#the pain of shipping rare pairs

[turbodrawn]

Just Mountain and Zeph taking some time out of the day to relax together

——-

To say that I have brain rot for this ship would be an understatement, I’ll tell you that

#the coincidence of my back pain flaring up while finishing this… #the things I do for a semi rare pair ship that has consumed my brain #the band ghost #ghost the band #ghost bc #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul mountain #nameless ghoul zephyr #nameless ghoul chair #mountain ghoul #zephyr ghoul #chair ghoul #my art

[tastymarbar]

oh my god I was watching a let's play of P3 reload and one of them called odagiri "onigiri" and now i'm picturing femc calling him onigiri and rraaaghh my heart

(bonus: keisuke catches on and also starts calling him onigiri and odagiri wants to say something but at the same time he can't bc omg his cute smiley brunette friends are calling him onigiri and his brain decided this was a great time to be bisexual)

#mar talks #persona 3 #hidetoshi odagiri #kotone shiomi #minako arisato #hamtoshi #? is the ship name I believe? #ik the japanese fans who ship them call it odaham #ahh the pains of a rare pair #(god everyday I wish he was romanceable) #odagiri is totally bi I will take that to my grave #i mean have you seen femc and keisuke??? he likes smiley brunettes ig #(i mean technically femc is a red head in some of her artwork but shhhh) #(p3-kun is also his type dw. he totally is. he smiled once near odagiri and it was like he saw the sun for the first time in years) #ok ok wait here me out here #keisuke/femc/odagiri poly ship #kinda like. #femc: this is my boyfriend odagiri-kun and this odagiri-kun's boyfriend hiraga-sempai #keisuke and femc don't rlly interact iirc but they would so get along #they team up to affectionately bully odagiri #odagiri has the ''looks like he could kill you but is actually a cinnamon roll'' vibes to me #whoops I rambled in the tags again lmao hi if you read all this I hope you have a very nice day :D

[sturthepotofmadness]

TFRarePairingFest2023 Day 1: The Matrix

Will also be on my Ao3 at some point after this post goes up, check my pinned post for a link to my Ao3.

Continuity: G1

Pairing: Astrotrain/Optimus Prime

(Also I write Astrotrain as if he uses his WFC: Siege toy appearance/design since that's still technically G1. K? K.)

@tfrarepairing

Astrotrain came to a stop, his earthen alt mode screeching as it did so. He promptly transformed and stepped out of the rail into the formerly abandoned station, his wings automatically fluttering. He paused the moment he saw the red and blue prime sitting at the only table not covered in dust with his helm on the table and arms hiding it away.

The tripler changer walked over and, instead of sitting down on the other side of the table, sat down next to him. Astrotrain put a servo on Optimus’s shoulder, causing him to look up at the other.

“Any reason you look down?” Astrotrain started, resting his other servo on the table.

The prime grumbled slightly, moving his helm to hide his face again. “Matrix,” he barely heard from Optimus.

Astrotrain tilted his helm slightly. That… wasn’t what he expected. “That relic?” the triple changer realized. Optimus made a small noise in confirmation. He blinked. “How can an endless storage of knowledge cause this?”

Optimus shifted slightly, lifting up his helm above his arms to deadpan at Astrotrain. He felt awkward under that blank look. The prime placed his helm on his arms this time, looking towards the blank, tannish grey wall of the station.

“Why do mecha always make that mistake…” Optimus muttered, seemingly unbothered Astrotrain could overhear him.

“So it’s more than that,” Astrotrain guessed. Optimus nodded.

“An eternal mix of every wielder, its creator, and the siblings of the creator, all wrapped up with the dreams of Primus,” Optimus described. “And Primus does not dream of this. And it is upset at our current state of war, that we strayed so far from Primus’s dream.”

Astrotrain moved his servo across the prime’s back to the other shoulder, then carefully pulled him into an one-armed hug. Optimus didn’t move for a moment before leaning into it.

“If it can’t be happy about everything, at least there’s one it can be about,” Astrotrain stated.

Optimus released a sad-sounding chuckle. “I… I guess so.”

#2023TFRarePairingFest #rare pairing fest #tf rare pairing fest #astrotrain #optimus prime #tf g1 #tf generation one #g1 optimus prime #g1 astrotrain #astrotrain/optimus prime #optimus prime/astrotrain #optimus prime x astrotrain #astrotrain x optimus prime #the problem with rarepairs is that their tags are basically nonexistent #so whats the ship name of something that only has two stories in Ao3 that were both made nearly 10 years ago? #i guess i'll be the first to post something Astrotrain/Optimus related to tumblr because I haven't seen anyone else do so #the matrix is being a pain in the butt #maccadam #maccadams

[lovedazai]

CRUEL BEYOND MY YEARS . . . you do the impossibleーyou make dazai feel. that’s why you’re his, you just don’t know it yet.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, chuuya is there too, so are oda and ango, jealousy & possessive behavior, some descriptions of depression & violence, 2.4k w.c.

EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING SERIES MASTERLIST

dazai knows he’s supposed to be in a meeting right now.

he yawns, hands behind his head in a makeshift pillow, overgrown legs hanging off the arm of the couch as he stretches out. the heels of his shoes graze his jacket, haphazardly tossed aside when he first came into his office and laid down.

even with the sleep mask covering his face, blocking out the sun that pools into the top floors of port mafia’s headquarters, he knows it’s you who’s approaching his door.

he fights back a smile, something he rarely has the opportunity to do. he keeps his breathing steady and deep as he hears the familiar rhythm of your knuckles against his office door, knocking in a code. you both came up with it when you were younger, freshly sixteen against the hallow walls of his shipping container; your own shared secret. he hears the gentle creak of the old wood as you peek inside.

“dazai?” he hears the soft sound of your footsteps as you come closer, then a sigh he’d recognize anywhere. “dazai. take that thing off. it’s creepy.”

he remains still. he’s supposed to be asleep, after all.

“i see mr. executive is as busy as always,” you say sarcastically, but he can still hear the smile in your voice. you slip your thumb under the soft cotton padding of the sleep mask and slide it up his face, pushing his bangs back. the soft glide of your skin against his forehead leaves tingles in its wake, and it’s easy enough to ignore the burn of his one visible eye adjusting to the bright afternoon light when you’re hovering over him like an angel. “don’t you want to say goodbye to me?”

a new mission. he sighs exhaustedly, as if was the one who was assigned. “how long will you be gone this time?”

“not long, probably,” your hip presses against his as you sit on the edge of the couch. you rest your cheek on your hand, arm bridged over his stomach as your elbow props on the backrest. “chuuya got assigned to it with me. him and i make a good team.”

“you shouldn’t hang around him so much,” he tilts his head back. “you should be careful. he eats dog food, you know. he really is a dog, isn’t he?”

“shut up,” you laugh, and the sound makes his heartbeat quicken without his permission. “i know that isn’t true.”

“it is!” he sits up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes, his own shimmering with mirth. “i even saw him do it. you trust me, don’t you?”

you flick his forehead, giggling as you stand back up and straighten your skirt. “you’re just jealous you don’t get to come on this mission with us.”

with us? dazai swears he could be sick and die right there on the couch, as if there even was a ‘you and chuuya’. the thought alone makes him nearly double over in pain. if anything, it should be him you were paired up with, and if you asked for his opinion, it was a joke that you weren’t by defaultー even if little assignments like this were below him now that he’s an executive. no one else knew you as well as he did, and no one else ever would; besides, he’d known you longer than that stupid slug. mori’s negligence on the matter makes his stomach churn and his skin prickle uncomfortably.

“hey,” he grabs onto your jacket sleeve, where the cuffs are still a little too long and the fabric hangs over your wrists, before you can walk away. “be careful.”

you smile at him brightly, giving him a thumbs up, but it barely fazes him. he watches you leave, gaze dark and mouth firm. something bitter starts to crawl up his stomach, growing in his chest like thorned vines intertwining and tightening around his ribs.

when mori first introduced you and dazai to one another, you were both fourteen years old. the first thing he noticed when he saw you was that your clothing was too big, hanging awkwardly off your body. you’ve both grown since then, nearly identical black jackets and ties over white button-downs adorning your frames. the second thing he noticed was that you were different from him; he could tell from your eyes, bright and glistening.

he can’t remember a time when he wasn’t burdened by the feeling of looking through a window, always a spectator. you were different; you had a seat at the table. every bomb placed, every trigger pulledー you were there with him through it all, with the same fucked up feeling of adrenaline pounding through your veins, except you were attached to the world around you. you saw meaning in it somehow.

he wants to pick you apart piece by piece and study you under a microscope. he wants to understand just what it is about you that makes you so intriguing. what do you know that he doesn’t?

how are you making him feel this way?

he thinks about you on your mission, even when he tries not to. he flips through his paperwork lazily, pulling sheets from their stapled packets and folding them into origami shapes. he stares at his finger when he gets a paper cut on the edge of a report about some dispute in kyoto, watching the blood dribble down his skin in small beads. he raids the infirmary for chemicals, slipping past the nurses and picking the lock to the medicine cabinet, pocketing bottles and extra rolls of bandages. he plays on his handheld console, sighing in frustration when his character dies again; if only it was so easy.

it’s nearing the latest hours of the night when he decides to sneak into your office that he finds you again, back from your mission and chatting with chuuya, who’s arms are crossed as he leans against the edge of your desk. dazai skims his eyes over you, noting with satisfaction that there seem to be no new visible injuries on you. he relishes in how chuuya’s brows furrow when he sees him, and how yours rise in delight, cheeks rounding in a smile. he throws his arms around your shoulders, your faces close enough for him to count your eyelashes as you tilt your head back to look at him.

“i hope you didn’t have too much fun without me,” he pouts, squeezing you against his chest. “did you keep chuuya on his leash during your mission?”

“don’t talk about me like i’m not here, idiot.”

“oh, there you are,” he eyes the aforementioned man lazily, as if he were a bug that landed near him. “i almost missed you because you’re so small.”

“i fell asleep right after we were done,” you giggle. “chuuya had to carry me back.”

“oh?” he tightens his arms. dazai always thought you were the cutest post-mission, all sleepy and touchy; he always made sure he was around for those moments. “did he?”

you’re talking, something else about the mission, but he doesn’t listen. chuuya looks from you to him when he feels his gaze, eyebrow raising in a silent question. they screw up in irritation when dazai’s eyes narrow as his lips curl up into a cruel grin. he cranes his neck down, nose grazing your temple before he drags his tongue across your cheek.

“ew, dazai!” you try to shove him away, but he doesn’t go far, still clinging to you tightly. “what the hell? you’re so gross!”

he laughs in your ear, even as you try to pry his hands off his shoulders. you twist your hand around his wrist, tugging on it and glaring at him over your shoulder.

“let go, dazai.”

you’ve only ever looked at him like this when he woke you up in the middle of the night, knocking over one of your chairs after he broke into your apartment; you weren’t able to fall back asleep for hours, and when you finally woke up the next day, you realized he ate the last of the mapo tofu in your fridge.

he loosens his arms, stumbling when you shove him. the feeling of your hands pushing him away is nowhere near as warm as when you brushed his hair back earlier that day. there’s no pretty, warm smile dimpling your cheeks either; just your back retreating from your office, the sound of your door slamming shut, and chuuya’s annoyed glare prickling his skin. his chest tightens.

the flickering light of bar lupin’s sign penetrates the foggy night air, like a lighthouse calling lost ships home. ango and oda are already inside when dazai arrives. a cigarette dribbles loose curls of smoke into the air as ango cradles his glass between his palms and oda tilts his head back to sip his whiskey. the bar’s most devoted patron hops from dazai’s seat knowingly, landing on his little white paws as dazai sits down on the stool with a huff.

he rests his chin against his forearm, sighing into his elbow as the bartender places his usual in front of him wordlessly. the two older men look at the pouty pile of messy hair between them. oda knows he’s waiting for one of them to ask, so he does. “did something happen today, dazai?”

“yes,” he bounces the sphere of ice against the bottom of the glass, feeling his fingertip go numb. “she’s mad at me.”

“what did you do now?” ango eyes him wearily from behind his glasses.

“how rude,” he says flatly, his voice sounding hollow without his usual playfulness. “immediately assuming i’m at fault.”

“aren’t you always?” he sighs into the rim of his glass, taking a long sip.

they both wait in silence before dazai shoots up in his seat, his stool spinning slightly.

“how can that stupid slug touch what’s mine?”

“‘yours’?” ango asks, a thin eyebrow raised. “people don’t own other people.”

“i didn’t know you two were dating,” oda says.

“we’re not,” dazai sags back down, folding his arms and laying his head down so his eyes are level with his glass again. “that’s gross.”

“you’re not?” oda repeats. “…then why are you upset?”

he feels the bandages around his eyes loosen as he turns his head away, squishing his cheek into his elbow. the cat licks his paws across the bar, before reaching up and rubbing his little face. he catches dazai’s gaze, looking at him with big, round, unblinking eyes. his chest tightens again.

the sun is rising, melting the black of the night sky to gold when dazai arrives at your apartment. his hand freezes inside his pocket, fingers wrapped around his lock pick, glancing back to your door. he lets it go and knocks instead, beating his knuckles against the wood in your secret code.

you’re in your pajamas when you open the door, and he notes the bruise on your leg that was hidden under your work uniform. he looks at you like a lost puppy; ears down, eyes big, with his tail between his legs.

“hey,” your eyes dart along his body, and he knows you’re scanning him for injuries too. “you okay?”

he doesn’t reply, and you let him meekly slip past you into your apartment. your blanket is pooled on the floor from where you were sitting at your coffee table, chopsticks and a bowl of stir fry waiting for you; the schedule of a mafiosa has your circadian rhythm flipped, eating dinner as the sun rises.

“did you eat anything yet?” you ask him, sitting back on the ground.

his big brown eyes blink down at you emptily.

you open the side of your blanket expectantly, scooting over to make space for him. you nudge your food between the two of you when he sits beside you. his stomach flutters as he thinks about you feeding him from your chopsticks, a hand cupped under his chin, your soft thumb brushing his lips as you wipe them clean. he ignores it, plucking a shrimp out of your bowl with his fingers instead.

“you can have the rest,” you bundle the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, sighing softly as you lay your head down on his shoulder. “i made extra. i knew you’d come over.”

“you did?”

“mhm,” you rub your thumb along the edge of his bandages where his palm and wrist meet absentmindedly. “i know you.”

you do, scarily so. you like your stir fry spicy, but you kept it mild for him. because you knew he’d come over. because you knew he wouldn’t have eaten otherwise. because he only ever gets a home cooked meal when you make one for him.

“‘m sorry.” he mumbles, voice barely audible.

you tilt your head up and look at him, eyes heavy. he holds his breath as you lift your hand and cup his cheek, tracing the dark circle under his one visible eye with the pad of your thumb.

“let’s go to bed,” your voice is soft in the way it always is when you’re tired. “we can still sleep a little before we have to go back to headquarters.”

he knows every inch of your apartment, but he still lets you guide him into the dark of your room, and he’s suddenly surrounded by everything that is so quintessentially you. he has it all committed to memory: the title of the book on your nightstand you swear you’ll finish, the delicate splay of jewelry on your dresser, the pajama shorts hanging over the side of your hamper in the corner.

you practically collapse, falling into your bed and splaying your limbs with a happy sigh while he carefully lies down, staring at the ceiling and keeping his hands to himself. it’s after a few quiet moments when he feels something warm against him, and when he turns to look at you, his breath catches in his throat.

you’re so much closer to him than anyone else would ever dare to be. you curl towards him even in your sleep, like a sunflower growing towards the sun. your arm reaches towards his, fingers loosely clinging to his sleeve, as if you wanted to keep him anchored to the bed with you. he could almost make himself believe you really wanted him there.

he watches the daylight fall over your face, just as delicate as the sheet you draped over your body, still thin enough to show off the contour of your legs. you look so relaxed, cheeks full of color with the shadow of your lashes resting against them.

you looked so alive. so human.

his chest tightens.

BSD MASTERLIST

taglist . . . @little-miss-chaoss @almond-t0fu @yaeeko @annoyingpainterprincess @callm3-tash1 @janbannan @snowsilver2000

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖ #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #dazai imagines #dazai fluff #bsd fluff

[loonylupinblack3]

Period Trouble

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?

Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it

You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.

You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body. 

There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.

You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”

You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”

Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.

Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”

The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.

Oh how you regretted that decision now.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”

Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.

“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.

She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”

Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.

You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”

When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”

She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”

You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”

Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”

You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.

You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.

He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.

“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.

Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”

It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”

He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”

You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.

Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury. 

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”

You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m not-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”

You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”

He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.

Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”

You scowled at him. “Says who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”

You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.

“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.

Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.

As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.

Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.

You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.

When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.

“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.

Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.

Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.

“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”

You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”

He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”

Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist. 

Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.

An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.

“Mrs May?” you asked.

The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”

You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.

“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?

Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones. 

The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”

There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”

Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.

You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.

You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”

Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”

“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”

Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”

“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”

Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”

Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”

You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”

“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”

The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.

“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.

Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.

Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.

As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”

You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.

You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.

#wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #xmen #x-men #xmen movie #xmen movies #x men movies #marvel #hugh jackman #james logan howlett #james howlett #x men #xavier #charles xavier

[sun-snatcher]

hello! i love ur work and i was wondering if u could do some live action zuko angst (that makes ur heart sink) and then it progresses to fluff (that makes ur heart swell) please? HAHA idk if it makes sense but i rlly love ur work!! hope ure doing well n no pressure!!!

🐉・ HEARTBURN

summ.  Fresh from his banishment, Zuko faces the aftermath of his punishment in both his dreams and his waking hours. pairing. Zuko x f!reader (established relationship) w.count.  1k.  a/n.  A bit abstract on this one, but just typical dream logic. A glimpse at Zuko’s descent into madness, almost? Sorry anon if this is mostly angst than fluff! 🧎🏻‍♀️

Zuko’s dreams manifest at the scent of burnt flesh and the sound of his own screaming.

He feels the molten sting of a melting crown upon his skin and the fantastical beast that is his father; something monstrous— something scaled, fanged, clawed, and too large an appetite, with a touch and breath of fire that lights the skies in a blaze.

( He wakes up with his voice hoarse from screaming. The 41st Division will eventually learn early on not to mention it. They just leave a hot pot of tea ready for him come the mornings, by General Iroh's orders. )

Sometimes, it transgresses. Sometimes, it’s his mother who burns while he watches from the sidelines of the Agni Kai; Or Azula. Their shrieks mix with his when he wakes. 

Sometimes, it’s Iroh who scalds him. Great Dragon of the West, jasmine-white with razor teeth and a flame that burns as hot as the sun; serpent eyes a shining gold and a sharper tongue that spoke of his disappointment for his nephew. 

Sometimes, it begins with you.

Please, you beg, at the foot of a winged beast. It speaks in the voice of his father; damning, all-encompassing. It warns the Prince the price of compassion, of mercies, and of weaknesses. Eliminate her, or I will. 

Rarely does Zuko ever move. He’d plead in your name, to spare your life. It never happens; he just wakes to the smell of smoke and the sound of your screaming.

( There are dreams he doesn’t speak at all to defend you. The shame devours him whole. )

“I’ve killed you over a hundred times, in my sleep.”

In the aftermath of another nightmare, you turn to face Zuko. You’re not quite sure what to say. 

“Other nights, it’s the 41st, or Uncle,” he says, quietly. “Even mom, or Azula.”

You turn back to the small medical chest on the desk. The infirmary is quieter at times like these; the soldiers of the 41st know not to visit the usual haunts of their Prince. Tonight, Zuko will have to replace the bandages of his scar, and there are only two people on this ship he’d ever trust in his life to lay a hand on it.

You’re shifting towards where he’s sitting on one of the cots. “May I?”

( You ask. You always ask. Even when you’ve done this nearly fifty times, you ask. Zuko is glad; there’s a comfort in agency, especially when he’s gotten so used to losing it every time he sleeps.  )

He nods, and you make quick work to unravel the bandages. When the layers come away, you observe the way his left eye shuts and opens as he blinks, remaining half-closed into a permanent expression of pain. He looks away, downcast. 

The skin around is stretched taut, some areas rawer than others, marred with growing scar tissue that knots in twisting valleys. ( Zuko has only seen the scar once. He’s covered the mirrors in his room ever since; avoids glancing at his own passing reflections. )

The wound is still fresh; the memories fresher.

You don’t flinch at the sight or recoil like the other soldiers or dignitaries. 

He finds… solace in that.

( Something roils in his mind. It uncurls and hisses and growls. )

“Tilt your head for me,” you say, ready to replace the cotton on his eye with a new one. 

He stops your wrist just as you do. 

Your heart jumps at the contact. His hands are warm.

“Why?” he blurts.

You blink in confusion.

“Why’d you come with me?”

The reply is instant, and unintentionally drowned in affection. “Where else would I have belonged?”

Zuko almost answers instinctively: With me. By my side. He shakes his head.

“You should have never come,” he says, instead. He’d grown fond of you over the years. Too fond; over some Firenation colonel’s daughter, a force to be reckoned with and yet a childhood friend who he’d played and studied and fought with countless times. Fond enough that he’d been foolish to let you step foot into the ship of the 41st Division the day he’d been banished; fond enough to be foolish enough to allow you to put yourself in harm’s way. “You could’ve had a better future back home.”

“But a miserable one,” you counter. 

His nostrils flare as he sighs. You watch the way his brows weave to a frown, the way they always did whenever he’s tamping down his frustration. "Nothing is more miserable than being banished from home. Yet here you are walking away from it.”

“You and I both know the palace was never a home for me,” you say. “I’ve been by your side my entire life. I’m not about to break that streak over some punishment. You matter to me.”

Zuko’s heart stifles. 

( Compassion, he hears the wings of the blood-red dragon in his dreams unfurl. Compassion is a sign of weakness. )

“It was a stupid move,” he blurts, letting go of you. He had wanted it to be emotionless, but it comes out as distinctively bitter: “Sooner or later you’ll come to regret your decision. Then, you’ll see I was right all along.”

“Maybe,” you say, just to appease him. “But I doubt it.”

( Lies, jeers the serpent. You have only yourself to rely on in this world, Zuko. )

For the sake of conversation, you don’t provoke him further. You continue, instead, with replacing the dressings around his eye. He’s angry enough as is with the world— with you. For being stubborn. And strong. And steadfast. And loyal. And—

Zuko glances at your face in focus, your hands so careful in binding the gauze it’s nearly featherlight. “Tell me if it hurts,” you say, with gentle authority. 

The ire leaves his body. Zuko’s gaze softens at a realisation:

“Not once have you ever hurt me. Not even in my dreams.”

It’s a statement so frighteningly vulnerable that it has you stilling. Your breath staggers. Something swells in your chest. You let your hand rest on his cheek, thumb below his scar. The touch is reassuring. Zuko wants to lean into it.

“I don’t think I ever could,” you answer, honestly. 

( She can, sings the beast. She will. And once she does, know that it will burn tenfold than what I've done. )

Zuko's hand settles on top of yours. 

“You can hurt me,” he concedes, solemn, voice barely above a whisper. “You can if you must. I command it.”

( The dragon in his head hisses. For now, it retreats. )

#‘you can if you must. i command it.’ #<- GODDD STFUUUUU IM SOFT #the symbolism is symbolism-ing!!! #this was so fun to write #Zuko's ptsd will NOT be overlooked in this blog #the fluff is there if you squint through the angst and whump i promise 😭 #Zuko’s dad manifesting into some beastly thing because trauma is. painful #but god would i be lying if i didnt say i dont enjoy writing the complexities of this angsty teen #zuko #atla zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #natla #avatar: the last airbender #atla imagine #zuko imagine #zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko x oc #zuko live action #live action zuko #atla live action #🪷 ; wishing well #🪷 ; atla

[hihimissamericanbi]

FAVE HP SMUT CREATORS

Ever since I got that lovely anon asking for the best smut I've ever read, it got me thinking about some of my favorite smut creators in general.

So here is a very non-exhaustive list of fan-fucking-tastic smut writers and artists I've come across in the HP fandom that weren't mentioned (shamefully) in my last batch. Feel free to add to the list! We must keep the people fed.

xoxo go take a sip of cold water girl

WRITERS

@spookymoonie

Lord Espooky came into this fandom guns a-blazing with their kink headcanon a day for Wolfstar and it has spiraled from there. They GET IT. He has a super well-organized masterlist pinned to his tumblr ft tons of different kinks, fic lengths, scenes, etc. Go. Now.

@fiveht

The definition of IYKYK. Daddy kink isn't super my thing, but Five makes me enjoy it. If you vibe with age gap daddy Remus and pretty boy Sirius, their Adore series is a must-read. They also have a stellar A/B/O Wolfstar fic plus podfic and write some Marvel too!

@greenvlvetcouch

An absolute legend in this fandom. Wolfstar, Jeggy, Rosekiller. Gritty, chewy, embodied sex.

@emeryhall

Emery writes sex the way some people breathe. Like it's just part of the narrative. It's SO punchy. And also she is the queen of Crack Smut.

@kaaaaaaarf

Patron saint of Wolfstar hatefucks. mic drop.

@cancerravenclaw

We snagged MK over to Wolfstar from the clutches of Dramione. Her series "mk's kink exposé" could also be called "celine's kink exposé." I'll just leave that there.

@wolfpants

Everything they create is magic, but they are especially known for rare pairs and Dronarry.

WRITERS AND ARTISTS

@aspiring-artist-em

The queen of Lesbian Wolfstar. Both art and fic. Also queen of humiliation and pain kink and Walburga psychological trauma. ye be warned.

@upthehillnsfw / @upthehillart

I am afraid no one is ready for this art. Truly. Tons of different ships, positions, acts. I gasp every time. And their Pansmione fic is epic (which I have talked about before).

ARTISTS

@industrations

I highly recommend getting on Indi's Patreon so you can enjoy their NSFW drawings, mostly Wolfstar and Jegulus, occasional Rosekiller. Too many iconic moments to count.

@waxingrunes

The officially-sponsored artist of Five's Adore series. Look, their work is nothing short of indulgent. Shhhh don't worry about the physics just let it happen. And by It I mean Remus' big dick hands.

@basiatlu

By beloved. The one. The only. Bosh's drawings are so ALIVE. They leap off the screen. Her Drarry is nothing less than iconic. She also dabbles in other characters/ships like Wolfstar and Blackcest. Siriusly, you can't go wrong.

DRARRY SMUT

OKAY, Drarry people. There are so so many excellent Drarry smut writers it is impossible to name them all. Here are but a tiny handful I have pulled from my bookmarks. I'm happy to rec specific fics if asked :)

@cavendishbutterfly, @bixgirl1, @l0vegl0wsinthedark, @shiftylinguini, @kbrick, @fluxweeed, @academicdisasterfic

MORE

I'm tagging those other creators from older asks because I can't put this list out there without them on it <3

@crushofdoves @we-are-swearwolves @tenthousandyearsx @theresthesnitch @lqtraintracks Quietlemonhush @cuddlebugsirius

#celine spills #celine's library #smut recs #hp smut #wolfstar smut #drarry smut #jegulus smut #HI FRIENDS i love you all #celine's flirting again #fic recs #hp fic recs #fan art #hp fanart #wolfstar art #drarry art #jegulus art

[neon-junkie]

Private Affairs

Summary: Tasked with finding the General and the Captain, Dogma stumbles right into the midst of a private affair. To make things even worse, he rather enjoys the view… that is, until he's caught.

Word count: 4k

Tags: Established relationship, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Confrontation, Handjobs, Smut, Praise, Military ranks, Cuckolding, Virginity, First time, Dom/sub.

Pairing: Dogma x f!Reader x Rex

Curiosity killed the lothcat, but satisfaction brought it back - or so, that’s how the phrase goes. And as satisfying as this sight may be, he knows that curiosity will be the death of him.

He shouldn’t be watching. He should not be watching, let alone enjoying the view, palming his hard cock over his under armour, his codpiece abandoned long ago. It’s not like he can help it, seeing as the poor man is a virgin through and through. It’s been drilled into his mind by the Kaminoan’s that sexual activity is strictly forbidden, but if his General and Captain can go at it, then it doesn’t hurt to watch, right?

The he in question is Dogma - a straight edge, punctual, and obedient Trooper.

Poor little Dogma was given the order to find the General and Captain, and inform them about the next stage in their current mission. They weren’t in any of the tents, nor in the surrounding area. The gunships were clear, leaving the Captain’s ship as the only remaining option.

The door was open, a clear sign that somebody was aboard, only Dogma wasn’t expecting to find them tucked away in the cockpit, kriffing like their lives depended on it. Better yet, Dogma wasn’t expecting the cockpit’s door to be wide open, welcoming just about anybody to catch them in the act!

Maybe this was some weird fetish that Dogma had been unintentionally roped into, or maybe they were too horny to shut the damn door!

Still, Dogma was the poor soul who had found you and your Captain going at it. He should have turned, ran, and never spoke a word; instead, Dogma caught himself mindlessly gorming at the action, like a Cadet discovering holoporn for the first time.

Not that Dogma has ever watched holoporn…

Dogma refuses to dabble in anything sexual. He will, on an extremely rare occasion, have a drink or two, but always manages to resist the urge to get drunk! He doesn’t smoke, nor do drugs, and only swears during life or death circumstances. All in all, he’s a total virgin, which would explain why his eyes are prying to a whole new level.

And when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, he felt himself hardening, causing his codpiece to bulge uncomfortably. It took him a lot of convincing to remove the armour, seeing as it was causing him discomfort, just like it took even more convincing to let him finally touch himself.

“Just do it to help the pain… or until it goes down… or until they stop… or-” Dogma told himself, biting down hard on his lower lip to prevent himself from letting out a moan. How wonderful it felt, jerking off to the sight of his General being kriffed, all by Captain Rex, of course.

Everybody had a hunch that something was going on between those two, but nobody had ever caught them! How funny it is that Dogma is the one to discover the truth, and kriff, the truth is that they have some really intimate sex. Rex has you pushed face-down over the cockpit’s dashboard, taking you from behind. Your legs are spread, arms behind your back, with Rex’s hand firmly holding them in place. The ‘slap slap slap!’ sound of skin against skin is echoing around the ship - a warning for those with prying eyes, although that hasn’t stopped Dogma.

Throughout moans and groans, you’re mumbling away. “G-gotta hurry up, Rex. Someone’s going to come looking for us soon,” you pant, and you’re met with a shrug.

Dogma feels himself tense up at your comment - are you aware that he’s there, watching you two? Does the force work like that? Or is Dogma awful at being stealthy?

Still, if you two are aware of Dogma’s presence, it hasn’t changed anything. You’re still kriffing away, eager to let out some frustrations, and relieve yourselves before regaining your focus on the mission at hand. The last thing that the squad needs is a sexually frustrated General and Captain!

By now, your ass and the back of your thighs have turned red from Rex’s armour pounding against you. The sight only causes Dogma to stir even more, biting his knuckles as he feels himself getting closer. Sure, he’s touched himself here and there, but refuses to make a habit out of it. Plus, it’s difficult to get the time and privacy when you’re a soldier, but the others seem to make do.

Better yet, you and Rex seem to manage it. How did this all start? How long has this been going on for? Dogma would never dream of approaching his General with sexual intentions, unless you came onto Rex?

And if you came onto somebody else, how would that go? Dogma finds himself picturing what things would be like if you propositioned him instead - uneducated, timid, and total virgin. He wouldn’t even know where to start, let alone how to touch you. Although, Dogma knows you’re the type who would be eager to teach him. Could he ever kriff you like that? Pounding you deep and hard, making you cum untouched like Rex is right now?

With that, Rex lets out a long and deep groan, slamming his cock deep and spilling inside of you. Dogma firmly grasps the base of his cock to prevent himself from climaxing when Rex pulls out of you, revealing your used cunt, dripping with his load. How he longs to be in that position, filling his General up like it’s nobody’s business!

Now, the issues really begin to arise. You and Rex have finished your business, and now that you’re distracted cleaning each other up, Dogma has the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He needs to get his ass out of there now!

Pulling his under armour up and into place, Dogma begins searching for his codpiece. He could have sworn that he left it between his feet, yet it’s nowhere to be seen! It doesn’t help that the ship is dark, and somewhat cluttered with your personal belongings, but it was right there, wasn’t it?

Rummaging around, Dogma walks straight into his worst nightmare. He bends down to retrieve what he thought was his codpiece, but after realising that nope, that’s not it, he bangs his head on an overhead pipe.

DONG!

The sound is loud enough to be heard throughout the campsite, so undoubtedly, you and Rex overheard it! “Who’s there?” you question as you whip around, no longer sharing a few final kisses with Rex before exiting the ship to face your Troops. Instead, you’re darting across the cockpit to push a few buttons, lighting the ship’s hull within an instant.

And you’re met with an unbelievable sight…

One hand rubbing his bruising forehead, Dogma makes eye contact with you. The fear is apparent, given that all the colour has drained from his face, and he looks just about ready to collapse.

Rex speaks up before you can, simply questioning, “Dogma?”

No reply. He’s getting sweatier by the minute, so sweaty that his face tattoo might just melt away!

“Dogma?” you repeat his name. Before you can even finish your next sentence, Dogma begins begging for forgiveness. “What were you doin-”

“-I’m sorry!” He practically yells. “I didn’t mean to! I was sent to look for you two, and I just… it happened, alright?!”

Tears are threatening to spill from Dogma’s waterline. To him, this is the end of it all. No doubt, he’ll be blackmailed into keeping his mouth shut (not that it would open anyway,) then sent off for decommissioning.

“-Dogma, it’s alright!” you cut his apology short. “We’re not mad, okay?”

“I don’t believe you,” Dogma replies, firmly shaking his head.

“She means it,” Rex chimes in. “We’re not mad. Nothing is going to happen to you, understood, Trooper?”

Still as white as a ghost, Dogma sheepishly nods his head, begrudgingly accepting both of your reassurance. You might not decommission him, but you will certainly punish him, seeing as he was getting off to your little shenanigans.

Bridging the gap, you approach him. Dogma refuses to make eye contact, keeping his head down and arms at his side. He’s more than embarrassed - he feels like his soul has left his body, and you’re certainly not going to help him retrieve it. Or so, he thinks.

You look back at Rex, who remains in the cockpit, before turning back to Dogma. A hand comes up to gently cup his chin, forcing him to look forward, although his eyes remain down, refusing to look at you.

“Look at me, Dogma,” you order. It takes him a few seconds, followed by a large gulp of air, before Dogma can finally meet your gaze. His stomach is churning away, threatening to throw up his ration bars, all whilst his body begins shaking from pure fear.

“What were you doing?” you ask.

Dogma yanks his chin from your grasp, returning his gaze to the floor, yet he doesn’t run away. His body is failing him, glueing his feet to the floor, unable to escape this madness.

“Dogma,” you say his name, but with sternness. The Trooper in question ignores you, his fingertips fidgeting with each other as his nerves control his every movement.

After letting out a deep sigh, you fall back onto a method that you hate doing. Dogma is a soldier, and seeing as you’re his General, he has to follow your every order.

“Stand at attention,” you order. Automatically, Dogma snaps upright, his arms falling to his sides as his eyes look forwards, straight past you. It’s not eye contact, but it’s better than the whimpering state he was in before.

“To repeat myself, Trooper, you are not in trouble. No harm is going to come your way, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t be questioned. Understood?”

“Understood, General,” Dogma agrees with a firm nod. There’s still fear deep within his eyes, although you notice that his breathing is beginning to relax. It’s not much, but it’s progress.

“And Captain,” Rex chimes in. He’s moved from the cockpit, taking his place beside you and Dogma. Rex is essentially in the background, but his presence is known.

“And Captain,” Dogma corrects himself.

Rex lets out a soft, “good,” before letting you continue.

After sending Rex a scolding look, you silently browse Dogma’s form before speaking up again. “I want to know what you were doing, Trooper. Don’t skip out on any details.”

Dogma gulps. He lets out an uneasy breath, and with much difficulty, begins his confession. “Like I said before, the other Troopers ordered me to go and find you both so that we could go over the next stages of the mission. When I boarded your ship, I was completely unaware of what I’d find. The cockpit door was wide open, and I… stumbled upon you two…”

“That would be my fault,” Rex chuckles. “I got a little carried away, forgot to secure the area before diving right in.”

“You have such a way with words,” you sigh, earning another chuckle from Rex. “Do continue, Trooper.”

Dogma pauses once more, only this time, he makes eye contact. There’s a silent plea deep within his gaze, but you don’t let up. After a few seconds of silence, and accepting his fate, Dogma continues.

“I… you two… It was so… out there in the open, and I couldn’t help but watch. I know I shouldn’t have! But… I don’t know what came over me, I was so engulfed in it…”

This time, you’re the silent one. You raise a brow, questioning Dogma’s words. You’re well aware how straight edge he is, sometimes being called uptight by the other Troopers. But to become that engulfed in seeing people have sex? Has this man ever seen it before?

Well, what if he hasn’t? There must be a reason why the other Troopers tease him, calling him a virgin, and every other innocent name under the sun. Maker, has Dogma even seen boobs before?!

“Are you…” your words fall flat, and you put thought into how to word this. “Dogma, I know you don’t… do that stuff, but you have seen people having sex before, right? Holoporn, or something like that?”

Dogma’s colour begins to fade again, and suddenly, you understand why Dogma became so engrossed. “I don’t… uh, Kamino doesn’t have access to such things. We’re discouraged when it comes to… intimacy. I know the other Troopers tend to watch it, but I…”

“Interesting,” you sigh. Crossing your arms across your chest, you playfully bounce on your heels before straightening your figure. All this prying is rather fascinating, and dare you admit it, but it’s giving you… ideas.

“Tell me,” you speak up again. “What were you doing whilst you were watching your superiors having sex?”

“Superiors,” Rex repeats the word under his breath. “You don’t need to be that mean to him.”

“A little reminder doesn’t hurt,” you shrug, enjoying the sight of Dogma squirming from embarrassment.

Dogma’s lips remain sealed, but after giving him a look, they finally open. “Please don’t make me talk about it,” he begs, clasping his hands together in front of his chest.

“We need those details, Trooper,” you smirk. Rex remains silent, but he’s well aware how much you’re enjoying this.

A pained groan slips from Dogma’s lips, followed by a frustrated huff. “If you must know…” his words trail into a sigh, and Dogma scrunches his eyes shut before continuing. “I was touching myself! I know I shouldn’t have, but everything was so… much, and I couldn’t watch and do nothing about it!” To your surprise, Rex speaks up before you can. “You could have turned around, and walked away. Not only did you stay and watch, but you also pleasured yourself to it.”

“I know I should have walked away! But like I said, I’ve never seen that before… and… and-”

“That’s enough,” you end his sputtering with a gentle wave of your hand. Dogma watches as you turn to Rex, and silently make your intentions clear. His eyes flicker between you two, somehow talking without using words. The conversation ends with Rex shrugging before giving you a small nod, agreeing to something.

You return your focus to Dogma, who doesn’t hide his panicked expression. His demeanour worsens as you take a step forward, bridging the already small gap between your bodies. You’re mere inches from him, close enough to feel his short and uneasy breaths on your cheeks, them only worsening as more time passes.

For once, Dogma doesn’t look away from your gaze. He allows your eyes to meet his, seeing through every layer of fear that possesses his body. When you finally speak, Dogma is just about ready to pass out, but adrenalin keeps him going.

“Did you enjoy watching your superiors have sex?”

Dogma remains silent, but you don’t need verbal confirmation to know the answer. “I mean, you were getting off to us,” you coo.

To everybody’s surprise, your hand moves forward, and a palm is introduced to Dogma’s crotch. He gasps, his head falling down to look at the sight - you’re palming his soft cock through his under armour, all whilst you’re teasing him in a rather alluring tone.

“I know you enjoyed it, Dogma. That much is clear,” you continue, causing Dogma to look at you once more. “But I can tell that you didn’t get to finish, you poor thing,” you say with a soft click of your tongue.

“General?” Dogma pants, questioning what the kriff is going on. A minute ago, his knees were ready to collapse, falling to his pit of doom. And now, you’re causing his cock to harden, twitching away under the thin layer of clothing.

“Don’t interrupt her, Trooper,” Rex chimes in. Kriff! Dogma had totally forgotten Rex was there. His hands are clasped behind his back, chest puffed out, with a stern expression on his face. Is Dogma really going to stand here and allow his General to toy with him whilst his Captain watches? Is this what they silently agreed to moments ago?

“Eyes on me,” you order, your free hand coming up to draw his face back to yours. “Rex is there to ensure you stay in line. You are one of his men, after all.”

For some reason, Dogma catches himself nodding in agreement. He’s enjoying this, far more than he’s willing to admit, but his fully erect cock is telling you all that you need to know.

“How about you show me what you were playing with, hm?” you suggest, giving Dogma the opportunity to back out, if he wants to.

Instead, Dogma slowly frees his cock, letting it spring from its confinement. He lets out an embarrassing whimper when you wrap your hand around it, one hand lunging forward to grasp your arm, almost as if he’s scared about what’s in store for him.

“At ease, Trooper,” you order. Dogma can’t help but follow it, parting his legs whilst his hands clasp together behind his back. His back straightens for all of three seconds, slumping over as soon as you begin slowly jerking him.

“You’re so good at following orders,” you praise. Such a compliment never fails to drive Dogma crazy, and your words flow straight down to his cock. “But I still want to know what you were thinking about whilst you were watching your Captain kriff me…”

Licking his lips, Dogma mustered up the courage to speak. “I was thinking about… being in his position…”

“Don’t forget Rex’s ranking, Trooper,” you correct him.

“Sorry. About being in the Captain’s position, General,” Dogma corrects his mistake, earning a pleasing movement from your hand. Once more, he whines; there’s no point in holding back, not now that he’s in this position.

“Finding yourself in that position would be… almost unattainable, but not completely impossible. Rex is the one who you need to ask, not me.”

Dogma sends a pathetic pleading expression Rex’s way, but he’s met with a stern look. “I’ll think about it,” Rex responds. “As for now, your primary objective is making the General happy.”

“Yes, Captain,” Dogma agrees with an eager nod. His breaths are becoming heavier the more you play with him, and you question how long he was going at it before you caught him. The poor man could have been edging himself the entire time, and whilst you and Rex were only having a quickie, that’s far too long for an inexperienced man.

“If Rex doesn’t agree, I’m sure I can convince him to let you watch,” you tease the idea, dangling it in front of his face like a forbidden fruit. “I know you’d enjoy that, seeing as you’ve already done it.”

“I wouldn’t mind having him watch,” Rex says with a shrug. “But I won’t be gentle with you,” he directs his words to you, filling your mind with the idea. How wonderful it would be to have your Captain pounding the life out of you, all whilst innocent Dogma watches, cock in hand, so desperate to get his fill. He’ll take whatever he can get, and right now, that consists of you jerking him off in the hull of your ship.

“I know you’re already excited about that idea,” you tease.

“I am,” Dogma eagerly nods, and swiftly adds, “General,” before he can be called out on his lack of respect.

You smile, and whilst maintaining eye contact, you send a trail of spit down onto Dogma’s cock. It hits the tip spot-on, slicking up the rest of his shaft as you continue pumping him. Dogma’s knees threaten to buckle yet again, but he somehow manages to maintain his composure, hands still clasped behind his back.

With a hungry gaze, Dogma watches you jerk him off, his wet cock shining in the hull’s lighting. He’s never seen himself like this before - desperate, pathetic, willing to do anything for release. Dare he admit it, but he loves it. Maybe this is what he’s needed all along - a gentle hand to guide him. If only the other Troopers could see him now… Dogma may be a virgin, but who’s the one being jerked off by the General?

“G-general?” Dogma sputters, failing to meet your gaze. It’s disrespectful, but given the state that he’s in, you decide to go easy on it.

“Speak,” you grant him.

“Please… if it isn’t any hassle… please may I…”

“You may,” you agree with a nod. Dogma just about explodes the second that he’s given permission, spilling all over your hand, a few rogue drops meeting the floor below.

Falling out of line, Dogma finds himself resting against you. His forehead meets your shoulder, although he manages to keep his hand behind his back. He’s trying to be a good soldier - your good soldier, but any Trooper would fail to stay at ease when being milked by their General, even Rex!

Rather than scolding him, you help him through it. “It’s alright. You did so good for me, Dogma. What a good soldier,” you coo, allowing him one final round of satisfaction.

When all the wind has been knocked from Dogma’s lungs, he straightens his back - or attempts to, seeing as he’s struggling to keep it together during his post orgasm haze. Your hand moves away from him, and using the force, you summon a towel to clean yourselves up with. “That was fun, wasn’t it?” you ask whilst drying Dogma’s length.

“Very fun, General,” Dogma agrees with a nod. Even Rex chimes in. “You did a good job at maintaining your composure, for a first timer,” he jabs.

“Appreciate it, Captain,” Dogma responds.

Once dry, he tucks himself away. “We’re serious about that offer, just so you know,” you inform him whilst retrieving his long-lost codpiece.

“Y-you are?” Dogma stutters, and struggles to fix the missing armour into place, soon requiring your assistance.

“Yes,” you confirm. Once more, Dogma looks as if he’s about to pass out. Not only did he manage to worm his way out of decommissioning, but he was rewarded for his curiosity too! Dogma can’t help but question if you knew about his prying eyes all along, giving you the opportunity to bring him into the mix.

“But I haven’t decided on anything else, yet,” Rex butts in, putting Dogma back down into his place. Dogma keeps his gaze on you, dreading the expression that Rex possibly holds.

“Still, you can watch the action. And remember, Rex is a Captain; his performance is far higher than any regular Trooper. Don’t let it get to you.”

After a wink, you leave Dogma to it. Rex follows suit, retrieving his helmet from a nearby crate, and holds it snug under his arm. To anybody outside, you’re two superiors casually exiting a ship, ready to rally the men and discuss your next series of attacks.

Before your feet meet the earth, you turn back to poor Dogma. “Come and join us once you’re ready,” you order, leaving him to stand there and process what’s just happened.

No longer in his superior’s line of sight, Dogma takes a seat on a nearby crate, narrowly avoiding that same pipe from earlier that he banged his head on. A series of heavy sighs flow from his lips, and his mind spins in a whirlwind of confusion.

What the kriff just happened?

#tcwwriting #swwriting #the clone wars #clone trooper dogma #dogma x reader #clone trooper dogma x reader #captain rex #captain rex x reader #smut #f!reader #tcw #sw #star wars #tcw fanfic #the clone wars fanfic #private affairs

[anystalker707]

Sleepy and sloppy

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x [gender-neutral, amab] Reader Summary: A lazy fuck in the middle of the night with Zoro. Tags: soft / he's needy / sleepy sex / bottom Zoro A/n: sloppy writing, sorry

Requested by anon ["Can you do Zoro x top male reader? Fluff/Smut"]

MASTERLIST

          “No,” you mumbled with a groan, feeling yourself being taken away from the comfort of sleep each time more, instead being shaken and forced back into consciousness without being ready for it. That bed was so comfortable, some luxurious bed in the guest room of the Alabasta castle as you crashed by. It was a rare opportunity and a very welcomed one, since the beds were much better than the bunks at the ship. Spacious, soft beds that didn’t send you suddenly rocking around because of the waves—there were none on land, anyway.

Still, all of that was taken away from you when firm hands gently shook you, making you groan and curse in protest, but it didn’t seem to work. Soft kisses along your neck replaced the shakes until a last one was pressed to your lips, accompanied by soft nibbles that sent the warm stings of pain sparkling through your skin. It was enough to force you to finally open your eyes, blinking until you were met with Zoro’s eyes looking back at you in the darkness as if he were waiting for that already.

“Zoro,” you mumbled groggily, trying to decide whether you wanted just to turn over and go back to sleep or hit him upside the head before that. “Mm, fuck, what time is that—”

“Babe,” Zoro mumbled against your lips, kissing them again.

No sunlight shined behind the curtains, nor could you hear any birds chirping—only the moonlight that slipped through the curtains illuminated the otherwise dark room. It was too early for that, so why was Zoro waking you up? Keeping your eyes open was hard, but you put a little effort into kissing him back a little bit.

“Come here,” you mumbled, wrapping a hand around Zoro’s waist to pull him in front of you to cuddle and go back to sleep—

Zoro shifted with a groan of complaint, continuing to squirm around. Couldn’t he lay still? A few slurred complaints escaped your lips as you tightened your arm around his waist and buried your face into the back of his neck. Maybe it’d make him stop. Or at least you thought it would—instead, he kept shifting around, his bare back rustling against your chest, the contact of skin against skin making you sweat a little. 

“Zoro—” You cut yourself off with a groan when Zoro shifted again. He kept putting pressure against your cock, his ass grinding against it almost every time he moved… It wasn’t doing anything to you at first, but your cock ended up twitching at the continuous stimulation. Damn it. “Damn it, Zoro, fucking lay still.” Even if it were just the two of you in the bedroom with thick walls, you couldn’t help but whisper-yell, just keeping the mood.

“Fuck you,” Zoro said with a groan as he hooked his leg with yours and rocked his hips back against yours. It was clearly intentional this time. So that’s what he woke you up for.

A sigh escaped your lips as you firmed your arms around his waist and ground against him in return, snatching a soft whimper from Zoro at the same time you groaned at the nice friction against your cock, inhaling his smell. “Mmph, okay, maybe I will,” you mumbled, mouthing on the skin behind his ear, leaving soft kisses there. It was a small battle between sleep and arousal that you could handle for now, as long as Zoro didn’t mind the slowness that came with the hard conciliation.

“Yeah, please,” Zoro breathed.

Zoro’s cock was hard in his shorts when your hand pressed to the top of it, giving him a squeeze through the strained fabric that made him groan and arch his back. His cock twitched under your touch, hot through the fabric, and you wondered how long already he’d been hard for. Maybe he had tried to sleep through it or humped you in your sleep—which was one of his favorite ways to wake you up—, but it wasn’t even important now that you slipped your hand into his shorts, his pubes tickling your palm. His cock already had some pre-cum dripping down the tip, making it easier to pump his cock, but it wasn’t exactly ideal. If only you had the lube… Oh, lube. You’d need lube.

“Did you bring the lube?” You mumbled against his skin, squeezing his cock around the base, feeling it twitch in your hold.

Zoro clicked his tongue, patting around until he retrieved a packet of lube from the bedside table. He usually carried some around in his haramaki just in case, so he’d probably put the stuff from his haramaki on the bedside table before he took it off to sleep, which was rather rare, but he knew you would’ve made him remove that bloody thing to sleep, even more so after a shower.

It took you a moment to gather the energy and fight back the sleep that soaked in your muscles so that you could finally shift around enough to pull Zoro’s shorts down properly and then your own. The lube packet was too hard to open, the foil slipping from your fingers while your eyelids heaved, but there finally was an opening. The lube warmed up on your hand as you spread it over your cock, breath hitching. Proper touch felt so good. You almost got lost for a moment, but eventually moved back to Zoro to lube him up with what remained on your fingers.

A low groan came from Zoro as your fingers trailed his entrance, feeling it flutter under your touch as it clenched around nothing in anticipation of your cock. Your fingers were fast and messy in spreading the lube in Zoro’s ass despite the way he seemed to want more, groaning in complaint when you pulled your fingers away. You didn’t have the energy to finger him right now, even more so with your own cock demanding attention between your legs.

“Hold on,” you mumbled. It took you a little more effort this time, needing you to prop up on your elbow, struggling to keep your eyes open until your cock finally started slipping inside Zoro, so you could lie down again, with your arms around his waist for leverage.

Groans and moans dissipated into the darkness of the room as Zoro’s walls accommodated around your cock, taking it in nicely. His hands were wrapped around yours, holding them tightly as he arched his back, finally receiving the pleasure he’d been aching for. A breath—more like a breathy moan—finally escaped Zoro once your cock was buried inside him as far as it could, his body tense and aching for yours. The position wasn’t the best, but it felt perfect for the sloppy and sleepy sex right now when the pleasure felt enhanced by the way the sleepiness clouded your mind and perception.

Your cock twitched inside Zoro before you could start moving your hips again, messily thrusting into Zoro, which sent pleasure sparkling up your thighs and spine nicely. He let out long moans, arching his back, and pressed himself closer to you in a fruitless attempt to get your cock deeper into him. His moans were breathy with the lingering sleepiness in them, and he sounded so hot like that. He felt so hot.

For a moment, your motions were slow and sensual, hitting a spot inside Zoro that made him tighten around you and his moans go a pitch higher, but you’d finish too soon if you kept doing that. The way his ass milked your cock while you slowly pushed it in and out of him… Exhaling slowly, you sped up your motions.

“Mmmm, babe,” Zoro groaned as he arched his back, hands tightening around the pillows.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, breath warm against the back of Zoro’s neck as you buried your nose in the crook of his neck, taking in his smell deeply while also pressing soft kisses to the hot skin. Your hand moved around until your fingers found his pec; the skin was soft under your touch, rising in shivers as you squeezed and fondled it before your fingers pinched his nipple.

Another whiny moan spilled from Zoro’s lips, becoming more frequent as you kept playing with his nipple, twisting it between your fingers. It would be between your teeth and under your tongue if you weren’t so sleepy right now. Even the motion of your hips felt hard due to the weight of sleep on your muscles, but the arousal rushing through your veins kept you going.

“Mmph, good,” you mumbled against his skin. You doubted the words reached his ears—at least coherently—, but you could barely understand what he babbled about against the pillow anyway.

Your hand went from his nipple to his cock, gripping the base of Zoro’s cock tightly before stroking it slowly. It was enough for Zoro to gasp, arching his back and groaning. Incoherent words escaped his lips among moans, while he folded one of his legs, bringing it up as it still pressed to the mattress, allowing your cock to sink a little deeper into him.

“Fuck,” you gasped at the way he clenched around your cock, the intensity making you pause when a strong wave of pleasure ran down your spine. Your breath shook as you moved a little, pressing closer to Zoro, pushing him onto his stomach as you moved on top of him. Your shorts made it hard to move at first, but you eventually kicked it off one of your legs—it was enough.

With a little struggle, you guided your cock into Zoro again; it met less resistance this time, so you didn’t have a lot of trouble missing the pleasure. Zoro’s back arched, his louder moans muffled into the pillow as he hugged it under himself. The new position required more effort, your elbows sinking into the mattress by Zoro’s sides as your muscles protested at holding yourself up in the position, but you were up to pay it, craving the new pleasure it gave both of you.

“So good,” you whispered against the back of Zoro’s neck, with short green hair tickling your nose. “Close?” The familiar warmth was already building in your lower stomach, making your balls tighten as your cock twitched.

Zoro must have said something in confirmation, but you could only get it through the faint nod he gave you, so you invested in moving faster, chasing your release along with his. It took only a couple of thrusts before Zoro gasped, arching his back and cumming under himself—which was no new, given how he’d been hard for longer than you and most likely had tried to get himself off. His ass was so tight around your cock, easily driving you to the edge.

A gasp escaped your lips as you bit the back of Zoro’s neck, breathing heavily against the skin as you sucked a mark into it whilst your thrusts became sloppier until you finally came, releasing into Zoro’s ass as you kept thrusting into him to make sure every little drop was pushed deep into him.

Zoro groaned, only releasing his death grip on the pillow after your motions came to an end. His back heaved up and down against your chest as it did the same, both of you panting heavily to catch your breath while descending from your high. The burst of energy was gone with it, making the sleep tug harder on you, and it took some effort from you to roll off Zoro and lay back against the pillow. The cold air replaced the warmth that Zoro once transmitted to your skin, feeling even colder with the light sheet of sweat that covered it.

“Damn it, I love you,” you whispered without thinking, just for the sake of it. A whiny groan came from Zoro, still muffled against the pillow, making you chuckle as you patted his shoulder. He shifted a little, promptly pressing to your side and burying his face into the back of your neck, also drained from the little energy that motivated him to ask for a fuck. He clung to you, making your heart flutter, as you wrapped your arms tightly around him and kissed his shoulder a couple of times. Your hand ran up and down his back as you slowly relaxed against the mattress to go back to sleep again.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

#one piece #opla #one piece live action #roronoa zoro #x male reader #x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x male reader #fan fic #fan fiction #oneshot #one piece x reader #scenario #imagine #anime

[the-kr8tor]

Batten Down the Hatches

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, TW panic attack, CW Injury, CW food mentions.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 6 >>> CHAPTER 7

With Pavitr’s arm slung over your shoulder and James handing you a glass that smells incredibly strong, your heart has never felt this content in years. You laugh as Yuri wins an arm wrestle round for the third time that day. Everyone cheers, Yuri flexes with a rare wide smile.

It's been a few hours since your daring jump, you can still feel Hobie's hands on yours and the crew clasping your shoulders happily once they finally lifted you up. With their warm welcome and after the whole debacle, Hobie insisted that there should be a celebration for a mission accomplished.

“Someone rum me up!” she yells and you immediately give her your untouched glass. “Oh hell yeah, thank you, wifey!” Yuri winks, already drunk.

“I'm not your wife, Yuri!” You happily yell above the noise.

She gasps dramatically, “oh you wound me!” You shake your head with a smile.

“Yeah, Yuri, she's already taken!” Pav pipes up from your side, shaking your shoulders.

You clasp your hand over his chattering mouth, the crowd guffaws, asking you numerous questions.

“Oi! Who's got you all smitten then?” Two fingers asks.

“Oh look at her smile!” Ned joins in with the teasing.

“Alright, who do I have to fight for your hand?” Yuri has her hands on her hips, a teasing smile on her painted lips.

“No one! Pav's being a little shit!” you wrangle Pav while he tries to wiggle out.

He manages to get out, acting like he's deprived of air. “Isn't it obvious, it's the ca–”

Finn huffs loudly, his large frame casting a shadow over the small table. You sigh, relieved that Finn unintentionally saved you from all the teasing.

Yuri looks him up and down, the alcohol in her veins inflates her ego. With a smug smile on her lips, she sits back down on the stool, laying her elbow down on the table, flexing her hand towards Finn, challenging him for a match.

Everyone quiets down, flicking their eyes between the two.

You never thought you'd see the day, Finn grins, sitting across Yuri. With a loud thump, he copies his opponent’s movement, his large hand dwarfing Yuri's.

A loud cheer erupts, overflowing cups sloshing out, some even jump for joy. You blame the alcohol.

Pav leaves your side, going around to collect bets. The crew coughs up coins, you watch, beaming, nodding along to the light strumming of Ned's well loved guitar.

Backing away from the crowd, you leave everyone to get some air. The throbbing ache in your ankle protests so you lean on the ship's bannister, watching the vast sea waving to you. The afternoon sun bearing down, its warmth a welcome one from the cool sea breeze.

A steaming cup suddenly appears, balancing on the wooden railing. A lithe hand pushes it towards you wordlessly.

“Another olive branch?” You tease, side eyeing Hobie.

“No, I figured you'd want something to drink when you didn't drink the rum.” With his back against the bannister, elbows propped over it, he leans casually, face upwards, basking in the sun. His silver piercings glint in the light, a familiar pendant around his neck.

“Were you watching me? You stalker” taking the cup, you raise it to your smiling lips. Turmeric, you surmise based on the taste. You let the herbal tea soothe your aching ankle.

“I was watching my crew.” Hobie faces you, muscles relaxed, content. “How's the injury?”

“Getting better,” you twist your foot around, testing the pain. There's a dull ache now, the ice from Nellie's helped. “How'd you know about turmeric?” looking at him, you watch as his smile turns into a grin.

“‘m full of surprises I guess.” he throws your own words at you.

You roll your eyes, “You're insufferable, captain.”

“And I, you.” His eyes are soft. Before you know it, Hobie's already walking away.

The roaring laughter gets your attention. Yuri stands on the rickety table, arms up in glee with a look that screams ‘I'm a winner!’ Meanwhile, Finn is standing next to her, visibly worried, holding onto a very drunk Yuri who keeps riling up the crowd with her triumphant yells.

You guess the rum has special properties if Yuri can beat the large Finn at his own game.

The crew parts for Hobie, you'd think he would put a stop to Yuri's rambunctious celebration. Instead, he hops up on the wobbly table, sharing the already small space with Yuri who guffaws loudly, clapping rhythmically.

“Scoundrels!” She yells at the top of her lungs, the crew cheers, matching her energy.

Gwen sidles up next to you wordlessly, shoving you lightly. Giving her a smile, you watch the carriage wreck in front of you.

“May I introduce, Hobie motherfuckin’ Brown!” Yuri drops backwards, making you flinch towards her general direction. Good thing Finn's got her in his strong arms.

Yep, she's properly drunk off her ass.

Hobie takes a glass from someone, raising it up, the crew quiets down. A hush fills the ship, the sound of wood rocking against waves can only be heard above the silence.

“Rapscallions” They urge him on. “ne'er-do-wells!” The cheering gets louder. “Fuckin’ rascals!” He paused, the yells are ear drum bursting. “We finally got the king's swine!” You hear glasses breaking.

Hobie continues, quieting down the entire ship with one clear of his throat. “With the papers we have we finally know where the son of a bitch is sailing to.” His voice shakes from sheer anger and determination. “This time we get the upper hand.” His men hoot and cheer. “We will fight until we get our hands on the bastard that cut half of our crew. This time we get our bloody revenge!”

He downs the entire glass of rum in one drink, swallowing it like water. Meanwhile the rest of the crew follow his lead, gulping their own drinks fervently.

The cheering got so loud your ears started ringing.

You really hope they get the navy captain so that you can find your family who may or may not be up north. Until then, you'll stay with the crew and hope for the best that there'll be minimal injuries incurred during the fight.

—

You can't seem to find sleep despite how tired you were of yesterday’s events. Tossing and rolling in your bed, with a huff, you fling away the blanket. Lacing up your well worn shoes, you open the creaking door quietly.

With only the moonlight as your guide, you walk the familiar hallways, feet carefully avoiding the noisy floorboards.

Entering the library, lighting the oil lamp left on the table, you roam the bookshelves. With the help of the lamp, it illuminates the old spines. But nothing has piqued your interest, finding the titles too dull to keep your attention or too engrossing that you might not fall asleep when you inevitably drown in its pages.

Yawning, you think of another way to help you sleep. Maybe a glass of water might help? Or better yet, a cup of warm tea and biscuits might satiate you.

So you traverse the hallways once again, passing by cabins. Careful not to make any noise or you might face the wrath of a sleep deprived pirate. You know what they say, it's better to tease a drunk pirate rather than wake one from their slumber.

With silent footfalls, you almost jump in your skin when you see the captain himself brewing a pot of something that smells incredibly sweet.

With his back turned away from the door, you're sure you can slink away without him noticing.

“Scuttlebutt,” he half chuckles as the floorboards under you creak while you try to escape. “Want some hot chocolate?”

You groan, defeated. Turning around, he greets you with a smug smile, his eyes showing how fatigued he is but the light is still there, saying otherwise.

“What the hell is hot chocolate?” crossing the space, you lean on the kitchen island, facing Hobie on the other side. “I thought chocolate was supposed to be cold.”

“You're in for a treat then. ‘m guessing you've never had chocolate before?” he takes a clean mug for you, laying it next to his.

“Nope,” you pop the letter p, trying your best not to wipe your heavy eyes. “Chocolate is a luxury few can afford.”

Hobie hums, pouring the hot liquid in each cup.

This is what ambrosia might've smelt like, you thought.

“It's chocolate melted down with hot water or milk. Lucky for you, we got a few bottles of ‘em from one of the families. But we need to consume it fast or it'll go bad quickly.”

He hands you the cup, taking it tentatively, you don't flinch back when he suddenly grabs your hand to hold it when he gets impatient from your apprehensiveness.

“Don't worry, I already gave Pav and the first shift their share so you can drink to your heart's content.”

You look into the swirling brown liquid, the warmth from the cup soothes your nerves. Taking a sip, Hobie watches with crinkling eyes and a smile hidden behind his own mug.

“Holy fuck! Sweet nectar of the Gods!” You say before you take a big gulp, the heat searing your tongue. “Ack!” Spluttering out, Hobie lets out a loud laugh.

“Be careful it's hot” he says in between laughs.

“I know, but it's so good though!” You exclaim, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Hobie chuckles, watching you swallow the liquid down to the last drop.

You sigh, full and happy. “If solid chocolates taste like this then I'm more than ready to raid a merchant ship carrying crates of it.”

Hobie shakes his head. “I've never thought chocolate could make someone a pirate.”

“Not a pirate.” You move to pour yourself a cup. Hobie beats you to it, the sweet drink sloshing inside, filling it to the brim.

“Hmm” he watches you through his lashes.

“You're thinking, that's bad.” You take your cup but Hobie holds it hostage with his hand over the ceramic.

“What are you really doing back here?”

“I couldn't sleep, I just wanted some water.” you move to try and take the mug from him but he moves it further from you.

“There's some outside.”

“Fuck off.” Your hips hit the corner of the kitchen counter harshly as you try to grab your cup sneakily. The mug of precious chocolate scrapes on the counter, making you glare at Hobie when a few drops of it spills. “What do you really mean by that, Hobie?”

He scoffs, “You being here is suspicious—”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not navy.” You say with gritted teeth. You're not sure if he's just messing with you or he's truly being genuine.

“Not that. Not after O’Hara ran a bloody marathon for you, I know you're not one of ‘em. Or at least not anymore.”

You glare at him, getting angrier the second he uttered that name.

“Are you a deserter? Hmm? Are you his runaway bride? If so I don't blame you, I'd run away too.”

You grimace. “Fuck no, I'm neither of those things! Now can you please give me my chocolate?”

“No.” He blinks like he just got some revelation. “Fuck, are you his kid?”

“No! What? How'd you even get that conclusion? Do I look like—?”

“For all I know you could be an aristocrat.” He raises a brow.

“Oh come on!” You're properly annoyed. “I've been scrounging up food and coins for years. If I was a runaway noble lady then I would've come home to my mansion the second I was starving!”

“Why did the retired admiral run after you then? He looked like he wanted your bloody arse.”

“It's none of your business.” The fire in your eyes tries to convey your emotions. “I don't want to talk about him.” your voice turns shaky.

“It's my business because you're on my ship. If Miguel O'Hara's after you I need to know if the rest of my crew is in danger.” a few weeks ago his infuriated face would've scared you but now you're equally as mad as him.

You exhale, knuckles closed tightly on your side. “Fine, I'm here on your ship because you're heading north and I need to go north. You don't need to know about me and that man because I'm leaving when we get there. He won't come after the crew, I won't let him.”

His anger dissipates, eyes avoiding your own. “Here,” he stretches his arm, sliding the cup to you. Hobie winces from the movement, grabbing onto his chest instinctively.

“What is it?” You look at his pained expression. Walking around the counter, you step towards him, not too close but not too far that you wouldn't notice how his brows are knitted together, sweat dripping on his forehead.

Carefully reaching for him, you turn him gently towards you, not missing how hot his skin is under his shirt. “Hobie, look at me.” You say softly, hand squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

After a beat he looks at you with his stormy eyes, rain clouds dancing around his vision. “‘m fine, just need to sit down.”

“Let me see please” He freezes in front of you. “I'm here to help, aren't I? Now can I?” With a nod, he unbuttons his shirt slowly. Now open, a bandage is taped across his chest, dark blood seeping through it, clearly needing to be changed. “Fuck.”

“That bad?” He rasps.

“Yes, sit down.” You guide him towards a chair, surprisingly, he lets you. “I need to take it off to see the wound.” Hobie nods.

You kneel down in front of him, he sucks in his teeth with every tug and pull you do. The wound looks almost infected because of the careless bandaging and half hearted cleaning.

“Stay here, I'll get the things I need.”

He stops you with his hand bracelet around your wrist. “Tell me why you need to head north. There's nothing there but pompous politicians and leeching royals.”

“I think–” you start but you have no idea how to continue. Hobie looks up at you, hand sliding down to fit your own. “I think my family's there.” Without sparing any detail, you slip your hand out, turning away to head towards the infirmary.

—

His skin is hot against your hands, too warm for your liking. Sitting in between his legs, cotton shirt fully opened to reveal his wound and scarred chest. His newly bandaged knuckles rested on his thighs, they didn't need much cleaning but the skin was still open so you still did it just in case. The bottles of herbs rattle as the boat rocks from side to side.

Hobie's legs bounce up and down, the silence and tension is thick enough that your needle couldn't even poke through it. The ointment you're gently rubbing on him makes him wince, trouser leg bundled up in his shaking knuckles.

“Sorry, if there's any consolation, I hate this stuff too.” you quietly say. The strong smell from the mixture makes your nose itch.

“Were you a clumsy kid?” Hobie says, sucking in his teeth.

“Mm-hmm, I was climbing everywhere.” Chuckling softly. “Up in trees, roofs, got into so much trouble that she–” You stop, swallowing thickly. “I got a few scars to prove it.”

“We could compare–” he winces again when you press a little too hard on his wound but not too hard for it to bleed again. “Fuck…”

You hide your smile with a clear of your throat. “Sorry.”

“Fuck off, I know you're not sorry.” He laughs while you stifle yours.

Packing the mixture on his wound to combat any further infection, you make your hands extra gentle with every press and swipe.

“You should've told me about this.” Chastising him, you feel his eyes burn into your skull. “I could've prevented this, you know.”

“I've been told ‘m a stubborn bastard.”

“Oh I know. You did a shitty job at cleaning it by the way.”

“That's why you're here now, right?” His idle hands play with a hanging thread by your sleeves. He's not tugging at it so you don't mind, anything to keep his mind off the pain.

“So how'd you know about the turmeric for swelling?” You don't answer his question.

His smile falters before a small fond smile appears. “From someone a long time ago.”

Finishing up with cleaning his gash, you take a clean bandage from the table to cover and protect it. “They must be good then. Not a lot of people know about it.”

“Yes, she was.”

You pause, staring directly at his sad eyes. Hobie continues, “She was like you, brazen and full of fire.” He stares off into the distance, “A bloody force to be reckoned with.”

“A jack of all trades, she was. Always tryin’ to learn shit she didn't have to know.” Hobie flicks his eyes to you. “She knew how to swim, so that's a plus.”

You chuckle as he stares at your soft smile.

“Yours?” He asks tentatively, hand twitching to get closer to you.

“Does she know about ginger and honey?” Like a switch flicking, you stand up abruptly. “It's gonna help with your fever.”

Hobie doesn't press you for any information, instead, he lays back on the chair, letting you pamper him while your hot chocolate gets cold on the counter.

Preparing his tea, you can't help but feel bad for Hobie. Without him ever saying her name you know it's her, and you know he cared about her so much that whatever happened to MJ drove him to this state; a constant agony and hunger for revenge that if not satiated might consume him. He doesn't deserve it you think, he might be a pirate but during the time you've known him you found kindness in his frozen heart that's just waiting to be thawed out the moment he gets his revenge.

For his sake and the crew, you hope he gets what he always wanted.

“Here,” handing him the hot concoction, you're careful not to spill a single drop on him.

Hobie takes it, calloused fingers brushing yours. Taking a whiff of it, he makes a face that makes you scoff with a smile.

“If you can drink an entire glass of rum without choking then you can handle a simple tea.”

He side eyes you, shaking his head like a petulant child rejecting his medicine.

“Down the hatch, Hobie.” Bringing your hand under the cup, you guide it towards his tightly closed mouth. “It's sweet!”

“Nuh-uh” he shuts his lips closed the second he says it before you could shove the tea down his gullet.

Laughing, you can't believe the big bad captain of the bloodsail pirates is refusing to drink a simple ginger tea. “Do you need me to plug your nose, you big baby?” You say in between giggles.

“No, fine, I'll bloody drink it. I don't want your grimey hands all over my face.”

“These grimey hands were all over your chest treating your wound, you absolute child.” You regret your words the second you realize.

“Oh you were all over me, huh?” He smirks. You're glad that he can still smile after everything.

“Fuck off, drink it or don't, I don't care. Go die in a corner or something” you shrug, playing him like a fiddle.

“You really do care about me, Scuttlebutt.” With a deep breath, Hobie drinks the contents without any fuss.

You pat yourself on the back mentally. He coughs, scrunching his nose.

“I need to check your wound and clean it every eight hours. Got it?” You face him directly, hand on the side of his chair, looking down at him sternly.

“So you're finally askin' me out then? Pav was right, you're smitten.” Hobie has the brightest smile of a feverish man you've ever seen.

“Shithead.” You say, snatching the empty cup from his hands.

“You really do care about me. You've even given me a nickname”

You shake your head, taking your cold chocolate, flipping him the bird on the way out of the door.

“Lookin' forward to my next doctor's appointment, Trouble!” Hobie yells after you, his loud guffaw can be heard echoing out in the hallways.

—

You fall back into a comfortable routine. Helping the crew with their tasks and learning their ways throughout the time spent. You finally learn that the murky bucket of water doesn't have lye in it after seeing James dunk his entire arm in it. It's safe to say that he was covered in soapy water from head to toe after almost giving you a heart attack.

Ned's been teaching you how to mend the sails when you're not in the galley with Finn. He tells you tales of the time he was a traveling bard before the war. His stories were very colourful and sometimes not for the faint of heart. Who knew he had so many fans?

You've never smelt like gunpowder before, finding the powder tucked into the cloth of your clothes and sticking to your skin. The main culprit of the almost daily gunpowder bath is no other than Yuri and two fingers who took it upon themselves to teach you how to load a cannon and a musket. Under all the flirting, Yuri's a great teacher, your aim could do some work but at least now a gun isn't worthless in your hands.

At night, Miles and Pavitr would teach you about the stars and how to read maps, using it to navigate just in case you get lost. Which you hope will never happen to you. It would be a great skill to master if only you three would stop gossiping and giggling throughout the night, bellies full of tea and biscuits that Finn hides in the galley.

You find Gwen reading in the library alone from time to time. At first, you kept your distance, reading further away from her. But after a while, you notice that her favourite chair gets closer to yours until you sit side by side with her, reading quietly under a single oil lamp.

There's never a dull moment on the ship, everyone does their share of the work, and everyone gets to eat and be left to their own devices during the night. It's great, you think. You don't worry about your next meal or where you need to sleep anymore.

Your mind has never been this quiet since you left home.

Surprisingly, Hobie's been diligent at keeping your regularly scheduled injury maintenance on time. Even if you forget, he would appear out of nowhere, clutching your bag of supplies in his hands with a shit eating grin that makes you want to rip his bandage off harshly.

The brightness of the sun filtering through the large window hinders your vision a bit as you carefully take Hobie's stitches off. Your brows are knitted together, eyes full of concentration as sweat drips on your forehead. You could've done this in the infirmary but Hobie had to do a bunch of work in his cabin so you're currently doing your best at managing while he walks around the large table sat in the middle of the room. You follow him with your sutures and scissors. The sight must have been hilarious because half of the crew were chuckling and stifling a laugh.

But the moment you were finished, you threw them the nastiest glare you could muster. Shutting them all up immediately, looking away from you nonchalantly. You pretend you don't see them hiding their smiles.

Sitting down on a free chair, huffing and with your arms aching, you twist your wrists around, massaging the tired muscles with your fingers.

Miles sits next to you, a piece of paper landing right on top of your hands. Your own face stares back at you, a pencil sketch of you, face full of concentration.

“Did you draw this?” You say, surprised and with a bright grin on your face.

“No, Hobie did.” He says sarcastically but you believed him for a second. “Of course I did, it was a bit hard when you were following Hobie around like a duckling.”

“That's a compliment, ducklings are cute, Miles.” He rolls his eyes, “this is amazing though, thank you. I haven't had my likeness drawn in…never actually.”

Miles smiles, taking out a small leather bound sketchbook from his back pocket. “Prepare to be surprised then.”

He flips through it, you get glimpses of drawings from far flung sceneries, animals that you don't know the names of and faces of the crew; some familiar, some are strangers to you. But you see more of Gwen's face amidst the pages. You fight the urge to tease him, maybe you'll do that when half of the crew isn't discussing battle plans in front of you. Their faces are serious and intense as Hobie lays out figures on a map.

“You're this bored, huh?” With your elbow resting on your thigh, you watch him stop on a page.

“Look at this one” he proudly says, eyes twinkling. Showing you the pages, his hand still holding it just in case you had the audacity to flip through it yourself.

You can't believe it's your own face staring back at you.

Your eyes smile in the drawing, the unmistakable shine of happiness in them. Face turned to side, clearly looking at something. Your lips are curled up into a grin like someone just told you the funniest joke ever. The shading is expertly done by Miles, *it's like staring into a mirror, you thought. You've never seen yourself this happy.

“I'm guessing I did a good job?” He smugly says, “you're staring at it way too long, narcissus is that you?” Miles jokes, but his smile fades when he sees your eyes glistening in the sun. “Oh shit, please don't cry. Hobie's gonna kill me if I made you cry.”

You sniff, casually hiding the heat behind your eyes. “It's really good.” Chuckling, you feel a pair of eyes on your form. “Thank you, I–” exhaling, you have no idea how to properly thank him. Settling on a fist bump on his arm, you awkwardly do just that. “Thanks, you made me look prettier.”

He laughs, sighing in relief. “Nah, it was no problem. Making you look good was the hardest part.”

“You ruined it,” you scrunch up your nose, feigning annoyance. Pushing the notebook, shoving it to his chest he laughs loudly, too loud apparently when someone from the room shushes you two.

Miles winces before turning back to you. “You know what helped though? In getting your expression right?”

“No?”

“Hobie,” he says with a quick gesture towards the man. A mischievous smirk on his face. “You were talking to Hobie while I was drawing this.” Lifting the page back up, “look how happy you were!” You close the book with his fingers still inside.

Yelping, he glares at you. “I made you a portrait and this is how you thank me?”

“Shut it” your eyes roam the room, looking for someone who's eavesdropping on the conversation. Thankfully no one is. “Don't act like Gwen isn't on every page of your book.” you whisper shout at him.

“Oh so you're saying that the same feelings I have for Gwen can be translated to your feelings towards Hobie?” He teases you right back, whispering quieter. “I owe Pav a coin.”

“You little–!” He rockets away from his seat, weaving through the crew. “Come back here, Miles!” Chasing him, careful not to shove anyone, your fast footsteps echo in the hallways.

Miles yells back, gaining speed ahead of you. “I have Hobie's version too if you'd like to see it!”

“No! Fuck you! I'll tell Gwen!”

He turns heel, now running after you. Cursing, you turn around, back to where you came from. Sprinting, you both pass by Hobie's cabin lightning fast. The crew's laughter echoes out while you try to escape Miles.

Hobie can't help but crack a smile even when the topic at hand is serious and dire.

—

With a book in front of you, hands smelling of ink and paper, you glance at Gwen who's leaning on your side comfortably, using you as her personal backrest. You don't mind it since she snuck in hot chocolate for you.

“I've been thinking—”

“That's dangerous, don't hurt yourself.” She murmurs.

“Funny, ha ha” you laugh sarcastically. She snorts, eyes still glued on the page. “Seriously though, what's on the bow of the ship? I've only seen mermaids and the occasional angel carved on it but I've never seen one like the one here. Where in the world did Hobie even get it?”

“It's a dragon.” Gwen says without looking back at you.

“A dragon? But it doesn't have any wings though?”

She sits up, gently laying the book on her lap, looking prim and proper. “A version of it, I guess? It's popular in the east.” You listen intently so she continues. “In their stories, the dragons symbolize luck and strength, which we need now more than ever.” stretching her neck, she continues. “And Hobie traded it in exchange for our boring old siren.”

You chuckle, “What's the difference between the ones in our mythology and theirs? Other than the lack of wings and looking way cooler.”

“They say they have the power to control the weather and are big enough to swallow the moon.” you whistle out, intrigued. “Maybe after the fight we can sail over there and show you around the place?” she asks, grinning.

“I'd love that.”

You should tell her that you're not staying after the fight, but you don't want to ruin the moment or her mood. You'll tell her when you get the chance, for now, you let them focus on what's coming.

“We named him Terrence by the way.”

You giggle. “I'll be sure to greet him every morning.”

—

The clean water splashed on your head is a nice reprieve from the searing heat. Being the so-called ‘doctor’ on the ship, Hobie thought it would be a great idea for you to also be their designated water girl to combat heat stroke. It's easy work, reminding them to drink water and also just dumping a splash of water on the crew's head using a soup ladle. You're having fun actually, just randomly (and sneakily) pouring water over their heads whenever they complain about the heat while toiling under the sun, watching them shriek and jump from the sudden gush of water. Now they rarely complain anymore, that just means you've done a good job at keeping them all alive under the heat.

But there's one person who you haven't dumped water on yet, which with the help of Finn and his strength, you're about to remedy that.

Hobie stands near the helm, observing Pavitr sailing the ship with ease. You and Finn carry the entire barrel of half full water, (it's mostly Finn doing the work) carefully sneaking behind Hobie to dump the entire contents on him.

Before you could signal Finn to pour it on Hobie, he turns around, hands placed on his hips and a face that says: I dare you.

You freeze mid step, darting your eyes towards your little helper. Finn shrugs, subtly pointing his head towards Hobie.

“Well—?” With one strong heave of the barrel, pointing it directly towards Hobie, the water hits him with a splash, completely drenching him.

The sound gets everyone's attention, seeing their captain wet as a freshly caught fish, the roaring laughter fills the ship, pointing, hollering and whistling at their captain.

The smile on your lips fades, eyes widening when you flick your eyes downward, you've never thought a harmless prank could make your heart beat faster and for heat to rise to your cheeks. And it's not the sun that's causing that or a symptom of heat exhaustion, no, it's Hobie and his unfortunate white cotton shirt that's completely soaked through, sticking to his skin, showing off his chiseled torso. You don't dare look further down, you might not recover from what you could possibly get a glimpse of.

Hobie splutters, wiping at his wet face, water dripping from his entire body. You swallow thickly, Finn notices your sudden silence. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, head tilted like he caught your hand in the cookie jar.

You blink rapidly, “W-what?” Side eyeing Finn. He raises a brow, “What? I may not like him but I still have eyes, you know.”

“Liar.” He says in a deep voice, making you do a double take.

“Did you just—?”

“Y/N,” Hobie addresses you, eyes telling you to run. “You better not let me catch you.”

You squeak, bolting immediately. The crew guffaws loudly like they're watching the best entertainment the sea could offer. Sprinting down the stairs, hearing footsteps behind you, your old injury flares up, almost tripping you.

Hobie catches you before you could fall flat on your face. His drenched arms around your middle, his clothes squelching on your back, the water seeping through your own clothes.

“Time to walk the plank again, Scuttlebutt!” He jokes but the way he carries you towards the plank has you wiggling out, hitting his arms.

“It was a joke!” You scream. He walks closer, “a jape!” Hobie stops near the edge. “A jest!”

His laugh reverberates, you feel his chest vibrating. He cranes his neck down, whispering close to the shell of your ear. “Did you really think I'll throw you overboard?” Goosebumps rise on your skin as he blows hot air. “I'll let Finn do it instead.”

Biting your lip, hands gripping his wrists, you decide to rag him on after knowing he won't actually throw you into the shark infested waters. “yeah? Why don't you do it yourself? Be a man, captain”

Behind you, the crew continues to cheer. Pav even lets out a ‘lets go!’

Hobie chuckles deeply, squeezing you once. “You cheeky—”

The alarm bells from the crow’s nest rings out, James yells from above. “Vessel approaching! Starboard!”

Hobie lets you go, taking a telescope from a serious looking Gwen.

The blood in your veins turn into ice, holding on to the railing, you grip it as you feel your knees give out.

You can't hear what anyone is saying with blood rushing in your ears, frantic voices indistinct, igniting your nerves. Your breathing turns shallow, you try to count backwards in your head but it's no use when your hands start shaking.

“Oi,” Hobie notices your distressed expression. Rushing to your side, his voice starts getting clearer when he places his hands on your cheeks, holding you gently like you're about to break from the slight pressure from his touch.

“Breathe, yeah?” He inhales and exhales, encouraging you to do the same. You copy him, staring only at Hobie. “There, good, just breathe.” His thumbs wipe at the tears you haven't noticed letting out.

After a beat of breathing in sync, Hobie nods. “It's alright, they're allies. You don't have to be scared.” He turns you around carefully, “see? They're waving.”

Pointing at a man clad in red, white and blue, Hobie squeezes your shoulder. “That's Captain Anarchy and right next to him is his first mate, Robbie Banner. They're here to help us win the fight.”

You calm down a little once you see the crew of the other ship smile and wave at you. Trusting Hobie, you look over your shoulder, his face too close to you, breath mixing in together. Flinching, you take a step back from his hold.

He lets you go, hands sliding away from your elbows, giving you space. You look uncharacteristically small in front of him, shoulders hunched, eyes looking down at your feet.

“You're alright, Y/N.” His reassuring and soft voice echoes amidst the rowdy crew behind him.

You could only nod.

—

It's been chaotic since the sons of the sea arrived. They have been welcoming and kind to you, too kind, in fact that you sometimes forget that they're pirates. Especially Robbie, he always goes out of his way to help your uneasiness. He once told you during dinner with the crew that he knows how it feels to be new; and for some reason he thought that you're Hobie's lover, saying that loving a pirate captain is pretty hard work. You shut down the conversation immediately.

Finally finding a time for yourself, you stretch your aching hands, gunpowder stuck in your nostrils. Hemp and pine tar sticking under your fingernails. You've never thought that you'd be preparing for war but here you are.

After the incident, you've made yourself scarce. With preparation and between meetings, you hadn't had a chance to speak with him. Or for Hobie to even try to approach you. His wounds have healed so you don't have any reason to keep seeing each other. But you find yourself holding on to two mugs of hot chocolate, trudging the cold hallways to his cabin.

The mugs are warm in your hands, the familiarity helping with your nerves. You have no idea what to say to him, maybe a simple thank you perhaps? You didn't intend to become that vulnerable in front of him, so maybe an apology? Whatever you end up saying to him, it all has to start with a simple knock on his door which you're currently standing stiffly in front of.

Juggling two mugs in one hand, you place your knuckles on the wood. Your ears perk up at the muffled voices inside. Against better judgment, you place your ear above the door, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“—She’s not her, Hobie. I've seen how you act around her, how you look at her.” You strain your ears to hear better. “It's the same with MJ.” You blink in surprise.

“Gwen,” Hobie sighs, there's rustling on his end. “I don't like what you're insinuating.”

“I'm not insinuating anything. I'm saying this as a friend to you and to her. Don't. Just…don't” there's footsteps, “She's good for the crew, Hobie. We can't lose her.”

“I know she is.”

Gwen scoffs. “You just proved my point.”

“She's not her, I get it. Can you please go back to preparin’?”

“No, not until you get it in your thick skull.” she pauses. “She's her own person. I see it too, the similarities in their personalities. But Y/N’s not MJ.”

You almost drop the mugs.

“I know she's not MJ. I don't fancy her, I tolerate her.”

“Are you sure? Because you keep–”

His voice shakes. “MJ is gone and Y/N is Y/N. I know she's not MJ.”

Backing away from the door, emotions swirling into a dangerous concoction, face flat and lips downturned. You slowly bend down to place the mug on the side of his cabin door.

You have no idea how to react or confront it, so you just walked away. Throwing the information in the back of your mind, hoping it doesn't seep into your bones. Hope that it doesn't rot and spoil inside.

—

The sky is heavy with dark clouds, thunder booming like drum beats, lightning peeking out in the night. A storm is coming, you can feel it in your tendons, the smell of petrichor looming overhead, temperature dropping significantly. The fog obscuring the way doesn't help with your icy nerves. The rest of the crew battens down the windows, preparing to weather out the storm. You're not even that close to the destination and yet the sky is already preventing the ship from going further.

The sea is unusually calm despite the storm brewing ahead. A possible omen to what's to come next. You pray that you're wrong.

Shutting your window, locking it in place, you take your medical bag that's hanging from the cabin's doorknob. Making sure the door is properly closed, you head over to the deck.

You almost collide into a body, their hands holding on to your elbows.

“Woah there!” He holds you at arm's length. “You alright, doc?” His genuine smile makes the day a tad brighter.

“Captain Anarchy, hello and please don't call me that. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually a doctor.” You chuckle lightly.

“I won't call you doc if you don't call me captain anarchy.”

“Alright, what should I call you then?”

“Karl's fine. I'm not your captain anyway so why bother calling me captain y’know?”

You nod, “Yeah, I get it. Are you lost? These are the cabins.”

“Shit, yeah.” He scratches his head. “I swear this place is built like a maze. I'm looking for the galley actually, Finn said I can borrow some ingredients. I'm planning on cooking for everyone tonight.”

“That's really nice of you, thanks. I'll show it to you if you want?”

“That would be fantastic, thank you!”

Gesturing behind him, you lead him while he laughs at his own blunder. “Wait, Finn talked to you?”

“Mm-hmm, I've known him for a while. The secret is to talk about produce and spices then you won't be able to get him to shut up.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” You chuckle, shaking your head. Deciding to make small talk while weaving around hallways, you ask him. “How long have you been a pirate?”

He sighs, “Too fucking long.”

“Looking to retire?” you look over your shoulder, his face says it all.

“Absolutely, we're all just saving up so we could settle comfortably somewhere. Unfortunately taxes are really fucking high these days thanks to the asshole in the big chair.”

“You got that right. All these wars and sponsoring explorations got the people's coffers dry and empty.”

“Exactly! Man, Hobie really knows how to pick them, huh?” He shakes your shoulder like you're old friends. You don't flinch away, in case you offend the only ally Hobie has.

“We're not together.” you say flatly.

“That right? Sorry. Well, he did pick the right crew member then.”

“More like he fished me out of the sea.”

He laughs, the sound reminding you of a bird chirping. Karl looks at your humorless face. “Wait, seriously.”

“Yep, that's a story for another day because we're here.” you open the doors for him, showing him the galley.

“Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.” he shoots you a friendly wink.

“Of course, just give me extra portions later.” you joke.

He chortles, “I'll save the bigger bowl for you”

Before you leave, there's a question that's unfortunately gnawing in your head.

“Can I ask you something?”

He peeks over the counter, blue eyes staring back at you. “Shoot.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, it just means go ahead.”

“Right, uh…Did you know Hobie three years ago?” You cross your arms on your chest.

“I've known him far longer than that.”

“How was he back then?”

Karl thinks for a moment. He smiles, “Best damn pirate I've ever seen, next to me of course. He was younger, wide eyed, hungry for adventure, more than ready to take down the crown itself. Safe to say he's ambitious, he still is but—” he shakes his head. “For a different reason now.”

“Do you not think he can take down Matthias?”

“I have faith that he can and he will eventually. But I'm afraid that I'll never see that wide eyed Hobie ever again. He's gotten used to the flames, feeding it, letting it consume him. I don't think he'll be able to fight that fire after he gets what he wants.”

You clench your jaw. “What happened to MJ?”

“I don't think I'm the right person to tell you that.”

Nodding, you wordlessly thank him with a small smile.

“Wait, Y/N.” he calls for you.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens, help him douse the fire? For everyone's sake.”

“I— I'll do my best.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Promise me, please. I owe MJ that much.”

You exhale shakily. “I promise.”

Turning to leave, you fight with yourself. How could you make that promise when you plan to leave after Hobie wins? How do you keep that promise when you can't even look him in the eye? How do you tell Gwen and the others when their hearts are set to you staying on board?

Will it be worth it for you to leave what you currently have for someone who may not even exist?

You pause in the middle of the barren hallway, hand clutching tightly at the straps of your bag. Breathing heavily, you feel it rearing its ugly head again.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the alarm bells ringing, this time instead of curling around yourself, you decide to face it head on despite the shaking in your legs. The crew needs you, and you need them.

Crash!

The ship lunges harshly to the side, flinging you to the wall, head pounding on the hardwood.

Your vision blurs, white dots dancing, ears ringing and your head stinging from the impact.

“Fuck…” you crawl, doing your best to get up on the deck.

“They need you. Get up, lazybones.”

Hearing her voice whisper into your ear, makes you laugh coldly. You're probably concussed.

With a groan, you lift yourself up, using the wall as leverage.

With every heavy step, you straighten up, ignoring the pain in the back of your head. Walking up the steps makes you dizzy but you continue on.

Holding on to the door frame triumphantly, you reach the deck.

The fog has reached the ship, covering the entire deck in its thick mist. You notice the quiet, and the lack of movement from the crew. They all just stand stiffly, spaced away from each other. holding their weapons in their hands in a tight grip, the only indication that they're alright.

You spot Hobie in the middle of the crowd, eyes staring into the sea.

“Hobie?” You softly say. Grabbing his arm, you jump when he takes your wrist without taking his eyes off from what he's staring at.

His hand shakes, you're afraid to look.

“Y/N,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I'm sorry.”

His apology makes you follow his gaze.

The thick fog makes way for a dozen ships sailing towards you at incredible speeds, they open the lamps on their bows one by one. Like a hunter's gaze, they petrify you.

With your heart trying to escape your chest, you turn starboard, hopeful for a way out. But the sight alone would make you weep.

A larger ship looms over the revenge, its bow crashed on the side of the now splintered wood of the ship. The navy ship is Gilded and pristine, decorated with carvings of asphodels. The crowned angel with her wings spread out on the bow looks down at you through her wooden eyes.

Hobie clutches on to you tighter, scowling, shaking in sheer anger.

A menacing laugh echoes into the eerie silence.

You're surrounded.

#bdas #between the devil and the sea #between the devil and the sea chapter 6 #between the devil and the sea series #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #spider punk x fem!reader #pirate hobie #pirate! hobie? pirate! hobie! #pirate au #pirate! hobie #pirate! hobie x reader #cw injury #tw panic attack #cw food mention #hobie x reader #fanfic

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Din Djarin cock worship drabble (din djarin x you)

pairing: din djarin x f!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit descriptions of smut, (assumed age gap maybe???), the armour stays on except for when din eats pussy (which is 24/7 in this universe), overstimulation wc: 1.4K a/n: hello lovelies, this is just a part of something that has been cooking in my brain for the last week. I was ignoring my schoolwork and other responsibilities as usual and rewatching mando, and just thinking about how that modulated rasp makes me melt, and how I would give anything to tie Din Djarin up and suck the soul out of him to hear those moans. that man deserves his cock to be worshipped, and I think about that on the daily tbh . this is unfinished but i hope to complete it this weekend!

Impenetrable beskar steel forged under sweltering heat that could rival Tattooine’s binary suns. Stealthy, calculated, choreographed skills of a warrior, so innate to his being, an exoskeleton similar to the armour he wore.  An unshakeable creed that represented devotion, honour, humility, and strength.

Powerful, weathered strength. Strength that shouldered hundreds of bounties, countless days of survival in the harshest planets, and so many physical injuries he’s lost count at this point.   

Din Djarin was a humble man. He never boasted his abilities or displayed a cocky nature. He had no reason to. Growing up in the covert, competing drills and sparring with other Mandalorians, he let his combat skills speak for himself as opposed to his words. Din would never deny his strength however. He knew he was strong, despite his age, and despite the aches and pains that permeated his body after each hunt. It was a quality that he could always pride himself on- at least that’s what he thought up until this point. Until he met you.

It turns out the stoic facade of strength that the hardened warrior so heavily relied on, crumbled the instant you could get your hands on him. Well, your hands and your mouth. 

Nearly 3 months had passed since you joined the mandalorian And the child. Three months since you offered your skills to help him with his bounties and take care of the child when he was off on his hunts. 3 months since your relationship progressed from just ship mates and acquaintances coexisting in solitude and monosyllabic answers, to partners that shared each others bed every night. A cacophony of grunts and deep groans to catch your breathless whimpers and keening whines filling the hull of the razor crest. 

You soon learned how much of a pleasure dom that mando was. Well, Din to you, now that he had entrusted you with his name. Once he learned what made you tick, what made you scream out his name as your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, he was fucking insatiable.

Most nights he wouldn’t fuck you until he made you cum on his tongue or his fingers at least twice. And even then you’d be a mess. Squirming and sobbing as you pushed his head off your dripping sensitive cunt. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, you could feel the heat rolling off his broad body as he caged you against the bed.

“It’s okay, you can take it cyar’ika,” he would coo at you as he fed his thick cock into your warm wet heat. “Need this tight pussy nice and wet before I stretch you out on my cock.” 

You never lasted long, your orgasm crashing over you as you pulse around his length, writhing into the bed sheets. 

He reveled in being able to take you apart. Pushing you to the limits of your pleasure that it almost became painful. He fed off of it. 

It was rare however, that Din ever let you return the favor. Whenever you attempted to take him into your mouth, to show him your desire and appreciation, he would bat your hands away. Or he would only let you taste him for a minute or two before he’d manhandle you back onto the bed, legs spread by his massive palms, as he beheld you like a deity he wanted to worship over several lifetimes. His ferocity to have you usually outweighed his usual firm patience. 

You doubted that you were bad at giving head or that he didn’t enjoy it. Din was vocal, that much you were surprised to learn. As vocal as that modulator in his helmet would allow. Nothing rivaled the groans and curses you were rewarded with as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, eyes never straining from the T of his visor, taking him deep in your mouth, sucking on the head. You could only bask in the glow of his praise and delicious sounds for so long before Din became impatient and hauled you off his cock, the desire to be deep inside your warm wet heat his sole focus. “Need to have you now meshla,” he groaned, “can’t fucking wait any longer.”

Tonight would be different, you thought to yourself earlier that day as you watched Din stroll down the ramp of the Razorcrest, eager to begin his hunt for the next quarry. You had landed on Trandosha near dawn, and while the lush landscape of the planet appeared inviting Din had made it clear that you and the child couldn’t explore while he was gone.

“The quarry hasn’t exactly been covert about laying low, so it shouldn’t take long to track him down.” He explained as he restocked his munition and triple checked his weapons. 

Something about the methodical, almost choreographed manner in the way he loaded the pulse rifle bullets in his bandolier, reloaded his blaster, secured his vibroblade on the inside of his boot made you ridiculously horny. Watching the weathered faded leather of his gloves, caress the barrel of the rifle, mold around the handle of the blaster, those same gloves that molded to the curves of your body. You felt your throat go dry as he kept talking.

“Are you listening cyar’ika?”

Two leather clad fingers settled underneath your chin, urging it upwards to meet his visor.

“Huh?”

His helmet tilted to the side ever so slightly as he appraised your glossed over gaze, not before letting out one of those deep sighs that you had come to know and love. 

“No leaving the ship while I’m gone, under any circumstances. Got it?” The fingers under your chin shifted as his hand curled around the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently over your jaw.

“Trandosha may be a decent planet but Trandoshans are ruthless hunters, and they wouldn’t miss an opportunity to capture a sweet thing like you, or the child.”

The thought didn’t scare you. Having been around Trandoshans before, you knew they were cunning hunters, but the large reptilian species were slow on foot and clumsy with weaponry. They were nothing in comparison to Din’s prowess and perfected combat skills. 

Humming in response, you walk your fingers up the cool beskar of his chest plate, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Good thing I am traveling with one of the most ruthless and equally feared bounty hunters in the galaxy hmm?”

Burying your fingers in the curls peeking out from underneath his helmet and tugging slightly, you reveled in the shaky exhale he let out. 

He leaned down, resting the forehead of his helmet against yours.  A quiet rumble leaving the depths of his broad chest. 

“Ruthless huh?” His strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his broad body. You basked in the warmth emanating off his armour. While he appeared a mountain of metal, it sent a thrill through you upon feeling the humanity coursing through his body, the life exuding from underneath his beskar shell.

“Yes Din.” You replied with a smirk as you arched your back, smushing your breasts against the cool, hard angles of the chest plate.

“Ruthless in catching your bounties, ruthless in destroying your enemies,” you look up at him from under your lashes, “ruthless when you fuck my pussy and make me cum so many times I lost count.”

He lets out a noise, between a groan and a growl, as his hands slithered down to grip your ass, tightly cupping your ass cheeks, trying to pull you impossibly closer than you already were. It wasn’t enough to be pressed up against you, he needed to be inside you. That much was evident as you felt the hard outline of his cock, nudging against your lower belly. 

“Damn fucking right I am. That tight little pussy is mine.”

It was your turn to shiver as your eyes fell shut and you bit your lip. Stars, the power that this man had over you. How he was able to make you fall apart with just his words, that filthy fucking mouth hidden underneath his unreadable halo of steel.

He leaned down till the helm of his helmet was beside your ear. “No leaving the ship,” he repeated in that delicious rasp. “I’ll be back soon okay?”

Little did Din know the surprise you had in store for him later.

#din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin drabble #i need him so bad #i need this man of metal to crumble underneath my tongue #and the armour stays on ofc #my 'drabble is over 1k' what a joke #idk what drabble is clearly

[fenrislorsrai]

Fandom Trumps Hate- Good Omens Offerings

this is a non-exhaustive list because there are so many Good Omens offerings. These are just Discord pals that were go "aaaaaaaaaaa what if nobody bids on me!?!?!?!"

well, then what if I give you the opposite problem and EVERYONE bids on you. AHAHAHAHAHA. Chaos for a good cause! my favorite!

Read the full offering for details. I've just given a super quick summary and additional fandoms they do if you're going "I hunger for CROSSOVER" plus said nice things about them. HAHAHAHA. YOU HAVE TO ACCEPT MY COMPLIMENTS NOW!

Get art or words as a gift for your favorite fandom for a charity donation! Fandom Trumps FAQ on how it all works. @fandomtrumpshate

Dorli-+ Legend of Zelda, Avatar The Last Airbender- illustration, banner, or book cover -- up to M rating - does trans/nb characters, f/f ships - absolutely the softest, squishiest looking character work. get the most huggable version of characters. (or squishy AND hot. ohohohoho)

SassishMoon- illustration up to E rating- does trans/nb characters, f/f ships -special note, I got art for Moon last year and it was fabulous. also have a collab coming out in a zine and it is HOT HOT HOT.

WarGoddess- + FullMetal Alchemist- Illustration up to E rating- interested in angst, unhappy endings, genderbending- lovely textures. beautiful skins tones and absolutely fabulous wings.

Sightkeeper- illustration up to E rating- option for comic page if bid goes high enough!- interested in trans & nonbinary characters- Delicious line work and delightful facial expressions. also: monsters

TheRavenMuse - 5-10K fic up to E rating- make it dark, make it weird! and by weird, has done Bentley/Bookshop smut. TIME FOR CRACK.

contritecactite- + Final Fantasy: VII, XII, XV, Ace Attorney 5-10K fic up to E OR 5K podfic of your work up to M rating- interested in trans & nonbinary character, F/F, polyships, and canon compliant/fill in the gap in canon type fics- go get you some RADIO omens. and Book Omens. writes very caring stuff... and sometimes caring is a good healing fuck.

accidentaldemon- under 5k up to E rating- interested in polyships, trans & nonbinary characters, and humans AUs- do you need some Crowley & Young Shadwell fic? AccidentalDemon has you covered.

TawnyOwl- 5-10K up to E rating- loves AUs where they meet and find they're perfect for each other in a new and special way.

SeedsofWinter +Our Flag Means Death + Venture Brothers- Fan Labor for up to E rating. (length depends on final bid value) Deep content editor. Goes way beyond the basic spelling and grammar check. This is a draft editor to help fill in missing scenes and fix pacing. Has run several zines as the editor! Interested in trans /nb characters, polyships, f/f, reader insert, unhappy endings, and RARE PAIRS.

Ngk_is_cool - under 5K up to T- TV or Book Omens! time for all those secondary character to shine! anything but a/c. especially interested in ace and queerplatonic relationships. do you want a fic with some footnotes like the book?

Shaninal- under 5K up to M rating- A/C in some canon complaint fluff and humor. OR beta read for 5-10K up to E rating for Good Omens, Percy Jackson, or Miraculous Lady Bug

EdosianOrchids- 3 options! 2 soft & fluffy up to 5K and one 5-10K hurt/comfort. TV or Book Omens. especially known for chronic pain, disability, and PTSD focused fics. Come and get some HEALING and comfort for the chronic issues. also does aspc fics.

HKBlack- 10-20K up to E rating. Interested in trans/nb characters. Love AUs with a happy ending. THERE WILL BE PUNS. SO MANY PUNS

This is only a partial sampling go see the whole Good Omens tag

and if you are have a gomens offering not listed here, feel free to add in reblogs! Let's give some charities some money!

#good omens #fandom trumps hate #book!omens #radio!omens #fanfic #fanart

[ay0nha]

are you doing a part ii to your sanji angst on the baratie?

PAIRING: OPLA!Sanji x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, angst, longing looks and bitter words, mentions of sleazy pirate, food/food consumption, not proofread, squint, and you'll see fleabag vibes (shout out to that anon), rushed ending, etc.

A/N: ahhhhh, idk how I feel about this, so I’m posting it because I know if I don’t, it’ll sit in the drafts forever. Thank you so much for all the love and support on the part before this. It truly means the world! Enjoy.

COMMENTS ENCOURAGED

PART I

The coolness felt sharp on your skin, numbing superficially but struggling to pinpoint the pain. 

It sunk in when the ice melted and bled down your elbow that you were alone, and the ache was still there. 

The devil’s hour was the only time you felt the ship's rhythmic sway. The constantly anxious environment was silent, leaving your shallow breaths to fill the space. There was only so much time before the early risers would begin the prep routine all over again. 

You didn’t fare well with the cyclical nature of it all, but you were skilled in covering the discomfort. It was a game you were good at; the facade behind the swipe of deep lipstick and the soft fabric of your dresses hid you well. Yet, the pressure became unbearable on nights like these. It made you feel stuck, with nowhere to go, as the open ocean surrounded you.

The constant adrenaline at all hours was taunting you. It kept some focused and motivated their drive, but you struggled to stay afloat. Instead, you toyed with the thought of letting the tendrils pull you down into the sinking pool of burdens you ran from. 

“You hear me?” Sanji’s voice pulled you to the surface for a shock of air. You failed to notice he even entered the room. “Where’d you go?” 

Sanji broke your thousand-yard stare, just shy of waving a hand before you. You wanted to scold him for accurately reading you. Instead, your heart pinned to your throat at his overt observation.

“Hmm?” He prompted again, moving deeper into the space. Worry began to etch his tired features; you failed to hide. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m—” Your response was lost in its formation. Emotion pricked at your nose, but you refused to spill any tears. You were drained, and it all started to feel claustrophobic. “—tired.”

 The practiced lie felt smooth and believable enough to be a sufficient excuse. And, yet, Sanji matched the defiance. “I’ve known you a long, long time…I know your tells, sweetheart—

“Come off it.” You discouraged the name, but it fulfilled Sanji’s purpose. You always stumbled, and your frown conveyed your disdain. “It’s been a…” Day. You stopped to begin again, frazzled, “I-I…I just, I’m just…hungry, Sanji.”

His name rang in his ears like a confession. He waited for you to correct yourself, scold him for prying as you always had. The air shifted to something unexplored, vulnerable. Despite the years of working together, moments like these were rare. Sanji used the pause to take you in, searching for any deception. But you laid bare, asking for comfort and company. 

“Alright...” Sanji’s voice was soft so as not to spook you. He nodded, more confident in his promise. “I can help with that.” 

Clearing your throat, you nodded, a rush of relief flowing through your body. Sanji’s flirtations were easy to ignore. His sarcasm, you returned. The attitude you dished, he accepted with his own. It was how you worked; it kept things fluid. The push and pull kept you going. 

However, the static of your hesitancy tugged at something foreign. It kept you quiet and made you thoughtful. Sanji moved like he always had, calculated and knowledgable of the dish and whose palette he would earn the respect of. Everything he touched turned into a creation. He didn’t do it to prove a point or for a broader ‘them.’ Tonight, he created for you.  

There was assurance in Sanji’s demeanor. He rolled his sleeve to his elbows and tugged at an already loosened tie; he became just as exposed as you were under your watchful eye. You itched for something familiar. The smile you fought proved Sanji read your mind, choosing correctly—a grilled cheese. 

The tomato was missing, and so was the dill.  Yet, there was a thick slather of freshly made mayo on each slice of homemade bread. The smell wafted, reminding you how the day's stress surpassed your hunger. 

“Something to drink?” Sanji’s low rumble broke the silence, checking on you indirectly. 

Sanji spoke through food and understood another through choices and habits. You were picky. You had staples that he perfected the recipe for, this one of them. He knew to be gentle and use his fingertips to smooth the toasted edges of the bread against the browning butter lining the pan. 

“I’m trying to keep the wallowing to a minimum.” You shook your head. You tried to laugh through the feeling, but the joke felt ill-timed and ill-received. “Don’t hurt yourself too much  trying to play nice.”

The air felt still, like the moments of a taut breath. There was no longer an eye on the throne of fabricated competition the Baratie created rather, you looked at each other as if it were the first time, both newly transparent.

“Oh, no—” He tutted, smirk settling naturally. “—that’s not the painful part, love.”

The kitchen was always warm—burners running, heat lamps, bubbling stovetops, and incidental fires. That very temperature caused certain anger to tip over and still provided fluidity in the brigade. However, even when you found yourself in the back, you brought a chill to the air. It rivaled the walk-in and existed as your only trait in the eyes of those found under your glare.

Yet, the warmth Sanji transferred to you was different. It didn’t come from the kitchen or from anger. It was just him, and his words carried him over. His smirk was more of a smile, hesitant to become a smile as he presented his tenderness on a plate for you to devour. 

“Bon appétit, madam.”

You pulled at the edges of the grilled cheese, the inner parts reflecting fondue. The jagged edges defined the unorthodox moment. There was something so perfect in the imperfection of comfort it provided. 

“C’mon…” You cleared the lump forming in your throat. Blindly, you push a hand forward to offer Sanji a half. He half-expected it to be a ploy, for you to snatch it back just as he would go to reach it. Instead, you gestured again, “Go on, take my olive branch so I don’t look like a total dick.”

“Gladly.’

This was what you needed. This was a warm hug at the end of the day. This was a blanket wrapped tightly around you, protecting you from the mess of it all. The simplicity of the company broke you. 

You cleared your throat, wanting to be heard. “You know earlier…”

Sanji hummed encouragingly. He would never pry, afraid of your retaliation, but he knew that the slimy pirate clung to you. While he cooked, Sanji noticed the deep hues on your wrist and how you nurtured them with patience.  

“He scared me.” You scoffed at your own admission, belittling your feelings already. It felt ridiculous in hindsight, allowing someone to crawl so deeply under your skin. “I just didn’t see it coming…and wasn’t sure where it was going.”

You played with a few crumbs on your fingertips, allowing a thoughtful pause that you refused to fill. Sanji knew you’d eat the crust first, saving the gooey inside for when you ripped off the bandaid. 

“I could have—” He started, unwilling to miss the opportunity you gave him. “I’ll talk to Zeff. We’ll handle this. You’ll never—That’ll never happen again.”

Sanji’s sandwich half was forgotten, his hunger only satiable by your security.  You almost fed into it, tripping into the depths of his gaze’s concern. But you’d been tricked before and you’d be damned to fall for it all over again. 

“No—” You were blunt, words pointed. “Sanji…” It didn’t matter what promise he could give; it had no power against the past. “This world doesn’t look out for people like me but carves spaces for you. For him.”

Everything became unappetizing, as if you’d come back to yourself. Any defenses dropped were regained with dual force. You’d scold yourself later for accepting the shared meal as if that were the obvious solution to it all. 

“And what does he get, hmm?” You hummed with disgust. “A slap on the wrist?  Meal on the house?” You barked with hate. “And me? My professionalism gets questioned. I’m told to cheer up and move on—and yet, you all are blind! The real problem has nothing to do with that fucking pirate.” 

Zeff was your advocate. He only tolerated so much, and anything that interrupted or dragged you in unwillingly was dealt with. You heard how those around you reacted. They cheered and glorified Sanji’s heroic acts but didn’t waste a breath to see if you were still intact.  

Sanji had, in his own way. You knew that and detested how it made you crumble to the pieces you always had to pick up. Drawing a sharp but much-needed breath, you promised never to allow it again. 

Sanji read your expressiveness; understanding the sentiment was a deep-running thread. He knew it wasn’t his place to advise, tempt, and, worst of all, ignore you. 

Despite being at loss for words his effort was persistent.“Love—”

You wanted him to curse you or mock you or do something that would qualify the anger that made you tremble. You couldn’t stand how readily he took everything you gave him with such gentleness. 

“Sanji—” There was a coldness you attached to his name, but a warning nonetheless. You detested how, even now, he still remained.  “I never wanted this…Here I shift–I change, I mold into this…hybrid of a being just to fulfill what you think you want me to be—And still, I find myself disappointed in that fact that I think that’ll change—shame on me.”

The scraps of the sandwich had grown cold, its newly rigid, solid form symbolic of how things were supposed to be. You left Sanji with the weight of your words, a clear reminder that he was no more than a cog in the grand scheme of things---an insignificant part of your greater plan to be heard.

#q #sanji x reader #sanjii opla #sanji x f!reader #sanji angst #sanji fluff #opla!sanji x reader #opla!sanji x f!reader #request #sanji fanfic #one piece sanji #one piece #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #baratie #op fic #op sanji #sanjionepiece #sanji one piece #sanji vinsmoke #sanji x femme!reader

[delimeful]

the end of being alone (6)

remember how this installment was mostly fluff up until this point? we'll get back to that! 

... just not this chapter <3

part 2: how does a kid end up stranded in space, anyhow?

warnings: bad self care, illness, panic, child in distress, minor injury, non-consensual drug use, trafficking, unethical imprisonment and treatment of prisoners, child endangerment, implied offscreen minor character death, ambiguous character fates, this is a heavy tearjerker chapter but it does have a hopeful ending, lmk if i missed any

-

Virgil’s condition hadn’t improved.

They’d tried as many non-medicinal techniques as they could, struggling to figure out what would help and what would harm an unpredictable biological system that they barely understood.

Nothing had helped. Nothing was working.

And each time Virgil woke up to the sight of the ship around him, he wept and struggled and shouted, burning through his meager energy and only worsening his health.

He didn’t respond to heartfelt pleas from any of them, rarely even seeming to understand they were in the room with him. His stare was distant and terrified, his mind somewhere else, and each time it happened, Logan wanted to understand how to help so badly.

So, after several cycles without sleep and with the pressure of increasing desperation weighing heavy on his head, he finally succumbed to the deeply unwise impulse to start a Vidi.

He’d only wanted to understand what Virgil was yelling, try and grasp the reason behind his fear in the hopes that they could abate it, even slightly.

The moment he’d made contact, however, his mind had been dragged into a memory with intense force, the metaphorical handles of the Vidi ripped away, leaving him unable to steer and barely able to move.

His fingers twitched with the urge to pull away, but he stopped himself. It could hurt Virgil, and he’d endured plenty of traumatic memories before. He could handle this.

With a blink, he was looking through a much younger set of eyes.

—

The ship came during the summer.

Virgil remembered, because he’d been reviewing holidays and important events with his class before the break, and his half-birthday was coming up in a week!

His birthday was in winter, so his half birthday was in the opposite season, summer! He’d said as much before trying to debate his way into a trip to the park with his friends, and failing miserably.

So, he’d snuck out. And gotten himself lost between one turn of the neighborhood and the next.

He’d run into one of his neighbors, who’d been more than a little concerned to see him wandering around alone, especially because there had apparently been some people disappearing lately.

“Where did they go?” he’d asked, and gotten an uncomfortable reassurance, which definitely wasn’t an answer.

He’d frowned, tried to ask again, but his neighbor had gone quiet and grey-faced, staring at something over his shoulder. Before he could turn to see, there was a sharp thunk, and a bright bolt of pain in his shoulder.

There was a high, crackling scream, which was bad, but Virgil couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to figure out where it came from. A pair of warm hands caught him when he staggered, and then he was out.

He barely recalled what happened next, the memories fragmented like someone had taken a hammer to them. He didn’t want to think about them, but he kept the pieces close and tucked away anyhow, knowing they were important even though they hurt.

He felt flickers of awareness, the sensation of eyes rolling against heavy eyelids, a rapid pulse pounding away in his ears like a big drum, angry and fearful shouting barely audible beyond the clamor.

And then: the barest glimpse of the docking port of a ship from the inside, the entrance ramp folding up and sealing away the green trees and blue sky on the other side. Replacing the brief vision of home with cold metal and unearthly lights.

There weren’t any warm hands holding him, now.

His whimper turned nearly soundless on the way up his throat, but it drew the attention of his captors regardless.

A rush of unfamiliar language above him, another flood of numbness spreading through him, but even from that one fragmented moment, Virgil understood that they were taking him away.

Another blank period, like dipping one's head briefly underwater, and then he was waking up again.

“Easy, baby,” a familiar voice said, a hand stroking through his hair, slow and gentle. “You’re okay, you’re alright.”

“Miss Susan?” Virgil asked, and his voice came out small and crackling. He coughed, trying to force his crusted over eyelashes apart with a growing sense of panic.

“Hey, I need some water for the kid!” Miss Susan called lowly, before setting a hand against his back and helping him shuffle upright. “Take it slow, baby, don’t choke. There we go.”

Virgil opened his eyes and got his first look at the room he’d be stuck in for the next several months.

It was dimly lit, and smelled bad. The floor was metal, with a few thin stripes of grating, like a shower drain. The walls were made of tinted plastic and covered with sharp-edged wire netting, and there were a whole bunch of people inside with him and Miss Susan.

They all spoke to him at one point or another, but he only remembered some of their names. The thought made his stomach twist painfully, and he clamped down on the sensation.

He couldn’t be sick. Being sick was bad.

The time shifted, Miss Susan still at his side but her hair longer and her skin sallower. They were all seated, tired from the cold and the dark and the gross food that he wasn’t allowed to throw up.

Mister Ben was coughing, hard and rasping and wet, one after another. A few people were crouched near him, talking to him in hushed voices as they tried to coax him into stopping, but his body curled in and convulsed like he couldn’t control the coughs at all.

Before long, there was a clang, and a spraying sound like that time a fire hydrant down the road had been busted open. A few people stood between the door and Mister Ben, but the room grew more and more hazy with the thick air that made his legs go all numb, and they were swaying with the effort of staying upright.

Virgil knew by now what happened next. He turned and pressed his face against Miss Susan’s side, and she drew him close and held him tightly as the suits came in.

The aliens were always wearing them when they came into sight. Thick rubbery suits with dark-tinted visors, each with an electric zapper in hand. They’d drag the sick one out, and Virgil would never see them again.

“Leave him alone!” Miss Susan cried, joined by the rising voices of the rest of their roommates. “Don’t touch him, you leave him the fuck alone!”

Virgil kept not looking, but he said it too, into the worn fabric of Miss Susan’s blouse. “Leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone…,”

It didn’t work. It never did. The aliens didn’t listen to them, and they made them weak and floaty if they tried to intervene.

His voice cracked as he kept repeating it, even as the door clanged again and the hiss of air stopped. If he didn’t look up, he could pretend that Mister Ben was still there, only quiet because he was all better from his cough.

"It's okay. I know. It's alright, honey." Miss Susan’s hands shook as they stroked carefully through his hair, soothing him to sleep through the last of his hiccuped sobs.

Everyone who spoke to him was kind, even when they were unhappy. When Miss Susan slept but he was awake, Mister Aaron would invent word games to play or Miss Kelsey would challenge him to push up contests, and they would all take turns trying to think of the worst possible combinations of foods to compare to their mush food.

The best was Miss Susan, though. When he was bored, she would tell him stories about her nieces and nephews, and the farm she grew up on, and silly people at her job before they got taken. When he couldn’t sleep, she would hum whichever parts of lullabies she could remember.

Even when he got sad and didn’t want to move or talk at all, she would hold him close and poke at his side and gasp about seeing the firefly that had snuck onboard with them, until he had no choice but to wiggle free and inspect every corner for its light.

The other adults would spot it every once in a while, too, and try to point it out to him. He never saw it, which he would report back to Miss Susan every time.

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there,” she’d tell him, waving at the dark ceiling of the room. “Glowbugs can’t be bright all the time.”

“Why not?”

“Well, they’d get too hot and sweaty. They’d have to go swim in the ocean, and then they’d probably all turn into anglerfish,” Miss Susan said, even though she hadn’t known what an anglerfish was until Virgil had told her everything he could remember about them.

“No way,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Bugs can’t turn into fish!”

“Maybe they just get too tired, then,” Miss Susan said, ruffling his hair. “It must be exhausting, being so bright.”

She went quiet for a moment, and Virgil leaned into her touch, squinting at the dark corners and willing the bug to show itself.

“Even when they’re blending in with the dark, though, they’re still there,” Miss Susan finally continued. “So don’t give up. You’ve just gotta trust in it, and eventually, you’ll spot it.”

“I want eventually to be now,” Virgil had responded, petulant as he flopped against her side, eyes growing heavy.

Miss Susan pet his head, humming quietly until he was almost asleep. She let out a big sigh, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. “You and me both, kid.”

And then it was the last day.

He knew because Miss Susan’s hands were carefully cupping his face, coaxing him into waking up with a careful tap to the nose. They never woke him up on purpose, because 'growing kids needed their rest', except for the last day.

Virgil felt his brow scrunch with confusion even before his eyelids started fluttering, and Miss Susan chuckled and pressed her lips to the crown of his head for a moment.

“Come on, baby, wake up. It’s important, okay?”

He forced himself to open his eyes and keep them open, a little unease running down his spine.

Everyone had been scared, lately. Their group had shrunk in number, their room had been moved onto a bigger ship, and there were distant sounds of crowds at all hours, making his skin prickle with nerves when he was trying to sleep.

Some of their roommates were really smart, and they’d started puzzling out the words of the alien language from the ship directions that were given over the intercom and the overheard conversations of those passing by or rudely peeking in at them.

They’d taught Virgil some of them, whenever he was awake enough to remember. The words they whispered now weren’t ones he’d learned yet, though.

‘Transfer’ and ‘auction’. Everyone disliked them, felt too upset or angry about them to explain, even Miss Susan. Or maybe they just didn’t want to explain them to him, like they wouldn’t tell him what the aliens did with people when they got taken away. There had been a lot of arguing and shouting in low voices, trying to keep him from overhearing.

But now, they were waking him up.

Virgil let himself be coaxed to his feet, following Miss Susan over to the corner where everyone stood in a huddle, the tallest of them on the outside.

“Okay, sweetie. I need you to listen to me very closely, alright?” she told him, turning him to face the corner where they usually kept extra clothes in a pile. “You’re going to have to be very brave for me, okay?”

The clothes had been moved. There was a hole in the wall, where the netting had been peeled back. The edges of it were rough and curved like they’d been made with fingernails, like it had been painstakingly carved through one scratch at a time.

It was a small hole, barely the size of a vent, or a cat flap. Virgil could probably fit through it, but he was the only one.

“No,” Virgil shook his head immediately. “I don’t want to! I’m scared.”

Miss Susan squatted to be level with him, holding his hand in hers. “I know, honey. But it’s important, okay? We’re going to get out and find you, but you have to go first and stay safe until we do. I’ll send our little glowbug with you, and it’ll light the way in the dark.”

“What about your dark?” Virgil asked, rubbing harshly at his stinging eyes.

Miss Susan softened, pulled his hand away and smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “Oh, baby. I’ve seen that glowbug a hundred times, here with you. I’ll be okay without it for a little while.”

Virgil turned to look at the hole again, imagining a little firefly crawling through with him so he wouldn’t be alone.

“Do you promise?” he asked, and Miss Susan pulled him into a hug so tight, it felt like it squished all the air from him.

“I promise,” she said, and her hands shook a little but her voice was steady. Virgil smushed his face against her shoulder for the last time.

“Okay. I’ll— I’ll go.”

The barrier of bodies around them seemed to relax, just slightly, though it still took Miss Susan a few moments longer to release him.

They told him everything he needed to know, everyone chiming in. That he had to run, as fast and as far as he could, and be sneaky and quiet when he was too tired to run. That he should find hiding places and hole up in them, wait until nobody was around to keep running.

That he should always hide from aliens, even if they weren't wearing the suits. That he should never let them see him, because they hated humans. That if they did grab him, he could do whatever he needed to do to get away.

“Just like stranger danger, right, buddy? You can bite, kick, scream, whatever you need to do.”

Virgil nodded, trying to push down the sick, stressed feeling in his gut, and when there was finally no advice left to give, he turned to the gash in the wall.

Wiggling through it was hard, because there were still sharp, poky bits that scratched at his skin and the inside of the wall was dark and stifling, but every time he wanted to stop, he could hear the encouragement of everyone else, who was still stuck inside.

There was a little bug with him, he reminded himself. If he closed his eyes and froze up, he wouldn’t ever be able to see it glow.

Finally, he squirmed free of the last few inches, dropping onto the floor of a very small dark room with shelves in it, like a linen closet. He turned back to face the hole, calling out, and Miss Susan reached an arm through.

He grabbed for her hand and pressed his face to it, clung to her for a long moment, his breaths stuttering as she cradled him the best she could.

There was a muffled clang, and Miss Susan ran her wavering thumb over his cheekbone one more time before pulling away.

“Run, Virgil. Now. Run!”

So he did.

He ran and hid, just like they told him, but he picked the wrong place to hide because it was part of another ship, and it took him far away. He kept running, pulled himself into tiny little nooks on spaceship after spaceship, snuck food wherever he could get it and only ever whispered to his invisible firefly.

Eventually, he left a ship and there were no other ships around to board, only the wide landscape of a different planet, full of weird trees and weird animals and a weird town that he fled from. No more ships came, and that was fine because he didn’t want to run anymore. He wanted to stay and wait for them to find him.

He laid on his back and faced the sky, searching for a sign that they were coming. He was hungry and tired and lonely.

The stars above looked just like fireflies, hundreds of them. Enough for all of them to watch together. Except there wasn’t a ‘them’. It was only him.

Virgil felt his face growing hot, his throat closing up at the thought. It was too frightening to be alone.

No, he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t. He had their firefly with him, somewhere next to him in the grass.

“Just because I can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” Virgil said to himself sternly, and rolled back to his feet.

He would find something to eat, somewhere to sleep, and he would wait. They would find him. They would find him. They would…

—

When Logan finally eased the mental connection closed and pulled himself free, he found there was a low, buzzing keen building in the back of his throat. The sort of sound he hadn’t made since he himself was a child.

Virgil still lay there unconscious, but his cheeks were shiny and damp with tears. Logan reached out, ignoring the heat radiating from the pupa’s skin, and gently smoothed a narrow finger over his cheek, wiping the wetness away as best he could.

It didn’t do much, but the crinkle in Virgil’s brow seemed to ease just slightly at the sensation.

Roman paced by again, pausing at the sight. “Specs? Is the kid alright? …Are you alright?”

Logan wondered what Roman would think about the fact that Humans and Crav’n had more in common culturally than he would have ever guessed. That an entire group of Humans had given up their only boon for the slim chance of getting the only child present to safety.

No time to waste, now. That conversation would have to wait until they’d launched.

“Let Patton know we’re leaving, and meet me in the navigation area,” he instructed, already turning to leave. “I’m going to clear our landing area for departure.”

“What— I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to actually leave?” Roman asked, glancing between Logan and Virgil with visible worry.

“It’s a worse idea to sit here and wait,” he replied firmly, and then he was down the hall and out the hanger door, ignoring the shiver of secondhand trepidation that Virgil’s mind had left in his.

He circled the ship, placing the warding discs that would keep their launch area organism-free down one by one, and then paused at the sight of a familiar creature standing by the main entrance hatch.

It was a Humlilt, one with a distinct little white splotch on its head. Logan was fairly certain that it was the one who had stood between them and Virgil during their second meeting, the most loyal of the bunch, only proved further by the way it had been waiting outside the ship since Virgil had been taken aboard.

Logan was also fairly certain that Virgil had named this one Susan, after his neighbor. The Human who’d taken care of him, in those memories.

“You’ve taken care of him, too, haven’t you?” he asked, still far too affected by the painful sympathy that had washed over him post-Vidi.

The Humlilt stamped a hoof and trumpeted at him warningly as he neared, still obviously holding a grudge at them for stealing Virgil away.

Logan attempted to rationalize himself out of the decision he was about to make, and utterly failed.

—

It took some digging and reaching out to a few of Logan’s less savory contacts, but the ship was on its way to a waypoint station that was rumored to have a Human expert in residence. It could have been a trap, a lie meant to lure interested parties into an attack, but they were going to have to risk it.

The three of them had all agreed to the plan. They wouldn’t be able to live with themselves otherwise.

Now that they were in transit, Logan sat down with his two closest friends, and began to explain just what he’d learned about their kid.

A few rooms down in the medical bay, a half-conscious Human reached out a feverish hand and found a small, fluffy presence curled up at his side.

The Humlilt crooned a few notes, sounding just like the aimless lullabies its namesake used to hum.

For the first time since boarding the ship, Virgil breathed a little easier.

#wibar #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #ts roman #space au #humans are deathworlders #teoba #the end of being alone #mind the warnings #writing #my writing

[gffa]

It’s been over half a year since I did a set of STAR WARS fic recs that weren’t pairing-focused, but I have been reading fic along the way! And sometimes you want fic that’s not about ships, no matter how much you love them, sometimes you just want to read about friendships or you want to read some cool worldbuilding or you only want the plot, and Star Wars fandom has been lovely about that. Hell, sometimes you just want to cry about how much you love the Jedi and you want to share that affection with other people, through the incredible experience of telling stores about them, like they were trying so hard and they were right about so many things and they were dying for years to try to help the galaxy, and teaching about how emotional regulation is good actually, and sometimes you want to show that through the disaster trio and sometimes you want to yell about how good Mace Windu is and sometimes you want to love frog grandpa and sometimes you want to get into a fistfight to defend Luminara’s honor and sometimes you want the whole Order sitting down to a family dinner and sometimes you want fic where Anakin and Mace actually get along and so many other things! So, here’s a collection of some excellent fic that I think most people should be able to find at least something to enjoy, whether you’re looking for fun disaster lineage shenanigans or heartbreaking pain because Star Wars Is Pain or some awesome Jedi Order worldbuilding or some all too rare Mace Windu Appreciation fic, I HOPE YOU ENJOY. WHAT KIND OF FIC YOU’LL FIND HERE: 

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE

CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE

JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION

I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I’M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE’S PROBLEM

FOR THE OBITINE SHIPPERS, OF WHICH I AM ONE

MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS

NOBODY NEEDS THEIR HEART TODAY ANYWAY

FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE: ✦ fill pages with scribbled ink by magneticwave, obi-wan/padme & anakin & cast, 9.8k    A year after the Invasion of Naboo, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is invited by Queen Amidala to return to Naboo and participate in a rite known as the Night of Fireflies. Things kind of snowball from there. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & kanan & mace & rex & obi-wan & cast, 10.5k    After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, mace & luke, 2k    Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire’s sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader’s identity. CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE: ✦ stars lean in a little closer by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & ahsoka, 3.9k    Ahsoka is struggling with nightmares after returning from Felucia, but her pesky grandmaster won’t leave her to deal with them alone ✦ Four Walls and Two Jedi by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 10k    Obi-Wan and Anakin get exposed to a deadly virus and must spend two weeks in quarantine battling sickness, ghosts from the past, and worries for the future. ✦ Care, Trust, and the Force (of course) by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin, whump, 1.7k    Anakin takes a tumble during a battle that brings about a lot of old fears. ✦ Chains Bound and Broken by PhenomenalWoman, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 6.3k    Where Anakin goes undercover and learns that being a 9 year-old slave is not the same as being a 22 year-old slave. ✦ Anakin’s Birthday by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, 1.3k    Anakin is about to celebrate his first birthday as a Jedi Padawan and Obi-Wan helps to make it special. Pure fluff. ✦ Not Much Has Changed, Except for Everything by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon, time travel, 4.4k    Anakin is angry at Obi-Wan, and the Force decides to intervene by throwing him back in time. ✦ cause a commotion (jump in the ocean) by loosingletters, anakin & ahsoka, 1.2k    Ahsoka worries about finding a Master and instead finds a friend haunting the ponds in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. ✦ still much that is fair by RaineyDay, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & bant & tahl & cast, time travel, 21.1k    Anakin Skywalker was used to following the commands of the Force in his daily life. But a lot of the time, that didn’t really mean much. Until the day the Force nudged him to catch a kid falling through the sky- and through time. ✦ unbalanced, triumphant, and trying again by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin, 2.6k    sometimes you just want to go home, wherever that may be. ✦ Haste Has No Blessing by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, spanking, 3k    Ten-year-old Anakin Skywalker becomes impatient with the speed of his training and defies his master’s instructions. ✦ to be better by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin, 1.8k    the Council has lost a planet, much to Anakin and Obi-Wan’s dismay. they’ve been tasked with finding it, but after nine hyperspace jumps and a painful discovery, Obi-Wan teaches his former Padawan one more lesson. ✦ And The War Never Sleeps by soft_but_gremlin, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1k    As the war goes on, it gets harder to get any sleep. ✦ Keeper of the Force by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & bant & plo & vokara & cast, read the warnings, 93.9k    Thirty years before the Clone Wars began, the Force selected its Keeper. Now, in the face of the intense turmoil plaguing the galaxy, the Force acts again. Anakin just wants everything to go back to how it was before, Ahsoka doesn’t completely understand what is happening but is willing to do whatever she can to help, and Obi-Wan’s past comes back to haunt him in a way he never expected. ✦ Moving by SingManyFaces, obi-wan & anakin & plo, 3k    Obi-Wan’s new padawan is having difficulty learning to meditate but, together, they find a way to make it work. ✦ unthinkingly by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.1k    Ahsoka felt her entire body grow cold as she whirled around for them, opened her mouth to shout a warning— She saw Anakin tense first, saw him lift his face to the sky, and then his eyes met Ahsoka’s briefly—and then she saw him race for Obi-Wan, shove him out of the way, and— Ahsoka’s shout joined Obi-Wan’s. ✦ what they grow beyond by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon, 2.7k    Obi-Wan learns there is just as much learning in teaching. ✦ Deepest Rivers by TexasDreamer01, obi-wan & anakin, 1.5k    “The deepest rivers flow with the least sound.” - Quintus Curtius Rufus ✦ Inactions Have Consequences by stolen_pen_name23, obi-wan & anakin & mace, 2k    Losing Qui-Gon was the hardest thing Obi-Wan ever endured. He can’t bear to do it to Anakin. OR: Obi-Wan tries to keep Anakin at arm’s length. It doesn’t work. ✦ Aftercare by AdaliaK, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan, spanking, 3k    When Anakin feels resentful of Obi-Wan after a punishment, “Uncle Quin” steps in and smooths things over between master & padawan. JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION: ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 8.7k    During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & jedi, ~1k    The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ Mace Windu Appreciation Week by Redminibike1, mace & obi-wan & anakin & yoda & qui-gon & ponds & cody & cast, 12.5k    Set of unconnected ficlets for Mace Windu Appreciation Week, because he deserves it :) ✦ a thin thread of hope by wrennette, shaak & clones, ~1k    Shaak Ti introduces some cadets to one of her favourite crafts, under the guise of training. ✦ everyone comes home by nightdotlight, anakin & mace, 1.1k    Anakin laughs, drowsy with the painkillers the IV feeds into his veins, and smiles at Mace. “You’re funny,” he says. “Nobody ever says it, but— you’re funny. I like the jokes you make.” ✦ Masters and Apprentices by silveryink, obi-wan & cody & rex & cast, 1.8k    “You’re overthinking this.” Rex stared at his brother. “Okay, but – consider this, what if I’m not?” Cody snorted. “Rex. We’ve had a Padawan Commander before. We’ve also worked with cadets before. We managed with Skywalker, I’m sure that the Jedi shiny will be fine.” ✦ a comedy in four acts by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & yoda & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 17.2k    This was what time-travel is: staring at the dark sockets of skulls everywhere your gaze lands on. Being haunted by ghosts long gone. The apprehension of the slow yet sure approach of the inevitable which is sending chills down your spine. ✦ when the world is on your side by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & feemor & cast, 1k    Feemor and his Padawan meet Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan. ✦ rah kat by js71, obi-wan & anakin & aayla, 1.6k    “Aay’shee,” Obi-Wan murmurs into her ear, rocking her gently, like when jaieh was off on a mission she couldn’t go on, so her jaieh-raheniel would take turns having her over at their apartments. ✦ Lessons on Attachment by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin/padme & cast, 2.7k    “Anakin once told me that a Jedi is actually encouraged to love.” She said after Obi-Wan had settled. ✦ settle down by loosingletters, yoda & jedi, 1.9k    Five times Yoda cooks for somebody and one time someone cooks for him. ✦ at our gardens (during the eye of the storm) by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & shaak & mace & yoda & feemor & cast, 7k    Obi-Wan and his (almost full) family gathers to drink tea. ✦ in our kitchen (after the war) by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & ahsoka & mace & yoda & depa & shaak & cast, 5.4k    Or, (almost) all of the Jedi High Councilors (plus Ahsoka) gather to eat dinner together. ✦ with our family (after the dust has settled) by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & ahsoka & yoda & mace & depa & kanan & quinlan & aayla & shaak & plo & cast, 6.2k    Or, after the war ends (for real this time!), the (actually full!) Council gathers to eat mooncakes. ✦ Straw Dogs by Cymbidia, obi-wan & jedi & cast, 2.9k    An old Jedi Master imparts some wisdom concerning Mercy, Balance, and the Will of the Force to young Padawan Obi-wan Kenobi and a gaggle of other younglings. It is a lesson that haunts Obi-wan for the rest of his life. I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I’M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE’S PROBLEM: ✦ netanalo by js71, cal & tapal & rex & fives, 2.4k    The Senate had sent a child to see into the past. A Padawan, Ahsoka’s age, not much older. Rex’s heart pounded in his chest, climbing towards his throat, because damn the Senate, did they know how this would affect the kid, or did they just not care? ✦ what’s in a birthday (another year you live) by Ro29, luminara & barriss & gree & cast, 2.1k    The Jedi view life as something precious, and Commander Gree learns he has value for the simple fact that he is alive. ✦ Direct Action by silveryink, luminara & barriss & kix & cast, 4.3k    Upon investigating the health of her new battalion, Barriss discovers tumours located in all their heads. It’s a bigger problem than it appears to be. ✦ oh that dissolving light by wrennette, obi-wan/luminara, NSFW, 1.1k    Luminara and Obi-Wan enjoy an evening of relaxation together during the war. ✦ I Feel Glad When You’re Glad by Harpokrates, ahsoka & plo, 1k    Plo Koon considers his bright young charge. ✦ Non-Attachment and other Misconceptions by art_of_a_diffrent_color, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & plo & mace & qui-gon & cast, 3k wip    Plo Koon, fresh off the planet Shili with a two and a half-year-old girl in his custody, is sent to Naboo to collect the body of Qui-Gon Jinn and assess the mental health of his former Padawan. What happens that day changes everything. ✦ Battle Heavy by phoenixyfriend, anakin & padme (past anakin/padme), 2.2k    In which things are finalized, and emotions are settled. FOR THE OBITINE SHIPPERS, OF WHICH I AM ONE: ✦ atmosphere level by softredscrunchie, obi-wan/satine & qui-gon, 1k    As a joke, Satine tells Obi-Wan she thinks Mandalore is flat. He doesn’t take it well. MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS: ✦ Faith in Darkness by icarus_chained, luke & grogu & din & anakin & cast, force ghosts, 11.2k    Hindsight was perfect. And all nightmares came back, eventually. All nightmares came again. ✦ Paternal Relations by willowcrowned, obi-wan & anakin & luke, 1.2k    “No,” Vader says, “I am your father.” Every bit of the pain, the terror, and the rage that have been flooding Luke’s senses is completely drowned out by utter confusion. What, he thinks, the fuck. Oh shit, Luke thinks, Vader is my dad’s ex-husband. ✦ Burdening Fate by Be_Right_Back, obi-wan & din, 2k    There’s a wise old man standing in a field next to Din, with knowing eyes full of light. NOBODY NEEDS THEIR HEART TODAY ANYWAY: ✦ somewhere along in the bitterness by CallToMuster, obi-wan & anakin, read the warnings, 3.8k    It was probably the twelfth day floating alone in space that Obi-Wan and Anakin realized no one was coming for them. ✦ infinite sadness by billowypants, obi-wan & anakin, force ghosts, ~1k    You have always known what your purpose was in this world. Ever since you could think for yourself, you had somehow known that you were meant for infinite sadness. So what is unfolding in front of you right now makes no sense. ✦ this tired old elegy by grumpyhedgehogs, obi-wan & bly & jedi & clones, 2.4k    In which Bly is This Close to breaking out of the chip’s control by himself and Obi-Wan shows up to give him that extra push. ✦ programed to dream by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.3k    The spaceship Comet-rider is the fastest, most efficient vessel in the galaxy, and is crewed by Separatist-funded pirates. Anakin Skywalker is missing. Unfortunately, these two things are connected. ✦ a trolley problem for jedi by nightdotlight, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & mace & depa & kanan, 4.1k    There’s this old problem. You may have heard of it. Something about a trolley, and a person, and a lever. A choice. ✦ premonition by grumpyhedgehogs, obi-wan & anakin, 2.6k    Anakin dreams of the future. (It isn’t bright.) ✦ Betrayal by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin, read the warnings, 1.5k    Obi-Wan gets to Coruscant earlier than expected after escaping from Utapau. It changes things. ✦ Together or Not at All by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & padme, 2.7k    In the aftermath of the Battle of Geonosis, Anakin crashes, and Obi-Wan and Padmé struggle to keep him alive long enough to get him help, all while trying to face their new reality. The reality of war. FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW: ✦ strip away my conscience (peel away my values) by gostaks, obi-wan & anakin & palpatine, sith!obi-wan, 1k    Obi-Wan Kenobi is an onion—he has layers. Beneath those layers, growing blacker every day, is the seed of the Republic’s fall. ✦ i am his brother, and i love him well by egeria, obi-wan/satine & anakin/padme, modern au, 2.9k    Anakin introduces Padmé to Obi-Wan. It goes well. Not that Anakin believes that. ✦ Tolnah kodaih kat delo anohrah'ak by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & jango & boba & cast, 4.2k wip    The one where Shmi is Jango’s older half-sister, Obi-Wan is raising a Mandalorian Padawan and Palpatine’s plans get ruined because four-year-old Boba Fett loves his cousin. ✦ No Death, Only the Force by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & depa & shmi, body swap, 2.8k    Anakin Skywalker is just about to to free his mother from the Tuskens when the Force rudely yanks him to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant – and into Mace Windu’s body. Mace, on the other hand, gets tossed into Anakin’s body on Tatooine.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #mace windu #jedi order #fic recs #star wars fic recs

[rise-my-angel]

Shadows of Mandalore

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader, Boba Fett x Female Reader

Length: 20k

Warnings: A/b/o (alpha beta omega dynamics), omega reader, not a poly relationship, angst/hurt comfort, mentions of past trauma, mentions of slavery, smut, oral (f and m recieving), p in v, anal play, anal sex, dirty talk via communicator, slight degradation, one mention of name calling during sex (consensual), m/m/f threesome, no m/m dynamics

Notes: Takes place during the span of episodes 5, 6, and 7 of The Book of Boba Fett.

Perhaps many years ago this vast expanse of darkness below would have been frightening. Now though, you came with the safety that those other then yourself had your back. The fade into what you couldn’t see reminded you of the vast crevasses you had been told to avoid as a child. The elders insisting you went nowhere near where the world split, but your father whispering promises of teaching you not just how to cross but to climb. Such lessons never happened, and so for a long, lonely time you continued to go nowhere near such deep falls. 

By your side however, there was more than just the promises of your long forgotten father. The pair behind you kept far away enough to watch but not listen, but one of them no doubt would not only dive off to catch you but climb up in no time. Both would, but you felt Din’s eyes trained on your back at all times. Even if he was turned to speak to Paz, never once did he not have you somewhere in his sights. Both men watching respectfully, but gave the space and distance commanded by the woman beside you. 

The Armourer sat next to you at the edge of the platform, having requested she speak to you and you alone before discussing thing’s further with those of her covert. Only somewhat taller then you, she still seemed to tower over you with bulk and authority. The fur around her shoulders and helmet designed like that of horns still intimidated you as much now as it did the first time. Sitting next to her, legs crossed as your heart beat a tinge faster, you wondered if her silence was because she sensed it. 

“You were a slave before meeting Din Djarin were you not?” There had been hints of amusement and closeness when speaking to her kind, but the formality of a leader returning with you only adding to the strange worry that you still didn’t belong. You stared out into the darkness as you nodded. Not wanting her to pick up on your insecurity. “And yet you haven’t returned to Werda since being freed.” 

It was either curiosity in her voice or a judgment, a tone you doubt even without the modulator you would be able to ascertain. Your only memory of the place now was of that night. The cracking split in the cliff side and ship so large it looked as if it was rising out of the caverns below, there was painful silence for just a moment until it boomed and lights flew from the ships interior until there was nothing left in your young understanding but fire and screams. 

There was pain in being taken from your home, your family. But where Din’s loss ended in the arms of a people who formed the brave and valiant family in place to heal. You were ripped from a home you didn’t know much about, and tossed into the hands of others with a brand that you still felt the phantom burning of on your neck. 

Omega’s were rare now. Uncommon in the galaxy, and once thought to be extinct amongst Mandalorians. From an isolated childhood to a life of slavery, finally thrusting into the vast world of the very people you heard so much about as a child. You didn’t know what confused you more. Your own presentation as an omega, or the strange fascination different Mandalorians seemed to have with such a presentation.

Din knew there was nothing left of what he called home if he were to travel back, but you didn’t know what was even left behind. Swallowing harshly, you kept your jaw set and forward. “My home, they were killed that night, or they moved on in fear. Either way I would have no way of knowing where to even find them. We didn’t stay in once place if there was trouble, but I don’t even know where home was when they took me.” 

A silence passed between you before she found her voice again. “Keeping in small numbers while hiding to protect those small amounts. An interesting trait for those who claimed to stray far from The Way.” 

Head turning to her slightly, you felt something reach within you as if trying to shield a truth that’s wanted to make itself known for a while now. Your unsure silence spoken as a prompt for her to continue. “Omegas exist outside of Mandalorians but it was with us that their numbers prospered. A presentation once treasured but whose numbers disappeared some time before the Great Purge. Whomever was left, all but perished along with our home world and for some time none of us knew where the remainder had been taken.” 

A sinking feeling in your stomach felt like a powerful weight slamming into it. The shock and surprise of the pirates who stole you from your home, and the scramble to sell you to the highest bidder. 

“Until an omega was rumoured to have shown up on the slave trade after Werda was invaded. A planet many of us thought to be abandoned along with much of The Mandalore System. Hiding our own kind in plain sight.” 

Were you not sitting, hands already wrung together and hidden away in your lap, the shaking may have become painfully clear. Your jaw clenched tightly as the only tone coming from your mouth was that of a whisper. You knew the truth of history, yet the disbelief of stories told as a child fought strongly with that. “No, we went to the Mandalore system after you abandoned it, because you wouldn’t look where you left behind.” 

A creak of distraught peeked into your voice, but neither it or your words offended her. “Who is more likely to be telling the truth, omega. If it is the stories told to you as a child, then you wouldn’t be here right now, would you?” 

Of course it was a stretch, did you truly ever believe the opposite when since day one you had trusted Din and his people more than anyone in your life before. “You said Werda was hiding your own kind, you mean-”

“Mandalorians.” Her head turned slowly to yours, her voice as sure and as absolute as ever. “Or, those born to Mandalorians. Stashed away to keep their omega’s from the very kind of Mandalorians they deemed dangerous for simply putting faith in The Way.” 

You thought of that, even now. The possible truth that the Elders of your home lied of the past and destroyed access to the outside world just to keep it that way. Even now as you walked through the hanger, your mind replayed her final words to you. 

“You are bonded to him,” nodding to Din, “and we are not to disrespect the bond between mates but know this, omega. His transgressions are not yours. You need not swear the Creed to have a place amongst us. An omega born to Mandalorians such as us will always be welcome here should she choose so.” 

Both you and Din had far too much on your minds to even know where to start with the other, and least of all to discuss out in the open as you both were stuck travelling. There were people everywhere, and the transport ship in sight was even less viable as an option. 

Little had been said since leaving the covert, but Din kept you close. A hand on your lower back or keeping you more firm at his side than normal, the spiralling whirlwind of emotions no doubt his was picking up on but also for himself. 

The Armourer had given you a place with their people in the same encounter she told Din, that he had lost his. There was a path to redemption, one that neither of you knew where quite to start but the road there would not be felt likely in his heart. 

Paz spitting he was an apostate, while the Armourer forced herself to stand collected and provided a redemption, but it did very little to settle the fiery conflict the deceleration put within him. You had gently slipped your hand into his, fingers wrapping together, making sure that this not a loss of everything. 

Din had turned to you, back to his people as he cupped your cheek with his other hand. Just like always, you met his eyes through the blackness of a visor and he found unwavering solidarity in your togetherness. He didn’t have nothing, there was still you. For now that would be enough to prevent his mind from falling apart in just another way. 

You both felt the frustration too. All of your belongings now sat either on Din’s person or in the bag wrapped across your shoulders that once held the other piece of your hearts. No home, no child, and now, Din being casted out, an apostate despite the very reason for his sacrifice being for his foundling. A part of their Creed which was supposed to be the most important thing to protect. 

He understood the gravity of what he did, and regardless of how you felt about the repercussions it was still important to him to fix. Something of his identity that through meeting Mandalorians of other kinds, still was part of who he was and wanted to be. You both would fix this, but it was hard to do that in your current situation.

Especially when that situation involved a droid falling it’s alarm that only tripped after you and Din crossed it’s path. Turning back it sat amongst a security luggage port, sticking out a key card telling you to remove your weapons. 

Both of you turning in place to walk towards it, Din was already agitated let alone being yelled at by a machine. “I’m a Mandalorian, weapons are part of my religion.” 

Coming up beside him, you could see eyes on the large man in full armour with worry as if they weren’t regularly surrounded with far more and far worse people who didn’t have the respect and restraint that Din has. “If you wish to discuss this with my supervisor, I will gladly book you on tomorrow’s flight.” 

Sharing a glance between you, a fight with an even more frustrating droid and being stuck here overnight looked even less appealing. Snatching the card from it, Din opened the secure storage, turning to you with a hand outstretched. 

The small blaster wasn’t exactly the best, nor was Din really even happy that you needed one but without the Razor Crest it was a compromise. Tossing it in, he already begun moving onto his arsenal. You remembered the first time you saw the extent of weaponry he kept on his person, yet now you could almost predict what he’d reach for next without looking. Putting it all back though, was going to be a much bigger annoyance then taking it off.

Stepping to his side, Din pulled out the Darksaber. Looking completely unremarkable in it’s deactivated state, but one of the only things that connected you both to that day Grogu left. Sparing a look at the other, you raised your eyebrows with a little tilt of your head in hesitancy.

Din didn’t have a choice, but it certainly felt odd putting a weapon of such apparent importance into a security luggage some droid was going to toss into the cargo. Pulling the card out, Din pointed at the little droid. “I know everything that’s in there.” 

“Proceed.” 

You didn’t know why, but the light hearted tone of it’s response to a threat, made you smile. An act that had Din looking at you curiously, but in an impossible to determine way. His hand returned to your lower back as you entered the transport making your way to whatever seats they booked you in. 

Gesturing you to go in first, you took the bag off your shoulders, letting it hang off the edge of the armrest next to the wall. Eyes shutting with a huff, you let your head rest back for just a moment as you felt Din move in next to you. 

It was those quiet times in the cockpit of the Razor Crest that you and Din felt the most connected. A long way to travel with the peace of just the two of you interspersed with a baby wanting in on the affection. Many times Grogu would end up on Din’s lap, venture over to yours for a while and then back to Din when he wanted to sleep. 

It was those moment’s you felt that bond the Armourer spoke of. Technically you and Din weren’t mated, but your souls reached for one another in instinct at all times and kept any from stealing you away. It was more quiet now though. An unspoken you always felt.

Din able to retain his alpha, knowing it would calm whatever senses your omega had the potential of putting off to much. Feeling his gaze, you opened your eyes to turn and look up at the man already watching you before a child turned in the seat in front of you. 

Curious gaze looking at Din in the same childlike wonder Grogu would often do. The little wave he did and the nod Din gave the kid back pulled too much at your heart. The kid looking nothing like yours but the feeling persisted of how much he was missed. 

It must have gotten stronger, because you suddenly felt a wave of calm splashing onto you from Din as he brushed your knuckle with a few fingers to catch you, voice little more then a whisper. “Cyra’ika,” You must have made Din feel more distressed then you were actively realizing. His touch moving then to brush against your cheek as he leaned in. Forehead not quite touching yours, “How long has it been since you’ve slept.” 

Eyes drooping a slight as you leaned into his hands touch. “Since before the bounty?” 

Smirking at how instantly Din sighed, you shrugged one shoulder. Neither of you slept well since the light cruiser. “I’m not even going to bother pointing out how many days ago that was.” Sliding his touch to under your chin, pushing you to look up at him. “You should try while we’re on here. It’ll be a bit before we get to Tatooine.” 

Narrowing your eyes you grasped his hand, pulling from your chin to keep in your lap. “What about you?” 

His chuckle was light enough that no one but you could have picked it up, making you pout a tad as he pulled away from your lap to slide it up behind your neck. Firmly yet soothingly holding you close to him. “I will, I promise.” 

His hand pulling you to rest gently on his shoulder, knowing that you liked the coolness of the beskar on your skin lately. You had been running hotter the past few weeks, and with little chances to lay together and surround yourself with Din’s even warmer body heat, you took advantage of the beskar’s temperature. 

Din waited until you were asleep to pull out the wrapped cloth. The shirt forged from the spear he used to rescue Grogu. A fitting transference if you asked him. If he squinted, Din could almost see the shape of his head and large ears in the wrappings, but it also certainly was just the loneliness without him pulling at his heart. 

You had each other, but missing Grogu was something else entirely and it left a painful void. He tried to keep the subject from you, Grogu was his and their clan was made just with the two of them, but you were just as important to it. An honorary member turning it to a clan of three that you insisted wasn’t true. You always wanted to keep a distance. Fearing your attachment would come across as trying to invade on their space despite how much both parties wanted you too. 

Your distress at his leaving was more evident, everything you felt lately was more intense. Screaming to the surrounding people that you were omega in distress and Din put forth everything in his power to keep you calm and safe in his arms. Even the rising level of your body heat was concerning to Din. He knew you tried to hide it, but he scanned and checked your vitals through his visor more then you knew, even before you joined him. 

Finding himself scanning you to ensure you were alright and safe between visits to Navarro. It was there he noticed your former slavers brand was red inflamed. You had been working on removing it, but it was leaving a new scar on your neck at how viciously you scrubbed it away. 

He bought bacta specifically for it, telling you to use it before bed and not to touch your fading brand until it was healed entirely. He protected you just like that now, even if it meant keeping both of your pains quiet. The first night you two were together was after Grogu had left, and the feeling off ripped away loss send you hurling towards a stress induced heat. 

Your presentation had never quite gone back down after your heat ended. Like you were stuck on the verge of another, but kept rooted to the ground by Din’s soothing presence and the command of his alpha. He hoped seeing Grogu would be good for you, even if it would still mean leaving him once more.

You didn’t allow yourself a goodbye. Turning your gaze away to leave the moment to them alone, and from the distance he felt more torn apart inside at how raging your omega screamed. Letting what you subconsciously saw as your own kid, just be taken away after everything to rescue him. 

Maybe that’s why Din was handling it just the slightest bit better, he felt Grogu’s gentle touch on his cheek and their eyes on each other until they were no longer together. You didn’t let yourself have that, and if Din wasn’t also fighting this internal struggle of what his people now saw him as? This would be easier for you to handle, but the two of you had too much stolen from you and what to show for it? 

No home, no child, just a weapon that held a responsibility Din had no interest in. Tatooine wasn’t a great place, but maybe enough familiar faces to ease both your pains for even a little while. 

Leaving the artificial light of the transport into the blistering suns masked by nothing but the sand below had you squinting walking off the ramp. Throwing the bag back over your shoulder you remembered the last time you were actually on this planet. 

For the first time since you begun travelling with them, it was the first time anyone outside of Din had given you any kind of flirtatious attention that wasn’t dripping with a creepiness. Cobb Vanth was more chatty then you were used too, and honestly? Having a man smile charmingly at you like that almost felt as unusual as it did somewhat flustering. 

Sitting around a fire, Grogu had been happily plopped down between Din’s feet to sit closer to the fire occasionally climbing gently over his boot to glance over at you, only to find you looking right back. A little game between you and him, who caught who staring first and who would be the first to look away. 

One of the Tuskens had made a rather loud noise to another, breaking Grogu’s concentration and giving ample opportunity for the Marshall to whisper yours over onto him. “You know, I was wondering if I could see the resemblance, but some kids just take more after their father’s don’t they?” 

A hint of a smirk formed as you turned yourself to look at him properly, your voice an inch lower. “Or maybe all those years in the sun just means you don’t see too good.” He chuckled, but it wasn’t as deep and warm as Din’s, though it was odd you’d compare. 

He was quiet for a moment, watching you sip the odd liquid the Tuskens had given you all and it also didn’t feel as nice when Din quietly watched you. Though, you figured it at the least was better then the annoying feeling when it was Calican watched you. Acting as if cocky spunk would endear you to him. “The kid’s his. That much is obvious, now you got me wondering where you fit into all this exactly.” 

Cobb had meant it as a genuine question. A Mandalorian shows up demanding the return of the Marshall’s bought armour, has a very small baby in toe with big ears and curious wide eyes, and you by his side. Not a bounty hunter, nor a Mandalorian, and what Cobb knew all to well was the faded mark of a slave brand on your neck healed out to almost nothing. He was interested in this strange trio that walked into his town and rallied the what he normally felt was a group of dangerous creatures together for a common goal. 

To you? It felt much like then Xi’an asked you the same thing. Only she meant it with malice.  A judgment upon your person that even worse, was extended to the kid. A kid that they sent their bug droid to kill just for being associated with Din. She was the first one who made you question if you belonged with these two. 

Cobb didn’t mean it that way, but you felt it. And surprisingly, so did the kid in question. Grogu at some point had found himself up on Din’s lap. Little hand reaching over to you with a grumble as if upset you were too far away. The man beside you chuckled more, “Just like me as a boy, could never go too long without his mama’s attention.” 

Your heart lept at the word, but quickly Din had scooted over to get your side pressed up against his. Grogu crawling half into your lap before falling over and letting out a half purr half grumble. Din’s voice was in your ear this time, and the warmth filling your veins brought calm to your memory once more. “I’d suggest you hold him a while, but I have a feeling he’d just get upset all over again.”

Hand reaching down to trail softly over his ear, you smiled. Not that you could sense it quite yet, but Din smiled at the sight just as brightly. “Maybe we spoil him too much.” 

A gloved hand reached down to grasp at Grogu’s little hand, baby fingers wrapping around one of his while the remainder covered it entirely in the leather. “Spoiling was when you spent the last of your earnings on that plush instead of that drink you enjoyed.” Din had geared you towards a specific vendor one day, hoping you’d catch the sight of the man selling this strange dark blue drink you loved only to stop at Grogu cooing. 

You had turned to look at him, sat happily in the bag Din kept on him and his big eyes trained on a brown frog plush, a bit on the rough side and just short of his own height. Naturally, you folded instantly. 

Now though, it was just one of the very little items you had left. Din kept the metal ball on him, and you kept the plush frog in the bag once for Grogu himself. The droid at the security station was in far worse condition. Paint chipping and it’s voice box stuttering and movements lanky. It didn’t feel as welcoming as the memory you sank into just seconds before. 

Headed towards the main part of town, thing’s didn’t appear to be in quite as working order as you expected. Nothing was occurring, but there was a quiet unsure feeling among the people like waiting for violence. Din, naturally, kept you pressed almost right as his side until Peli’s hanger approached. 

“Where’s your unlikely companion?” As instant as you froze up in place, Din’s alpha reached out to tame the rising flames before they could spark more. The way he could command your presentation without speaking were it from anyone else, would be alarming. 

“I returned him to his own kind.” 

Peli’s response though, almost cracked something akin to a smirk. “Why the hell would you do that? I could have good money off that thing.” 

Pushing past the dryness in your throat, you turned your head to her. “Pretty sure keeping a baby for just a petting zoo is illegal.” Her head turned to look over at you, the little glint in your eye much easier to read then the stillness of the Mandalorian few were used too. 

Shaking her head with an amused smirk of her own, “It’s not illegal. Just morally dubious. Besides, those big bright eyes would have made me a killing.” 

Approaching something covered in a sheet in her hanger, you and Din paused to glance at one another hesitantly. You weren’t a ship expert but something tells you she had a completely different plan then what she called you both for. “Ready to have your mind blown?” 

Well, that wasn’t really the word. More confused, at least Din was more straight forward. “Where’s the Razor Crest?” 

“I never said I had a Razor Crest, I said I had a replacement for the Razor Crest.” The more you looked at it, the more interested you became. The general design looked familiar but not in a way you would have seen out in the open space. 

The two of them went back and forth for a bit, Din saying “This is a pile of junk.” and Peli trying to sweeten the deal with promises of modification and big game about it being a Starfighter used by some Naboo Queen. Pacing around it, you think you may have read a book with something like this in it. 

Early on, you had started reading up on ships and internal ship mechanics trying to prove yourself useful to Din beyond just watching Grogu. Starfighter’s were in that text somewhere that pinged at your vauge memory. Something you actually know about in a way that’s helpful, finally. 

“I’m telling you Mando, you gotta believe me. This is a classic.” 

While she had inadvertently knocked a panel right off it’s loose hold, you turned to Din from where you stood by one of it’s engine thrusters. “What if we fix it first?” His head tilting, you started gesturing around it. “I mean, we’ll need to fish around for parts, but it doesn’t look salvaged, more like it’s just been stripped.” 

You felt a shiver at his silence, glancing around before backtracking. “Just, I mean it’s not what we wanted, but if we can get it to work,” 

Peli’s high pitched voice yelled out as she pointed to you, “That’s when, not if, missy.” 

Smirking slightly, you raised your hand sin defence. “When we get it to work,” You moved back closer to Din a little unnerved at his silence. “You get to keep all your weapons on you in a Starfighter at least.” 

Could you see under his helmet, you’d see the amused yet done look on his face. Peli, a scrappy friend who was the hardest person outside his clan to say no too. Then there was your hopeful look, and an understanding that you had perked up at the idea of working on the ship for the first time in weeks. 

It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a temporary one that seemed to brighten your face. Glancing up at it, then down to you, your eyes wide and mouth slightly parted in hope. “Fixed up it’ll sell for more then we paid.” 

Peli had a protest to it, but the excitement in your eyes was just the right amount for Din. Hanging your bag up on the wall, you grabbed a pair of gloves and all three of you had some work to do. Peli disappeared to start on looking for certain parts, leaving you and Din in the peaceful quiet. 

Seamlessly working back and forth, interspersed with the goofy little droids that astounded you that they knew how to do anything. But they made you smile sometimes, and hey, five times out of ten, they passed you the right tool. You didn’t even know where to start on the Jawa’s, or more accurately, whatever strange arrangement she had with them. 

You were behind the ship, hands deep in one of the still stripped open panels with half the wiring either missing entirely, or hooked up wrong. “I dated a Jawa once.” Your head flying up, the dead silence Din gave her contrasting Peli not even considering the oddity of what she just said. An R5 unit passing by you, bleeping and shaking from the scavengers still hovering the area. 

Side eyeing it, you just shook your head muttering, “Trust me, buddy. Getting stripped for parts is the least of your worries out there.” Turning away it bumped into you slightly by accident, jostling you forward as one of the open wires sparked. Zapping at your fingertips, one hand gloveless just to have fit your hand through. Pulling back with a quiet hiss, you shook your hand and sat back on your knees. 

Pressing the heel of your palm into your forehead, the warmth came now from beside you not just within you. Peeking to the side, Din kneeled by your side, his hand outstretched towards you. “Here, let me see.”  Handing him the tool but he didn’t take it, just looked at you. “Not that, cyra’ika. Your hand.” 

Dropping it, you hesitated for just a moment ultimately knowing Din would just yank it towards him if you refused. Palm up, he traced your fingers up and tickling the soft sensation. You shrugged not yet brave enough to look at him. “Just a zap, it’s fine.” No words, he looked you over until the image of just dirt and small, older scrapes covered it. But he didn’t give it back. Sparing a look around the room, Peli was no where. “Din.” 

He himself sighed, shoulders dropping in exhaust that had you yearning for the privacy to help wring tension out of. “Sorry, I know. I just-” 

What he expected out of you was not what you had either. “Maybe you should go without me.” 

Helmet snapping up to you, a surge of paralyzing disbelief rushed forth into you. Trying to slip your hand back, Din in fact, yanked you right back into his touch. His heart pumping silence demanding an elaboration. 

Stammering you felt far less confident in this idea then you had when it arrived as a fleeting thought. “I just mean, this means a lot to you two and I wasn’t even there from the beginning,” Din said your name in warning, and pulled you further into him just as you unconsciously fidgeted too far from his comfort. “I just shouldn’t-” 

Peli’s voice rang out higher then both of yours could possibly dream of combined. “I don’t know why you’re always in such a hurry. Build me a ship, fix my blaster holes.” 

Her interruption granting just enough surprise from Din to slip out of his grasp, pushing up from your thighs and walking around the ship the long way from him. “Find us a ship is different then build me one, Peli. Besides we’re the ones doing all the work.” Gesturing to the slowly standing Din. 

Waving her hand at you, “All the work? Trust me, dealing with a bunch of eager Jawa’s always asking me out is hard work, believe me.” The funny thing about Peli is either she didn’t see your narrowed brows as you stared confused at her because it didn’t matter, or she did and ignored it. “You’d know what I’m talking about if you didn’t have a human sized massiff glaring down your potential suitors.” 

Voice flat as ever, one hand on his hip Din just stared Peli down until she threw her hands up in bemused defeat. Not before mockingly covering her mouth and leaning into you, “All alpha’s this protective or just the Mando variety?” 

There was a joke somewhere deep within you, but it was hard to get out at Din’s stare. It wasn’t something you came too lightly, but more and more you couldn’t help but feel this pull of failure that permeated every conversation or thought of Grogu. Not that you’d say it, but you somehow felt like a disworthy omega. Not even given herself the chance to say goodbye to her child and now lacking the ability to comfort the loneliness and dark pain creeping into her mate. 

Or supposed mate, in this case. Kicking nothing at your feet, it became too hard to face that reality the closer the ship was to finished. That was the plan, see Grogu once the ship is acquired but maybe you didn’t deserve it. Grogu was Din’s, his foundling. Not yours. Just a tag along that accidentally fit a nice role of doting omega that now wandered the galaxy lost and without use. 

Tension between you and Din was palpable. His eyes on you at all times the second they were anywhere but the ship. Yours, never met his back. Even through the visor, you found his his eyes perfectly every time. Even his covert making mention of the ease in which you spoke to them like the helmet was just who they were like your face was. 

By the time the Jawa's returned, you had been crouched by a panel away from the door. Knowing both by the quick scramble of small feet and R5 shaking like the least brave droid in existence. Catching it’s attention, you inhaled and exhaled with dramatic movements. But the droid just beeped more. 

Never met a droid that was such a baby before. 

Din’s voice rang out through the hanger. “Where did they get a cryogenic density combustion booster?” 

“Do you really wanna know?” 

Sounded like a fair question, neither you or Din had found the Jawa’s holding a favourable track record of being in the ownership of things belonging to him, or Fett for that matter. A thought that sparked in your head and begun plotting itself out..

“They said they crawled under a Pyke spice runner and crimped it off while they were refueling. Gutsy little fellas.” Hands pausing mid movement, you turned your head just enough to hear her the slightest bit clearer. “Let me tell you something, Pykes do not mess around. Ever since they've been moving spice through the system, everything's gone to hell. Everyone's afraid of 'em and law enforcement won't even go near 'em.” 

Eyes glazing over, you bit part of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in wonder. Things around here looked calm, but that might be in part of fear of what may come through. You’d had enough encounters both with their kind, and that of spice runners in general. Their work and cooperation with the slavers trade were synonymous with one another. Many people you had seen sold off in favour of high quality cut, but not you it seemed. No spice was worth selling an omega until an even greedier profiteer came along with a heftier offer.  

Gears turned, but perhaps ones which wouldn’t make Din very happy. What did though, was how gorgeously fast the Starfighter was. You watching from a view point separate from her hanger, the machine flying through the sky with impressive skill. Peli leaving the field test over to you, saying something about cleaning up after them, either her droids or the Jawa’s who knows.

He unbeknownst to you, could hear the joy in your tone along with the smirk on your face more akin to proud them smug. “How’s the handling?” 

“A little bumpy,” the slight echos of control switches flipping on his end, “let me open her up.” 

The speed catching attention of those on the street’s below, you felt something shiver down your spine without recognizing it. Nor that your tone felt much raspier to his deeper one. “Controls are more sensitive then a Razor Crest, going to have to ease me into this one.” 

It didn’t translate through both the communicator, or the modulator on his helmet but there was a shift in his seat and a grunt along with a more boiling point of his blood before he spoke. “I’ll be gentle. Don’t you worry mesh’la.” 

Face flushing, he called for you again. “Talk to me, sweet girl tell me how I’m doing.” 

If he was doing this on purpose that was unfair. You squirmed in your seat along with a tightness in your chest that felt more thrilling than was appropriate for being alone in a friends control bay. Swallowing your tone down, you shook your head. “Manoeuvrability looks good, take it through Beggar’s Canyon so I can see the navigational stats.” 

Still learning how to read navigational equipment outside of the Razor Crest, you squinted as you watched it coming through, putting together the pieces in your head. “That’s better, you look good out there.” 

“Says the pretty girl giving me orders.” The deepness he spoke in was intentional, it had to be. There was a silence in your bones as he chuckled. The communicator making it feel deep in your chest. “There we go, nice and tight.” 

You barley registered what he was actually doing on the Starfighter, the communicator holding tight in your grip. “What’s an omega got to do to get an alpha to talk to her that way?” 

Oh Din could dish it, but he could not handle hearing it back right in his ear like that. He groaned shamelessly, coming at you like a warning. “Mesh’la..” 

Pushing up from the chair, you braced a palm on an empty space of the control board, far too warm for your own good. “No, please I understand. She’s sleek and gorgeous, I’ll give you space.” Din muttered something in Mando’a that you didn’t know. “I’ll meet you back down there, okay? Treat her gentle.” A quick glance back up to where nothing was visible anymore, you sighed out clicking it off. 

The trek down to the outside wiping away the fluster in your heart, glad this was working out at least in the meantime. Looking around you saw the hanger closed up oddly enough.  Hopping down the final step, you closed the door behind you looking over at the woman with her hands on her hips looking up much like you had chasing a ship too fast to spot. 

“Peli?” 

You jumped back as she did, her hand on her heart as she walked over to you. “Maker, you think that man gets himself into enough trouble, now he’s got people stopping by here looking for him.” A breathless rant you stepped closer to her, hands up almost trying to bring the manic down a tinge. 

“I was gone for less than ten minutes, what happened?” Watching her shake her head, she dramatically inhaled and let it all back out before nodding to the closed doors. 

“Someone came looking for him, both of you. No idea how they knew either of you were in my business but I locked ‘em up in the hanger. Figured Mando’s more equipped for that than you or me.” 

Glancing over, you watched the closed doors for a moment with narrowed eyes until you heard the sleek sounds of the Starfighter back in atmosphere. You and Peli backing up to give him space, it landed like nothing. Peeking inside, Din made it look easy enough but you had a distinct feeling getting used to this one wouldn’t be as easy as before. 

The Razor Crest was a gunship, but more forgiving to pilot. Peli meeting him with amusement in her own voice. “How was it?” 

Din glanced at the pair of you, making Peli cheer to herself as you grinned. “Wizard.” He climbed out of the seat as you walked over, leaning on the side to look over days worth of work. His tall frame loomed over you, were he not in public you’d have felt his hand tilt your chin up to look at him. Instead he stood as close as he could get away with, a strong scent of his inner alpha radiating your senses. 

Your eyes a little dumbfounded at how strong he smelt and how small it made you feel, in a way you wanted more of. “I know it’s not what we wanted, but it’s something, right?” Before he could respond, Peli came back over. 

“Oh, someone claiming to be a friend of you two dropped by.” Holding her hands out, she switched her tone. “Don't worry. I told her I didn't know where you were. Then I locked her in and engaged the hangar security system.”

“She tell you her name?” 

Before anyone said another word, they did for you. “Fennec Shand.” Spinning around, you saw her sitting up on a tricky hanger ledge with a smirk. Hopping down each one, you felt a real grin forming as you and Din met her halfway. “By any chance you looking for work? The pay is good.” 

You could feel even just still beside him, Din’s hovering presence the second anything switched to business. Especially lately. “What’s the bounty?” Being tossed the pay, neither of you even glanced at it’s contents. 

Fennec shook her head, “No bounty, we need muscle.” 

Now the dots made sense. The Pykes, the strange aura of the city streets. Boba Fett challenged the leadership in a different kind of way, no doubt such a name and conquered title would set forth an a new challenger to test it. “Fett’s after the Pykes?” 

Her sharp gaze nodding at you, “Encroaching on his territory. He sure would appreciate it.” 

Neither you or Din had to even look at one another to feel your answers. It wasn’t often Din was shown fair and unselfish loyalty and neither he or Fennec needed to help you when going after Moff Gideon. But they did, and you felt that connecting chain tighten in agreement between you and Din. Tossing the pay back, he was absolute. “Tell him it’s on the house. But first,” 

If he felt that strength of understanding between you go slack, he said nothing until the three of you parted ways. The walk back to the hanger where your stuff hung was painfully quiet and he didn’t deserve this strange silence over something he likely wanted you to look forward too. 

But if Din was straight forward with you, so would you be in return. “Din, I’m not going.” 

He stopped right in his step, turning back to you almost as fast as the very ship you watched sail in the sky. His tall frame hiding the brightness of the sun but leaving your shadows feeling intimidated. “Oh I hear you the first time. What the hell do you mean you’re not going?” 

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came from it as people passed by in the area. Din noting the same, pulled you to the side of the building all but crowding you against it. Trying to pull himself down, his tone turned sweet but you were faster to get it all out. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go with you. To see Grogu.” Your throat closed up, and your hands trembled at your sides. 

Din slightly leaned back, his voice in quiet disbelief. “Mesh’la why would you-”

Crossing your arms across your chest you shook your head. Sinking in on yourself as the wall served as something of a backrest. “He’s your foundling. Not- not mine. You were the one he said goodbye to, I just don’t think I should be there. It’s..between you two.” 

No longer caring of the sight, Din finally captured your chin in his fingers. “Why would you think that?” 

Truthfully you didn’t quite know. Something inside your chest clawed at you and it bled into your lungs until the air felt too strained to breathe. Your arms hung uselessly at your side wishing that you could just hide in his chest like you could before. “I- The Armourer called you a clan of two. Not three. And I guess...I just think there are things you two should do just with each other, without me tagging along.” 

His head leaned into yours, voice tighter then normal as his grip did the same. “You are not just tagging along. You belong with me. With us, you’re apart of our clan.” 

But were you? That first night, those first few days once Grogu was gone. You and Din spent that time together and isolated, your heat had sped into you full force and it’s strength sent his own rut slipping over the edge. So much of those few days you spent in the others bare arms. Blindfolded you felt every touch of his lips, the hot air from his breathe as you freely raked through the lush hair and scratching ones on his face. 

Then the days were over, and the reality of having no home and no child felt painful. You clung to the other like never before, and it had been weeks of almost never leaving the other’s side. Perhaps a number of hours for Din to nab a bounty, but that’s it. It was just the darkness and wandering pain of you both unable to find the lives you lost and just maybe you only had that bond because he lost his other. 

You weren’t even mated. You were just an omega who followed him around the galaxy, it was Grogu, his very foundling that was the love of his life. A truth you never questioned but maybe it was a role that you shouldn’t intrude on. Maybe your place was just this. An outlet for an alpha who was desperate to not lose everything. So you were a body to keep safe. 

You wanted to shake, cry, plead your sorrows, but none came. Just a far off stare, watering in your eyes that were his helmet reflective you’d be forced to stare back at yourself and not the blackness. “You’re a Mandalorian, and he’s your foundling. Just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean I’m one of you.”

Hands drifting up you traced over the Mudhorn on his shoulder. That’s where their clan was created, it wasn’t the day he went back for him on Navarro and took on a stray. “It doesn’t feel right.” 

Capturing your hand in his, Din stared intently struggling to find any kind of word, and even worse, unable to reach your omega. You pushed him out, just to keep him from convincing you. Something you hadn’t done in a long time. “He’ll want to see you.” 

Shrugging, you faked what was likely a not very well executed expression of casualness. “He misses you more then me. He always does.” 

For a moment the both of you just stood in the streets of Mos Eisley, your hand caught in his as you stared the other down until Din broke. Leaning further, he closed the gap. Pulling you in by the back of your neck and resting your forehead against his. A shaky exhale just audible through his modulator and your own shaky one not helped as he held your connected hands over his chest plate to his heart. “This conversation isn’t over, mesh’la.” 

Nodding together, you basked in his warmth as much as you could, trying to steel the spiralling inside of you that screamed of failure. Finally nudging him lightly, you smiled up at him. “Go give the kid his shirt, you went through enough as it is to get it forged.” 

Just another list of things you and Din would have to figure out at some point. His covert. It took more then another few minutes to convince Din to leave without you. Everything deep within being an alpha saying leaving you behind like this was a bad idea. Even if you’d be perfectly safe, he refused to accept that this was you feeling perfectly normal. 

Finally returning to the Starfighter, you wrapped the bag around your shoulders once again. “You contact me if anything goes wrong.” Stopping you in place Din tilted your head up again. “I mean it, Cyra’ika. If the Pykes are as big of a problem as Peli said, I don’t want you wandering the streets alone when I’m not here.” 

Nodding, you secured the communicator on you visible for him to see. “It’ll be fine, Din. You’ve taught me well.” 

Shoulders dropping, he sighed deeply. Something muttered in Mando’a you couldn’t translate leaving his mouth as only a sliver of his alpha was allowed to seek out your comfort. His gloved hand stroked the side of your cheek before turning to hop into the pilot’s seat. Stepping back he called you before closing the top. “Tell Fett to behave himself around you until I get back.” 

Your head jolted back for a second, confused, “What?” 

If there was a smirk on his face, you heard it loud and clear. “Just until I get back, Cyra’ika.” There was little fanfare watching him take off, mostly because the Starfighter just moved at astounding speeds. It would be interesting to see what she’ll feel like with the new hyper drive. 

Tucking everything against your chest securely, you took more than a few minutes getting yourself confident enough to make the trip there. A combination of the last time you were there, it was still the days a brand sat plastered on your neck with the world muted heavily on suppressants. Also, it was the first time on a speeder bike in the drivers seat, without Din also there hands on your waist and gentle words encouraging you. 

But you were under Din’s instructions, and in terms of his protectiveness towards you, his rules were followed and you trusted them whole heartedly. So your insecurity had to be shoved down for at least a number of hours. 

At least there was significantly less risk going by yourself to what was formerly known as Jabba’s Palace this time around, all on your own. The sands of Tatooine were bright and lifeless, not much to watch your back in the kind of way ones may have in the past. 

Sat high on a ragged cliff were the highest of the towers stemming up from the hidden depths of the building below. The main entrance was just as foreboding as memory told, large and fortified to the degree you wondered if it was built such a way for posturing rather than practicality. 

Wincing as you climbed off the bike, you yanked off the old dusted helmet tossing it onto the seat as you walked up. Unsure where to even place your eyes, you debated heading around the long way for where you knew a hanger was. Just as your feet turned in place, a metal slot opened shooting out an extended arm with a circular eye glowing red at the end. 

Looking you up and down, the gatekeeper droid seemed to be scanning for weapons. Slowly, you let it watch your hand reach for the blaster at your side, holding it up by the ends away from the trigger as it considered you for a moment. Telling it your name you kept your other hand up for the droid to keep it’s eye on. “I’m here to see Boba Fett. I have business with him and Fennec Shand.” 

In an instant, the droid flew back inside and the slot slammed shut leaving you in the bright sand. A second passed as you considered what to do, when the large doors slowly rose open. Just high enough for you to walk safely under there was a Gamorrean there watching you. Jumping back you were about to bend to put the blaster down, when he barked something at you and gestured you down the vast empty corridor. 

Raising your eyebrows, you slowly brought the blaster towards your side watching the guard do nothing to stop you. Either you were already deemed welcome, or just looking at you the guard could tell you weren’t any kind of a threat to anyone inside here. 

Sheathing it, you slowly begun walking down the hall as the dim light faded along with the door lowering closed once more. The corridor itself was large, so much so that even a crowd of Hutt’s could fit themselves in no problem. Your boots barley making a sound as you walked through, trying to recall through the fog.

Following in a line should lead you to twist that narrowed down to a stairwell surrounded by blocking rocks carved around them. The activity was silent and not bustling with life as was the time you had been here. Dragged through the crowds with a chain around your wrist to keep your slaver from losing you to the wandering eyes. Not that you noticed. 

Many of your slave owners in that time kept you completely dosed. Sensing that your presentation would stir up whatever alpha’s were in the vicinity they kept you on heat suppressants for years to keep them from ever happening, which in turn, helped keep your scent dulled to that of a mild sweet scent that only the most keen of alphas may not have been able to pick up on. 

The blockers were the worst though. You couldn’t get distracted either, any incidents and you might become damaged property and what good is an omega to sell if she isn’t in pure condition. So you were muted from the world as it was to you. A dreary and fog filled mind that made the beings around you barley feel like human. The effects were worse depending on who was giving them to you, and being dragged to Jabba’s palace, you were effectively a walking sedation. 

The unaware confusion and bumps were replaced with the clarity that there was little but silence until you reached the turn leading to the main room. Slowly what sounded like faint talking, rose up to defiance and yelling. Pressing yourself against the wall, your heart sped up in your chest. The one voice was enraged, but the other was deep and scarring with absolutes. “Whatever arrangement you had with Fortuna, ended with him.”

You could hear Boba Fett further in the room, just enough solace to have you slink a number of steps along the wall before your toes reached the top of the steps. “I made a deal with Jabba, not him. But at least he had the honour to uphold that deal unlike you.”  

Peeking around the wall, you could see not much except for the shadow of a tall, lean figure that even in posture was clearly irate. Fett through his modulator was without question, the power and deepness rippled through your veins in a way only one other had done so. His voice speaking to whomever was there. “If I were anything like my predecessors, you would have been in the stomach of a rancor already for this disrespect. If you want to be treated with the same respect, earn it. Otherwise you stay at the bottom like all the others who’ve tried me.” 

Biting your lip in surprise, the other party begun taking the steps up. Slowly the red tinted scales matched the steam he no doubt wished was coming out of his ears. Kneeling down, you could see with each word he was being told, the snarl on his twisting face morphed. Hand at his own side twitching until he made it only a third of the way up.

Body stopping in place, he turned back to the main room, hand now touching the blaster at his side. A silent exhale through your nose, you very slowly took your feet down. Back pressed against the wall and each foot step slow as you matched the position towards your own weapon as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

The slimy rage coated your ears unpleasantly as you came close behind him. “Maybe this little war of yours will teach you what happens when you turn your back on your allies, Fett.” You barley felt your lungs even work, pulling your blaster out the same painfully slow speed that he was. Your eyes wide and hands trying not to shake, you took one final step behind his back. “Or I could just do it for them.” 

His hand rose up, blaster ready to fire until you rung the shot out firstt. The force jolting you back slightly, but there now was a burning hole in the Elomin’s chest. Blaster dropping from his hand to the ground, you lowered your aim. Coming up behind him, you breathed deeply before rising your boot up to kick him over out of your way. 

Him slumping over to the ground, you took the final steps down before kicking the blaster away from his still hand. Stepping over his feet, you looked up as you put your own back to see the throne room empty save for the one figure. 

Standing partway up the steps, Boba Fett stood clearly having just turned around to fire only to have seen the man slump over before. Lowering his own, your exhale was much calmer this time around as he tilted his head at you. Down a smaller corridor closer to him, Fennec appeared with her own weapon out, but with narrowed eyes dropped it just as fast at the sight. 

Her disposition changing as her eyes dragged up to you, now moving with a lighter bounce towards Boba whose stance relaxed back. “Thought you’d get here when Mando’s back.” 

Sighing out, you walked further into the room. Boots making a notable clunk as you walked along the gated doors cemented in the floor. Head turning to glance down but nothing was visible to the naked eye. “Should I leave and come back?” 

Boba chuckled, watching your curiosity with that of his own. “Nonsense. This place could use an omega, dim enough around here as it is.”

Looking back up, Boba stood on the lower level closer to you while Fennec perched herself casually on the arm of the throne. “Good to know I’m still a useful piece of decoration after all this time.” Behind you the steps of the Gamorrean filed down as he barked more into the air. 

Boba only nodding once to the body at it’s feet. “Get rid of that.” Like nothing at all, you remembered why many crime lords used them as guards. Pulling the Elomin away like it weighed nothing. Turning back to him, you almost jumped at how close he was. 

Both he and Din were far too silent for two fully armoured men of their sizes. “He said it would be safer here then back in the city.” Watching you, it was hard to assess where he stood with you. At this point you could read Din’s slight shifts as good as full sentences, but Boba Fett was still a mystery. One sending shivers down at the black visors cold stare that only intimidated you in such an enticing way back working behind the cantina bar in Navarro. 

But Boba, if you could guess anything, seemed to enjoy making you squirm under his stare. Keeping it up in pure quiet unlike Din’s change of smooth causality to relax you. “Unless-”

“He’s right. No safer place then with us, little one.” 

Eyes flickering to Fennec who watched you with a playful curiosity of her own. Strange as it was, you sort of missed her teasing yet sharp and unquestioning aura. Nodding, you readjusted your bag, if just out of fidgeting nerves. “Okay, so, uhm, what now?” 

Veins flowing with something that burned the way he stared at you, a feeling that wasn’t determined in your strange state. Broken only by Fennec coming up behind him unphased. “How about a tour?” 

Raising your eyebrows, you failed to hold back a smile. “That in your new job description?” In an exaggerated flourish with a deadpan stare she gestured you down the corridor she had come in through. Taking a second to speak quietly with Boba once you moved out of their range. Glancing around, not much had changed it seemed but it was a large room now that you stood in it so freely. 

Turning for just a second as she caught up with you, you caught his eye. Helmet turned a fraction to the side right at you, there was a wave shivering through your chest that had you swallowing nervously. A moment lasting only seconds before you let Fennec give you the run down of this place. 

By evening, the city was ramping up just as the suns disappeared and a calming night washed over the empty dunes. Despite such a high up point, the sight of the planets lands below in the dim early evening light did no such comfort, but not quite for the events to surely follow. 

Hearing the sound of armour, you perked up just as fast as you then deflated. It was of no offence to Boba, but he held a different kind of scent then Din. Just as strong, and strangely alluring but his alpha felt cooling and in control, whereas Din’s was warm and overwhelming. Your fingers twitched on the edge of the balcony as you returned to the skies.

Foolish to think he would just arrive as you seeked him out. You were the one who didn’t go with him, you had no right to miss him. For a second, the hiss of a helmet being removed startled you alert and straight. Coming down only at Boba’s light chuckle. “Didn’t think I looked that bad.” 

His voice bare sounded less scratching, more like a scarred rasp that you wondered if it was a result of the same events that left the physical ones on his face. Eyes flickering over as he came to stand next to you, you gave half a smile for as long as your energy could muster it. “Sorry. Should be used to it by now.” 

Shaking his head dismissively, his own gloved hands mimicked your position. “Nothing to be sorry for, little one. There’s few people who see me without it, but you’re welcome to be one of them.” 

It should feel like an honour, but your heart had little room. Leaning down to rest your forearms on the edge, your legs leaned back by the knee to accomodate stretching your back for a second before relaxing into the stance. There was no uncomfortable feeling in the quiet between you, but something seemed to be picking at your brain. “Your father was a foundling, right?” 

Out of your peripheral vision you could see him turn slightly to you and nod. Biting your lip for a second before continuing. “If he was a foundling, that would make you one as well. Since he raised you.” 

“Is there a question in there?” 

You inhaled your nerves, and blew none back out. “Why would Bo Katan say you aren’t a Mandalorian then? I mean,” Your hands moved to dig at the others nails mindlessly. “On top of everything else she said.” 

Suspecting he knew you were going prying for information in a much more roundabout way, you were still glad he played along. “Kyrze believes in blood supremacy. She was born to a powerful family thus she feels power belongs in her hands by birthright. Outsiders brought in are looked at as less then.” He noted the still somewhat confused narrowing look in your eyes. “I share the exact dna of thousands upon thousands of other clones. To her, my blood is as far as worthy it could get.” 

To even your surprise you jumped in before he could even finish his sentence. “But it’s not about who you’re born to, it shouldn’t matter if you’re a clone. D- Mando’s a foundling, a lot of people in his covert are foundlings they’re supposed to be treasured.” 

“Like omega’s are supposed to be.” 

Whipping around to look wide eyed at him, only to fall flat at the teasing glint in his eye. Shoulders deflating as you turned back to the view a shake of your head. Boba rested one palm on the railing as he turned towards you, mind putting your pieces together. “How about you tell me what’s really bothering you, and I can stop guessing the wrong answers.” 

A shake trembled in your neck and slid further down into your muscles. The trains of thought in your mind pathing you from grievance to grievance wondering what it was it all stemmed from and truly there was only one answer. The same answer you tried avoiding with everyone. 

Boba’s own stare weakening your resolve, forcing you to once again look back into the night for a ship that still wouldn’t come. Breathing deep for a moment before the racing of your heart got out of control. “Everyone talks about my presentation like it means something. Looking at where I’m from and telling me that they lied about where we came from or who we were when I already know that. I knew my family lied the second I was taken off world and the planets and people were nothing like the vicious monsters they made you all out to be. I thought, maybe if I could get out of this one day, finally be free to do as I please, I’d be my own person again.” 

Jaw set, you dug your nails into the harsh railing of the balcony. “But I’m still just an omega. I’m important, I’m uncommon, I belong to these people, no I belong with the people my mother was apart of, I’m supposed to be treasured as a rare commodity to Mandalorians but all I’ve done is get passed around from group to group solely beacuse of a presentation I can’t control. I’m seen as an omega, and so everyone thinks their the ones entitled to have me. Except...” 

Boba seemed to stand closer to your side now, his voice quieter but deeper as it hit your ear. “Except for Djarin.” Without committing in whole, you glanced only for a fraction to the man beside you but said nothing. “He wondered why you never asked him about you or your kind, when clearly he knew.” 

Saying nothing to answer the question he posed, it was obvious he wanted you to fill in the blanks for yourself. It was easy to strip away the barriers and see what was always there. “Because I went to him, not the other way around.” 

“To the others, you are a commodity. Who gets the omega, those her kind were stolen from or people like Kryze’s kind who wanted you out of the way in the first place.” You never did like the suspicious way Bo Katan looked at you, but Din was always there to keep you firmly at his side. "In a way you are right. There probably aren’t many people who see you as anything more then an Omega. But the ones that want you for more then that are already here. Or, in spirit.” 

His head gesturing to the night sky. Two people he meant in that case. So many people obsessed with what you were, and where you belonged or didn’t belong. Something you slowly came to realize, was a common threat amongst both Din and Boba as well. An apostate and an outcast, both alongside an omega who had no idea what her place in the galaxy was outside them. 

“What about you?” Turning your head enough to see him meet your eyes, a knowing deepness in them which you didn’t even catch in yourself. Not sure what it was you truly were asking. “You were asking me-” 

“The polite thing to do when getting to know someone is to ask questions.” Pausing, you squinted at him in slight confusion until the smirk forming on his own face made yours fall flat. “I’m interested in where you came from, because I find you interesting. Just as Djarin does.” 

Taking a step towards you, you straightened up as your lungs tightened in something feeling like a strange set of nerves, not quite stemming from intimidation. Before he found himself intimately close in your space, you found your habits slipping back. “I’m sorry. For dumping all of this on you. I just, I’m not used to being away from Mando without even having the kid, everything just feels weird.” 

Those very nerves turned into shivers flowing through your veins as Boba tilted your chin up to look him in the eye. “Nothing to apologize for, little one. You’re confused and upset,” the knuckles under your chin traced up so his thumb and brushed over your cheek, then down very gently across your bottom lip. 

You had never seen the exact look glazing over Boba’s eye in Din, but the feeling it gave you was all too familiar. The interested pull of an alpha calling to you. “Boba?” He hummed in response, “Is there a reason Mando wanted me to tell you to behave?” 

Oh the chuckle which emerged deep within his chest pulled your soul even closer in ways you once felt purposely from Din. “He sends me his pretty, little omega to protect. One who defends my honour, and opens up about what’s hurting her? I can’t imagine why he’d want me to behave myself around that.” 

His thumb pulled slightly at your bottom lip before sliding off of you entirely. Turning away to pick his helmet up, “You should sleep. Fennec will want to train you more in the morning while we have the time. Once Djarin arrives, I suspect thing’s are going to escalate rather quickly.” 

He almost reached the door by the time you called out for him, his face still just as warm as it was listening to you throw up whatever troubles brewed in your head. “Will be be mad at me? For not going with him to see Grogu?” 

Expression not changing, the quiet tenderness spoke out in his tone. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make him feel that way. Not with the way he speaks about you to me at least.” 

Your lips parted slightly, but he gave nothing else. Leaving the room and thrusting you back into the quiet solace of the dark windy balcony. Your brain stuck in a whirlwind. 

Sick to the stomach of feeling as if you have failed your duties as an omega to protect and support your family, but twisted over what the world wanted from you as the very same presentation. Boba’s warmth wasn’t quite the same, it would never quell the yearning to see Din again. 

But it did bring you a comfort that no one outside that little clan of two had ever provided before. If you were lost in your place in this world, maybe it meant something that the connection you felt with both men, also had their own turmoil of where and how to belong amongst their people as well. 

As it turned out, he was painfully right. Factions gathered, and the Pykes moved in quickly. Whatever negotiations their enforcer Cad Bane had assumed would take place were refused and the violence followed suit leaving little people left on your side. It was a mess, and left you feeling terribly out of your depth. 

Making it worse, you had no idea what happened on Din’s journey. Everything moved too fast and neither of you had time to talk. Just a questioning hopeful look from you, and a stilted head shake of no from Din and a sorrow sat upon his shoulders as danger loomed closer. 

Fighting ensued, and you were grateful that Fennec was a relentless mentor. Pushing you enough in the day and morning prior, building a trust that you could and would follow her lead out on the streets enough to handle yourself when she needed it. Her focus kept you focused. 

She was skilled on the sidelines, left better out the line of fire as a silent take down. A trait in which she recognized was suitable in you, even if by both your admissions, you were nothing close to a fighter. But in war, being a lesser suited follower was fine by you. 

Impossible to say how long the confrontation lasted, but the silence in the streets felt as if it was a sound you hadn’t heard in years. Leaning up against a wall, you shrugged part of your upper arm from the top of your shirt. Fennec coming to crouch at your side as you poured a bit of water of a burn striked through your skin from the dirt and sand kicked up into it. Wincing at the stinging, you glanced up to her and back. “Pretty sure only have a graze is a miracle if you ask me.” 

A slight smile on her face, Fennec reached forward to pull your shirt down better, gently taking the container to do it at an easier angle. “You did better then you think. Just because fighting isn’t your thing doesn’t mean your bad at it. You have a good teacher.” 

Smirking through the final wince as she dragged the fabric backup, “Yeah, I’ll be sure to pass the message onto Mando.” 

Briefly considering helping you up gently, Fennec resorted to just tossing the container onto your lap and standing up alone. “You always get bratty when you’re injured?” 

Throwing your head back in a laugh, you pushed yourself up with palms pressing against the wall behind you. “Maybe next time you should teach me how to do more then mouth off.”  Sharing a laugh, she led you to where the others were gathered in all likelihood. 

From a distance, you could see a rancor, flopped down on it’s side breathing heavily in sleep visible from where you were. But the image became clearer as you approached. 

In the stories of the old world your father told you, they were always grand. Powerful vivid images painting in your head from the words spun of drama and theatrics. Reunions one of those stories always told in whimsy. But there was none to be found here, not in your confused, torn heart. 

He was small, and cuddled next to the rancor on his side, but Grogu’s little green figure was easy to spot from miles away. Stopping mid step, the sights in front of you didn’t quite catch up to your brain. How was he here, Din hadn’t come back with him not by the weightful dread on his shoulders. 

Peli was also here. For some reason. Talking to the one from the meeting that you couldn’t quite tell was annoying or just a bit of a coward. The sight was unusual, but you could see the silver shining off Din’s beskar as he slowly approached the slumbering pair. Steps careful around the large creature, before kneeling down. 

His hand gently running over Grogu’s side who shifted closer into his touch. Din scooping him up in his arm to let him sleep soundly. None of them had seen you yet, and maybe you didn’t want them too. A fleeting thought that stabbed another dagger into your omega’s heart and told your conscious self that you weren’t worthy of that soft, gentle love they gave each other. 

Din’s attention was solely on the kid, cradling him up to watch him as he ran his hand over what he could get. Before you could rationalize it, you took a step back. No plan, what or where to go, but intruding on it felt wrong now. You didn’t go to see him int he first place. Why would you deserve to be apart of this reunion? 

Heart screaming to go see both of them, let yourself hold the one your soul treated as your own and the man who gave you a love once never known before. Your eyes stung like the burn on your upper arm, and before the tears could so obviously overtake you, you let them have this together. 

There was no plan in your head, just the need to get back to the palace where your stuff was and hoping reason and logic would kick in by that point. Instead all you got was more of a memory that made it feel worse. The terror of Din telling you to take the child and leave him. That he needed you, and staying here to help was futile. You could still feel the desperate way Grogu clung to you as you carried him from the room, both of you leaning into the other. Grogu’s scared and exhausted head burrowed into your front, as you looked at IG-11. 

Pleading in your gaze to fix things, you and Grogu might be able to do this together but neither wanted to do it without Din. The binding that kept you three whole. Only the memory didn’t serve as some great analogy like your father tied into his tales. 

Din and Grogu started without out, they didn’t need you. Everyone offered someplace for you to go, a purpose to serve but the only one you wanted didn’t feel as if you were worthy. You failed as an omega to Grogu, and a fierce alpha such a Din would surely admonish you it. If you thought the palace was quiet before, it was even moreso now. 

The biggest threat to his rule this far was taken care of, so hopefully this silence would turn peaceful not stay eeiry as it was now. The bag was tossed onto whatever bed you found yourself falling into the night before. Chucking your blaster beside it, you dragged your feet over. The first thing you saw though, was that silly little frog you kept for him. 

It was stupid. Din gave him what he needed, and more then plenty of what he wanted. The pieces of why Grogu found his way back to Din unknown, but you didn’t see yourself in that future. Slowly picking it up you could still see the way the kid clung it to his chest, making a content little cooing noise only to immediately get upset when you tried to get up and leave him be. How normal it was for the kid to switch between cuddling with Din and cuddling with you, and the excitement on his face when he wanted you to watch him about to do something particularly silly, usually to Din. 

Nothing had felt right since your heat had ended. Where you and Din stood was unknown, he was closer and protective of you, his touch similar to that of one bonded to you, and yet you were ummated. Just a companion who filled a painful emotional void once his son was gone, and now that they were together you failed to picture that dynamic going anywhere. 

He didn’t need to look for the Jedi now, he had enough of a ship to start making his way across the galaxy in his own quest for atonement and so your usefulness had worn out. Maybe you’d stay here if you could convince Boba you could find some way to be useful at all. 

No plan was made still. You had no idea that you even had passed out. The strenuous events of the day, the emotional turmoil of the past weeks and the fear you were no longer wanted had piled too high on the very little sleep you managed to get. 

Totally unaware of your surroundings, you weren’t at all aware of the voices in the room or the weight on the bed that joined you. In fact, such presence was only realized, when the weight on the bed seemed to jump, and land at your side with a high pitched coo. Sound increasing in distress until it was at your face and snuggled right up beside your head. 

Once your eyes fluttered open, big black ones wasted no time in realizing it. Grogu say on his side in front of you, one ear flopped out while the other sat low on his face as he reached out to you. Little hand brushing your cheek before a stubborn little noise flew from his mouth and he jumped almost with no effort right into your neck that managed to push you back. 

“Easy, Grogu.” He almost whined defiantly at the voice behind him, as he held onto you much like that very day. Following you sitting up so your back was against the wall, he started looking between you and the voice, dawning on you it belonged to Din. 

Head whipping over, Din stood by the wall underneath a window. Boba a few feet away, amused at the kid’s antics. Before you could even ask, Din stepped over, sitting down to face you on the opposite side of the bed. Bag and blaster now sat neatly on a surface opposite the bed. “I wasn’t allowed to see him when I got there, saying it was bad for his training for me to be there.” 

Instantly, your brows narrowed, but Boba interrupted right as you opened your mouth. “The real enemy to the Jedi. A loving family.” Your sleep riddled brain couldn’t decipher the double meaning in his tone, but you remembered Ahsoka telling you she couldn’t train Grogu because of how attached he was. That Din was a father to him and that somehow would get in the way. 

“Fett.” Boba raised his hands in surrender at his tone. Din turning back, watching Grogu turn his head, still wanting you to hold him but watching Din with bright affection. “I asked them to give him the shirt, and left. He was right there,” Din’s hand reached out, stroking one of the kid’s long ears making him purr into your chest. “But he came back anyways. He returned to us, of his own accord.” 

The hand on Grogu slipped up to trace over your cheek. “I thought if you could see him, maybe it would make you feel better, but maybe it was better you didn’t come. If I could barley handle it, not sure tearing an omega away from her own foundling a second time would do you any good.” 

It should have clicked that it was unusual Din was having this conversation with you, a third party in the same room. But clicking the gears in your head into place, Boba mentioned both of them had talked about you. To what extent the back of your brain was asking. 

Looking at the space between you on the sheets, just a whisper was summoned. “After everything, I didn’t think it was fair to be just as lost as you, me being upset didn’t matter as long as you were more lost.” 

Boba’s presence was felt behind you now, giving your trio space but never quite enough keep away, which was fine with you. Din leaned in, pulling the back of your neck to keep you close, resting his forehead against yours. Chuckling as Grogu leaned in, gently leaning in the middle, and leaving your touch enough to rest a hand against the side of his helmet. “Our kind belongs together, mesh’la. Not just our presentations, but us. We’re in this together. Got it?”

Biting your tongue, you forced a choking feeling back down your throat for another time. Your hand moving to cover the little one of Grogu’s on Din’s helmet and briefly, Din covered both of yours with his free one. The serene moment ruined, by Grogu letting out a yawning whine as he dropped in both your touches. 

Pulling back, you let Din pick him up. “Alright. Back to sleep, kid.” Seemingly only going into a small room attached to this one, Din chuckling at a little sound Grogu made in his arms. “I know, well this is what happens when you play with a creature eight times your size.” 

Pulling your knees up to rest your forearms over, you watched Boba with a curious look. If he was here not just now, but this whole time, the two Mandalorians must have something up their sleeve and Maker knows you have no idea what they had put together. “Is there...something feels off here.” 

His eyebrows raised in a mocking way that didn’t quite match the play in his eyes. “Only if you want it to be.” The deepness in his tone rippling through you in a way annoyingly like Dins. “It’s all up to you.” 

The sound of a door sliding shut had you looking up to Din, now leaning against the door with his thumb looped through part of his utility belt and the other resting his forearm up on the door frame. A sight that was so simple, yet heated your blood noticeably. “Am I missing something?” 

Din stepped towards you, a hand reaching out for you to take. Letting him pull you up gently, he stood tall in front of you. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to get you out of your head. You’ve been on edge since your heat, and I hate watching you this way.” 

Fingers gently reaching to brush against the cool metal of his chest plate, you shook your head indignantly. “D- Mando,” 

“You can say my name, sweet girl.” You had no idea what was going on here, but you were being pulled so close to the warmth of in’s alpha, but also, part of you in another direction. A pull that Din would be able to sense, and yet, was allowing. 

Swallowing, you didn’t realize Boba stepped closer towards you. “Din, I’ve been trying to be there for you, you don’t need to do anything.” 

“Except he does.” Turning your body partially, you felt Din’s hands fly firmly onto your waist in no time and turned you to press your back against his chest fully. Boba only a few feet away, keeping a respectable distance unbecoming of the darker look in his tone and voice to boot. “An alpha can’t ignore their omega in distress, your pain becomes his. And best be sure you’ve consumed Djarin, little one.” 

Din’s hands tightened with his voice closer to your ear. “Not just me.” 

Your Mandalorian behind you, and Boba a step closer looming over you. “What are you-” 

Din’s hands trailed up, sliding just under your shirt to squeeze slightly at the plush skin he found underneath. “You say no, and this all stops.” Apparently Din expected a response, tightening his grip as he spoke sharper. “Okay?” 

Nodding fervently at his tone, it made your head spin. “Okay.” 

Pulling you closer into his chest, Din’s rasp even behind the modulator continued to destroy something inside of you, weakening your resolve to his touch. “Let us take you, mesh’la. Both of us.” Your mouth parted slightly, eyes trapped on Boba which if you could think clearly, was likely by Din’s design. His rasping words and touch, ached still further by Boba’s dark and intimidating eyes that raked over your body. “Get you out of your head.” 

Your gaze never left Boba’s even as you tilted slightly back towards Din. “Both of you?” 

Din nodded, and so did Boba. Oh this could not be what they both discussed about you, yet here you are. Boba took his turn to make a softer case, letting your true alpha pull your senses underwater as he gently swims his way over. “The only thing anyone’s asking of you, is to let us treat you like a kind, sweet,” Each word he stepped towards you until he was in your space just inches further away then Din was to you. “Pretty, omega you are.” 

Your breathing heaved as his own gloved hand traced your bottom lip just like he did before. Din’s comment for Boba to behave. There was no way they discussed this before, and yet? The protectiveness, the possessive feeling which could consume Din at the sight of other men, another alpha looking or touching you as if you really were just property weren’t there. “But Din-”

Giving you once last reassurance. “It’s okay to say no, mesh’la. But don’t just say it on my account. I want you to want it.” 

The air was stark and silent as you contemplated what on earth you were about to get yourself into, but there was a heat radiating from within and burned almost painfully as Din touched, you pressing you against his back to where he was losing his patience to hide how hard having you pressed against him like this made him. 

Din’s own mind both needing this yet confused at why he needed this. There was an angry possessive feeling he had around you, but Boba Fett came to be someone he trusted. And someone who he could trust with you. Putting you between them and forcing this constant looming anxiety in your heart out even if just for a time. One wouldn’t be enough, but between both of them? You’d have nothing left to focus on but their touch and their words and that’s the level of control Din wanted you to give up. 

Watching Boba touch you was going to be a jealousy that he didn’t know why he was willing to handle, but just maybe it’s beacuse you didn’t get to see how you looked together. Never having the gift of sight as Din touches you, only he knew how insatiable you made him and how addictive you looked writhing in pleasure. 

And he knew, you didn’t get to look at Din as much as you wanted. Always ready to let him blindfold you like an obedient omega so make sure he can take as much as his greedy mind needed. But if Boba was there, Din could sacrifice that just this once. 

You breathed heavily as Boba brushed over your lips, and it was Din’s words right in your ear that crumbled the insecurity keeping you from letting them take you as they wished. 

“Let him kiss you, mesh’la.” Looking back at him, he pushed you forward gently. “It’s okay.” 

It was an overwhelming feeling. The guilt of such an intimate act with another man, but the purring encouragement from Din to just let yourself give up control in their hands. Your hands hovered over Boba’s chest plate, fingertips only slightly making shaking contact. 

Din behind you undoing parts of his own armour almost turning your focus before Boba tilts you up to look at him under your chin. Leaning in he gave you plenty of time to back away, brushing his nose against yours feeling his breathe on your face. 

One hand grabbing your hip, and the other keeping his hold he teased bridging the gap but never sealing the deal. Din’s voice rang out, commanding an order from deep within, calling your omega to obey. “Mesh’la.” 

Jumping in your bones, you pushed up on your toes to press your lips against Boba’s. A small sigh coming from you as your hands continued to shake despite smoothing your palms out. And as soon as you crossed that initial barrier, Boba overtook the control from you immediately. 

Comparing the two of them is impossible. They are of completely different realms in nature with their touch. Boba is like a wildfire. Bursting at the seams from the onslaught, running hot and dangerous that can consume you if you let it do so. Once in it’s trap, escape only possible if it lets you. 

Deepening the kiss, you could feel your lips swell and bruise from the rough treatment, and once he bit the bottom lip he was so enraptured with, you gasped. Not just a gentle teasing nibble like Din, no should he have bit slightly harder he would’ve drawn blood. Your gasp was as much of a whine, his hand raking into your hair and tightening his grip to continue to move you. 

His tongue brushing into your mouth, tasting your own and coaxing you to follow suit. Your hands rising to dig into his cowl as he kissed and licked into your mouth until you had to pull back for air. Grabbing both your hands he pulled them in front to the side of his chest plate. “Undress me, little one.” 

It was hard to tell if they used their presentation to command you, or if having two of them in the room like this was just turning your brain into sludge. Nodding fervently, you swallowed trying to focus hard on taking each part of his armour off with care, just like you do Din’s. Who had ideas of his own. 

Pulling you into his chest once more, only now you felt much more the softer press of his body without the coolness of the armour at his back. Slightly pouting at not being able to do it for him. Din pulled your outer layer down your arms and stood back to let you continue. 

Hesitating once his upper body was done, you look up to Boba wide eyed in question. Shaking as he nodded, raking his hand through your hair once again as you knelt down. Your body feeling like it truly was becoming surrounded by fire at how this position felt, but you made sure to take your time undoing every piece, putting it down gently to where you now could see Din’s not too far away. Stacked just the way you do it. 

Looking up at Boba, now like Din, just in his flight suit, you ran your hands innocently up the length of his calves. “May I?” Dancing up to the bottom of his shirt, Boba chuckled. Watching slowly as you stood up. Hands raising his shirt as you did so until you stood in front of him. He did no work. Watched with dark amusement as you had to lean close into him to pull it off until it was down his arms. 

Din’s touch, crowded you just then. None of the patience, Din pulled your shirt and chest band up and off in one swoop. Not yet touching you he kept his arms around you, one on your hip the other by your mouth. “Bite.” 

Gently taking the leather between your teeth he pulled it off letting you see his hand as he yanked his other glove off and gently took the other from you. Finally able to look, you realized you didn’t really get the chance to see Din the way you could look at Boba now. 

Greedily reaching to run your hands over his large chest, eyes trapped on every scar, burn, gunshot that was painted on no doubt a story to follow. You didn’t know Din’s by sight, but you knew them by touch, so you did the opposite. 

Fingers tracing only lightly across each mark as you barley blinked staring at him. The heat in your limbs travelling between your legs. Skin rough in some places and soft in others you reached down to his pants and gently tucked the seam into your fingers. Not waiting for permission, you went to slowly move when Din did the same to you. 

Yanking your bottoms down, underwear in his grasp in one go. Tossing them aside. You whined in your chest as you felt his rough hands now bare run across your skin while you gently finished undressing Boba. Another sight you never got to see, but the heat between your legs now felt much like a need. 

He was a large and thick man, in more places then one including his cock. Thick and begging for your touch it was more then half hard. His hand thumb traced your bottom lip and tugged, gaining your attention. His eyes black as anything as his face twisted in a more aggressive harshness then the soft patience before. “Small mouth to fit such a thick cock.” 

Your thighs squeezed together as you ran your hands up his thighs glancing back at his length. Shuffling closer, you reached up to run your thumb and forefinger over his leaking tip. His legs steeled in a flex at the sensation along with his muscles constricting. Running them up and down his length slightly before gently cradling him close to the base of his cock. Almost like a kitten, you licked gently over the tip. Each time slipping more of him inside your mouth. 

Knees engaged each side of you as Din’s helmet soothed your sweating skin and leaned into the back of your head. His own hands running over your thighs but much firmer then your touch. He said nothing, but the more of Boba’s cock you slipped into your mouth the more overwhelmed you felt. Boba it seemed, was just as talkative in the bedroom as Din, but with one small difference. 

Boba took pleasure in being mean, and you only got more wet the more he talked. “Djarin’s far too easy on you it seems. Go on, little one you can fit more then that.” Sliding more in, you could feel Din run down to rub gently at your clit, making you moan around Boba’s cock. 

Almost like he couldn’t help himself, he ran his fingers over your throat as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. Full and overwhelmed you felt your nerves on fire as much as the fingers on your clit rubbed harsher, pushing more pressure into you as your mouth soaked the thickness inside it. 

Head starting to bob up and down, you felt tears at the corner of your eyes as well as your heart pounding each time you tried taking him deeper. “All the way this time, that’s it.” You cried around his cock as your nose pressed against the coarse hair around his pelvis soaking as saliva built and even dipped from your mouth the deeper he kept himself in. 

Din’s touch on your clit making you burn and shake wanting so desperately to grasp onto his arms but they were firmly set on Boba’s thighs as you slid his cock in and out of your mouth. “I knew you’d have such a filthy mouth, just not such a messy one.” His fingers swiping the saliva on your skin before tipping your gaze up slightly to see your eyes fluttering. “You wet from his fingers, from sucking my cock or are you just that much of a little greedy omega?” Moaning once more you felt him throb in your mouth as you felt almost lightheaded. 

One of Din’s hands slid up, groping at one of your breasts, fingers twisting your nipple enough to make you want to arch back into his touch, but he only shushed you gently in your ear. Your breathing already strained feeling that much weaker at how much your body wanted to writhe at Din’s touch. 

“Your girl like a mess, Djarin?” 

Both of Din’s hands stopped moving for a second, like he was contemplating something before he slid his hand down, shoving between your thighs as much the angle could offer. Sliding two thick fingers smoothly into your soaked pussy he groaned just quiet enough you could hear it. The one on your breast moved down to your stomach. “No, just greedy.” 

Din’s helmet now resting on your shoulder thrusting his fingers in and out with such little resistance and every slide of Boba’s cock making you clench that much harder. Groaning louder at how much he could see your wetness from even here, his other hand stroking your stomach with his thumb. Refusing to let you wince or flinch at your insecurity. No, he wanted you on full display. 

Boba’s hand raking around the opposite side of your head he pulled you into him close as he could, feeling him twitch inside of your mouth before letting go. “Fuck, such a filthy fucking thing, that’s right swallow all of it, good girl.” Boba’s cum spilling into your mouth, so close to the back of your throat and the twisting of pleasure Din was bringing you with his fingers made you almost want to cry it was too much. 

Slowly pulling you off inch by inch both men watched a mixture of saliva and cum almost dripping from your gasping mouth as Boba’s cock finally left you. Din’s hand turning you by your neck gently to look partially back at him, the darkness of the visor even contrasted to the gritted teeth and dark panting face of Boba’s. He still brought you comfort as Din brushed mercilessly against a sensitive wall inside of you. “Doing so good for me, sweet girl. So fucking good,” 

Your hands free you reached back to grab at whatever you could of Din as the heel of his palm roughly rubbed your clit as he thrusted them in and out almost rougher then before. Gasping you arched back, unashamed at how much it put your tits almost on display. “Din, please let me cum. Please, I’m so-” 

Whinging you couldn’t even finish your owns entrance as he pressed his other palm hard against your stomach as he sped up enough you could hear how much you soaked him. “Come on, you can cum mesh’la. All for me.” 

“Taking all the credit isn’t your style,” Boba’s voice was further away, rasping with a dash of cheeky as Din pulled you right over that edge. Holding you tight against him as you cried out as your orgasm washed over you. Seizing your muscles tightly in his hold. 

“F-fuck, not ugh, your name she’s crying is it though, Fett?” 

Talking about you like your orgasm wasn’t in his arms and on display it just made you stutter a moan out even as you came down. Pulling his fingers out of you, Din pulled you up with him turning you to face his front. Moving your hands to gently pull his shirt off, you wanted to reach to run your hand over his chest only to get pulled roughly into Boba’s back. “He can have you whenever he wants, so how about you lay out for me?” 

Gently climbing up onto the bed, you could see Boba moving around to the end of it and Din carefully climbing up near the wall behind you. Just as you settled, Boba yanked you towards him at the edge of the bed. Spreading your legs wide to fit himself between. 

“Let’s see if an omega tastes as sweet as she smells.” A man with patience in many aspects of his life, but none as he pulled your hips closer to put his mouth on you. Crying out almost immediately as he licked from your entrance up to your clit. 

Din’s breath stuttering behind you, his eyes behind the helmet stuck on how much you gasped, back arched and legs already tensing in Boba’s hold. Brushing your hair sticking to the sweat of your forehead back, raking gently in his bare fingers like out of everything the soft silky feeling is what had him transfixed. 

Sucking your clit before almost biting it to make you jump, he Boba chuckled deep into your pussy as he licked inside of you. The roughness of his hands but the warmth of his mouth working you over so gently making you moan. Thighs wanting to close, but he kept them wide on the bed as he could force them. Refusing to even give you the reprieve of hanging them over his shoulders. You’d still have some control were he to do so. Your core inside hot and burning, too soon after Din made you cum on his fingers you grasped at your chest mindlessly. 

Only to have Din grab them. Despite pulling your head up to his lap, Boba never faltered. Just moving with the action to keep his mouth tasting you. Din however, wrapped your fingers in each of his before pushing them down on either side of you. His own cock unfairly hard and still confined by his pants, but he needed you to come again. He never gets to fully see how you look cumming on his mouth, but now Din refuses to miss it. 

Shaking in his hold, you were far too close from your last orgasm. The coil inside you twisting and flaming as Boba never faltered in his moves. Feeling a smirk against you as your stomach muscles started to tense up. Your hips lifting from the bed slightly as he pulled you into his mouth from a better vantage. His tongue deep as it could go, you started to loose yourself. 

“You gave me one, mesh’la. Fett deserves one too, for everything he’s done for you.” 

Boba’s nails dug into your skin as he pulled you right over that edge, not even hearing the noise coming from either of them. Just ringing in your ears as you came, falling apart on his mouth that refused to stop licking you up and down until you stopped spasaming. Your senses like you were drifting underwater, only soothed by Din’s soft touch letting your hands go to gently cup one of your breasts again, like the small massaging sensation and gently playing with your nipple just enough of a spark to keep you near the top. 

The two Mandalorians however, had no plans on giving you time to catch your breathe. Like you were a doll light enough to be tossed around, Din manoeuvred you to straddle his lap. Your hands instantly running down his chest, eyes wide at how broad and soft he looked outside of even just his flight suit. 

One of his hands ran up the length of your spine, the other running across your hip over you ass and back down your thigh like a pattern. “Pull me out, sweet girl.” 

Nodding mindlessly, you reached for his bottoms. Thighs clenching around his as you pulled his cock out, long and intimidatingly thick as well. You knew it felt as such but seeing what you had previously fit inside of you made you shiver. Wrapping your hand around it, you ran your thumb over his tip. Gathering as much precum as you could and stroking his cock with it, slow and a light grip that Din never touched himself with. His voice raspy and lustful. “We can do this a few ways, but it’s all up to what you’re comfortable with. We can go easy on you if you’re more comfort-”

Shaking your head furiously, “No, no whatever you want. Both of you, please I want you to do whatever you want,” Turning to see Boba who also was know up on the bed behind you. 

His hand reaching out to keep your head turned on him with his hand on your jaw. “Are you sure?” A second nod yes, had Din groan. Covering your hand with his and tightening your grip on his cock. Boba’s eyes on you. “I’m gonna open you up back here while you sit on his cock.” 

Dins hands reaching behind to pull your ass cheeks apart enough to sting. “Come here, sweet girl. Let me feel you.”

Looking back you propped yourself on his shoulders as Din held you by your hips. Sinking you down was far too easy, from making you cum on his fingers and Boba’s mouth you soaked his cock before even sitting on it fully. Din moaned as he sunk into you fully in one go. His helmet dropping into your chest as his own stomach heaved trying to control himself. 

Your moan was high pitched and needy, hands grasping onto the bit of hair sticking out from his helmet his hands pulled your chest more into him. But as soon as you tried moving, Din held you in place head lifting up to look disapprovingly at you. His tone sharp as his words were short. “Are you in charge?” 

Pausing, you clenched around him, making an even wetter mess already but you shook your head no. Your mind too in the clouds to even joke otherwise. Feeling Din trail his hands up to hold you by the back of your neck and waist. Pulling your forehead to his you shivered at Boba’s hands on your hips. 

His large frame pressing into your back as his hands trailed downwards, squeezing your ass lightly, then rougher each next one. Finally, one of his fingers moving down. Collecting the wetness still soaking you and nearly the bed at that point before moving it back up between your cheeks. 

Stilling briefly as he pressed against your ass, heart racing but your head still in the clouds could do enough to nod. Boba leaning closer to your ear with a deep, “Good girl,” before sliding his finger inside of you. 

Gasping, you pressed into Din more who tightened his grip on your hair, but held you not in comfort but to keep you nice and steady for Boba who was keen on riling you up more as he spoke. “Never been taken here have you, little one?” Chucking deep when you shook your head no. “Not treating her right are you, Djarin? If you’re leaving some of her firsts for me.” 

Sliding the hand on your waist, Din moved his thumb against your clit. “I’m the one filling her pussy nice and full, aren’t I sweet girl?” You moaning just as Boba slid in a second finger and such a moan turned into a whine. Your body on fire, your insides already burning to the ground your body only able to focus on either of what their hands were doing. 

There was a stretch and a burn inside your ass that just two of Boba’s fingers were pulling from you, but the gentle side of a third had you jump. Crying out desperately as Din’s hand in your hair tightened painfully. Voice scattered, you didn’t know if you were even making sense as you writhed in place. “I, fuck, I don’t wanna- wanna upset either of, of you..” 

The hand now loosening, Din slid it down to the back of your neck, pulling you to look at him. His voice as rough as you looked. “You could never, cyra’ika. Fuck, you could never upset me, upset us.” 

Boba leaned into your ear, free hand wrapping around the front of your neck. “You ready to take me, little one? It’ll be a stretch, but I’ve opened you up nice and wet for me.” You swallowed, your eyes on Din and your focus on the their hands but you nodded. “You sure?” You nodded again. “Hold onto him, then.” 

Din sat up better, holding you in his lap. The second Boba started pulling his fingers out, Din thrusted just out of you enough to set your insides alight. Thrusting back in but slowly, forcing you to feel his cock stroke against every inch of inside you as you moaned. 

The slow pace making you lean into him quietly, only to cry at Boba now pressing his cock up against you. Leaning forward, he pulled you out of Din’s hold making you lean back against his shoulder to look up at him. Like they were in sync, Din slowly pulled partway out of you as Boba barley pressed his tip in. 

Din’s final reassurance once more like fired the bullet. “It’s okay, cyra’ika. You can kiss him.” 

This time Boba kissed you, his roughness resuming from before and Boba slowly started to push inside you as Din slowly filled your pussy back up. Your body feeling like it was panicing, heart racing from all the stimulation, but Boba kept slowly filling your ass until he, like Din, was sat fully inside you. 

Pulling his lips from yours, not bothering to hide how deep he had his tongue in your mouth he clenched his jaw at the feeling. “You still with us?” It took you more then a moment to answer, barley with an uh-huh as you clenched around both of them. 

Din’s thrusts slowed down dramatically, his cock almost just grinding in you with painfully gritted teeth hiding behind the helmet. Boba, started to fuck you, but far less gentle. Both of them, feeling the desperation of your omega yearning for more of it. 

You couldn’t describe how it felt to have him pound you from behind that way, it was new and almost so foreign it scared you but you were desperate for it. Crying and moaning only speeding his hips up more and more. The slapping of his skin against yours contrasting with how soaking wet your pussy was with each slide of Din’s cock was obscene. 

Should have made you feel embarrassed but with your body pressed between their chests you couldn’t find yourself to care. “Fucking tight little ass, can barley shove my cock inside you can I?” He pounded harder, your body bouncing more on Din’s from the force. 

“Should feel what her cunt’s like, I’d never-fuck, would get you to fucking leave if you felt her.” Din and him just not speaking to you, but about you and yet it just felt too good. Like they wanted to get you out of your messy head, and to do it, treated you like a you for their pleasure and you were burning on the inside. 

Boba’s voice scratched to hell in your ear, “Gonna let me cum inside your ass, little one? Spill inside you just like Djarin would?” Looking up at him you nodded, Boba sharing a glance with Din that you didn’t see before he kissed you again. 

His cock pounding into you fast, your ass jiggling with the force as Din sped up inside your pussy. Himself leaning back against the wall, watching your face and your body transfixed as his thrusts were slower but far rougher. 

It seemed to sneak up on Boba, his orgasm. A few sudden thrusts almost too fast for you to be able to handle, before he pressed up against your back, head sinking into your neck with a groan. You felt his cock throb inside you before it started to fill you with his cum. Thick and lots of it he fucked you until he was empty. Slowly pulling out, to watch your ass gape without his cock still there to fill it and his cum leaking out of you. 

Din, didn’t waste time. Flipping you around so he was on top of you, pressing deep inside your pussy and fucked hard as soon as you were laid out for him. His cock so painfully hard and desperate to cum inside you, Din was rougher then normal. Your legs wide as possible to the point of strain, and the sound of his hips slapping into yours was loud. 

You didn’t expect it then, but you came from nowhere. Your orgasm splitting inside you and washing over your body as you arched back into the bed. Boba, leaning over to kiss you, his tongue commanding yours as Din started to lose composure. 

“Defect, my perfect girl with the tightest cunt, gonna fill you up okay? Gonna let me spill inside this pussy the way I want, like you deserve- oh fuck, baby,” His helmet dropping into your chest as he held both your hips still as he came. 

Slow thrusts as he too, felt like his cum spilled inside you forever. Your ass still full and whatever leaked out now spread against your cheeks as you were pressed into it from behind. Boba’s lips and tongue swallowing your moans and cries as Din gave a few final pushes. His body shaking from how hard and just how much he came inside of you. 

Both of them, let go of your body very gently. Boba slowing his kiss down to something gentle, before pressing a peck to your swollen lips and one to the bridge of your nose. Din took longer to pull out of you, his cock still half hard from how worked up he got, waiting until he went soft before leaving your soaked warmth entirely. 

You weren’t sure if you passed out, or if you dropped that hard. You felt Din’s touch and his gentle words but not much registered as you tried coming back to your senses. Only really feeling back in the world as you settled against Din in the water. 

Water? 

Looking around, you were in a large tub built into the stone ground like an indoor pool. Leaning back you felt his helmet and arms wrapping around your front. “Welcome back, mesh’la.” 

Laughing lightly, you looked around the room. Not quite a room like a refresher, but it seemed to be solely for the tub in there. “Did I pass out?” 

Din traced his hand over your stomach, “Not quite. You were out of it for a little bit though, thought a bath might help bring you back a little bit.” Smiling weakly you just leaned back into him. Enjoying the quiet. 

A question however poked at your brain, “Where’s Boba?” 

“Checking on the kid. Figured it might be a bit calmer for you to come down from tonight with just me for a little bit.” Pausing he almost sounded worried. “Did you...like it?”

Turning in his arms, you straddled his lap hands on his shoulders much more relaxed this time despite both of you being naked now. “I did. It was...a lot. But I liked it. You were were..” Din suggested the word rough, which made you laugh. “Yeah, but I was going to say safe. I don’t think I’d do anything like that with anyone else. But Boba-” 

“You trust him.” Nodding gently, he ran a hand up and down your back. “So do I. Would you ever want to do it again?” 

Leaning into his forehead you smiled. “I think so. As long as I get just you most of the time.” It wasn’t really obvious that the screaming insecurities didn’t rear their ugly head in that moment. You were stiff, quite sore, but content and snuggling into Din like a loth-cat. 

It was quiet for a bit before you asked about Grogu, only to feel mostly as confused as he did for how he got back. Either he was sent across the galaxy all alone or Peli’s story was just wrong. Either seemed plausible considering what you knew about your curly haired friend and the Jedi. 

Not that everything was perfect, but you felt content. The protectiveness of how Din held you was that of an alpha shielding his omega from the world around you. Din almost brought up the question of mating you, but he wasn’t sure his timing would be the greatest were he to bring up that biting into your neck to mate was all he had been thinking about since he got you in the bath. 

He also had a necklace. Two distinct animal skulls carved of beskar into them for when he did. But for now, you both soaking in this elaborate tub in each others arms would have to do.

Besides, he wouldn’t live down the amount of shit Boba would tease him with for mating you right after letting Boba fuck you the way he did. There might be a bit more of this dynamic to explore. 

He and Boba trusted one another, a companionship that made him trust the other man treat you with the proper respect of a fellow alpha. Omega’s were precious to Mandalorians, but Din didn’t want to share you with his people just yet. 

Sharing your affections with just one other was an acceptable middle ground. Well two others. 

The second you saw Grogu again, the idea of you leaving this little clan became practically impossible. 

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