered by the sight of a ten stone ball of fur rushing at him. That was his first mistake.

A metre away, Padfoot ripped the leash free and leapt at the man with his tongue lolling and his paws outstretched. Sirius gasped, clapping a hand to his mouth as time slowed to allow an unstoppable force to meet an unsteady object. The impact rippled through the air as the dog knocked the flailing man onto his back.

“Fuck!”

Sirius lunged forward and grabbed Padfoot’s collar. He struggled to pull the dog back while Padfoot determinedly slobbered all over the man’s face. “Pads! Heel, you twat!”

Padfoot did. He planted his bottom on the man’s middle, trapping him beneath his bulk. A sharp grunt escaped the beanie-clad fellow before becoming a breathy laugh.

“Nice to see you too,” he said.

Staring down at the man’s lopsided grin, Sirius shook his head incredulously. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, fine.”

Sirius glanced between them, frowning. “How do you know my dog?”

“James.”

Of course. I should have known.

“Sorry about…this,” Sirius said, gesturing helplessly.

He chewed his lip as his gaze flicked over Sirius. Then, he held out his hand. “I’m not. Name’s Remus. Remus Lupin.”

Next Part>>>

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #wolfstar microfic

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phoenixyfriend · 7 months

Note

If you still do the ask meme: nr.1 for a timetravel Jangosoka?

26 Family Prompts Ask Meme

Accidental Baby Acquisition

This contains both intentional and accidental acquisition. (They'll give it back! Probably.)

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"He's mine."

Jango looks at the woman he has, somehow, managed to fall for.

He looks at the baby.

He looks at her again.

"You adopted? Without asking me?"

"No, birthed him myself."

That baby is human. Fully human. There is no chance, in any way, that Ahsoka managed to have a fully human child. There's some shit about placentas or whatever. A tog can't surrogate a human and vice versa.

"Jetii--"

"Oh, I'm in trouble," she giggles, entirely too enthused about his annoyance.

"Jetii," he tries again, "please tell me you didn't steal a child."

"I did not steal a child," she confirms. "I just... acquired one."

"Acquired one."

"Yeah."

He waits in vain. He breaks and asks, "Ahsoka, how did you acquire this child?"

She smiles at him.

The child's name is Ferus Olin. He was not stolen, but given willingly by his parents for Ahsoka to take to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

"You could have just said so," Jango gripes as he fires up the engines. She laughs at him, and hikes the tot higher on her hip. "Don't act like it's not within the realm of possibility that you'd randomly pick up a kid and forget to warn me about it."

"Sure," she says, "but consider this: it was funny."

"You are not nearly as funny as you think you are."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes and addresses the kid instead. "What do you think, Ferus? Am I funny?"

The toddler--baby, really--stares up at her silently. There is something up with that kid, but Jango figures that's par for the course with Force Sensitives.

A slightly wet, very chubby hand lands on a lekku.

"That is saliva," Jango notes aloud, mostly because Ahsoka looks a little disgusted, and likes she's trying to hide it from the kid. "Baby drool."

"Oh, fu--shove off."

"Classy."

So like. Here's the thing. About carting around two almost-Jedi:

One of them is his age, and hot, and weird, and he's a little bit in love with her.

The other one is less than a year old, and should be relatively safe and sound to leave alone for five minutes while napping so they can do things like use the bathroom, or argue over the nav, or knock against the walls doing things that babies probably shouldn't know about.

Ahsoka says that Ferus was a rule-abiding guy in the future, uptight, even.

This means nothing, because the ship jolts out of hyperspace without warning while Jango's got his hand up a hot tog's skirt, and they both have to rush to the cockpit to find the literal baby has crawled onto the pilot's seat and somehow turned off the nav.

The baby continues patting, full-palm, at the controls.

"What the fuck?" Jango demands.

"Language," Ahsoka sniffs, and then picks up the baby and swings him around. "Who's a little troublemaker? You are!"

"What the actual--"

"Language!" Ahsoka snaps, a little harsher this time. "There's a baby."

"Yes, I noticed, it just knocked us out of hyperspace."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes. "It's fine. We just need to keep a better eye on him."

"This could have been deadly."

"Eh, doubt it," she dismisses. "I mean, with a normal kid, yeah, but I bet you ten to one odds that he did this because the Force told him to."

"I cannot explain how much that doesn't fill me with confidence."

She ignores him. She settles into the chair, toddler on her lap, and closes her eyes. This lasts for several minutes, and Jango tries to keep his impatience under control so he doesn't 'project' it into the Force or whatever it is that the Jedi are worried about. It would distract Ahsoka, and possibly more importantly, it would upset the baby.

"I've got it," she finally says. "A direction. He pulled us out a bit early, but the fact that we didn't overshoot it is a bit of a shocker in and of itself."

"A direction to what?"

She shrugs. "We'll find out."

The direction is to a fresh-faced teenage Duros by the name of Cad Bane, who's been floating around the guild's gossip lines for a few years now. He's good, for eighteen, but Jango hasn't met him before, and Ahsoka really doesn't like him--Jedi don't hate, supposedly--and that's enough for Jango to have zero interest in really networking here.

Also, Bane has a stolen toddler. Jango knows the toddler is stolen, because she's dressed in far-too-fancy clothes for Bane to bother with, and screaming her head off, and trying to bite him, and yelling about how she wants to go home. Surprisingly eloquent for a toddler, actually. She can't be more than four.

Jango wants to get involved. He's itching for a fight. He does not get one.

He gets the smaller baby, and is told to take care of said baby and be ready to catch the bigger baby--toddler--while Ahsoka handles the fighting.

It seems kinda personal. Jango leaves her to it. It's not like they need both of them to fight this literal teenager.

(He's right. They don't.)

There are now two small children on Jango's ship. One of them is barely-almost a toddler, and the other is barely-almost not.

"I am Padme Naberrie of Naboo," the little girl tells him, all care and important grandeur. "Thank you for saving me. When may I return home?"

Naboo. The noble kids from there are damn creepy. Also worth a good ransom or a better bounty, to some. It's not exactly surprising that Bane went for one of them. the family must be pretty influential somehow.

"Not sure," Ahsoka says. "We were on our way to Coruscant... do you have a number we can call? Maybe one of your parents can meet us on the way."

"That is ac-cep-table," the little girl sounds out. She even bows, a touch wobbly. "Thank you, Master Jedi."

Ahsoka is not a Master, and is only sort of a Jedi. She does not correct little Padme, because that would be a little mean, in Jango's estimate. The girl's just been through something harrowing, and even he's not that much of a dick.

"Do you know their contact info?" he asks instead.

They aren't on a convenient hyperlane for Naboo, so they're meeting Lady Naberrie on Corellia. It's several days there, which is still faster than trying to get to Naboo from where they currently are, and Padme spends an hour or two talking to her mother before the woman enters hyperspace and comms are no longer an option. Then she talks to her father, and asks about someone called Sola, and Jango's not paying enough attention to keep track of who's who in the life of a child that is not his.

He doesn't have enough beds on the ship for this.

He empties out a small armor crate and lines it with blankets, then sets it on teh floor by the end of his bed. It's big enough for Ferus, who probably doesn't care much for fancy things. Padme gets her own bed, because they're strangers and it would be odd to suggest she share with Ahsoka as a gender thing. The other, larger bed is then for Jango and his somewhat irritating and entirely too lovely Jedi.

He laces his fingers with hers, once they're in bed, autopiloting down the hyperlane. Padm's breathing has finally evened out, and Ferus hasn't woken up yet either.

"Do you want them?" he asks.

"Hm?" Ahsoka shifts, and when she speaks, it's sleep-heavy and muddled. "Want what?"

"Kids," he says.

She's silent, long enough that he starts to wonder if she's fallen asleep, but eventually she shrugs. "I'll take an apprentice one day, probably."

It's basically the same thing, for Jedi.

"Did I ever..."

He tries not to ask too much about his personal future. He knows how Galidraan would have ended, and knows that somehow, he had been involved in a clone army that tried to kill Ahsoka when she was seventeen. She tries not to tell him too much.

"One," she says. "Boba. A few years younger than me. And..."

She doesn't finish.

"And?"

"Maybe another time," she says.

He's gotten that response more than once. He knows it for the wall it is.

"Alright," he says. "You could... tell me about Boba in the morning?"

"Maybe."

Noncommittal. He's not entirely surprised.

"Okay," he finally says. He presses a kiss to her lek. "Goodnight, Ahsoka."

"Night, Jango."

#JangoSoka is a whole lot of 'she does things without explaining and he follows in her wake being impressed and kinda annoyed'#jangosoka #jango fett #ahsoka tano #time travel #ferus olin #padme naberrie #padme amidala #baby characters #star wars #sw legends #the clone wars #phoenix answers memes #phoenix files

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smokingtiger · 1 year

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We Need To Talk About Shipping

I just want to put this out there since this website seems to be full of delusional shippers who are pushing fictional narratives or chains of events that literally never happened irl. Now personally, I don't mind casual shipping (big gasp, I know). Like if you think two people are cute together or have great chemistry, that's fine; ppl tend to reflect their own desires onto other people/things, whether they be fictional or real ... create your stories, write your fics, draw some nice pictures ... the problem lies when you can no longer decipher your own fictional stories of your favorite ship from reality. If you have gotten to the point where you feel the need to argue over what ship is REAL in a space where these types of relationships haven't even been confirmed or acknowledged ... kindly exit the fandom and only come back after taking classes in human decency. If BTS hasn't confirmed a relationship, then we as fans must accept that as our reality. Of course, many of us have our speculations, but we should never overstep and promote those realms of possibility as true. You are allowed to think something might be real, but don't turn that idea of realness into false delusions about fabricated events. If you are in the ask box of a stranger accusing a BTS member of cheating on another BTS member with another BTS member... please take the time to reevaluate your life choices. I've seen jkkrs and tkkrs argue for hours over things that literally never happened. How can you guys accuse BTS members of purposely sabotaging another member in the name of a ship? I saw a jikook post that said JM was purposely trying to tick TH off by being 'intimate' with JK. Are you sure you're talking about Jimin? Like, Park Jimin? Kim Taehyung's best friend? That Jimin? One of the best examples that I can think of (right now) is JK's 25th birthday live when he told Jin that none of the members came to visit him for his birthday except for JM and HS. He confirmed TWICE that TH did not come to see him. Now normal people would look at this and just move on, bc we can understand that the other members probably sent happy birthday texts or even gave him a phone call. Just bc something is not done publicly does not mean it didn't happen. But anyways, tkkrs had the AUDACITY of accusing JK of lying, running with a fictitious lie that he had only said he didn't come to 'protect' TH. So are HS and JM not relevant in this equation at all? Did JK purposely mention JM and HS to put them in danger? You DO NOT get to accuse people that YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW of these types of things. Who the hell do you think you are? (also, I'm not targeting tkkrs, I understand that not every single one of you is a bad egg, but this is just the first example I could think of) Y'all need to throw blogs and youtube channels (*cough* taekook-lives *cough*) that have fake stories and leaked photos as evidence away. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE, DO NOT SUPPORT SASAENG/STALKER PHOTOS, EVEN IF IT'S OF YOUR SHIP. Some shippers are far too comfortable using photos that were taken of BTS without their consent as ammo. You are gross. BigHit has protections! Half of these delulu shippers can't even interpret Kor words/sentences correctly and spew false garbage that is both utterly offensive toward BTS and the Kor lang. If you can't even take the time to properly consume the nuances of what is being said, what makes you think that you're such a good detective and can sniff out a relationship? Hell, they can't even tell when honorifics are being used or if they're speaking satoori! Is it so hard to consult actual Koreans and Kor speakers to see if what you're consuming is actually correct? The Korean culture and language are not yours to maliciously weaponize when you're trying to prove a 'point'. But like I said, I feel like this community needs a lot of cleaning up. I want you to enjoy your time in the fandom, but don't attack other people on false evidence or speculations. Take care of yourself and others. Don't let your ships make you into a monster.

And as always, LOVE all seven. SUPPORT all seven. Understand that BTS' bond is so pure and lovely and there's nothing that delusional stans and shippers can say/do to ruin that.

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justagamerandaweeb · 2 months

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Sun-Kissed - Modern AU! Iguro & Giyuu x Reader

A beach chapter? How original! This is a rather interesting ship. Didn't see that much fan art of them when I was trying to find a cover for a modern setting.

Btw, I tried to edit the cover of this chapter, and just, it's not gonna work.

They still look sexy tho.

You wiped your eyes and looked around to see that Iguro and Giyuu were still asleep. Iguro was sleeping on the bed next to you, while Giyuu slept on the couch.

You opened your phone to see that it was 4:45 AM. You yawned as you grabbed your headphones and opened your phone to watch videos to kill time. Minutes go by as you watched the brainrot that was contained on your phone, when suddenly something clicked in your head.

You swtiched your app to the calander to see what day it was, and see that you have a note on your phone that said, in all caps, "BEACH DAYYYY!!!!"

Oh shit... I forgot today was beach day. What time did we say we were gonna go? You clicked on the day and saw that it ranged from 12 to 2:15 PM. Oh fuck. Should I just sleep right now, or should I wait until we get in the car? You thought as you were tapping the side of your phone, thinking about what you should do.

You then felt the sudden urge to pee as you thought to yourself, Crap, just when I was thinking about going back to sleep. Well, it's better than pissing myself in my sleep... You thought as you took the comforter off of you and got out of the bed.

You were sneaking around the room quietly as you were very slowly walking to the bathroom door. You grabbed the doorknob and thought, Please don't squeak... As you softly twisted it, and slowly pushed the door open, only to find out that it didn't make a single sound.

You let out a soft sigh of relief as you softly closed the door and turned on the lights, making you squint your eyes for a split second. You then took your panties off and sat down on the toilet to use the bathroom.

Man, I feel so much better now. You thought as you flushed the toilet and washed your hands. You turned off the lights and left the bathroom and carefully went back to the bed.

You laid back down and closed your eyes as you were about to go to sleep, in case you need those extra hours of sleep when y'all go to the beach.

9:15 AM.

As you were sleeping, your nose started to sniff as you felt the taste of fish in your mouth, and so you began to wake up. "H-Huh? Who's cooking?" you said as you wiped your mouth from the drool that was running down your chin. "Who do you think, dumbass? Tomioka is cooking us some breakfast right now before we go, so get up." Iguro said with a towel in one arm, and a shirt, and swimming trunks in the other.

"Good morning to you too, Iguro," you said stretching your body while sitting down, and Iguro scoffed at you while going to the bathroom. You look outside to see a beautiful blue sky, and a bird's view of a city with cars passing from the highway. Man, I always forget how beautiful Japan could be.

"Hey, (Y/N)," you heard Giyuu call your name, and you turned your head and said, "Yeah?"

"What's your favorite drink to have for breakfast?" he asks you while cooking. You scratched your head and yawned as you said, "'Scuse me, um... I rarely eat breakfast, but usually, when I do, I drink (F/D) with my breakfast." you said to him and he hummed in acknowledgment.

"What are you even cooking, by the way? Smells amazing." you said walking up behind him, trying to peek under his shoulder. "Just some grilled fish and steamed rice, nothing special, really." he says as he puts the lid on the pan that was filled with rice, and lowers the heat to let it simmer.

He softly sighs as he sits down at the table and turns on the TV. You sat down with him and pat his back as you said, "Why do you look so glum, chum? Today is beach day! Shouldn't you be excited?" you said with a smile on your face, and he looked at you with an unamused expression on his face. "We go to the beach at least once or twice a year, and they have been mediocre. I'm using that word in the negative sense, by the way."

"And why do you think that? Is it because you don't know how to have fun? You just sit under the umbrella the entire time we're there and just poker face. Besides, I know you feel lonely whenever you watch us have fun. Am I wrong?" you said side-eying him.

He avoids making eye contact with you as he makes a groan of guilt, accepting the fact that he does exactly what you said. You patted his arm as you said, "Don't worry, I'm gonna fix that for you. Once we get to the beach, I'm gonna make you have some fun." you said, smiling at him.

He softly smirks at you before he heard the sound of the fish sizzling as he says, "Crap." he quickly stood up and speed walked to the kitchen as he takes the fork and flips the fish on the other side. As he did this, Iguro came out of the bathroom wearing a shirt, and black and white striped swimming trunks.

"Where's your swimming clothes?" Iguro bluntly asked you with a hint of venom in his voice. "It's in my luggage. Why should I take a shower now, when I can eat first, then shower?"

"So what you're saying is that you would rather smell like a bum, than smell hygienic when we go to the beach? Is that what I'm hearing from you?" Iguro said to you while he dried his hair with the towel. You clicked your tongue as you said, "Well fuck you too then, dickhead. Fine, I'll take a fucking shower." you said as you stood up off the chair and went to your luggage to take your one-piece swimsuit, and a shirt out.

As you grabbed a towel, you heard the sound of Giyuu talking to Iguro saying, "She's just hungry, Iguro. You shouldn't bash her for trying to eat before taking a shower." and Iguro scoffs as he said, "Shut up, you barely even talk, so who are you to butt in what were talking about?"

You closed your luggage and went to the bathroom and took off your pajamas, and panties. You went inside the bathtub and turned on the shower and began to clean yourself. You softly smiled as you realized that Giyuu was defending you, and thought to yourself, I'm gonna make sure he's gonna have lots of fun.

You turned off the shower and got out as you grabbed your towel and dried yourself off. Once you were done with that, you put your one-piece on, and then your shirt, which was a white graphic tee. You then grabbed your toothbrush which was in the toothbrush holder, and put toothpaste on it to brush your teeth.

You put mouthwash in your mouth, feeling the burning sensation on your tongue as you sloshed it around your mouth for 30 seconds, and spit it out. You picked up your clothes on the floor and left the bathroom to put your clothes in your bag.

You then turned around to see there was a plate of your breakfast in the spot where you were sitting. Iguro and Giyuu were already eating so you pulled the chair back, sat down, and ate with them.

You look at the TV that is talking about the weather to see that the temperature is gonna be 27°C by the time it reaches 1:30. "Do we have any sunscreen?" you ask as you take a bite of your rice. Giyuu raises his hand as he says, "It's in my luggage. Once we are ready to go, I'll grab it." he said chewing his rice. You hummed as you three continued eating your breakfast while watching the news.

You put your fork on the plate as you took a sip of (F/D) and let out a sigh of satisfaction. Honestly, you didn't think Giyuu was capable of cooking something that good. You got out of the chair and stretched as you said, "What time is it?"

Giyuu takes his phone out and says, "9:37." you hummed as you responded, "Has it really been that long? I thought it would be longer," you said before yawning and said, "When are we gonna leave again?"

"Guess we'll know when they knock on the door," Iguro said with his arms crossed. You hummed again as you walked to the couch and said, "Well, I'm just gonna take a nap for the next few hours, are any of you gonna wake me up when we go?"

Iguro ignored your request while Giyuu looked at you, but remained silent. You let out a sigh as you took out your phone and set an alarm on your phone, and sat it next to you on the table lamp. You laid your head on your hand as you closed your eyes and took a nap.

"She's kind of dumb taking a nap where we could be leaving right now, you know that, right?" Iguro said to Giyuu and he didn't respond to him. Instead, he stood up off the chair, and sat down next to also take a nap. Iguro sighed as he thought, Guess I have no choice but to wake them up. He said to himself as he continued to watch the TV.

1:15 PM.

As Iguro was watching the TV, he heard the sound of the door knocking and thought, That's our cue. He turned off the TV and turned around to see you both sleeping together as your head was on his shoulder, and his arm was around your waist. He scoffs as he walks up to both of you, and shakes you both for you to wake up.

You both yawned as you said, "Is it already time? How long were we asleep?" you said, wiping your eyes, as Giyuu did the same. "It's 1:15. Our friends just knocked on the door, so get up and let's go," he said as he grabbed all three of your flip-flops.

He puts his on, and you put yours on. They were a (P/C), mixed with a (S/C) polka-dot pattern. Giyuu unzips his luggage to take out the spray can of sunscreen. Iguro opens the door to see Kyojuro and Uzui standing in front of him. Kyojuro tilts his body and waves at you.

"You guys ready? Mitsuri can barely contain her excitement, she wants to leave now." Uzui said, tilting the top half of his body to the side so he can talk to y'all. "Yeah, we're ready. And I don't blame her, I'm just as excited too, as a matter of fact!" you said, joyfully.

Kyojuro laughed as he said, "Well then, let's not waste time! To our cars!" and walked off. You, Iguro, and Giyuu followed them as Giyuu closed the door and locked it.

1:33 PM, Odaiba Beach.

You got out of the car and was about to immediately run to the beach, when suddenly you felt Sanemi grab you by the back of your swimsuit. "Where do you think you're going? You're helping us too to set up, right?"

"What, why?" you asked him, confused, as he rebuked you saying, "Because the last time we went to the beach, you did jack shit helping us! Shit, even Shinobu helped us set up and she's the smallest one here! So c'mon, don't make me have to drag your ass like a child to help us too."

You pouted at him as he says to you in a threatening manner, "Don't fucking test me, I will smack that expression off your fucking face." and you immediately dropped it. "Now, help us set up," he said as he grabbed a huge umbrella out of the trunk of Uzui's truck.

"Here, the least you can do is find a good spot to put this up." Sanemi said as he put the umbrella in your hands and said, "Now go." he said as you started to walk to the beach. You scoffed as you thought, "I did jack shit last year." Please. If anything I DID do something to set up the beach. Like... Uh... Fuck, I hate admitting he's right sometimes, the fuck did I even do other than swim?

You looked around and thought, This looks like a good spot. As you opened up the umbrella, and jammed the rod to the ground. You were about to sit down, but then you would get sand on your behind, so decided to help out some more.

You walked passed Mitsuri, who also had a big umbrella in her hands. You looked behind her and said, "Do you need help, or?" and she looked back and smiled at you as she said, "No, but thank you for asking!"

Okay... You thought clapping your hands together. You went back to the truck and Giyuu says, "Hey, (Y/N), help me carry this cooler." he said as he grabbed the handle on the other side. You grabbed and you both lifted it up as he said, "Okay, move back, carefully."

As you were walking back, you said to him, "Man, this is a little heavy, doncha think?" he nodded in agreement. "Uzui wants us to have a fun time, so I guess we could use a couple of drinks in the meantime. Not that I drink, personally."

You hummed at his statement as you both sat the cooler down between the two umbrellas you and Mitsuri set up. You let out a little puff and said, "Okay, now what? Is that it, or is there one more thing we should do?"

"Well, Uzui thought it would be a great idea to play football here, so I guess that's something we're gonna do before we swim," he said as he walked back to the truck.

You tilted your head to the side like a curious dog as you followed him and said to him, "Football? Like, American Football?"

"If I were to guess, yes." he said as he grabbed his, and your towel. He then grabs your hand, which makes you flinch a little, but he quickly lets go of you as he says, "Oh, sorry. I don't know why I grabbed your hand. Maybe it was just on impulse." he said, having the faintest blush on his face.

He was about to walk away, when your body moved on its own as you grabbed his hand. He then looks back and sees that your hand is held onto his. He then looked at you, and you avoided eye contact with him, as you too had a very faint blush. He cracks a soft smirk on his face before it quickly disappears and continues to walk.

As you were both walking, you were still stuck on the fact that Uzui wanted to play American Football at the beach, you didn't know that Japan even liked American Football.

You both went under the umbrella and rolled each other's towels on the sand floor. Giyuu closed his eyes and let out a big exhale and looked at the people having fun on the beach.

You followed suit as you laid your head on your knees. As you were looking at the ocean, the next words Giyuu was about to say, is something you thought you would never hear him say. "I'm... I'm glad you're here with me."

Your mouth softly drops and your eyes widen when you hear him so nonchalantly say that. But, it made your entire body warm and fuzzy. "Why do you say that?" you said, side-eyeing him.

"Just... You've been a good friend to me. The others may have been too, but, you always been with me. We mostly go our separate ways, but you just follow me wherever I go. I just... I can't really thank you enough." he said as the blush on his face started to get more visible, and so did yours.

A smile started to form on your face as you scooted closer to him, and layed your head on his shoulder. He softly smiles as he wraps his arm around your waist and lays his head against yours.

"Well, look at you two love birds!" you heard Uzui say. "Trying to make the others feel single and disappointed in themselves for not having a significant other," he chuckles, "Kind of a scummy move you two, not gonna lie."

"We're not together, you idiot! We're just really tired, that's all!" you shouted him, all while having a red blush on your face. "Yeah right, and I'm physically disabled. But besides that, we're gonna play some football. I understand that the girls might not be interested, but you down, Giyuu?" You look at him as he says, "I guess I could give it a shot."

"Alright! Now since you, and the others are probably new to this, I'll make a brief summary of what to do when playing. So c'mon, let's get dirty, yeah?" he said tossing the football, and catching it.

He stands up and takes his shirt off, whixh caught you by surpise as he grabs the can of sprayable suncreen on him, popped the cap open, and sprayed it all over his chest, abdomen, arms, legs, and neck.

He extends the can towards you as he says, "Can you spary some on my back, and rub it?" and you nod as you stand up, grab the can, and he turns around as he rubs the marks he sprayed on.

You sprayed the sunscreen on his back, put the can down, and rubbed your hands on his back so you could spread the sunscreen all over. He then says, "That's enough." and you stopped immediately. He rolls his shoulders as he says, "Thank you." before he softly pats your head and goes to Uzui to tell him how football works.

Meanwhile, you picked the can back up and sprayed it on your arms, legs, and neck. You then rubbed all over yourself, put your phone on your towel, and proceeded to go to the girls.

You see Shinobu, Mitsuri, and Kanao splashing water at each other while Muichiro is deep in the water with only the bottom half of his face reaching the surface.

"Hey guys!" you said to them, and the three of them looked at you, and Mitsuri was the first to move toward you and hug you.

You giggled as she let go of you and said, "How are you doing on this beautiful day, (Y/N)? Are you glad that we're finally at the beach?" she said in her ever-so joyous tone.

"I'm doing good so far, and yeah, I guess I am. Even though we come here every year, It still gets me excited." you said, smiling at her.

"That's good. But, since you're here..." she puts both of her hands on your shoulders and gets closer to you, making you softly blush.

Your inner bisexual was panicking as she was close to your face as she whispered to you, "We're gonna play a little game..."

You swallowed your spit as you asked her, "Okay... What's the game called?"

"It's called..." She then goes under the water and goes around you as you feel her separate your legs and pick you up, resulting in your sitting on her shoulders. "Chicken fight!"

You were taken by surprise at how easily Mitsuri picked you up by her shoulders. "We're gonna fight each other until one of us falls, and the other becomes the victor! So Muichiro, carry Shinobu!"

Muichiro succumbs to the water as he went under, and picked up Shinobu. Kanao watches as she started to copy Muichiro, and shrinking herself into the water until her top half was peeking out.

"You guys ready?" Mitsuri said, and you responded, "As ready as we'll ever be. I can speak for you two, right?"

"In this scenario, yes." Shinobu said, while Muichiro looked unbothered by all of this.

"Okay. Ready... Fight!" Mitsuri shouted out as you and Shinobu locked hands with each other, both at a stalemate at who's gonna push off who.

Your body was tilting to the left, almost as if your were about to fall, but then you pursed your lips as you tensed your legs and every amount of strength you had to balance yourself back up.

Muichiro and Mitsuri were both circling around as you and Shinobu were doing a stare-down, both of determined that one of you would end up victorious.

You reached towards Shinobu, she was about to reflect your hand, thinking to her self that she had a plan to dodge your hands, and pull you so you would fall.

But then you did a evil smirk as you went under her arms, and tickled her armpits. She did a laugh and you thought to yourself, dramatically, Forgive me for what I'm about to do to you, Shinobu, but this is the only way it could end.

You then pushed her, and then she lost her balance as she backflops into the water, dragging Muichiro in the process. You cheered to yourself as Mitsuri said, "Woo-hoo! We won!"

Shinobu shook her head and coughed as she said, "No fair! You cheated because you tickled my armpits, and you know how ticklish I am there!" she said, with a pouting expression on her face.

"Silly Shinobu, in war, you should always take advantage of your enemies weaknesses." you said as Mitsuri lowered herself into the water to safely put you down.

"Oh. So what if I--" she then pounces on you, and you both went underwater, catching you completely off guard. You both resurfaced and coughed as Shinobu says, "What if I just did that all of a sudden? Is that me taking advantage of you?"

You moved your wet hair away from your eyes as you said, "In this scenario, yes." you said smiling at her.

Wow, that was pretty fun to watch!" you heard a feminine voice say. All five of you turned around to see three other people.

One had long white hair, and blue eyes, the second had long black hair that covered the left side of her face, and only shown her right eye. And the last one had a surpisingly tone body, much like Muichiro, had chin length black hair with red-pink ends.

"Hi, my name is Daki. Or Ume, whichever you prefer." she puts her arm on the other girl's shoulder and says, "This is Nakime," she then points at the pale skinned man, "and that is Enmu."

"Hi..." Nakime quietly said while Enmu said, "Hello, you beautiful people. It's a nice day to have a nice swim while socializing with your friends, is it not?"

All five of you were staring at him like you didn't even know him. Give or take you didn't, but after the way he spoke, you didn't want to hear what would come out of his mouth.

Scratch that, all five of you don't even want to acknowledge his existance.

"And this is why, Enmu, we barely take you anywhere." Daki bluntly said to Enmu, as she facepalms herself. She trilled as she says, "Please ignore him, he's always like this whenever we take him to public places."

"Noted." you said.

"I'll keep that in mind." and Shinobu.

"Gotcha." and Mitsuri.

"Mm." and Kanao.

"...wait, what are we talking about?" and Muichiro. Kinda.

"So, are you guys the only ones here, or..." you asked Daki as she replies, "Oh no, I've got more friends that came with us. My brothers even here too, see?" she said as she turned around and pointed at the group of Daki's and your friends playing football.

You see Uzui throw the ball to Kyojuro and he was about to catch it, until it was intercepted with a man that was wearing pink and blue swimming trunks. Once he landed on his feet, he quickly ran as the others were trying to block your friends from catching him.

Sanemi was about to tackle him, but the black haired man juked him, resulting ins Sanemi diving face first into the sand, but he quickly got up despite his pride being hurt.

However, Giyuu was quick enough to get close behind him as he then dived, and wrapped his arms around him, resulting in both of them falling into the sand.

"Damn, looks like they're having fun." you said after watching that play happen. "Yeah... But, y'know... boys will be boys." she said as she quickly turns around to all of you and say, "No sexism when I say that, by the way."

"None taken." Muichiro said as his head was the only thing that was visble to y'all. "Are you sitting down on the water and only keeping your head up?" you asked him and he did a simple nod, which made you trill your lips.

You felt your skin getting hot as you said to your friends, and the people you've just met, "My skin feels like it's getting burned, I'm gonna go under the umbrella now."

"Okay, careful not to get a sunburn, (Y/N)!" Mitsuri shouted at you as you look back and did a little wave at them. You went under the umbrella and sat down on your towel as you let out of sigh of relief being in the shade.

You then watched your friends, and the others playing against each other as if this was a real American Football game. Whenever they snapped a play, the other group would block the receivers to run their route.

What you thought it would be a passing play, turned out to be a running play, as the man with long spiky black hair backed up a few steps with the ball, and extended his arm backwards as a tanned man with yellow swimming trunks grabbed it and ran to the other side.

He didn't make it far as another tanned man that almost looked like him with red trunks shoulder checked him, which resulted in the runner dropping down into the sand.

"Damn, Sekido, you really gonna do Urogi like that?" the triplet said with the black and green trunks as he extended his hand to Urogi and picked him up.

"Nah, don't worry Karaku. I'll get 'em back once we play in the defensive." Urogi said as he wiped the sand off his back and stared at Sekido and he scoffed as he said, "Like hell you well."

"Fellas, fellas! I know y'all are siblings, but we got a game to win! You guys can bicker all you want about whos better at playing football later, but right now, it's game time!" the tall man with blond hair said in a joyous tone.

There is so much testosterone flowing in the air right now. This sport is too masculine for me. You thought watching them play.

Three plays later, Uzui shouted out, "Alright lads, let's take a break for the next five minutes! I know y'all thirsty after playing for this long!" and they both seperated in different groups.

Giyuu opened the cooler and grabbed a bottle of water and opened it as he sat down next to you.

"Good job out there." you said as you pat his back, but was met with the feeling of sweat on his back. You quickly wiped your hand on the towel and crossed your arms and legs together.

"Sorry my backs so sweaty. Football is a physically demanding sport. But, thank you." he said as he took a sip of the water bottle.

"I can see that." you said as you looked in the distance at Mitsuri, Muichiro, Daki, and Enmu playing chicken fight. You then look at Giyuu and say, "So, who's winning?"

He looked at you after he took a sip of water and said, "I don't know, a draw, maybe? Hey Uzui," he called out Uzui and he turned around with a soda can in his hand, "what's the score?"

"It's 14-21. We need about seven more points if we're gonna make this a draw." he said as he slurped the can of soda and swallowed his drink as he noticed you and said, "Oh, hey (Y/N), when did you get here?" and you pouted.

"So, what's the play Uzui? How are we gonna prevent them from getting a touchdown?" Kyojuro said as he gave himself a waterfall of water.

"lemme think..." he said as he was tapping his foot on the sand. "I got it. Kyojuro, you try and block off Hakuji. Except if it's a passing play, try to get behind him and try to intercept the ball once Michikatsu throws it."

"Got it."

"Iguro, you try and block Gyokko. I know he's taller than you, but you're faster and more agile."

Iguro hums in acknowledgment as he was just sitting down.

"Giyuu, do the exact same thing I told to Kyojuro, but with Aizetsu. Block him, unless if they're going for a pass, try to intercept."

"Got it." Giyuu said.

"And Sekido and Karaku, keep doing what you're doing, you two. Do whatever you can to make sure they don't get a touchdown. While I, take care of Douma."

They both had different reactions, Sekido clicked his tongue and huffed, while Karaku said, "You got it, boss."

Uzui finishes the can of soda and crushes it in his hand as he says, "Alright, you guys! Let's do this!" and claps his hands together.

Giyuu took the last sip of water out of the bottle and jammed it into the sand and stretched. "Wish us luck," he said as he stood up and walked with the others to play.

They all got into position, and prepped themselves for the play to snap. Once Michikatsu shouted out, "Hut!" they started to run their routes. Giyuu was very quick to block Aizetsu, Iguro followed Gyokko everywhere, and as for the two twins, they were doing their own thing.

Michikatsu had to make a split decision, does he throw it to someone who looks open and risk getting an interception, or does he run the ball and risk getting a turnover?

He took a deep breath, and decided to run the ball. Uzui tried to catch him, but was stopped by Douma as he wrapped his arms around his waist, spun him around and slammed him on the floor. "Hope that didn't harm you as much. It would be ashame if your group lost their most valuable asset.

Next was Iguro, but there wasn't even a chance to begin with as Michikatsu stiff-armed his face, and pushed him, resulting him in losing his balance and falling down.

Then it was Karaku and Sekido, but they both got blindsided by their younger brothers. Sekido got shoulder checked by Urogi and Karaku got speared to the side. While Aizetsu said, "Sorry." Urogi boasted at his brother's face as he laughed and said, "Hows that shit feel, huh!? Sit the fuck down, brother!"

Kyojuro tried to escape Hakuji's grasp, but it was like his arms wrapped around his waist were latched on to him. "Ah, ah, ah, who said you could tackle him?"

"Let go of me!" Kyojuro exclaimed as he was struggling to move, Hakuji responded, "No, I don't think I will, not until he makes a touchdown."

And then there was Sanemi, who was running directly behind Michikatsu. He was reaching for him and was almost close to grabbing him, but was unfortunately stopped when he felt someone's arms wrapped around his waist and collapsed to the ground.

He then heard the sound of a gravel, shaky voice say to him, "I can't allow you to tackle him, it wouldn't be fair if we had a draw." the person with black hair, blue eyes, and birthmarks on his face.

Michikatsu then slows down as he makes it to the other side of the beach, indicating that he made a touchdown. The others who were defending him cheered as they went up to him to gas him up.

Damn, they got laid out. All that planning, just to get shit on. Well, can't say they tried. You thought as you saw them getting up, or walking in shame.

Giyuu was the first to go under umbrella and sits down next to you and give you a quick glance. You were about to pat his back, but you didn't want your hand to het sweaty again so you just said to him, "Hey, at least you tried. If anything, that actually looked pretty cool to watch, honestly."

"Yeah, and if it would be even cooler if we did what we talked about." Sanemi said, wiping the sand off his body. "Speaking of which, Tomioka, where the fuck were you?"

"I was in the back. They were too quick for whatever reason." Giyuu said as Iguro responded to him, "Yeah, or you were too scared to get hit."

"You got stiff-armed and fell to the floor, I'm pretty sure your pride is shattered just like Sanemi's." Giyuu clapped back at Iguro.

Sanemi clearly heard that as he started to walk up to him and say, "The fuck you say about me?" but Kyojuro was lucky to interfere as he pushed Sanemi and Iguro away from him. "Relax, you two, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."

"Bullshit! When was the last time you ever hear him say something, and don't mean it?" Sanemi shouted at Kyojuro.

"I'm sure he's just joking around. Right, Tomioka?" and Giyuu scoffs as he scoots close to you. "Hey, we're having fun at the end of the day, that's all that matters, right?" Uzui said as he patted Giyuu's head. "Why don't we go swimming? That is the main reason we even came here in the first place."

"If it'll take our minds off the fact that we lost, sure, why not?" Kyojuro said as he patted Sanemi's and Iguro's sweaty backs.

Giyuu looked at you and said, "Do you wanna swim with me?" in a somewhat shy tone. The way he asked you made your heart flitter a little so you smiled and said, "Yes."

He softly smirks and stands up as he extends his arm to you. You then grab his hand and he pulled you up, but doesn't let go of your hand.

This made You blush a little, but you still chose to have a smile on your face. You felt the little wave of water crash on your feet, it kind of tickled in a way.

You both started to walk into the ocean, your body slowly submerging in the clear blue water as you both were at chest length.

Giyuu had a poker face, while you stuck your tongue out like some sort of house pet. He then does what Muichiro did, and lowers his body down to the water until his head is the only thing staying on the surface.

Seeing that you couldn't be bothered to ask him why he was doing this, you decided to do the same thing. What you did not expect however, is how he wrapped his arm around your waist, and pulled you closer.

"Woah, Tomioka, what's going on with you? Is this your way of flirting?" You said to him, as he turned his head to the side to hide the red blush on his face, and you giggled.

"I'm not complaining, really. I think what you're trying to do is cute." you said to him, as you got closer to his face, and kissed him on the side of his head.

His head quickly turned to you as if he caught whiplash, in which case he did. It's as if his aura changed as he started stammering like a high school kid asking out their crush.

"C-Can I... um... can I kiss you...?" he asked you, all while avoiding eye contact with you. You then responded to him, "Of course you can." and showed your cheek to him.

"Actually... I want to do the other one."

"The... Other one? Oh, you mean, lip to lip?" you asked him, and he nodded. You looked back to see the other boys playing around, not bothering to acknowledge both of you, so you looked back at him and said, "Okay, but on one condition."

"I'm listening."

"Let's do it underwater. That way, the others won't know what we did. Sound good?" and he nods.

You both took a deep breath and went underwater, looked into each other's eyes, as you both wrapped your arms around each other. You both leaned your head forward and got close enough to touch lips.

You both closed your eyes as you both savored the kiss. The feeling of both of your lips touching each other made you both feel so warm inside, it was as if the water temperature changed.

Both of you were wondering how both of you were staying underwater this long all while kissing each other, but you both didn't complain. It got to the point where you both were in the lotus position, and continued kissing.

However, it didn't last long as you both resurfaced to gain some oxygen. You both made huge inhales as you were heavily panting after being in the water for a minute and 15 seconds.

You wiped your wet hair out of your face as you said, "Well... That was romantic, wasn't it?"

"Yeah... I'm glad someone like you is in my life."

"Oh..." was all you could say as your entire body felt so mushy inside. He then kisses your forehead, and hugs you as he rests his head on your shoulder.

The blush on your face started to get redder as you slowly wrapped your arms around him as well. He then kisses your collarbone, and nuzzles his face under your neck, making you feel fuzzy inside.

"T-Tomioka, we're in a public area... Shouldn't we do this somewhere more private?"

"I'm just hugging you, there's nothing suspicious about that." he said as he kissed your neck, making you groan a little.

He pulled himself back away from you, and quickly said, "Sorry." with a clearly visible blush on his face. Meanwhile, you thought to yourself, Did I really just make a sound like that when he kissed my neck? Why did I... a-and, why did it feel good...?

Giyuu, in a fit of slight panic, decided to go back to the surface, to distance himself away ftom you. His body felt light, and his heart was beating rapidly. He never thought he would experience an emotion like this before. Is he expin eriencing... love?

You felt someone touch your shoulder and you turned around to findfeelslsthat it was Iguro who tapped you. He looks at you with his eternal unamused expression on his face as he says, "The hell's going on with Tomioka? Why is he going back to sitting down? And why are you blushing?"

Your first instinct was to look left and see that Giyuu was really under the umbrella, how lost in a trance were you to not notice that? And so you decided to leave the ocean as well, making Iguro even more intrigued, yet confused.

You jogged up to Giyuu, and he looks up at you and says, "Why are you here? Shouldn't you play with the others? I've already made you uncomfortable when I... I don't want to finish that sentence."

You were about to speak, but was cut off by Iguro when you heard him say, "Oh, please do finish it, so I can tell the others how much of a loser you are." which made you jump when you heard him speak.

"The hell!? Why are you following us!? Shouldn't you be swimming with the others?"

"I was, until I saw Tomioka swimming back to the surface, and looking embarrassed while doing so. So tell me, Tomioka and (Y/N), what the hell were you two doing?"

"Why do you even want to know? You don't even care about what we do." Giyuu says, and Iguro quickly replied to him, "Because you two are getting way too comfortable being at the beach. Almost as if you two are together as a couple, so what's going on?"

"None of your business, now can you leave us alone, please?" you said to him as you were about to sit down, but then you felt Iguro grab, and squeeze your forearm.

And for some unknown reason, with no explanation at all, you let out a sound that sounded like a moan. Iguro immediately backed away as he and Giyuu was as equally as shocked as he was.

All three of you were as still as a statue as the blushes on your faces were so red, that they would be mistaken for sunburns. Iguro was the first to break the silence as he says, "What... the fuck was that?"

"U-Um... my defense mechanism...?"

"What type of defense mechanism includes you moaning!?" Iguro shouted at you, but luckily not loud enough for the others to hear him.

You shouted back at him, "I don't know! It just... happened, okay!?" you said, as your voice was cracking like a prepubescent girl.

Giyuu just sat there, not knowing what to say after you moaned. Iguro was about to walk to the others, but then you grabbed his wrist as you pleaded to him, "Please don't tell them, I'll die if you go up to them and tell them what happened!"

"I wasn't gonna tell." Iguro bluntly said to you, not sounding convincing at all. "I don't believe you if you're talking like that. How can I take you seriously when you're speaking like you don't care?"

He then grabs your wrist, and drags you as he sits you down next to Giyuu, and then next to you, now being in between both of them.

"Are you convinced now?" he said to you, with a little bit of an attitude in his voice. But you said, "Yeah..." in response to his question.

He then sighs as he says, "Look, just tell me what you two were doing, and I'll leave you alone. I won't tell, and we can keep this between us."

You looked at Giyuu, and he shrugged his shoulders and you let out a big inhale as you blurted out, "Webothkissed." and covered your face.

"What?"

You remained silent, but Giyuu said to him, "She said we both kissed." and you shouted at him, "Tomioka!" and he shrugged.

"Really? Well... good for both of you, I guess..." he said in a somewhat somber tone. "Isn't it funny that Tomioka does the bare minimum, and yet he has you now? And yet I try to give Mitsuri a fun time, and she still considers me a friend?"

You and Giyuu both look at each other, and back at him as you say, "I mean... have you ever tried telling her how you feel about her? I'm pretty sure that would resolve everything about this situation."

"Easier said than done. You know how many times I struggled to confess to her, and try to make an excuse on why I was talking to her?"

"You are quick on your feet when you do that." you muttered out as he continued, "So yeah. Like I said, it's easier said than done." he said as he did a little sniff.

You hummed as you looked at Giyuu again, and looked back to see Iguro looking at Mitsuri playing with the others. You then took him by surprise as you decided to kiss him on the side of his head.

Iguro's eyes widened as he looked at you, and under his mask, he had a red blush on his face. Was that the right move, or did I fuck up? You thought after you kissed him. Iguro rubs the back of his neck as he says, "T-Thank you..."

All three of you were just sitting down watching the others play in the ocean as Iguro and Giyuu rested their heads on your shoulders. Making you feel warm inside.

2:25 PM.

You put the umbrella back into the truck, and wiped your sweaty forehead with your towel. You went back to the beach to grab the cooler, but Iguro and Giyuu were already on that as they were both carrying it.

And since that was the last thing, you went back to Giyuu's car, and got in the passenger seat. You yawned as you pulled your phone out to see that it was 2:27, and yet you felt tired. Guess that's what happens when you swim for an hour.

You see Giyuu and Iguro putting the cooler on the trunk of the truck. They both walk back to the car as Giyuu went to the driver's seat, and Iguro sat in the back.

Giyuu puts the car in the ignition and turns it, resulting in the car turning on. He then looks at you and says, "You alright?"

"Of course I am. How about you?" you asked him as he said, "Better. What about you, Iguro? You doin' okay?" and Iguro nodded, smirking under his mask.

Giyuu puts the car in reverse, got out of the parking spot, and put the car in drive. You then look out the window, getting one more view of the beach before y'all went back to the place y'all were staying in.

2:44 PM.

Giyuu puts the car in park as he gets out of the car, and stretches. Iguro got out as he did the same thing, meanwhile you got out and yawned. "So, I take it we had a fun time?" Kyojuro said as he patted your shoulder.

"For the most part, yeah, we did." you said to him, with a smile on your face. "Fantastic! And I guess the same goes for you two, Iguro, and Tomioka?" and Iguro nodded while Giyuu gave a thumbs up.

You all started to walk to the building, slowly falling behind with the others on purpose so they didn't see you, Iguro, and Giyuu holding each other's hands.

5 minutes later.

Giyuu opened the door with the key that had the door number on it, and walked in as he let out a sigh of relief. He puts his stuff down next to his luggage and opens it as he grabs a pair of pajamas and boxers.

He keeps his towel on his shoulder as he walks into the bathroom, and closes the door. Looks like Tomioka is gonna take a shower, guess I should do the same. You thought as you went to your luggage, and picked out a few comfortable clothing.

When you stood up, you felt Iguro wrapping his arms around your waist behind you, making you blush and say, "Iguro?' He then nuzzles his chin on your shoulder. "Iguro, what are you doing?" you asked him as he responded, "I just want to hug you, that's all."

You grabbed his forearm with your free hand, and caressed it. He then started to nuzzle his nose under your neck, which made you groan a little bit. You then felt his mask touch your skin, implying that he was kissing your neck.

You softly moaned as you felt him touching your body and he quickly let you go, and backed up as he said, "Sorry."

Both of you blushed before he said, "I'll just... get my stuff." out of embarrassment. He then crouches down at his luggage and opens it up as he takes out a black and white pajama pair.

You grabbed the remote off the table, and then sat down on the couch as you turned on the TV and switched channels until one could pique your interest, and until Giyuu was out of the shower.

Iguro sat down next to you, but not too close to the point both of your skin were touching each other, but far enough to make a small gap between each other.

10 minutes later.

Both of you were immersed watching the TV, to the point where you weren't bothered by Iguro laying his head on your shoulder.

That is until you heard the bathroom door open, and see Giyuu walk out with his pair of pajamas on. Iguro quickly sat back up as you stood up off the couch and walked into the bathroom.

"Have a nice shower," Giyuu said to you before you blushed and closed the door on him. You put your pajamas on the corner end of the sink as you took off your swimming one-piece off and turned on the shower.

You waited a couple of seconds and put your hand in to see if it was warm or not. Turns out it was a little too hot, and you quickly pitched the valve down a bit.

You tested it again, and found out it was the right temperature so you went inside and took a shower.

15 minutes later.

You were about to turn the shower off, but then realized that it was about to be Iguro's turn, so you decided to leave it on.

You grabbed your towel and wrapped it around your body as you began to dry yourself off. Once you were done with that, you put on your panties, and brushed your teeth.

Once you finished brushing your teeth, you put on your pajamas and picked up your one-piece swimsuit and folded it into your forearm, same with your dry towel. You opened the door and said, "Your turn, Iguro."

He then stood up and walked right past you as he went inside the bathroom. You then sit down next to Giyuu, and he looks at you as he says, "How was your shower?"

"It was good. I feel more cleaner than before, that's for sure."

"Hm." he hummed. He then wrapped his arm around your waist, and pulled you closer to him as he kissed your forehead in the process. You crossed your legs together and laid your head on his shoulder as you both watched the TV.

You yawned as you asked him, "What time is it?" he took his phone out and said, "3:14."

"Huh, and I'm already feeling tired." you said as you wiped your eyes. "If you need to rest, I won't stop you." He said as he pets your head. You hummed ss you said, "Thanks." and closed your eyes.

Giyuu softly smiles as he softly kisses your forehead again, and continues to watch the TV. A few minutes go by when Giyuu hears the bathroom door open. He looks to his left to see Iguro coming out of the bathroom wearing his pair of pajamas.

He then sits down next to you, but decided to lay his side on the couch and perch his arm as he lays his head on his hand. His eyes trail to you sleeping on Giyuu's arm, and he scoffed as he looked back at the TV.

Six hours later, 9:14 PM.

All three of you were laying on the bed, Giyuu was on the roght side of the bed, but his back was turned against the screen door. Iguro was on the left, his back on the bed, and his head slightly tilted to the right at your direction.

And you were in the middle, sleeping soundly as your head was softly shifting around. It got to the point where you bumped your head onto Iguro's, causing him to wake up.

He softly groans as he opens his eyes to see that your face as inches away from his. His face immediately turns red at as his body felt warm and fuzzy. Him seeing your face this up close, made him realize how beautiful you are.

He moves the hair out of your face as he caresses your hair, and then your cheek. It was as if your body was like a marshmallow due to how soft it felt as Iguro was caressing your cheek.

His eyes panned down to your lips, and they had a rosy red complexion to them, that looked oddly attractive to him. His hands started to go down, slowly feeling every curve on your body.

You softly moaned at this, but you were still asleep. Iguro felt a sense of confliction, as a part if him wanted to stop, but at the same time, the other doesn't want to due to how beautiful you were, and how soft your skin was, and how curvy your body was.

His hand was on your thigh, and softly squeezes it as he felt your skin going back to its original state, despite being covered by your pajama pants.

Iguro then looks at you and sees that you were still asleep, so he quietly swallowed his spit and doubled down as he went under your top, and touches your raw skin.

You softly moaned as he thought to himself, Holy shit... I'm really doing this. My hand is touching her... her skin...

His hand was trailing around your stomach, feeling your warm skin against his hand. You let out a moan that was a little bit louder than before, but that didn't stop him.

He goes under the comforter as he takes his other hand and slowly started to roll your top up until your breasts were showing. Iguro then pulls his mask down and licked his lips as he got closer to your breasts, and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

You made a whimper as your arms started to move around, trying to find a head that you can wrap around and hold onto. It didn't take long for you to do that as your arms wrapped around Iguro's head and you whispered out, "T-Tomioka..."

Iguro must've thought that you we're having a dream since you were unaware that Giyuu was behind you sleeping, but he continued to suck your nipple.

His other hand was still on your right hip, and he had a lewd idea. This might get him into trouble, and you could potentially slap him once you wake up from this, but, in his mind...

He just said fuck it.

He then takes his hand, and started to go into your pajama pants, and he started to move his fingers up and down on where your bottom lips were.

You gasped, and started to whimper louder as your legs started to open, and he took advantage of it. He then makes you lay down flat on your back again, and then leave the top half of his body on top of yours as he continued to suck on your breast.

The friction of your panties, and his fingers rubbing against your slit, was slowly making you feel wet, and your body started to feel light. Your eyes slowly opened, and the first thing you see is Iguro sucking your nipple with his eyes closed, and his hand in your pajama pants, rubbing your spot.

"I-I... Iguro...?"

He slowly opens his eyes as he slowly takes his hand out of your pants, and stopped sucking your nipple and says, "(Y/N)..."

From your peripherals, you see Giyuu sitting up. He then wipes his eyes as he turns his head and says, "Why are you two still... awake...?" and notices you two in what you're both doing.

"T-Tomioka... It's not what it... looks like..." you said with a dark red blush on your face as Iguro sat up off of you, and you pulled your shirt down.

"I thought you were... h-he... I-I was..." You were stammering and stuttering as you couldn't form an excuse after what Giyuu had seen. A part of you was disgusted with yourself because a part of you liked Iguro touching you while you were sleeping. If there were a way to make yourself vanish, you would not hesitate to do so.

But, what you thought would be Giyuu having a breakdown and lashing on you, turned out to be an entirely different outcome. You felt him wrap both of his arms around your waist, and back as he pulled you closer to him to the point where you both we're face to face.

"Tomioka, what are you--" you got interrupted by him as he kissed your lips, and wrapped his tongue against yours. Iguro's eyes widened in surprise as he thought Giyuu was gonna get angry and kick his ass. But, he was relieved that wasn't the case.

Giyuu, while kissing you, pinned you down on the bed as his kissing started to become more rougher. Your hands were on his chest, trying to make more space for both of you, but he dropped on top of you, making your efforts futile.

Drool started to run down your cheeks as your brain slowly started to become scrambled. The way he was controlling you, made your mind go blank. Eventually he stopped kissing you as he says, "Why did you start the fun without me? I've always wanted to do this with you for so long."

He then rolled your top back up again, but instead of sucking on your nipples, he decided to pinch and twist them, making you feel more vulnerable than you already are.

He started to lick on your neck, which gave your entire body shiver, and your legs tingle. He then whispered to you, "You want this?" and you nodded, but says to you, in a husk tone, "Don't nod, I want an actual answer."

And so you whimpered out, "Y-Yes, Tomioka... I want this... I want you... Both of you..."

Whatever shame you had left in this moment, was completely out of the room. Giyuu softly smirks at you and says, "Good." before he sits up and starts to take his top off to reveal his muscular body.

He then does the same to you, and throws both of your pajamas tops on the floor, both of you almost naked as your breasts are at full display. He then fondles your breasts, which made you release a moan from your mouth.

His face got closer to yours as he kisses you again, which made you moan yet again. You wrapped your arms around him as you tilted your head to the left, and his to the right, making the kiss deeper.

As Iguro was watching this, he felt something below his waist get tighter and tighter as he continued watching this unfold. He looks down to see a bulge coming out of his pants as he thought, Fuck... I'm getting hard just from watching this... It's not fair if Tomioka can do all this, and all I get is to suck on her nipple, and rub her spot. I want to have more from her...

Giyuu stops kissing you, and fondling your breasts as he says, "Take them off." You nodded as Giyuu them nacks away from you, and you took off your pants, and threw them on the floor. Giyuu softly spoke to you, "I said, take them off." and so you closed your eyes as you grabbed the rim of your panties, and pulled them down to your legs, and shook it off as it fell to the floor.

You were fully naked in front of Iguro and Giyuu. The moonlight coming through the screen door as you cover yourself from embarrassment, heavily blushing, while your spot was wet.

"Wow..." Iguro said as he got a clear look at you. He was about to crawl up to you, but Giyuu stopped him as he says, "You take left, I take right."

You heard him say that as you asked him, "What do you mean? What are you gonna do to me?" You nervously asked them as they got close to you, and they laid next to you on both sides. "We're gonna make you feel special." Giyuu said as he began to suck your right nipple, Iguro says, "Enjoy it while it last." before he started to suck your left.

Your legs became completely open as Iguro and Giyuu were holding your thighs individually. The feeling of both of your nipples being sucked, made you feel so fuzzy inside. It didn't help either that your slit was becoming more drenched in its own juices.

Giyuu looked down, and took advantage as he takes his fingers, and started to move them left and right, teasing you as he stimulates your wet insides.

Your breath was trembling as you whimpered, "T-Tomioka..." and laid your head down on the pillow. Your eyes were closed as you slowly became a moaning mess, your body felt so hot, and yet so light, it's as if they were torturing you and you were slowly going to heaven due to the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

Every single one of their actions sent a wave of electricity through your body. Your sensitive lips slowly moistened at the feeling of Giyuu's fingers, your hips instinctively bucking down for more of that pleasuring feeling all while both of your hands gently nudged both of their heads into your breasts. "Please... I need you both... Stop teasing and just fuck me."

Giyuu stops as he says, "That's all you had to say, (Y/N). Don't worry, we'll make sure you feel really good after this." he said as he got up off of you, and started to take his pants off, and revealed a thick bulge coming from his boxers.

This made your slit throb a little from the site, and so he grabbed the rim, and pulled them down to reveal his thick, and long shaft. You swallowed your spit as you almost salivated from the sight of it alone.

Shortly after, Iguro does the same, although he wasn't as long as he was, but he was just as girthy as him.

"Get on your hands and knees," Giyuu said to you, and you complied, propping yourself as you turned your body horizontally.

You then felt his hand caress your ass, and softly smacked it, making you let out a sound that sounded like a yelp. He then takes his index and middle finger and starts to lick them as he says, "I need to make sure you're well lubricated for this. Even though you're already soaking." and inserts his fingers inside you, which makes your entire body weak as the top half on your body shrunk and it looked like as if you were bowing down to Iguro.

If you were this stimulated from his fingers, you could only imagine what it would feel like with his rod inside you. You then feel Iguro's hands touch your head and so he makes you look at his erect shaft in front of your face.

Without saying anything, you closed your eyes, and opened your mouth, with that gesture alone, gave him the approval to do it. He softly grips your hair, props himself, and slowly inserts his rod inside your mouth.

He was only using the tip in your mouth as he didn't want to hurt you or make you retch. You moaned, sending vibrations on his shaft as he stifled a moan from escaping his mouth.

Giyuu takes his fingers out, and opens and closes them to see your lines of juices stretching. He then licked his fingers and got a sense of what you taste like. He hummed in satisfaction as he propped himself up and lined his length to your wet slit.

He started to move his tip up and down, making you whimper as he said to you, "Are you ready?" you looked back to him and nodded as he then chuckled and slowly inserted himself inside you.

Your walls were slowly being filled inch by inch by his shaft all while you were sucking off Iguro. Speaking of him, he started to softly thrust his hips into your mouth, but not rough enough to make you gag.

Giyuu softly moaned as he felt you throbbing around him, and tighten around him. It's as if you were practically begging him to wreck you once he was fully inside you. But, he'll get to that eventually.

Once his pelvis came into contact your ass, he wasted no time, and softly started to thrust his hips. You let out the moan that also sounded like a whimper, as you felt his shaft slowly going in and out of you. With every thrust he did, his hips coiled. He was holding back from pounding your ass until it turned red.

Meanwhile, Iguro was drunk from pleasure from the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him. The feeling of your tongue on the bottom of his shaft felt so slippery, that it felt like you had no teeth whatsoever.

She's so tight... Giyuu thought as he started to thrust a little bit faster, enough to make mini ripples from your skin.

Iguro started to pat your head and said to you, "Who's a good girl? You are." and that made your body feel mushy. "You're doing a great job sucking my cock like that. If you need oxygen, just let me know, okay?" and you nodded.

You then wrapped your arms around his waist as you pulled him closer to you, and you started to bob your head, taking every inch of him inside your mouth. This took Iguro by surprise, but he couldn't speak as he was in bliss of you deepthroating him.

Giyuu then puts his hands on your hips as he started to thrust his hips more faster, and rougher, making you moan even harder, and your body weaker as he hits your spot.

You clenched your eyes closed as you tried to distract the pleasure fogging your mind by sucking Iguro off, but then you felt him hit the back of your throat, and you violently coughed. Iguro backed away from you as you said to Giyuu, "W-Wait! T-Tomioka!" Thankfully he stopped as he said to you, "What, am I too rough?"

"A little, b-but it feels good though... I-I was wondering... if we could do a different position...?" You said as Giyuu responded, "I know one we could do." and then he took his shaft out.

He then turned your body around until your back was on the bed, and your legs were wide open. He then pulls you closer to him as he slammed his hips into yours, inserting his entire shaft back inside you as you arched your back, and neck.

You were a moaning mess as his thrusting was so rough and fast, it made your entire body feel tense, in a good way of course. Iguro then wrapped his hands around your neck as he put his shaft inside your mouth, and thrust his hips.

Your eyes were rolling back as Iguro was skull-fucking your throat, and Giyuu was fucking your tight cunt. Your legs frantically trembling, your toes curling, and your knuckles turning white as both of them were using you like a cocksleeve.

My mind... it feels like it's gone blank... I can't think of anything at this moment... you thought as you were being completely pounded on both sides.

The lewd sounds that your slit was making sounded like water that was being repeatedly smashed as your thighs were creating ripples from his thrusting.

You gagged a few times as you felt Iguro's shaft go in your throat and he looked to see the bulge in your throat disappear and reappear with every thrust.

It got to the point where you felt a knot in your stomach forming, and you began to whimper. Your eyes clenched as you felt it getting tighter and tighter until you felt Giyuu hit your spot, and you pet out a muffled scream that sounded like a moan as you creamed all over his shaft.

He looks down and says, "Wow... Did it feel that good, (Y/N)?" and you gave him a shaky thumbs up. He smirked before he went back to thrusting his hips.

Drool was running down your cheek as Iguro was in his own world fucking your throat. His body was sweaty, his bangs were sticking to his forehead, and his breathing was very heavy.

Giyuu's breathing also started to get louder as he started to feel himself twitching. His thrusting started to feel more sloppy as he was loosening his grip on your sweaty hips. "F-Fuck..." he grunted as he started to go all out on thrusting you. Your thighs constantly rippling, your breasts bouncing with every thrust he did, and your arms and legs shaking as he hit your spot.

Iguro started to feel the same as his legs began to shake as he was getting close to his arrival. He then felt his shaft twitching as he stopped thrusting his hips, and let out a husk-sounding moan as he felt himself spurt his seed into your mouth.

You cringed from the texture of it, but still chose to swallow it as you felt him becoming soft in your mouth. He then moved his hips back and the sound of a little pop was made as the tip escaped your lips.

Shortly after, Giyuu clenched his eyes and teeth as he pulled out of you, and started to pump his shaft, resulting in him shooting his spunk onto your body. His breath was trembling after he got done relieving himself onto your body. And after that was done, Iguro went to the kitchen and got three paper towels to clean you up.

Iguro gave him one and he folded it up as he cleaned your abused slit until it was dry. Iguro cleaned the spunk off your stomach and breasts with the second paper towel, and then cleaned your face with the third.

Giyuu gave him his paper towel and Iguro threw them away as he walked back to the bed and laid down. Giyuu then picks you up, and puts you under the cover as he lays back down next to you, and rests his head on your shoulder.

"Night..." Giyuu softly said as he kissed your neck, and went to sleep. Iguro does the same as he kisses your cheek, and your neck as he puts his hand on your stomach.

You look at both of them as you think to yourself, My throat, and legs hurt... but, it felt really good... but, I don't know if I can walk tomorrow, so I hope Giyuu will carry me. You then kissed both of their heads as you closed your eyes and went to sleep.

___________________________________________

03-24-24 - Well, that's another story in the books! I felt like I went a little crazy on the smut here, but that's just me. I hope you enjoyed this, next story I'm gonna write is gonna be another remake of an old story from my other book.

Catch you guys next time, love y'all.

👋✌️❤️.

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strawberrystepmom · 10 months

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a little bitty senator nanami, pilot haibara (and yuuji), and princess reader friendship moment. they're truly a trio in all of my au's :( the triple p :(((( part of the jjk star wars au. wc 698.

divider thanks to @/saradika!

“Do you have any idea how difficult you make my job?”

Kento’s voice makes you laugh as you push the helmet you were just wearing off of your head the rest of the way, Haibara behind you with both hands out to grab it as you tip your head and let it fall. He catches it with an exaggerated “oof” and your laughter continues as your regal friend approaches, dressed in finery that means he must have come straight back from Coruscant to the Resistance Base.

“What do you mean, Senator?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes even as Haibara envelops him in a hug, his own dark hair mussed from his helmet. His orange flight suit is halfway unzipped, revealing the white shirt beneath it, and you can tell despite his visible annoyance that Senator Nanami is nothing short of happy to see his old friend.

“They know you’ve been fooling around out here and they aren’t pleased,” he sniffs while clapping the shoulder of the man hugging him. You join them quickly, throwing your arms around both men and pressing your cheek against Yu’s back. It feels good for the trio to be reunited - the princess, the pilot, the politician. The three of you have been a package deal for a long time.

“What do you mean fooling around? I’m trying to get us organized enough to keep everyone from dying! The least they can do is keep their opinions to themselves from their towers in the sky.”

The young pilot who often rides alongside Haibara gives the three of you space but you can tell he’s listening in on the conversation based off of the way his pink hair sticks up over the top of the plane’s wing, pretending to wrench away at a stalling rocket booster. You don’t dismiss the young man, Yuuji, but instead let him listen in. He has as much of a right to know where the Senate stands on your ever growing rebellion as anyone in this hangar does.

“As correct as you may be, Princess,” you hear the sarcasm drip from Nanami’s voice with the use of your title and it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “They aren’t impressed and support is flagging.”

Sighing, you back away from the two men and put your hands on your hips.

“Well maybe we can do it without them.”

The dark haired man nods in agreement.

“We don’t need them as long as we have other ways to get supplies, right? Tsukumo is still doing runs for us as far as I know.”

Raising your brows, you further consider how far you could go without the sympathy of the Senate before Nanami sighs, defeated.

“There’s no reasoning with you two hopeless dreamers, is there?”

This makes Yuuji laugh and you hear him quickly silence himself, pretending again to hit the edge of a wrench against the metal of the ship but you peek around the front of the ship to look at him. He grins, bright and boyish, and you smile back.

“What do you think we should do, Itadori?”

The young man stands at attention after hearing his name spoken so formally by the woman that is technically his commander but you hold your hand out indicating the formality isn’t necessary. You watch as he relaxes and begins to slap the wrench against the heel of his hand, thinking as he looks around the hangar.

“I think we should keep on as we are, Princess. We have the utmost faith in you.”

Nodding, you accept his answer and turn to raise your eyebrows in Nanami’s direction who simply pinches the bridge of his nose between his index and forefinger.

“And I have faith in you, Yuuji. Keep up the good work.”

Another grin spreads across his face and Haibara rounds the ship to join him in tinkering, giving you and Kento a moment to speak freely amongst one another.

“You’ve ensured that you’re surrounded by many fellow hopeless dreamers, haven’t you?”

Shrugging, you simply reach up and pinch his cheek the same way you did when you were children attending school together.

“I think they’ve made their way to me.”

#nanami x reader #haibara x reader #kendall writes #jjk star wars au #it takes a galaxy collab

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kylobith · 2 months

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Little Town Tails

Chapter 3: A Sitting Duck

Summary: Beaky goes home, and Halsin offers his help so the owlbear will no longer be the target of cruelty. He also considers welcoming a new member in his team.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 3,657

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

Dream a Little Dream of Me fills the cramped little office of the practice, accompanied by the soft hum of a mobile phone. Halsin pats the floor beside him until he retrieves it, groaning and cracking an eye to disable his alarm. Still groggy from his short night, he rubs a hand across his face and sits up.

Little light filters through the lowered slats of the Venetian blinds. Just enough for him to know that the sun has already risen. He sits there for a minute, taking his time to wake up while embracing the warmth of sunlight upon his cheek. Once his mind has cleared of most of the nightly fuzz, he unlocks his phone, grimacing as the screen’s brightness blinds him at first.

Five messages await him, received during his slumber. All were sent by the same person, professionally registered under the name ‘Ms. Ashguard - Beaky’. With a soft smile, he opens the text thread and reads it.

‘Hassle Beaky been able to eat yet?’

‘*Has, sorry.’

‘Rabbits are his favourite if that helps in any way. Boar is fine too.’

‘What should I prepare for him to come home? Can he stay in the field or is it better that he remains indoors at first?’

‘Sorry for sending you so many texts… Not used to having a pet of my own (if I can call an owlbear a pet, haha!), so I’m just worried. Thanks for everything you do. Good night!’

Halsin chuckles and scrolls farther up the conversation, refreshing his memory of what information he has given Tav and in what manner. He groans in embarrassment when he notices some typos in his messages that he did not see after sending them. He has yet to grow accustomed to his new work phone, especially its keyboard. His fingers are too large to type properly, which often frustrates him. Usually, he notices the mistakes on time before sending emails or messages, but it seems that his fatigue after waking up several times during the night to check on Beaky in the recovery room blinded him to them.

He exits the conversation without answering Tav and begins to type a new message.

‘Good morning Karlach, would you mind buying some rabbit meat from the butcher for Beaky before coming to the practice? You can use the company card. See you later. Halsin.’

He locks his phone and stretches his back, before finally dragging himself off the inflatable bed he set up in his office to remain close to Beaky if something were to happen. Rubbing his round stomach as it rumbles, he paces up to the window and opens the blinds, welcoming the morning light in.

After slipping on his T-shirt, he finds Beaky in the recovery room, curled up on the mattress from his guest room that Karlach helped him bring downstairs. Scratch is huddled up beside the owlbear cup, his ears perking up when he hears his owner’s footsteps.

Halsin goes up to the dog and ruffles the fur on his head.

‘Good morning, Scratch,’ he chimes. ‘You have been taking good care of Beaky, I see. Good boy.’

He reaches into a box perched up at the top of a cabinet and takes out a treat he gives to the white dog. Then, noticing that Beaky is stirring awake, he crouches in front of the cub, letting it sniff his hand before daring to pet it.

‘And good morning to you too, Beaky. Still faring well?’

The owlbear produces a low hoot, scratching the mattress with its paw.

‘Alright, let’s have a look, mh?’

Halsin unwraps the bandages and checks the scars. After disinfecting and airing them, he ties up a plastic cone around the ankle so Beaky does not pick at the scabs while he fixes himself a cup of tea. Before adding some honey to the infusion, he dips mint leaves directly into hot water in his favourite mug, decorated with ducks. While stirring the beverage with his spoon, he hears his phone ping in his pocket.

As he unlocks it, he sees a text from Karlach.

‘On it, Doc! No need to sign your texts, btw, got your number saved already.’

He chuckles and thanks her. He is quite aware of how old he sounds when speaking, but his way of texting seems much worse. Once his tea is finished, he puts the mug down and goes back to the office to deflate the mattress and bring it back upstairs, where he takes the time to shower and change.

Right when he heads back to the practice, dressed in his teal scrubs, he sees Karlach peeking through the door, carrying something wrapped up in an old newspaper. He unlocks the door and the tiefling instantly hugs him.

‘Morning, Doc! Got the rabbit meat here. How’s Beaks?’

‘Doing well. I will bandage him up again and call his owner.’

‘Eager to see her, huh?’ she teases, nudging him in the ribs with a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she makes her way to the recovery room.

He rolls his eyes and comes to watch her feed the cub with the raw meat. He whistles at Scratch, who follows him to receive his breakfast in turn and frolic in the garden afterwards. While the dog is busy chasing a butterfly, his tongue lolling out happily, Halsin takes a moment to call Tav.

‘Hello?’ the voice on the other side of the line answers.

‘Good morning, Miss Ashguard,’ he greets, smiling widely, ‘Dr Silverbough from the Emeral Grove veterinary office speaking.’

‘Oh, morning doctor! Is everything alright with Beaky?’

‘Everything is in order. He had a good night’s sleep and my assistant gave him some fresh rabbit meat. No appetite loss whatsoever! So, I believe that he is in shape to go home. You can pick him up anytime.’

He hears a heavy sigh of relief.

‘Thank you so much, doctor, I will come later this morning. Do I need to prepare anything for his recovery?’

‘No, I will have everything ready for you. No special arrangement necessary on your part.’

‘Oh, great. I will see you then!’

‘See you later, Miss Ashguard.’

She hangs up and he slips his phone back in his pocket. A smile lingers on his cheeks as he fills his lungs with the flowery scent of the air. He eyes his little flower garden on the side of the yard, admiring the daffodils that have finally grown and bloomed. Their golden petals shimmer in the sunlight, only disrupted by the morning breeze. Perhaps he should think of growing a few more next year for the reception. Plants brighten up a place like nothing else, he always says. In the meantime, he will need to be content with ordering bouquets from Jaheira’s shop.

Then comes the time for them to open the practice and welcome the first patient of the morning. Arfer, the elderly man who waters the planters and flowerbeds throughout Heawick, is already waiting at the door, bringing his old tortoiseshell cat in his carrier. Halsin offers him a warm welcome and a cup of tea, then proceeds to examine the animal. It is but a routine check, accompanied by a slightly overdue vaccine.

Despite its advanced age, the feline is in perfect shape, and its senses — and claws — are still sharp. It always pleases him when people take such great care of their furry companions, and much to his relief, the area seems to be filled with loving owners. In just a day, the difference between the patients in Heawick and those from the village and the city where he previously worked has proved quite striking.

Halsin healed too many dogs in dire need of exercise that were kept in cramped rooms and flats. Many ended up overweight and suffered severe issues, and it always tugged at his heartstrings to see them in such conditions. He often wished that he could offer to adopt them instead, knowing that he could offer them a more fulfilling life, but there was only so much that he could do. In some cases, he did trigger the alarm and contact animal protection services. It was never pleasant to see the pets and owners separated, but it was often better this way.

At least he did not just stand by and watch without trying to save the animal.

When Halsin escorts Arfer back to the reception after creating his file, the old man shakes his hand and gives him a toothy grin.

‘It is quite nice to finally have a vet in town,’ he says. ‘I don’t need to travel all the way to the city to have my Clawdia looked at anymore! When I play Talis with my friends later this week, I will tell them about you, doctor. They all have pets, you see, and some of them are too old to travel to the city.’

‘That is quite nice of you, Mr Proudcobble. It is a pleasure to help the local community,’ Halsin responds with a kind smile. ‘That is precisely why I settled down here, after all.’

‘We are in good hands, then, I say!’

Arfer waves him goodbye and does the same to Karlach, who responds with her usual bubbly greetings. Halsin sighs in satisfaction and takes a look at his watch. He still has about an hour before the next consultation. On his way to his office, Karlach intercepts him with a smirk.

‘Doc, somebody is in the waiting room.’

‘I was not aware that we had another appointment in the meantime.’

The tiefling clears her throat with a wink and nods — not so subtly — towards the waiting room. Halsin turns around and sees a fidgeting Tav on one of the chairs. His smile instantly returns to his lips.

‘Oh, good morning, Miss Ashguard! My apologies, I did not see you there.’

‘That’s nothing, doctor,’ she chuckles, standing up and approaching him to shake his hand. ‘I couldn’t wait to pick up Beaky after all, so I came as fast as I could.’

‘That is quite alright. Right this way.’

He walks with her to the recovery room and Tav instantly coos at the owlbear, throwing herself on her knees at its side to cuddle and pet it. The creature seems delighted to see her, acting much like a lapdog and not as a wild animal as it leans against her touch and rests its heavy head on her shoulder. He leans against the doorframe, watching the scene and embracing the warmth spreading through his chest at the sight.

Indeed, Heawick’s region does not lack loving owners.

Once the initial elation has somewhat dissipated, Halsin approaches the two and crouches before the animal, undoing the plastic cone and dressing the wounds again. Tav watches every gesture with interest, knowing that she will need to mirror each and every one of them once she is home. Noticing her staring, he smiles and explains each step, explaining to her what the best way of tying up the bandage is for such a creature.

Then, he stands up and retrieves a bag he prepared the previous night with everything she might need to care for the cub.

‘I prepared this for you,’ he says gleefully while handing it to her. ‘It contains everything you will need. I added some painkillers, but try to use them only if you see that he is struggling. In case of doubt, you can always call or text.’

‘That’s perfect, thanks! What about the stitches?’

‘We can remove them in about two weeks. Sometimes it can be done earlier, but I would rather remain on the safe side. You can already plan the appointment with my assistant.’

‘Great!’

Tav peeks inside the bag and shoves it inside the satchel hanging from her shoulder. As she slips her arms underneath Beaky to lift him, Halsin halts her and does it ever so naturally.

‘If you could open the doors on the way, I would be grateful,’ he chuckles.

‘Oh, of course.’

She guides him through the practice and they stop by the reception so Karlach can make the appointment for Beaky’s stitch removal. Tav pays for the surgery and consultation and goes to open the front door for the vet and the creature. She guides them to her car, whose backseats have been flattened so the cub can be driven around. Halsin places Beaky there, careful not to hit its paw as he does so. When he closes the car boot, he finds Tav standing close enough to him that he can feel the heat radiating from her body.

The two of them, surprised by this sudden proximity, stare into each other’s eyes for a second. Rosy hues tint their cheeks and noses. He admires the way they dance around her freckles, further softening her delicate traits.

But before he catches himself staring for too long, she chuckles and he mirrors her, taking a step back. They both lower their gazes, and he witnesses the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes in action, they which were left unused the previous day.

And gods does she look beautiful.

‘So, um,’ he forces himself to speak to defuse the odd tension settling between them, ‘have you asked your neighbour about the bear trap, then?’

Tav’s eyes widen and she nods vehemently.

‘Oh, yes! Yes, I did. I met with Minsc as you advised, and he came with me to Combury to check the woods near my house. When Mr Bongle saw us by the field and the broken fence, he just confessed to everything.’

She shrugs, almost as though she expected this turn of events from the start.

‘It was just like you predicted, doctor. He felt guilty when Beaky got trapped, so he removed the trap and left. Good thing, though, he’s refunding me the costs of the consultation and the operation.’

‘I see. Well, it is good to hear that you had closure on the matter.’

‘Not really. Minsc told me not to shrug the situation off. He told me that owlbears were protected in the area, which I didn’t know, so I made an appointment with one of the lawyers of the organisation for animal protection. Hopefully, they can do something.’

Halsin nods and glances towards Beaky, who has fallen asleep in the back seat.

‘If it helps in any way, I will be happy to fill in a medical report for Beaky, including the costs and the follow-ups,’ he suggests, nervously rubbing his palm against the back of his neck. ‘I am glad that you are not leaving the matter to rest. Even if Mr Bongle felt guilty, what says that he would not do it to other animals? Besides, Beaky could have sustained worse damage, but he also worsened his condition by yanking the trap.’

‘You would do that?’

As he faces her again, he meets her twinkling gaze. He finds himself short of breath again the longer he plunges himself into their turquoise pools, nearly feeling the freshwater of their streams upon his skin.

‘Of course.’

Tav smiles from ear to ear and tucks a lock of her hair behind one of them.

‘I might take you up on that offer if you truly don’t mind. We should wait until I meet up with the lawyer in the city. I should know more about the process once I speak to her.’

‘Feel free to text me when you know more.’

‘That’s kind of you. Really.’

They smile at each other again and Tav twirls her car keys around her finger.

‘I should get going. Beaky must be exhausted, still.’

‘Of course. I would advise keeping him indoors for the first few nights and changing the bandages every four hours. When you go to bed, you can wait until morning, that should be fine.’

‘Amazing! Thank you, doctor.’

‘Good luck with Beaky and the lawyer. Do not hesitate to contact us if you have questions or doubts. We would rather be bothered than learn that something went south with Beaky.’

‘Will do. Have a lovely day, doctor.’

‘You too, Miss Ashguard. Take care.’

He shakes her hand and steps away from the car as she hops inside and drives away. He waves awkwardly and heads back inside. Karlach is already leaning against the counter with a smug grin.

‘You really won’t admit that you have the hots for her, Doc, will ya?’

‘Karlach, that is not appropriate.’

‘I saw you, you know. All blushy when she looked at you.’

‘When?’

‘All the time!’

‘Sure, Karlach.’

Checking the time, he heads towards his office and turns on the computer. A few minutes later, as he browses several websites with a frown of deep focus creasing his brow, Karlach comes in, bringing him a cup of coffee.

‘Here you go, Doc.’

‘Oh, thank you.’

He wraps his hand around the hot mug, relishing the warmth as he continues to peruse the catalogues and inventories. He hears the tiefling taking a seat behind him and feels her eyes burning through him.

‘What are you looking for?’ she asks, blowing softly on the surface of her own coffee.

‘Larger pillows for big animals. I should have invested in them earlier, but I did not expect to ever have an owlbear as my patient. Thing is, I cannot find them anywhere.’

‘Mmh.’

She takes a first sip of her drink and gasps loudly in satisfaction. It is a good thing that Halsin has such a high tolerance for mouth noises of all kinds, otherwise he would have long been irked by her presence. Thankfully, it is not the case, and he does not even mind when she breathes down his neck when she has got nothing to do.

‘By the way, doc, did you look into the post-op onesies I told you about? It’s definitely better than the cones. My friend, who has a cat, told me that it didn’t even try to scratch or bite the stitches at all. It did walk funny for about two weeks, but that was it.’

‘I did, I emailed several suppliers, and I’m hoping that they will be open to negotiating prices. So far, the prospects are not quite pleasant, to say the least.’

Karlach ponders about the prices for a moment as he shows them to her, checking different suppliers. Indeed, they represent quite a cost for a new practice. Halsin is keeping money to the side, but he is hoping to save it for a rainy day instead of spending it all whenever he thinks about something which could be helpful for the practice before he can be sure that he will make any use of whatever his purchases are.

The young woman sighs and sets down her cup.

‘Hey, Doc,’ she speaks in a melancholy tone, ‘I know that your employing me was nothing but charity. I’m completely aware of it, you don’t need to lie.’

Taken off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation, Halsin turns around with a lifted eyebrow.

‘Karlach, what are you talking about?’

‘No, but really, Doc, I’m not trying to go all emotional on you, but it’s true. I’ve got no qualifications, no diplomas, nothing, yet you still took me in. And I’m super grateful.’

Karlach shrugs and smiles at Halsin.

‘I might not know much, but I know charity when I see it. So, I was wondering if you would trust me to bring that charitable side of you one more time.’

‘What do you mean?’

She nods towards the computer screen and takes the mouse, scrolling through the catalogues for both pillows and onesies, keeping herself from gasping at most of the prices.

‘These are expensive as hell, and I know what I’m talking about,’ she scoffs. ‘But, see, there’s a friend of mine who’s in a bit of a pickle. He might lose his job if he doesn’t do some community service first. Thing is, he’s not the easiest person to live with, he’s got quite a temper, so nobody takes him in. I know that it doesn’t sound like the best of plans, but I can testify that he’s amazing with a needle! He could do his community service here and make the pillows and onesies himself. Perhaps even do some extra chores when you need him to. That will cost you much less than any of that pre-made crap!’

Halsin pauses to consider her words. The practice already needs another team member and he knows it. There are already struggles about the team being so small. If Karlach is busy while he is examining patients, then there is nobody else to welcome other visitors. Another person, even if not a veterinarian, would fix this issue in no time. If they are agreeable, that is, and from what Karlach has said, he finds himself doubting it.

‘Mh. He does not sound very pleasant so far.’

‘Oh, but he is when he puts his mind to it. It might help that I’m working here too. Once he trusts someone, he’s lovely! I mean, he behaves like a cat sometimes, but he’s great!’

He sighs and drinks some of the coffee. It is much too dark, more to her taste, but he does not say a word about it. She made the effort to make it for him, and it is unlike him to bite the hand that feeds.

‘Listen,’ she adds, catching his attention again, ‘I’m willing to be held responsible if he misbehaves. If he messes up, throw me out for even referring him in the first place.’

The veterinarian finishes the cup as fast as he can, chugging the liquid so it does not linger on his tongue too much.

‘He is good with a needle, you said?’

‘A real talent,’ Karlach answers excitedly. ‘He makes some of my accessories in his free time, actually.’

‘Do you think he can start tomorrow?’

Taglist: @emmanuellececchi @reignydeys @cakenpiewhyohmy

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00belle00lovely00 · 3 months

Note

Well if you also have more ships headcanons, so you also have Bobby x CatNap Headcanons?

G A S P

OH MAH GAWD IM GETTING SO MANY GOOD ONES-

ALRIGHT, I got you bestie! 🫶

💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜��️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️

ALR. I WILL SAY IT. THIS SHIP SHOULD BE LITERALLY NAMED CUDDLES. DON'T ARGUE WITH ME, YA'LL KNOW IT.

Quiet sleepyhead/introvert x lovely and mushy extrovert

Catnap isn't one to go out of his house much. It is either to lay down on a tree and sleep the day away or lay down on any surface that he finds. So, he is quite fond of Bobby because she's the only one who wouldn't complain about his sleeping habits. I mean, sure, she gets quite down whenever Catnap doesn't come along to the group for something fun, but unlike people like Dogday, Kickin, or Hoppy, she would actually encourage his need for sleep as she is aware he does it for his own self-love (in some strange way).

Catnap would TOTALLY randomly slump onto the floor on purpose and act passed out for Bobby to get worried and carry him into his bed. Why, do you ask? Because she ALWAYS. And I mean, ANYWAYS give a forehead kiss before going. Earning a purr from the cat.

They are all on with PDAs. ALL the time. Every second of it. But that's just because Bobby is the one to start it and Catnap is the one to just melt into it.

She'd be pinching on his cheeks like an aunt coming to see you.

Their date? Laying on a beanbag. That's- that's it. That's all they need. A scenario you say? Well...

Craftycorn: "Um... hey Bobby? Everyone's asking where you are, we were supposed to be at Dogday's house to... oh!"

Bobby: "CrAaAaaFtYYyY... *SNIFF*... THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE... I CAN'T ESCAPE THIS... LOVELY... ADORABLE... PRISON!" *Bobby sobbed as she laid on a beanbag, Catnap lying down on her lap.

Bobby would be sending flower bouquets DAILY for Catnap. Charmingly enough it being lavender and rose buds.

Smooches on the kitty!💜❤️ mwa! mwa! mwa! SMOOCH!

Catnap was always very laidback in many times. Tired much, soft-spoken, never really got anybody or anything for that matter. But often times he would get a bit pissy about how Bobby's mushy attitude is to everyone around them. He may not be a jealous typo, not at all, but he can feel a bit detached from Bobby's love from seeing her much more active than he is. So whenever THAT happens, he gives her the ice treatment. And oh boy, ain't that TORTURE for Bobby. The ONE girl who adores hugging and loving others more than anything else in the world is being given the cold shoulder is something worth weeping for. So whenever that happens, Catnap quickly regrets it and makes it up to her by spending the night with her.

Not surprisingly enough, I always headcanon Bobby having attachment issues (which would explain the last headcanon) so whenever she is also she sends as many love letters to Catnap as she can, even though half of the time is given back due to Catnap not being good with words, it eases her to know he is at least reading it

Bobby would pretty much spoil Catnap ROTTEN! In exchange? Catnap would probs call her "little Rosie". Now, you can imagine her kicking her feet, squirming and going absolutely NUTS for that small compliment.

They both like cuddling a lot, while also watching old Disney movies.

EXTRA:

DogDay: "Catnap? Caaatnaaap? Jeez! Where is he at? I can't find him anywhere!"

Bobby: "Let me handle this, 'Day!" *Bobby stepped in, taking a deep breath before kneeling down and making a gesture with her fingers* "pspspspspspsppspspspspsppsspspsp"

*Instantly, Catnap appears.*

Kickin: "... that's disgustingly corny" Kickin added.

Bobby: "Oh, hush" *she turned to look at Kickin while scratching the back of Catnap's ear* "We all have quirks here and there, that is just what makes you the loveliest you can be"

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #catnap #smiling critters #poppy playtime 3 #bobby bearhug #bobby bearhug x catnap #my headcanons #headcanon #headcannons #STOP UNDERRATED SHIPS #They're so mushy #so corny i love it

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theanonymousopossum · 6 months

Text

Secret Santa

Hello @siriusleee! Surprise, I'm your fic author for the @acotargiftexchange!

I've loved our chats about Elriel, and I was SO excited to make this for you. What I've made will be a Theseus and Ariadne inspired AU with spy Azriel and princess Elain, with a few of my own creative additions added in.

This fic is multiple parts (originally supposed to be a one-shot, but I kinda lost control and it got super long before I even hit the halfway point), but it is largely prewritten.

Below is part one, full of all of the exposition, I hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

Azriel stalked through the hallways swiftly, brushing past the servants who scuttled quickly out of his way, knowing better than to interrupt him in this mood.

He threw open the door to General Cassian’s office without knocking, barely registering the loud bang of the wood hitting the wall, striding in and slamming down a small stack of papers on the desk.

“Dead. Again. Every single one of them. No mentions of how or why, just the same thing on every sheet: our kingdom is unendingly grateful for the service provided by some person’s name, however we are deeply saddened to inform you that, tragically, some person’s name has perished fighting,” Azriel said to Cassian, who looked tired but upon hearing this news straightened, frowning.

“That’s the 5th stack of letters we’ve gotten in 2 months. There is no possible way the king is going through the soldiers that fast if they’re placed in open combat. At least one of them should have survived, yet within 2 weeks we receive a letter saying they died ‘fighting’. I’m starting to suspect some foul play,” Cassian said, his eyes roving over the reports, each of them, like all their predecessors, containing a name and a simpering apology.

“Agreed. But how would we stop it? Our army is nowhere near big enough to launch an attack on them, especially not with our soldiers thinning by the month due to these shipments,” Azriel responded, his brow furrowing in thought.

Cassian tapped his fingers on the desk. He had an idea, clearly, but given the way he was looking at Azriel it wasn’t something either of them would be too happy to enact.

“Just spit it out,” Azriel snapped wearily, “it can’t be any worse than shipping good soldiers off to their immediate death.”

“Well…” Cassian began, “I want to find out what’s really happening. If we can find out where all the soldiers are disappearing to, it will be much easier to make a final decision on how to handle this. For that, I’ll have to rely on an experienced soldier, not one of the fresh-faced younglings. And, more importantly, I need someone who is good at finding hidden information. If I’m right about there being more to this than meets the eye, then it will take more than a footsoldier to sniff it out. King Archeron won’t leave his plans just lying out in the open. With that said…”

He trailed off, clearly not wanting to finish that statement, but Azriel knew what he was getting at.

“You want me to go with the next batch of soldiers and find out what’s happening.”

It was a statement of fact, not a question, and given Cassian’s lack of correction, Azriel knew he was right. Cassian merely looked up at him, his hazel eyes scanning Azriel’s face for any sign of fear or reluctance. He found none.

“I will go,” the spy of Illyria said, not a hint of any cowardice visible in his voice, “and I will find out what is happening. When is the next batch of soldiers to be sent?”

“Tomorrow morning, they leave at dawn,” Cassian said, and, though he tried to hide it, the relief in his voice was clear. Despite his harsh exterior, the general was a good man at heart, and he hated to see all these deaths; not only because of the loss of soldiers in his army but also because of the loss of life.

“Then I’ll be on the boat too. More than likely I won’t be able to send any letters once I’ve arrived, so you’ll have to wait until I get back for information.”

“How do you plan on returning? The boat carrying the soldiers will leave as soon as all have deboarded, and if I send a boat to come pick you up the king is sure to have questions. After tomorrow the next boat isn’t due to come into the port of Hybern for two weeks, and I doubt you’ll be able to keep your cover for that long if all the soldiers are not sent into combat, as I suspect.”

“I’m not entirely sure yet. That’s something I’ll have to worry about when I get there. More than likely I will be able to steal a small boat and row over to one of the neighbouring islands where I can catch a trade ship or something and return on it.”

“I don’t like that answer, but I don’t have a better solution. If you’re sure you’re up for this, then I bid you farewell. May the stars listen to your prayers,” Cassian said, saying the ancient blessing for good luck.

“And may your dreams be answered,” Azriel responded, completing the saying. “I am sure of this course. I have survived worse, and I will hopefully return within a week.”

Cassian nodded his assent, saying, “Alright then. Go rest up, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, Azriel turned on his heel and walked out the door, striding to his chambers. He fell asleep surprisingly quickly, given what he was being asked to do, but his dreams were full of soldiers and faceless kings ordering him to be killed. Then the dream changed.

In his mind, he saw a beautiful princess. He could not entirely make out her features, but he saw golden brown waves of hair framing her face, with doe brown eyes staring at him in concern.

He looked around, at his surroundings. The princess was in a beautifully elaborate room, decorated with the finest silks and most costly jewels. Clearly, no expense had been spared.

“Come and save me, my hero,” the princess called out from where she was sitting on the luxurious bed, piled high with goose-feather pillows and thick, warm blankets. It was then he noticed the thin golden chain. It was attached on one end to a small hook in the floor, on the other end it wrapped around her ankle. The chain was so thin, it might have been used in a necklace, and he wondered why she hadn’t just pulled and snapped it. But then suddenly the princess stood and ran towards him. She reached the end of her chain, but it did not shatter, no matter how hard she strained.

“My hero,” she cried again, this time her voice laced with pain, “come and find me. Take me. Save me!”

He reached out a hand to her but found he was just out of reach. His feet were rooted to the ground.

When he awoke the next day, he remembered nothing of the girl, or her chain, or her pleas. He dressed himself in his soldier’s uniform and departed for the dock, calmly awaiting whatever the Fates had laid out in his path.

—--------------------

The boat ride passed uneventfully. Azriel had boarded the ship, a beautiful vessel that, judging by the looks, had been made only recently, and had kept tabs on the other soldiers being sent with him. All of them were young men in their late teens or twenties, soldiers with an eagerness to prove themselves mighty heroes in war.

As he stepped onto the island of Hybern, he took in his surroundings. Azriel had never been here before, though he had given careful study to the maps and reports given to him by the spies under his command.

Hybern was a beautiful city built upon a small island, and it was very different from the large cities he was accustomed to on the continent. Canals were built all along the city, leading to a place that had more paths for water than for people. A small boat he knew was called a ploion was docked nearby, and its function was to transport people down the rivers of the city.

The architecture, however, was what truly blew him away. Since there were no real streets, all the buildings were stacked into apartments, which were painted in gorgeous, vibrant colours. Hues of red, orange, yellow, and blue covered everything in sight, from the boats to the houses to even some of the people.

Azriel had a moment of confusion. Why were so many people dressed up elaborately? Last he had known, the native Hybernians dressed rather simply for day-to-day affairs.

However, he had no more time to dwell on the scenery before he and the rest of the soldiers that were sent were herded together towards the docks, where several more ploia were waiting for them.

Soon then people appeared, Hybernians by the look of their face, and servants of the king by the style of their garments.

One stepped onto each boat, the one in Azriel’s explained that he was the doulon in charge of escorting them to the king, and then looking after their needs until the soldiers left the palace to do the king’s bidding.

When Azriel questioned him about the people he had seen in the fancy dress, the man replied,

“They’re all dressed up for tonight’s ball, of course. It’s Princess Elain’s 22nd birthday, and in a generous gesture from the agathe arche, all of the people have been invited, including yourselves.”

This was news to Azriel. He was fully aware that the king had a daughter, though he had never bothered to learn her birthday, nor was he aware that there was a ball he was expected to attend. He reasoned, however, that he could use that to his advantage, as with everyone away celebrating, he could slip through the palace undetected.

Soon the ploia were steered into the waiting harbour, and Azriel and the other soldiers were marched inside by soldiers, with the doulon following closely behind.

The corridors were full of twists and turns, but Azriel, ever the trained spy, memorized the path they walked, as well as rooms of note. He had a decent idea of the layout of the castle, but he didn’t know which room the king’s study was in, or, should that yield nothing of interest, where he might keep his important documents.

Just as he began to ponder how suspicious it would look if he asked questions about the castle’s rooms, their party suddenly came to a halt outside of a massive set of double doors, bigger than any Azriel had seen so far.

Four of the guards came forward and hauled the heavy wooden slabs open, and inside was the most breathtaking room any of the company had ever seen.

A/N: Thus concludes part 1, hope you loved it, and I'm hoping to post the next part within a few days (which will depend on how good my tech skills are with cueing as I won't have internet for a week starting Saturday), otherwise it will be posted right on the New Year. Also, if you want to know the process behind the special names, PLEASE feel free to drop into my ask box or the comments (they're based off a language I study and as @ladyartichokie, my wonderful beta reader (big shoutout to her for editing this), can confirm, I am a huge language nerd)

Merry Christmas again!

#theanonymousopossum #elriel fanfiction #elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar gift exchange #secret santa #acotar

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eddieboi23 · 1 year

Note

i know you only do wednesday x gn reader but can you do a brother sister comfort story abut pugsley crying in the corner because he thought wednesday forgot about him because she has been spending so much time with reader and has been distant, so wednesday sees hi crying and tries to comfort him and convince him she still cares about him.

Do you still love me?

Wednesday Addams x gn reader + Pugsley

(Wednesday )

Summary: Pugsley gets upset when he thinks his sister loves you more than him

Tw: threats, lovey stuff idk

Y/n)=your name

“-this is thoughts-“

“This is talking”

(Not a ship of Pugsley with wednesday or y/n, that’s gross)(y/n x Wednesday 😌/dating)

———————-———————-

Wednesday wasn’t one to get distracted by a person, But with you it was just, so easy.

You met at Nevermore, and clicked.

Maybe it was because you understood her and never judged any dark stuff she said, sometimes joining in.

Or maybe because you religiously respected her boundaries.

Nevertheless, she’s been distracted from everything else, and some people are starting to notice.

—

It was parents day, your parents never showed, as usual, so you hung out with the Addams.

Gomez and Morticia were happy to meet you, although Pugsley didn’t seem as thrilled.

It’s not like he hated you, he was glad his sister wasn’t as heartless as she seemed, but he wasn’t quite ready to let go of his big sisters attention, not matter what kind.

Short story short, he was jealous, and kind of upset, he knows he shouldn’t be, you were so nice to him, buts he’s only human after all.

He should have said how he was feeling, but he didn’t want to bother anyone. no one knew how he’s was feeling.

His parents were distracted by the fact that Wednesday found love, you thought he just wasn’t social, Wednesday can’t see emotions even if it slapped her in the face, and lurch was well…lurch.

So he chose to suffer in silence.

He wanted to spend time with Wednesday, maybe go fishing like they used to.

But everytime he tried spending time with her, she was with you, or you came along, defeating the purpose of sibling time.

He just wanted a little time, because parents day was only so long.

After awhile he gave up, snuck away when no one was looking, and sat in a deserted corner of the school.

He knows he’s pouting, but he doesn’t care.

His mind starts to get to him. What ifs and depressing questions. “-what if Wednesday loves y/n better than me, what if Wednesday hates me, what if y/n takes Wednesday away from me forever??-“

His eyes start to water, and he breaks down.

Sobbing, he brings his knees to his chest and cries in his hands.

——

(Pov: Wednesday)

She noticed her brother sneak off almost immediately.

She shouldn’t be worried, but he’s a small pitiful child, someone could really hurt him, and she didn’t want anyone but her to hurt him.

At least that’s what she told herself, as she excused herself shortly after he’d been gone, and went to find him.

She searched for awhile before she found him curled up in a corner, pathetic.

She walked to him and stood above him. “Pugsley.”

He jumps and looks up at her, sniffing and wiping his face. “O-oh hey Wednesday…what are you doing here?” He says, attempting to hide the shake in his voice.

Her eyebrows furrow ever so slightly. “I saw you leave. Why are you crying? You know emotions equal weak.”

He looks down and sniffs. “I’m sorry….”

Wednesday sighs and sits down next to him.

He looks at her confused, and she looks back at him. “Well, go on, talk about it. Y/n said should get better at comforting, although don’t expect much.”

He looks down and fiddles his fingers. “It’s nothing..”

She lets out an annoyed sigh. “Speak before you never get this chance again.”

He sighs. “Ok well…it’s dumb but….I miss you… and you’re always spending time with y/n and never me, and i know you love them but……do…do you like them better than me?” He looks at her with tears in his eyes.

She stares at him, taking in his words and trying to find the right ones to say back.

She hesitantly puts a hand on his shoulder, and he looks at her hand, then at her.

“Pugsley. You are my brother, I tolerate you AND Y/n. There is no need to feel upset. As siblings, we have a bond that me and Y/n will not have. You are as important as them. So don’t wallow in self pity any longe-“ she’s cut off by Pugsley hugging her tightly. “I love you too sis,” he says in a shaky voice.

Wednesday sits there for a second, before patting him. “Yes, now let’s go. We can, spend time together. Perhaps later you can spend time with y/n, they quite like you.”

He lets go of her and looks at her with sparkling eyes. “Really?”

She glances away. “Yes, they said, and I quote, ‘your brother is so cute, I’d love if he spent time with us’” Wednesday say with mild disgust.

He smiles and sniffs before hugging her again. “Ok, thank you Wednesday.”

——————

SOBBING ,BABY PUGSLEY WHO HURT YOU😭

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strawwritesfic · 1 year

Text

Sanji Vinsmoke x Female!Straw Hat!Reader: Wrong

Summary: It may be hard to believe sometimes, but there really are people out there that already appreciate the person you are.

Rating/Tags: T (Mild language; lethal chef!reader; not canon compliant; Going Merry; pre-time skip; discussion of gender roles; Nami/Sanji/Reader; Nami & Reader; one-sided Sanji/Nami; Usopp & Luffy; Usopp & Luffy & Nami; Usopp & Luffy & Reader; birthday present)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Wrong

Where you came from, people had certain expectations of women. What a little girl had to grow up into was set in stone. From a young age, your entire lack of interest in learning your “trade” (as it were) caused no small amount of consternation in your island village. You never cared much…until it was far too late to go back and listen to your mother when she tried convincing you of your place in life.

But Mother of the Leviathan, you wished you could that night. The Going Merry’s kitchen had never once looked worse. You had thought—while the actual cooking was going on—that you were doing okay. Now that you had a moment to breathe and look at what you’d done, you realized that you were far, far from doing okay.

“What’s going on in here?”

You stiffened, only to relax once you saw Usopp and Luffy’s heads peeking into the room from the hall. Usopp gave an exaggerated sniff with his lengthy nose before he stepped inside.

“Something smells good,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

“Did you have a fight in here, [Name]?” Luffy asked as he followed, put his hands on his hips, and regarded the damage you’d done to this typically pristine part of the ship. “You should have called! I’d have liked to see you go toe to toe with someone like this.”

“I’d like to see whatever it is you’re cooking,” Usopp put in. “Unless you lost it in this mess.”

Indeed, Usopp’s worry was a legitimate one. Nothing in the kitchen remained its typical color or texture. Eggs dripped from the ceiling. Butter stuck to the wall. The table at which the crew often ate breakfast together was two inches thicker from a buildup of flour. Knives, spoons, beaters, and bowls littered the counters and filled the sink. Neat cooking had never been a skill of yours, but add in the constant rolling of the boat on the waves? Forget it.

Despite the near-universal coating of icing across the surfaces of the room, it didn’t take the two boys long to find the food.

“Aha!” Luffy cried triumphantly. He had only just lifted the small, circular cake off the counter when you snatched it away from him. “Hey!”

“Don’t you dare,” you said, shoving him away with your free hand.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “Finders keepers!”

“I never lost my cake. I knew where it was the whole time.”

“But then why would you make food at not let us eat it?” said Usopp.

“Because it’s not for you.”

“Who else would you make it for?”

“I want cake!” said Luffy, falling to his knees in front of you.

“Just let us taste it!” Usopp insisted as he pulled on your sleeve.

“Cake, [Name]!”

“Cake! Cake! Cake!” they chanted in unison.

All the fuss came to a grinding hall when the door to the kitchen slammed open. A few globs of batter fell from above to pelt you, Usopp, and Luffy in the heads. None of you noticed, as you were all staring in horror at the person who had joined you.

"What the hell is going on in here?” Nami asked in her quietest (and thus most dangerous) voice.

The danger, as usual, did not register for Usopp and Luffy. “She started it!” they exclaimed, and pointed in your direction.

“I didn’t!” you said as Nami turned her sharp eyes toward you. “They’re trying to eat the cake I baked!”

“You made this awful mess? Do you know how much food costs?”

“It’s for a good cause.”

“Yeah,” said Luffy. “My stomach. C’mon. Cough it up.”

“I already told you that it’s not for you! Or you,” you added at Usopp’s greedy smile.

“You better not have wasted all this for yourself,” Nami said.

What was this, gang up on [Name] night? “It’s for Sanji,” you snapped, unsure which of them you felt most annoyed with. Nami, you decided, when she stared blankly back at you.

“Why would you make Sanji a lousy cake when he can make himself one that’s edible?” she asked.

By then, Luffy and Usopp were so determined to get the morsel in your hands that the three of you were locked in a constant series of wrestling maneuvers. As such, you weren’t thinking hard enough about not giving Nami information she didn’t need to avoid doing so. Lifting your cake as high above your head as you could manage, you said:

“It’s Sanji’s birthday.”

This didn’t make her expression any less blank. “So?” she said, doing absolutely nothing to save you from a fight that you both knew you wouldn’t win.

You gaped at her. Although you’d always suspected your crew-mate of heartlessness, you’d never have believed she could be so callous toward Sanji, the guy that practically worshiped the ground she walked on!

“So you’re his friend,” you said. “You should do something nice for him!”

In your moment of incredulous anger, Usopp grabbed the cake and let out a triumphant shout. You smashed a fist into his head. He tossed the cake into the air with a yelp.

“Oh, no!” you squealed.

“Oh, yes!” cried Luffy.

“Back off,” Nami said as she caught the cake and shoved Luffy roughly away.

Her passing the food back to you surprised you as much as it did the boys. Some of this unusual display of kindness was dented by the fact that right after she got it safely in your hands again, she placed her own on either side of her copious hips to scold you.

“If Sanji wants me to buy him something for his birthday,” she said, “he’ll have to give me the money himself. As for you, all this wasted food will be paid for, and—”

“What happened to my beautiful kitchen?!”

Even Nami started this time. Sanji stood where she had left the door open, and his eyes blazed with a furious fire as he peered around the ruined room. What he must have thought was going on, with Usopp weeping on the dirty floor, and Luffy still making rubber-armed grabs for the cake, and you covered head to toe in batter was impossible to say.

Luffy and Usopp launched immediately into hasty explanations, only for each to receive a blow to the head from Nami.

“You two shut up!” she snapped.

“Nami, my love!”

Sanji’s demeanor did such a complete one-eighty upon his spotting Nami that your insides curdled. He hadn’t noticed you at all, of course, just your mess and beautiful, smart, feminine Nami, as usual.

She shot him a radiant smile. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

The hearts in his eyes vanished. “Huh? But it’s my kitchen.”

“Sure, but now you’ve gone and ruined [Name]’s surprise.”

“[Name]? What?”

Sighing, Nami pointed to where you stood by the stove, still holding the stupid pink-frosted cake with the stupid red icing heart drawn sloppily across its top.

Sanji followed her finger all the way to you. Your appearance did not earn any exuberant flirtations. In fact, seeing you in the kitchen—a room you avoided unless he was already inside cooking—only seemed to make him confused.

“[Name]?” He blinked, then seemed to remember why he’d burst in there to begin with. “Did you do this?”

Nami didn’t give you an opportunity to respond. One of her hands gripped your shoulder like a vice seconds before she pushed you toward the doorway. “Why don’t you go show him what you did, and I’ll clean up in here?”

“I can’t let you do that, Nami!” Sanji protested. “You’re too valuable to waste on manual labor!”

“Hardly. Now go. Now.”

Even he couldn’t argue against the hard smile on her face. As soon as he’d turned to leave, she directed that smile at you. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ she mouthed.

You didn’t doubt it. Nami got no arguments from you, however. As you followed Sanji into the hall, he touched you on the forearm and jerked his head toward the stairs up to the deck.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“We’ll come, too!”

Usopp and Luffy leapt after you. They were not fast enough to avoid Nami, though. She was pulling them backward even as you and Sanji stepped out into the starry night.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re going to help me with this, or so help me I will make your lives a living hell,” she said.

“But Nami!”

Usopp’s whining stopped abruptly when the door to the kitchen shut behind you. You and Sanji were alone. Wordlessly, he stepped over to the railing. The gentle ocean waves lapped against the ship’s sides, just out of sight in the darkness. Maybe he wouldn’t notice if you tiptoed off to bed. It wasn’t too late to throw the cake overboard and call it a night, was it?

He looked right at you and held up a box of cigarettes. “Do you mind?”

You hesitated, then shook your head.

As he turned his gaze back to the water, he patted the spot next to him. “Come on up."

“Huh? Oh.”

Against your better judgement, you joined him there. Moonlight illuminated Sanji’s face, and you remembered just why you’d fallen head over heels for him from the very start. Everything about him was beautiful in a way no man from your home was—not that he looked like a woman. No, if you had to pick something to compare Sanji to, it would have been an angel.

The waves, invisible below, sent puffs of salty mist into your eyes. At least this gave your rapid blinking an excuse. You could feel a nasty crying jag coming on, and you didn’t exactly want the man standing next to you to notice. It was your fault that you’d thought baking Sanji a cake might get him to show you the same sort of affection he showed the only other female member of the Straw Hat crew.

Speaking of Sanji, he lit a cigarette in silence and lifted his eyes toward the half-moon that hung in the sky. The familiar smell of smoke washed over you. You had to struggle not to relax in this comforting scent that so reminded you of the one male you’d ever wanted romantically. Your mother had been more right than even she’d been aware of when she had told you you were headed straight for heartbreak.

So wrapped up in self-pity were you that you didn’t much notice your companion shifting his gaze to the side of your face. After all, it didn’t matter if you looked better with a smile than a frown, did it? No matter what your expression, Sanji wasn’t going to notice how badly you loved him.

“So what is it that you’re hiding over there?” he asked.

Your head snapped toward him; you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you hastily moved your cake behind your back.

“Nothing!” you said a little shrilly. It didn’t take a genius to work out you were lying, though, and Sanji was no simpleton, no matter what Zoro claimed.

He slowly rose his visible eyebrow in reply. "So you didn’t just hide whatever it was behind your back?”

“Nope!”

“And whatever it is you hid behind your back wasn’t the surprise Nami mentioned?”

“I don’t know what she was talking about,” you blustered. “It’s late, and I was hungry, and I didn’t want to bother you, so I decided to make myself a snack, and Luffy and Usopp got in the way, and Nami…”

You trailed off in the wake of his continued calm. That sort of look would have been unnerving coming from anyone. Coming from Sanji while you babbled on like that was even worse. He seemed to wait for half a minute to make sure you were really done making excuses before he pressed a soft hand to one of your shoulders. Your throat sealed shut at once.

“It can’t be that bad, [Name].”

You looked at your feet. “It is.”

“Show me anyway.”

“You’ll hate it.”

“No, I won’t.”

Silence stretched between you. A furious struggle raged inside your mind. So much work had gone into this cake that it would be a shame to feed it to the fish. On the other hand, Sanji had already made it clear that his feelings for you weren’t going to change. Giving him your badly-made cake would only make him ashamed of you. You’d have to leave the crew, go back home, settle down with some beefy, hairy Zoro-type that had never heard the word “chivalry.” That would kill you.

“F-Fine.” Steeling yourself for the worst, you thrust the cake into his chest.

He caught the parchment paper wrapping before the icing dirtied the front of his suit, then lifted the bundle to his face to get a better look in the dim light coming from the lanterns swaying above the Going Merry’s deck.

“You made a cake?” he said, sounding shocked.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your upper body, you looked back toward the black ocean. Would jumping in make things easier? Or would Sanji make things all the more awful by jumping in to save you?

“It’s your birthday,” you answered. You refused to look at him, no matter how badly you might have wanted to. “I wanted to do something nice to celebrate.”

“How do you know it’s my birthday?”

“Because unlike some people around here, I listen when people talk.”

“No one else got me anything. I don’t even think half the crew knows it is my birthday.”

You turned toward him, clutching even harder at your shoulders. The night was warm for March, but underneath your clothes, your skin had erupted in goosebumps. It was time to turn in—or cry yourself to sleep, whichever came first. As Sanji continued to watch you, with your ugly little cake laid out in his palms, you stepped past him in the direction of the bunks.

“Where are you going?” he called after you.

It took several seconds for you to arrange your features into a forced smile. Only then could you bring yourself to face him.

“Forget it, San,” you said. After great effort, you managed to untangle your limbs. “It’s gonna taste like shit anyway. You know I can’t cook. See you tomorrow. Happy birthday.”

One last, fluttering wave, and then you were off. This time you hardly got a single step toward bed before Sanji’s voice stopped you once again:

“Wait!”

His tone had such urgency in it that you spun on the spot. He had not moved, but all of a sudden his eyes blazed with an intensity you’d only ever seen directed at other women (and occasionally Zoro, when he did something to purposely piss Sanji off). Those eyes bored into yours, keeping you rooted to the wooden boards underneath your feet. Then, without speaking another word, Sanji spat his cigarette into the water, lifted your cake to his face, and stuffed the entire thing into his mouth.

You let out a stifled exclamation that was not entirely without reason. Even as you clapped your hands over your lips, he doubled over. Before you could get back to his side to administer the Heimlich maneuver, however, he straightened to show you the enormous smile he now wore.

“Delicious!”

You stared at him. His expression didn’t change. After a whole minute spent like this, you realized:

“You’re lying.”

The smile flickered. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“How can you tell?”

“Your face just turned the same color as Zoro’s hair.”

For a second, Sanji looked like he wanted to keep arguing the point. You opened your mouth to prevent this, but you didn’t have time to form so much as a sentence.

His smile faded into a faint grin, and he said, “Will you hold on just one minute?”

You could hear the sound of food hitting the waves even from several feet away. Over the continued noise of Sanji retching, you walked back to him. Your arrival was met with him standing back up as he wiped a shaking arm over his chin. The whole situation might have been funny—if you had not been at fault for it.

“I’m so sorry,” you told him.

He frowned. “What for?”

Really? He really intended to make you come right out and say it? As if this day could get any worse.

“For making you a death cake for your birthday,” you mumbled.

Normally, Sanji’s laughter relaxed you, made you feel better. That night, nothing could. All your brain kept bringing up was that you never should have taken Luffy up on his offer to leave your island with him and his crew. Better that you had stayed at home and learned to be a real woman. You might not have been happy there, but you also would not have been as miserable as you were that very moment.

A nudge to your side brought you back to the present, along with the assurance of, “Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Don’t lie to me again!” Your waspish retort surprised you quite as much as it did Sanji. Frustrated, you dragged your nails through your hair and took a deep breath. When you next spoke, it was in a tone only slightly more conciliatory: “Why did you eat it? You didn’t have to do that.”

The longer he stood blinking at you, the more agitated you felt. Pins and needles ran along the inside of your skin. Surely he ought to have had an answer ready. You were about to storm off when he finally said:

“You looked like you were about to cry. I can’t let a lady cry when it’s in my power to make her smile!”

Just like that, your jaw fell open. It was your turn to stare, your turn to make Sanji uncomfortable. Not long after, he shuffled his feet and squinted.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

Lucky for his nerves, it took you only as long as it took you to swallow to answer, “You think of me as a lady?”

His brow furrowed. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“Not like Nami. You don’t look at me the same way you look at her.”

This seemed to confuse him all the more. “You and Nami are different kinds of ladies.”

“I know that. That’s why you don’t see me as a woman. And now you definitely won’t ever, because I almost killed you with a dessert.”

“[Name].”

Your flailing about did not occur to you until Sanji stopped it with a hand on either of your cheeks. You both were almost nose to nose in short order.

“You are absolutely a woman, just as beautiful and smart as Nami, only...different. She didn’t make me a birthday cake, but you did. That’s special. Okay?”

How else could you reply but with a nervous, exhilarated squeak?

The noise was enough for Sanji. Much to your disappointment, he released your face from his grasp. Never in a million years would you have dreamed that he wouldn’t leave right after that, but he didn't. He flashed you another smile to boot.

“Now, what do you say we head back to the kitchen and see what’s there to make a second cake with? I lost my dinner back there!”

Eagerness and shame warred inside you. His words were not a love confession, but neither had he rejected you entirely for your lack of cooking abilities. What was more, he wanted to spend more time with you—not to help Nami clean, but to help you learn.

“Are you sure?” you asked timidly, unable to believe your luck.

He nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Then let’s go!”

To think, only earlier that day, you’d thought Sanji couldn’t see you as a woman at all. You’d thought he loved Nami more than he loved you. You’d even thought baking would change his mind. As it turned out, it hadn’t needed to. You’d been wrong about how he’d felt about you all along. Maybe he wasn’t in love with you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t grow to be someday. Now you knew you had a chance to complete, all you could say was…Nami had better watch out.

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