#and some more shaky arguments for a few other ships

[tired-stressed-trying-my-best]

every now and then my brain will present me with a short scene or a few lines of dialogue, and I'll jot them down, and then I have to figure out who the characters are, so I end up running through a mental list of fandoms trying to find who fits

it's basically Ship Dynamic Casting Call: Flirty Trickster and Girl Who Gets Flustered When He Winks At Her

(or some other dynamic, that's just the specific one happening right now)

[avatarfandompolice]

One starkly revealing trait about the few remaining Zutara shippers is their complete inability to recognize how little their obsession translates. More often than not you see them assuming that everyone is as rabidly committed to a fictional relationship as them, especially when talking about “the opposition.”

So you get instances where they’re strawmanning the hell out of an argument with Kataang shippers because they assume that people who enjoy Kataang have spent countless hours trying to dissect every little detail and spin it into a self-affirming narrative. Most Kataang shippers, from my experience, fall into the “I just think they’re neat” or “I enjoy the show and thus enjoy them together” camps. Insinuating that you have some “gotcha” moments by over-analyzing and misinterpreting something speculatively on their behalf, then using your own shaky analysis and misinterpretations to “prove them wrong” doesn’t do anything. It just makes you look creepy, obsessive, and overly concerned with a cartoon that ultimately does not matter.

Sometimes I feel like the dedication is less now to actually enjoying a ship despite its lack of canon content, and more the enjoyment of wallowing in hatred for anyone or anything that promotes canon. The assumption that others are that emotionally attached to defending the honor of what they enjoy, especially in terms of a fictional character relationship, is hilariously off base.

[elainsgirl]

It must be SOOO disappointing to be a Gwynriel. When you are an Elucien, you get credit from the books where E and L at least have some intertwined plot and interactions + Lucien time to time gets mentioned in the articles

But GAs 🤣 Like, they don’t get anything:

1. Articles don’t mention them. Not do they with GA. Only one Gwynriel or smth article said “or maybe he’ll end up with Gwyn”, but, mind you, the same author had to edit it because of the WOMB argument 💀

It says a lot about that person and her words automatically lose any value. Or how Gwyn wasn’t even mentioned as a single possible love interest. Sorry, but the “unconventional theories” and “Gwyn or another LI” sounded similarly to Gwyn or Eris. Because even Bryceriels got a separate mention lol, despite the fact that GAs were here for much longer. To wrap it up, Spotify and other companies don’t interact with them or even acknowledge

2. No merch. Cards or those color-in pages, it’s about Elriel. GAs mentioned some “licensed” merch (which was a card), but, really? Some art getting printed? Not to understate, however, it happens to be that even the Amazon-like market in my country sells such thing. And it’s like a huge place. Trust me, I doubt they asked for a permission. It goes from like Elriel to Azris arts

3. No scenes. They are always “READ THE BC”. Bro, f/ck off. I don’t want to go to some website, to zoom in and read pages crookedly scanned. Or have to go to wherever else to do this. I read Ana Huang and, at least, she mentions the existence of the BCs and has links on her site (just saying that it’s easier; nothing against SJM)

It’s just annoying to hear about the bonus chapter and how “small breadcrumbs” are big and fat phrase “smithing sparkled in his chest”

I’d say that I feel sorry for the hardcore Reddit shippers, but you get what you deserve 🦦

The thing with elucien is - at least there is a bond, something tying elain & lucien together. Its not possible for them to never interact again which gives eluciens some leg to stand on, right? Even though its shaky and gets weaker by each book, its still a foundation.

Gwynriel dont have that. There is nothing tying them together in the books. Acotar 5 can come along, Rhys says to Az “hey man I need you more focusd on spying then training the girls, Cass and maybe Mor can do that” thats it for any gwyn and az interactions. Az comes back living w feysand or in the townhouse. Him & Gwyn dont ever have to interact ever again *unless* Gwyn received the necklace which rn is an assumption as it wasn’t confirmed.

the few articles that do mention GA are never serious. The womb article was a mess but showed the truth about gwynriel. The other articles mention Gwyn as a hypothetical, potential Li. Gwynriels were lumped in w brycerials & Azris which is rlly insulting for the crows that claims gwynriel have sooooo much foreshadowing, parallels and were so obvious in acosf. As far as I’m aware, no company has acknowledged/interacted with them….again it’s embarrassing for thoses stans because they have always used their popularity in the fandom as a card against elriel yet…no one from the outside is talking to them.

you can get art licensed- its not too much of a hassle nor is it proof of anything. Didn’t the card company work partly w a team that was representing Mass, the fact even they (an unbiased outsider) paired all the brothers w the sisters instead of all the mates together shows how clear & obvious the direction of the series has always been & who the focus is on.

for a ship thats supposedly next, they barely have any good, romantic coded scenes together & most importantly neither main character of acosf, pair gwyn and az together. Nessian don’t think about gwynriel, whereas in comparison they are thinking snd connecting lines between elriel.

Lmfao same, the bonus isn’t easily accessible for me and im not going through the hassle to read something that does not affect the books aside from confirming what I already gathered from acosf. The fact Gwynriels *need* to have the bonus shows how weak the ship is in acosf itself. Which honestly speaks volumes.

I don’t feel sorry for any of them. In fact this can be a great learning experience for them & thats what they need the most.

[autistic-shaiapouf]

What's your opinion on Meruem x Pouf? :3

I saw this ask come in yesterday but wanted to wait until I had enough time to give it my full attention 👀

The short answer is that I support it with a resounding yes courtesy of the illustrious @ravenfeet222 👀✌️💖

The long answer is gonna give me a lot of space to talk about pouf which is why I wanted to wait to answer this 😭 Gonna live up to the url for just a moment 👀

ALRIGHT SO, let's talk about pouf for just a second. I truly do feel that a LOT of people missed the major points of pouf's character just because his arc had a lot of negative growth, plus the more flamboyant aspects of his character also seem to have made some people write him off U_U I've done a few large scale analysis pieces on him but I'm gonna reiterate a few points for the sake of the discussion at hand, and they're all points about how pouf interacts with and perceives the world around himself.

Pouf is afraid. It's explicitly said in canon multiple times that as the arc progresses, he understands everyone around himself less and less and grows increasingly more afraid of all the change. Pouf is also emotionally disregulated, he shows intense anger, he cries like his heart is breaking, all with little prompting. One thing I clung to was a line that seemed to be treated like a joke - pouf commenting that soldiers had no need for memory or emotions, ironic coming from the most emotional character in the arc, but what I believe it hints is that pouf doesn't view his own emotions as out of line. He thinks he's acting in a perfectly reasonable manner and minimizes his emotional expression to not conflict with his own personal image of being a perfect soldier (on his good days - there's still plenty where he thinks very poorly of himself).

Okay so pouf is afraid and he struggles! Where do we take this? My argument is gonna get a little shaky bc I'm a pouf scholar and haven't studied meruem to the same extent but I'm not gonna let that stop me 👀 In my eyes, meruem's arc progresses in an opposite manner to pouf's - meruem grows more stable and trusting while pouf feels increasingly more suspicious and borderline paranoid of the world around himself; meruem's desires become more grounded while pouf's grow increasingly more frantic and based in fear. They counteract each other in ways that would be conducive to each other's growth, with special regards to meruem acting as an anchor for pouf's fears and general anxiety about the world. Meruem, judging from his earlier-arc interactions, could still get caught up in his mind similar to pouf, but focusing on asking himself what he's meant to be doing, what his purpose is, and pouf would easily draw him out of that. I'd also like to believe that, somewhere in there, pouf learns to be more of an individual, likely with a little help from meruem pushing him towards his interests and helping him grow beyond what pouf initially considers to be his purpose.

I'm not generally someone who cares much for shipping (as someone who's aro and ace, though I do have very contrasting feelings for specific fictional guys lmao) but I can definitely see the dynamic between the two growing into something mutually supportive if both of them were given time to grow (which canon didn't do U_U). Let this also be my way of saying that I have strong opinions on the ants and the caa as a whole and I wish I saw it get discussed in a greater capacity but you can't win them all, I put out what I can and am always glad to be asked about them 😤 Also I just think that pouf deserves to be happy, the man entered a mental health spiral and dropped dead imagining himself as a failure; he's. very personally important to me and to see him get put in a situation where he can start to recover and become healthier means a lot to me, so that's also a bonus ✨️

[gbee-writes]

The Mourning Sun

Chapter One

---

The first thing he became aware of was a throbbing ache in the back of his skull. It pounded to the rhythm of his heart, making stars dance behind his eyelids. When he tried to call out for one of his siblings his voice came out muffled. Bratha's heart jammed into his throat as he realized there was a gag shoved between his teeth. He jolted upright, causing a wave of pain in his head, and tried to take in his surroundings.

Unfortunately wherever he was being held was almost pitch black. Remembering what his mother had taught him, Bratha immediately tested his arms and legs; finding the former bound and the latter very shaky and weak. He most definitely did not let out a childish shriek when he felt something warm brush against his shoulder.

A muffled exclamation calmed the brief panic. Moa was not a morning person like him and Bratha had heard him mumble complaints into his bedding enough times to know what his brother's voice sounded like through fabric.

There wasn't a guarantee that Moa recognized him though. Bratha chewed the gag a bit before letting out three sharp grunts, two longer ones, and three sharp ones. The call was meant to be done with whistles and clicks of the tongue but the grunting would have to do.

Almost immediately Moa responded with three long grunts, two sharp, and three long. The further confirmation eased what tension was left in Bratha's shoulders. The pair leaned into each other, warmth very welcome in that moment.

Ignoring the pain that flowered with thinking hard, Bratha pushed to recall how they had ended up tied up in a hold to begin with. They had docked at Hantrip for certain; he recalled their mother getting into an argument with Auntie Baesil about how well the mooring lines had been tied down.

Des insisted they were too loose.

Then…? He and Moa went to explore…they had gotten food at some point but…He let out a muffled sigh. It was hurting too much to think much harder and Bratha would rather spend that effort thinking of a way out.

A rubbing on his shoulder caught his attention. His brother was seemingly trying to rub the gag out of his mouth but with how tight Bratha's own was he doubted Moa could remove it that way. Fumbling a bit, he found Moa's clothes and gave a few sharp tugs, hoping he would understand. Thankfully he seemed to.

Moa wriggled down until his face was at Bratha's hands. Just a few moments of searching and Bratha had his fingers hooked under the gag in his brother's mouth. Even sooner it was pulled free.

"Bratha." Came the harsh whisper. He flipped around, struggling to get to a point where Moa could remove his own gag. Once they were both free to speak they shuffled into a more comfortable position, curling in close on each other. Getting their arms out from behind their backs could wait.

"What do we do now?" Moa was clearly trying not to panic.

Bratha swallowed down a lump forming in his throat. "We wait. Mama'n Papa'll find us." He had no doubts on it. Their parents would notice that they didn't come back at curfew and they'd go looking. Before they knew it Bratha and Moa would be back on the ship being scolded for not being careful enough. Papa would hug them and Mama would spend weeks keeping them under close watch.

Everything would be okay.

Everything had to be okay. . . .

Everything was not okay.

Bratha wasn't sure how much time had passed, but judging from the food that got chucked in at them, the new people being tossed in as well, and the sleep he'd had, more than a few days had gone by. Were they leaning into weeks at that point? Possibly.

Without a solid way to judge he couldn't be sure. Through that time none of them had been able to get the wrist restraints off but each new person tossed in had their gags removed. Not that it did much. Of the five others in there with them, only one ever spoke, and only when she was hissing at Moa and Bratha for speaking to each other.

He tried not to take it personally but every time she snapped at them his temper flared. Part of it was the hunger. Bread was tossed in every once in a while but it was never enough to fill one of their bellies, let alone all seven of them. Bratha always gave most of his share to Moa as well.

Dehydration was quickly becoming an issue on top of it. Sure, a bucket of water had been put in the cell with them but it didn't smell or taste right.

Bratha half suspected drugging but more likely was that whoever had them didn't care the quality of what they drank, so long as they weren't dead. He had long since gotten used to a dull throb in his head, one that was clearly not leftover from getting wacked when they were taken.

Since talking with Moa would only get him hushed Bratha spent most of his time daydreaming. Memories of the sea, different port towns, their family. One in particular he focused on more than the rest; the time they had moored along a stretch of tiny islands for repairs.

There wasn't much to do in the towns, at least not for their kind, so Bratha and his siblings had made a game of finding things along the shore. They would all search for a short time before meeting back up and voting who had scrounged the best 'treasure' in the lot.

Nich had found a tide pool after a few rounds and the group swiftly abandoned the game to search for sea stars and other creatures. It had been such a hot day but even the sun beating down on them couldn't ruin the merriment.

Bratha wished he were back in that moment. He wished he were in the sun pointing out little fish to Nich, chasing Nalluk with crabs as she shrieked a mix of fear and delight, watching Moa dive into the waves and come up with a new rock or shell each time.

But it wasn't bright in the hold where they were kept and there wasn't a refreshing breeze to clear the rank, stale air.

"Bratha?" Moa whispered.

He snapped out of his dreaming to find that his brother had pushed his face into Bratha's arm. "Aye?"

A small sniffle. "I don't think they are going to find us."

Bratha wanted to deny it. He wanted to get mad and yell at Moa for doubting their parents. That wasn't what happened. Instead he let out a shaky sigh that scratched at his throat as he leaned his head back into the wall. "…yer right…we'da been home by now."

There was no point in trying to hide behind childish dreams of rescue. They were probably well out of their family's reach by then and the chances of someone else deciding to rescue them was practically non-existent.

The suborn part of Bratha started trying to form a plan of escape. Maybe if they waited for food to be thrown in? But they didn't know how many crew members were on this ship and they were weak from hunger. Waiting to be taken to auction wasn't a good plan either; there would be crowds of people to stop them. Both plans ended with the brothers dead.

Bratha didn't want to be a slave but he really didn't want to die. "Do ye think we'll be bought t'gether?" He was scared of the answer.

Moa and Nich had been taken together, but sold to different people. The crew of the Star had been lucky the two buyers were in the same city when they freed them, but the chances of it happening again was…

"I hope so." Moa said, his tone thick with grief.

Before Bratha could respond an angered hiss broke in. "Be quiet! All you ever do is yap!"

"All ye ever do is-!" He snarled just before the door slammed open.

Instead of another person being thrown in, or food, or even new water, two larger men stomped into the hold and grabbed Moa by the arms. While his brother didn't fight, Bratha lunged forwards.

He clawed desperately at their captor's clothing and tried to get in their way. Anything to get them to drop Moa. His resistance was met with a kick to the chest. A pained wheeze pushed out from the force but before Bratha could get his breath back he was grabbed by the hair and yanked out right behind them. One of the men that just laid there all day was taken out as well.

While they were dragged who-knew-where Bratha scrambled to get his footing. He was half worried that his hair was about to be ripped out. When it got to the point that he almost couldn't bear it all three of them were thrown to the floor of a semi-lit room.

Even with how dim it was his eyes stung. Bratha curled in to protect them and just in time. Ice cold water was carelessly dumped on him. Another breathless wheeze came out of him and when he went to scramble away a thick hand grabbed him by the back of the neck before a brush was dragged along his skin.

Blinking water and spots from his eyes, Bratha saw Moa and the other man getting the same treatment. Unlike him the two of them lay docile and let it happen.

While he knew complying would make the experience easier, the indignance of it all stung his pride more than Bratha could tolerate. He thrashed and snarled like a wild beast.

Was that even more humiliating? Possibly, but Bratha didn't think so. The thought of behaving like tamed cattle made bile burn his throat.

It wasn't a surprise when the men bathing him resorted to punching his lower back to hinder him as he was flipped around so his front could be scrubbed as well. He wasn't sure what brush they used but he was sure that they were taking several layers of skin off with the grime.

Once they were washed as much as their captors felt was needed the three of them were hauled to their feet. Bratha tried memorizing the route they were taking but that plan died the instant they got above decks.

It was grey and cloudy out; threatening but not quite storming. There was twice the number of crew The Star had and seeing just how much bigger the ship was Bratha wasn't surprised. Pulled up next to what had been their prison for who knew how long was another, smaller ship. A man and a woman were exchanging something between themselves and both of them held very satisfied expressions. It all clicked together; they had just been sold off.

A small part of him felt relief at still being on a ship, the rest seethed. Sold like mindless beasts, handed off to the highest bidder. A growl escaped him.

Unfortunately it drew the attention of the woman on the other ship. She wasn't remarkably tall, built square and thick it was clear she had spent a decent chunk of her life doing physical labor. Her golden hair was in tangled dreads hanging loose over broad shoulders. Simple black pants and a dark grey tunic contrasted with her fair complexion. She regarded them like barnicals stuck to a hull with piercing blue eyes that froze the blood in Bratha's veins.

"Well," The gruff voice drew his attention to what was clearly the captain of their current ship. "What do you think Captain Sula? These three suitable?"

Sula's face twisted into a cruel sneer. "They'll do. The tall one seems feisty but I'll have that beaten out of him in no time." She said, eyes locked to Bratha. He couldn't help comparing her to his mother.

Where Des was strong like a boulder, something you could shelter behind and brace with during a storm, this woman seemed more like the storm itself. She was the kind of captain who would batter and wear down anyone to keep them in line, using her strength to harm rather than protect.

Bratha had seen plenty of her type go up against his momma; he knew first hand just how brutal they could be. And now instead of having Des as their rock, Bratha and Moa were going to be left to Captain Sula's full mercy. His gut sank like he'd swallowed lead. Something told him his temper was about to get him into a lot of trouble.

After watching him a little longer she turned to one of the men behind her, a tall lanky redhead, and made a hand signal Bratha didn't know. "Miggs, hold."

Clearly the man understood where he didn't because Moa, Bratha, and their silent companion were all herded along a plank to Sula's ship. Bratha wanted to scream as they were once again taken below and out of the fresh air.

Just like the other ship, Bratha mapped where they were going in his head. He wanted to fight right then since there was only one man leading them but with two ships full of slave drivers he knew he couldn't do anything to put Moa and the other man in danger. That only made the anger ballooning in his chest that much worse.

In the smallest blessing possible the hold they were brought to had a lantern by the door. After the three of them were shoved in Miggs pulled a crate from outside over, sitting on it as the door swung shut. Bratha was utterly confused until the man pulled out a block of wood and knife. Miggs whistled as he carved. He was their guard until…whatever the captain was going to do with them.

Despite what was happening the sound of wood carving eased his shoulders. Aunt Pev would carve things sometimes when she wanted a break from tinkering. She would even let them sit and watch if they behaved. It was one of the few times Bratha was able to sit still without feeling like his skin was too itchy. His siblings always stayed longer than he could anyway but that never seemed to bother his aunt at all.

Where was his aunt now? Was she doing maintenance on the ship or eating with the others, carving something new? Without knowing what time it was he couldn't be sure what any of their family might be doing.

A sigh slipped out as he scooted closer to Moa. There was a pause in carving as Miggs looked up but he went back to it when he saw that none of them were about to do anything rash. Bratha closed his eyes and waited.

It felt as though a lifetime had passed before the door's hinges whined at being used. Captain Sula stepped in with a leveled glare. He didn't like the way she looked at them, sizing them up. With a grunt she pointed to Moa and the other man. "Kitchen. Put them in the collars so they can use their hands."

"Yes Ma'am." Miggs moved to do that but Bratha lunged in his way with a snarl. He would not be separated from his brother. He refused to be.

Sula didn't seem impressed. Before Bratha knew what had happened he was face down on the floor with a boot on the back of his neck. Pain throbbed in his ribs and head. "This one stays here. I need to give him training."

Fire boiled his blood. Taken down in seconds! Bratha could have given her a good resistance if he wasn't so weakened and he was sure she knew it. She wouldn't have been so tough if he had food and- "I suggest you stop fighting me or this next part is going to really hurt." Her voice was flat but a hint of disdain crept in.

Dread pooled in his stomach. In a flash Sula was landing hit after hit. His ribs, his head, his back, arms, legs. Anywhere her fists or feet could connect. With his restraints he couldn't wriggle free. Yelps and cries joined the cacophony of dull thuds.

By the time she stopped his head was filled with cotton. Jagged breaths only inflamed his ribs.

Sula pulled his arms up to look closely at his hands, eyeing the callouses and nicks. "This must be humiliating. These are the hands of a fighter but you couldn't land a single hit on me." Bratha couldn't manage words. His vision was splitting into doubles, twin smirks on the captain's face mocking him. "I think you've had enough today. I don't want to break you yet."

With that she swept from the room. Bratha whimpered pathetically as he struggled to curl in on himself. He wanted his brother, he wanted to be home, he wanted this to be a nightmare. The hold was meant for a lot more people and the empty space left him feeling even more alone.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat was impossible. Shame burned just as much as the tears that started streaming down his face.

Bratha hadn't cried in years and he was breaking down on his first day under this woman. How would he be strong enough to save his brother if he wasn't strong enough to keep from childish tears?

XXX

The dim light that streamed in and flooded the unlit quarters enough to strain her puffy eyes. She barely reacted when Kantus knelt down beside the bed. He reached forwards to cup her face, thumb rubbing against her wet cheek.

The gentle motion brought out another jolting sob. Des thought she knew what grief was but this overwhelming swell was like nothing she had experienced before. Kantus opened his mouth to say something but couldn't seem to think of anything. What could he say in that moment that would have helped?

Frankly nothing.

Impossibly she felt her chest tighten further. He shut his mouth with a sigh. After a moment of just staring at each other Kantus pulled himself into the bed, burying his face into her chest and allowing her to keep him close.

She knew they couldn't keep searching. Weeks had gone by since Bratha and Moa hadn't returned to their ship, weeks of scouring the port-side town and beyond, weeks of rumors about two young men being taken by known slave traders of the area.

It sickened her but at first Des had begged it to be someone else's children…only the descriptions had matched, and the boys wouldn't run off overnight. Or for a few days. Or a few weeks.

"Kan-…" Her throat felt too thick with her emotions. "We promised'im Kantus…"

"I know." His own voice was rough.

The way Nich had looked upon hearing who had taken his brothers…it was a look of betrayal and disbelief that Des didn't ever want to see on one of her children's faces again.

Was Moa feeling the same thing? Her dear son raging at the broken promise they had made? "We told'im he wouldn' ne'er be a slave 'gain."

"Des…" Kantus's tone wasn't chiding exactly but it felt just as stern.

"An Bratha: he be too much like me, too stubborn."

"Des."

"He'll be killed." She wanted the words to come out as a shout. They were only horrified, breathy whispers.

"Bratha is like you; stubborn, strong, clever. Moa understands the rules of being a slave and Bratha has the will to keep them going. We may not be able to hunt them down, but Des? Before you know it they will return to us and we will be able to hold them close again. We must simply go where they know to look."

"How can ye be sure?!"

"I can't," Kantus's grip tightened. "But If I give up on that idea I'll have no hope left…" The cabin fell into silence once again. Des wrestled with fear and rage as Kantus gently raked his fingers along her back.

Their sons were taken from them.

There was nothing they could do to find them.

She wanted to hunt the kidnappers down and strap them to the bottom of the ship.

She wanted to curl into Kantus and cry forever. Sickening waves of frustration, grief, fury. Des dug her finger's into Kantus's shirt so tightly they burned. Was the pressure building in her chest and threatening to break her ribs a scream or a sob?

An eternity of nothing but emotions was cut off with the door cracking open again. Thankfully she didn't need to blink tears away to know who it was. Nich's raspy voice filled the space, causing her heart to clench.

"Can we stay with you?" The two adults immediately moved to make room as Nich and Nalluk shuffled into the bed.

Des couldn't help thinking of how all six of them used to lay down after rough waters. Bratha and Nalluk simply got a little sick with the choppiness, but Moa was there to comfort his siblings and Nich never liked being left out. She nestled the two left on either side of her while Kantus stayed at the edge.

Normally she liked being the one closest to the door but now it was a welcome comfort to have someone else at the point of vulnerability. It made it so she could focus on her little ones without distraction.

Little was a stretch now, Nalluk was almost of age and near as tall as her. Nich was still young but a growth spurt had landed him a good few inches taller. Des frequently had times where she would stare at her children in disbelief. It never seemed like enough time had passed for them to change from their little pudgy faced, baby eyed years.

She missed when she could easily pick them up. Strong as Des was, she was getting older and had her limits. Admitting it made bile crawl up her throat.

She wanted to be strong enough to protect them forever, she needed to be.

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This is a sequel! I made it so it can stand alone but if you're inclined, read the first part HERE!

@cinnabarmint

[arcadiaisle]

Chapter 1: Arrival on Dueling Island

Word Count: 1,615 Rating: PG Summary: Briar Yui, a 14-year-old orphan, leaves her foster shelter behind to venture to Dueling Island, where Duel Monsters competitions offer a chance to make a living.

Briar Yui leaned against the rail of the large cruise vessel, gazing out at the endless expanse of ocean. The wind tugged at her long black ponytail, whipping it into the salty air as she tried to focus on the horizon. Her big brown eyes traced the faint outline of land in the distance, knowing that the next few hours would change her life. She felt a nervous excitement stir within her as the ship carried her closer to Dueling Island.

Fourteen years old and on her own, Briar had left her foster shelter months ago after reading an article online about the island—a place where anyone could make a living, legally or illegally, through Duel Monsters. It was the opportunity she needed to survive, to build a life for herself beyond the foster system that had never felt like home. She had saved every penny, skipped meals, and even pawned a few items to afford a ticket to this strange, dangerous place.

As she clutched the metal rail, the boat swayed gently in the waves. The brochure had painted a simple picture: pay a deposit, take a few tests, and you’re in. But rumors hinted at darker possibilities—whispers of duels that could cost players more than just their cards. A chill ran down Briar’s spine as she recalled these warnings. “Losing might mean your life,” she muttered to herself. The thought of her own mortality was unsettling, but she quickly shook her head. No turning back now. She had no family, no safety net. The island was her chance to carve out a future, and she wouldn’t let fear stop her.

As she drifted deeper into thought, the sounds of the ship’s passengers filled her ears. The cruise vessel was massive, carrying over 500 people—men, women, and people of all ages. Some were veterans, seasoned duelists who had mastered their strategies. Others, like Briar, were new, their eyes wide with hope or fear as they prepared to test their luck on the island.

A sudden shout broke her reverie. “The fck you looking at? Mind your fckin’ business!” Briar’s head snapped up as a teenage girl stormed past her, fury etched across her tear-streaked face. The girl, probably around sixteen, had brown hair and pale skin with big, blue eyes that were still wet from crying. She glared at the passengers gawking at her, daring them to say something. Her voice was shaky, but her anger was fierce.

Briar, caught off guard, averted her eyes. She didn’t know what the argument had been about, but she felt a pang of sympathy for the girl as she stomped away. The girl’s outburst was a raw reminder of the vulnerability everyone on this ship shared. No matter how tough they acted, most of them were likely terrified, just like Briar.

The hours crawled by as the ship approached the island, but soon, the distant shape became clearer. Dueling Island loomed ahead, encased in a strange, divine bubble that shimmered like a mirage. The bubble wasn’t just for show—Briar knew it was designed to keep the game’s monsters inside and the outside world safe from the chaos within. It also trapped the players, though, keeping them in until they either won or lost.

As the ship passed through the barrier, Briar felt a sudden surge of energy pulse through her body, sharp and electric. It wasn’t painful, but it made her catch her breath as if the air had grown heavier for just a second. She stared wide-eyed as the ship finally docked, the immense island now stretched before her. The sight was both awe-inspiring and intimidating.

Once on land, Briar joined the line at the registration tent, her heart thudding in her chest. The process was brisk and impersonal. A few signatures, a quick scan of her Duel Monsters knowledge, and then she was in. “Briar Yui,” she said, giving her name as she stepped up to the official in charge.

Before she could process what happened next, a bright flash enveloped her. She was no longer standing at the registration desk but had been teleported to a grassy field, disoriented but still standing. The game had already begun. She glanced down at her left hand, where a silver ring now rested on her finger. It was simple yet elegant, gleaming under the sunlight. She turned it over, examining it closely. This was her key to everything—her deck, her cards, her abilities. Everything was controlled through this ring.

“No tutorial, huh?” she muttered, her lips curling into a slight frown. There had been no explanation, no guide, just instant immersion into the island’s system. She wasn’t even sure what to do next.

She wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours, stumbling through the open fields until she spotted a small town in the distance. Relief washed over her as she made her way toward it. The streets were bustling with activity—shops filled with players buying and selling cards, clothing, food, and even equipment. NPCs manned most of the stalls, their expressions frozen in the same friendly smiles, while the real players, identifiable by their rings, moved through the crowds with determination or desperation.

Briar’s stomach growled, but she ignored it. She had money, but food wasn’t her priority. She needed cards—without them, she was just another lost player.

As she neared the town square, a sudden commotion drew her attention. Two duelists had squared off in the middle of the plaza, and a crowd had gathered to watch. Briar hesitated, then joined the onlookers. The tension between the two players was palpable.

“BOOK—OPEN!” one of them shouted, and Briar’s eyes widened as a large, glowing book materialized in front of him. His deck emerged from its pages, shimmering with energy.

His opponent did the same, summoning their own book, and within moments, the duel was underway. Monsters roared to life, fierce and lifelike, as cards clashed and abilities activated with each turn. It was everything Briar had imagined and more. The power, the stakes—it all felt so real.

The duelists moved with precision, issuing commands as their monsters fought with devastating attacks. Briar watched in awe, taking mental notes of the mechanics and strategies. This was how the game was played on the island. There were no second chances, no do-overs. Each move had to be perfect, or it could cost you everything.

The duel ended with one final, crushing blow, and the defeated player slumped to their knees, their life points drained to zero. Briar let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “So that’s how it works,” she whispered. The ring… the book… and the monsters.

She felt a mixture of excitement and dread. Could she really handle this? Could she win?

After the duel, Briar wandered into a nearby card shop. She didn’t have a deck yet, and without cards, she couldn’t even participate in a duel. The shop was packed with options—monsters, spells, abilities—but most of the good monster cards were either out of stock or far too expensive for her meager budget. She browsed the shelves, feeling a little overwhelmed.

As she was about to leave, something caught her eye. Tucked away in the corner of a dusty shelf was a card with a single word written on it: Rose.

Curious, Briar picked it up. The card seemed simple enough—no flashy design, no glowing edges like the others. But something about it intrigued her. “Rose?” she muttered, turning it over in her hands. What could a card like this do? Why was it here, hidden among the more powerful cards?

Briar knew she had to start somewhere, and maybe this card was the beginning of her journey. She tucked it into her jacket pocket and walked out of the shop, her mind racing with possibilities.

[thesweetnessofspring]

Oh God lol do NOT even get me started on the "real or not real" scene...I say as I come into your inbox and assuredly get started on the "real or not real" scene PFFFF. Like, hi hello I'm an old THG vet and have sidestepped two fandoms away at this point, and yet this STILL drives me bonkers bananas every time I consider it.

It makes me so mad for a few reasons here.

Francis did not shy away from showing Katniss' feelings towards Peeta in the previous movies. Hell, he even went OUT OF HIS WAY to show them, as he gave us additional content in Mockingjay Part 1. He gave us kisses, and a dream sequence, and Katniss' depression and devastation as she saw him crumbling away ((not to mention the infamous "i love...you...pee...ta" thing in catching fire right before she passes out on the hovercraft even though that one's up for debate and could have entirely just been an acting choice from jen or just wishful thinking from us but still lol like HELLO???)).

Along those lines, if we already got confirmation that Katniss loved him, and got to see that on the screen, then why?? Was it denied from us??? In the final movie???? In the movie where it realistically needed to come to a head????? In the movie where it was the LAST opportunity to portray it for audiences???????

I recall there being some sort of commentary from Nina or Francis or SOMEONE where they were saying that they couldn't have a love scene because it was a "war movie." And like...That is some shaky ass logic if that was the case. Because uhhhhh one of the biggest themes in the entirety of the series is HOPE? That uhhhhhh idk LIFE CAN BE GOOD AGAIN??? You know, just one of the largest lines at the end of the very book itself jsdkls. Like yes, Mockingjay was centered on fighting and war, but then it ended with gentleness. It ended with Suzanne showing how life continues on, and how goodness and peace can still be found after so much pain and suffering. Soooo to be like "lol we can't even show a kiss between our two leads because bang boom pow war movie" is just so??? Backwards?????

Alsooooo they can show Katniss and Peeta with kids but can't show them being in love? Because THAT makes sense lol. Because THAT won't be a jarring transition for general audiences at all. Because THAT won't further the whole argument that "Peeta forced Katniss into motherhood." Since they went from just a dry ass little cuddle in bed that almost seemed to be a regression from their Catching Fire cuddles and their dream cuddle in MJ1 to suddenly having a family. Like mMMMmMMMMM alrighty.

...Lol me honking my clown nose over my previous statement of "not getting started" BUT LIKE...YOU FEEL ME LMAO. YOU UNDERSTAND.

It's just something that will haunt me no matter how many other fandoms I cartwheel through.

YES, GO OFF! I am here for it and agree 100%.

I haven't really gone back to the movies after watching them in the theater until recently and I was just so underwhelmed with Everlark in general in the movies, though I agree I think in MJ part 1 they were doing more heavy lifting with the dream sequence and Josh and Jen's acting (but if I counted right, we only got four Everlark kisses in the whole franchise. FOUR, and only one was really romantic (the sewer one was more heart-wrenching and desperate)). I hadn't watched the movies all in succession until just recently, but for me that aspect was a big ol' flop. I honestly don't know how people who hadn't read the books ever shipped Everlark from the movies. I watched with my brother (who only read book 1 like 15 years ago) and he kept calling Gale Katniss's "boyfriend" and I was like NOOOO STOPPPP THIS IS AN EVERLARK HOUSEHOLD.

But you would think they would want to show Katniss and Peeta really did fall in love, and not just platonic love like so many people accuse it of being, but actual romantic and sexual love. Instead they just cuddle??? Like don't get me wrong, I love all Everlark cuddles but it's not enough to stop there--it's where they were at in CF. And if they didn't want a sex scene (even a PG-13 one) it's like, okay, whatever, I disagree, but not everyone does read "so after" as a sex scene so I could deal with a tamer interpretation. But no kiss???? No passion???? When Katniss tells us the exact opposite in the book??? Katniss is just supposed to be this like, numb person just wanting to absorb heat off of Peeta and treat him like a pillow??? No sir. No. We need that HUNGER Katniss felt for Peeta to be showing up.

I think what pissed me off, too, is that they really upped Gale in the franchise imo, especially CF. Katniss gave him three kisses in the CF movie, and one of them (before she goes off to the Quarter Quell) was not in the book. So it's okay for Katniss to kiss Gale before she goes off to her death, when she's trying to tie up her life in D12 and a rebellion is about to begin, but it's too unfathomable for Katniss to even kiss Peeta after the war when they're safe and she's able to focus on building the remainder of her life with the man she's chosen to be with, the man she loves???? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE FRANCIS.

AND LAST THING kind of tying into the Gale/Peeta contrast. I feel like the movies still viewed Gale as the traditional romantic lead--very manly and heroic in a traditional way, so he gets kissed without cameras around, like Katniss really wanted him physically, and only because of the Prim thing was he rejected. Whereas Peeta, who is pretty revolutionary in being a kind, warm romantic lead in an action/war franchise, was treated like some neutered dog. Good for cuddles but not passion, like a "smart" decision or a "well I'll take it" instead of the conclusion that book Katniss comes to, which is that she feels warmth and hunger and passion for him BECAUSE he is also safety and hope, and that is incredibly sexy.

[wrath-writes]

Summer with the Striders [1]

Chapter One: Bro Strider? What a weird name

Pairings:

Platonic! Striders & Gender-neutral! Reader

Fanon! Bro, Dirk, Dave, and Lil Hal

(Other characters will likely be mentioned/added as the story progresses)

Description:

It’s silly of you to think you could possibly be spending this summer like any other, hanging out with your friends or perhaps participating in one of many summer activities you had been dreaming about during those last few weeks of school. Unfortunately for you, your parents had something else planned and shipped you off to spend the summer with a family friend and his kids? Now you’re stuck spending the summer with irony loving, sunglasses wearing weirdos. Shenanigans ensue.

 | Next Chapter>>

==> Be the heat exhausted teen

This wasn’t at all what you imagined when you were dreaming about your upcoming summer vacation. You had planned to spend the responsibility-free time gallivanting around with your friends, enjoying the last little bit of your fleeting childhood by doing kid stuff, like crimes or I don’t know, ending the world by meteor storm or something. 

Instead, you’re melting your ass off outside an airport in the Texas heat, waiting for some friend of your parents that you’ve never met and who has only ever been cryptically referred to as ‘Bro’. That’s not even a name. 

While your parents haven’t seen him in years the stories they’ve told you about him paint an odd and conflicting picture in your head. How can a man be a frat boy, a puppet fanatic, someone who took the ‘I studied the blade’ bit too seriously and a clumsy father all at once??

You didn’t get the chance to contemplate this thought for too much longer as before you even saw it, you heard a car approaching. Once it came into view it was hard to look away, its bright red color and flame decals made for an eye-catching vehicle. Who would even drive such an obnoxious car? Is all you could think before it pulled up in front of you and you were forced to stare at your own sweaty reflection staring back at you from the car's tinted windows.

In a moment the only thing blocking you and the inside of this car is rolled down, “Are you [Name]?”

The question was thrown at you before you even got the chance to fully comprehend the sight of a muscular blonde man with pointy sunglasses leaning over the center console. Neither of you moves for the few silent moments that follow as he stares you down, waiting for an answer. At least you assume that's what's happening, the sunglasses were not helping your deduction skills.

Was this guy, Bro? Responsible parents would have at least shown you a picture of the man who was supposed to be picking up their teenager from the airport. Yours had neglected to do so, but given this man’s frat bro appearance and flashy car, you could make an educated guess.

“Are you Bro Strider?” your words come out shaky as you stare down at the man, seriously asking someone if their name was Bro was a bit weird but you weren’t about to get into a car with a total stranger.

“Sure am, now get in the car we’ve got places to be, people to meet,” His tone leaves little room for argument as he slides back fully into the driver seat. Passed that he doesn’t make any more sudden moves, only impatiently tapping on the worn leather steering wheel as he waits for you to sort out your thoughts. You take a few tentative glances around you, just in case this wasn’t in fact the man who was supposed to be picking you up. No one around you seemed to spare you a glance, only pausing briefly to glimpse at the eye sore of a car before going back to waiting. When you finally look back into the car Bro is in the same place you left him but now, carefully placed on the passenger seat is a picture. The familiar faces of your parents smile up at you, they're younger, in their college years maybe and a man is wearing a pair of pointed sunglasses squished between them.

You glance back at Bro, still staring out the windshield waiting for you to get in the car. It's not hard to figure out what he’s doing, likely noting the lack of recognition and hesitation towards him, and presenting you with evidence that he wasn’t just some stranger. 

The anxious knot in your stomach loosened a bit and you allowed yourself to stash your bags in his trunk and slide into the passenger seat after carefully picking up the photo. Bro doesn’t turn to look at you as he pulls the car out of the terminal pick-up area but you can see him fight back a small smile from the corner of your eye.

The car was silent as you zoomed along the highway, you took the time to enjoy the cold air blowing out of the vents. Bro’s driving fit his bombastic car as he zipped back and forth between lanes to pass the slower cars on the road. It was hard to watch so you tried to think about anything else, what your friends were doing, your flight over here, the fact that you had finally met the guy your parents offhandedly mentioned when they reminisced about their past. So far you couldn’t tell if Bro lived up to the impression of him that you had built in your head all these years. He was flashy, sure, and he dressed the same as he did in the picture you delicately held in your hands, still you had yet to see any swords or puppets even after taking a peek in his back seat. It’s entirely possible your parents had made some of that stuff up, or maybe the guy had grown out of it in the 15 years since the last time your parents had hung out with him. Not to mention this guy had kids apparently, you never would have guessed with the way he had acted with you. Speaking of, he hadn’t said a word about them at all so far.

“So…” unsure of how to word your question you paused and glanced over to the man in question, his gaze seemingly on the road as he zigzagged around it, mouth turned down into a concentrated frown. 

When he didn’t immediately react you wondered if he even heard you, prepared to repeat yourself before you saw one of his eyebrows peek up over his sunglasses.

“So?” his voice was far more hesitant than it had been at the airport like he hadn’t expected you to speak up after the silence had sunk in. You couldn’t help yourself though, you needed the reassurance that there were in fact kids your age where you were going and that you wouldn’t be stuck with a grown man for 3 months.

“My parents said you have kids?” not the best phrasing but it would have to do considering it had already come out of your mouth. Bro’s response was immediate as the car jolted sharply, slamming you against the car door before he got it back under control.

“No I do not have kids,” he paused and you could feel the panic begin to overtake you, which seemed to show clearly on your face as Bro immediately began backpedaling, “I have two younger brothers, but they are not my kids. I did not birth them.” Weird way to specify that but alright.

“Oh sorry, my parents seem like you were a father or something,” you shifted in your seat, the atmosphere had gotten awkward fast.

“It’s fine, I have no clue what kinds of stories your folks told you about me,” Bro pauses for a moment, his hands shifting against the steering wheel awkwardly as the car slows to take its place in the upcoming traffic jam. “But yeah, my brothers Dirk and Dave, they're two pretty independent kids. Neither of them really need me to take care of them but I appreciate that they stick around.” The corner of his mouth twitches upwards before he continues, “Dirk’s super smart, already graduated from high school, spends most of his free time building robots and shit. He’s not great with new people though, he definitely gets that from me. Then there’s Dave, he’s still young but he’s hella creative, he’s got this webcomic he's been working on for a while now. I haven’t seen him all that much since school ended, he locks himself in his room so he can have calls with his friends without me ‘embarrassing’ him or whatever. He’s a good kid though, I hope you two get along.” Bro’s voice got softer as he continued talking, you didn’t need to be able to see his eyes to tell the soft spot he had for his little brothers.

Bro takes the next exit off the highway getting you out of the sea of traffic and into a more downtown area. Eventually, the car comes to a stop in front of a pizza place, the second Bro opens his door to get out the smell hits you and you're rudely reminded that you hadn’t eaten since before getting on the plane earlier today.

He briefly looks your way before patting the roof of the car, “Hold down the fort kid, I’ll be back in a minute,” the door shuts behind him and he quickly disappears into the pizzeria. True to his word not more than a minute later he exits the building with half a dozen pizza boxes balanced on one arm.

He uses his free hand to pull open his door once again, “Here, hold onto these for me,” is all you here before the pizzas are in your lap without you even seeing Bro move to place them there.

There’s a moment of panic as Bro takes his seat, about the photo you had previously been holding in the hands that now held a bunch of pizza boxes. Your panic turns to confusion as you look over at Bro and see him holding it carefully between two fingers. How fast was this guy??

Bro has already pulled out of the parking spot and is a way down the road before you manage to pick your jaw off the floor. A quiet “what?” is all you manage to mumble as you try to wrap your head around what the fuck just happened. You weren’t tired enough that you missed all of that… were you?

Bro didn’t even acknowledge your confusion, quickly filling in the following silence, “I didn’t know what kind of pizza you like, so I just grabbed a few different ones.”

The next half an hour was filled with mostly silence, up until you got trapped in some dense end of the work day traffic and Bro turned on the radio, introducing you to his questionable taste in ‘sick beats’.

Eventually, you finally pulled off of the traffic-ridden road into a parking garage next to an impressively tall apartment building. Aside from its height, the building was rather plain, off-white in color, and covered in various windows that belonged to various different apartments.

Distracted by the sight of the building you didn’t realize the car had stopped until the air conditioning shut off and you were reminded of the awful Texas heat that the car had been giving you a temporary reprieve from. Bro was already up and out of the car with your bags in hand by the time you awkwardly wiggle your way out of the vehicle with arms full of pizza. As you exit the parking garage you stare up at the building ominously looming over you, one of these very apartments is where you would be staying for the remainder of the summer. Who knows what will happen.

[greywindys]

Could you send the link to where Murdoc says he hates Noodle ships? I would love to see it as it makes me happy to see that they hate Noodle being shipped with them, she should be left out of shipping.

Hello! Sorry for the delay. I've gotten a few asks about this, and I kept putting it off because of my whole "canon doesn't mean much, or arguably anything" epiphany. It didn't feel like making the argument had a point since anything can get retconned at a moment's notice. However, I'm still not a fan of Noodle ships, and I think even with shaky canon, we can always makes argument with evidence that supports our claims.

Anyhow, Murdoc never states word for word that he dislikes Noodle ships, but they have kept his perspective - that Noodle is like a daughter to him - consistent since P1. So, while other people may disagree, I feel comfortable saying that he doesn't see her as anything else, has never thought of her as anything else, and would likely be weirded out if someone suggested it was anything else.

I can't find every instance where he calls Noodle his daughter rn (if you want more examples, I'll need to take some more time to look), but this is the one that stuck out to me, from Murdoc's P5 letter to El Mierda.

Additionally, Murdoc had been protective of Noodle, esp regarding inappropriate questions. This is taken from an interview during P2, from the June/July 2005 issue of Jane magazine:

You can read the entire interview here, in the old LJ community. It's probably on Lobotomy Pop somewhere too, but I don't have the link on me.

Separate from all of that, the writers have consistently shot down the idea of any Noodle ships. Whenever Noodle has been asked about shipping, she shoots it down (you can see in this screenshot from the a 2018 Youtube Q&A). People will have their hcs regardless, but overall, Noodles ships are generally a hard NO for most of the fandom (myself included), the fictional themselves, and the IRL Gorillaz team.

[anarchy-n-glitter]

Ain’t No Grave

Summary: Bounty hunter Cad Bane goes missing while working a job on Tatooine. While on the ship, his lover, Dreiah Kestha, begins to worry and sets out to find him.

(Warnings: Descriptions of surgery and near death experiences. Angst.)

This has spoilers for episode 7 of The Book of Boba Fett, and also it’s an established relationship between Cad and Dreiah/reader.

Part 1 of 2

It was eerily quiet.

Dreiah had opted to stay behind on the Justifier, saying something about having a meeting with a woman named Qi’ra. That was only partially true, and the small service droid who kept her company at the moment knew that. She needed the peace and quiet, some time away from her stubborn lover, but when she hadn’t heard from Cad, worry began to bubble beneath her cold and uncaring exterior. Her hands began to fidget with the necklace draped around her neck - the physical representation of how fond they’d grown of each other over the last twenty years. It was an unconventional story; two bounty hunters after the same person, a brief fight that ended with her saving his life from an accidental scratch, and then her hiring him to protect her from a larger threat later on down the line. He told her she’d come to regret letting him live - and she told him that she hadn’t come to regret anything yet.

Something wasn’t right.

She wondered if the Pykes had more work for him, but she brushed it off when she realized he would have informed her or TODO. Then she began to wonder if he was still angry with her, after all they did fight earlier that day. She didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he did have the tendency to be hard-headed. She apologized to him before he left, she explained where she was coming from, but if he was still mad all of that wouldn’t matter.

Her gaze drifted to the windshield toward the front of the ship, and she was greeted with the sight of plumes of dark, billowing smoke rising above the city in the horizon. Mos Espa still looked quiet and quaint, despite the obvious signs of destruction against the bright blue sky.

The worry within her only managed to grow, eating away at her from the inside out. She knew what this feeling was, and she’d felt it before, though not quite as strongly as she did now. This time was different, and while her heart ached in the same way it did that day, something felt like it was calling out for her. Twenty years ago she would’ve hated to admit it - hell, maybe even ten years ago - but she loved him, and as she turned the cold, blue stone on her necklace she was only reminded of how much he meant to her - and vice versa - and how losing him would devastate her. He was the only person she could actually bring herself to trust, and he was one of, if not the only person, that knew the real Dreiah.

They were words unspoken, but Dreiah knew it to be true. As that suffocating helpless feeling crept in further, she was reminded of why she kept coming back. After every argument and after every job gone wrong, she always found herself there, still willing to tear a person apart for looking at him the wrong way. Love was a scary word for them, but it was the only word that could describe the bond they shared.

There was a sudden pulsing feeling that radiated from her chest and spread to her limbs, making her body feel numb for a few moments before sending another wave through her. Her vision became spotty as the already dark ship descended into complete darkness for a few seconds, though her eyesight came and went less frequently than the numbness.

Something was not right.

With a gasp, Dreiah shot up out of her seat, nearly hitting her head on the lower ceiling on accident. She stood on shaky legs that she wasn’t even sure she had anymore, gasping for air with lungs that burned as the pressure returned to her chest. It felt as if a ghost were holding her by her torso and squeezing - like a snake had slithered around her and wouldn’t let go.

From across the room, TODO watched the Alcinian closely and wearily. Dreiah had an awful temper at times, though this time it didn't seem like she was throwing a tantrum. It normally took a lot more for her to reach that explosive point - a point he’d rather not witness her reach again. Her bright, yellow eyes flickered toward the service droid and he feared what she might do. She looked almost animalistic standing there, slightly hunched over with her claws readied, and TODO could’ve sworn she was snarling - at least, he thought she was until he saw her wild expression twist into one of pain.

“TODO,” she growled through gritted teeth before letting out a choked sob. The service droid trotted over hesitantly, still unsure if she was angry or not. “Fly us closer to Mos Espa.” She demanded through labored breaths. Alarms quickly flashed through the droid’s programming as he tried to make the right decision.

“Mister Bane said to keep you - I mean the ship - far from the city. He said it would be dangerous.” Under any other circumstance, Dreiah would have internally swooned at the gesture. Cad wanted to keep her safe, she got that, but it really wasn’t the time for that.

“TODO you kriffing bucket of bolts, if you don’t get me down there I will make sure your life is a living hell, you got that?” She spat, unsure of how she would actually make good on that threat, especially feeling the way she did now.

The droid merely stared at her, as if to tell her that no matter what tantrums she threw, Cad’s word was prioritized higher than hers. This only managed to make her angrier.

Dreiah pushed past the droid, nearly collapsing in the process, as she rushed to the cockpit. If she wasn’t used to the layout of the ship she would have been overwhelmed by the control panel, but one thing stood out to her. A rather large blinking red light up in the corner of the window caught her eye, and while her entire world was spinning, she had to ask about it. She’d never seen it before, and she wondered if it had anything to do with that horrible feeling she had.

TODO let out a gasp, rushing to Dreiah’s side, implying he knew exactly what that light meant.

“What?” She asked him, but the droid ignored her. He immediately hovered up to the control panel, frantically pushing buttons to take the ship out of autopilot mode. Dreiah was losing patience with him as she waited on an answer, and she feared losing consciousness too with the way her head was feeling. “TODO what is it? What does that light mean?”

“It’s Mister Bane, he’s requesting help.” Her body went numb again, though this time she knew it was from fear.

“What?” Her voice was breathy as she felt true panic set in. The ship wasn’t moving fast enough for her to feel comfortable.

“The last time it went off was when you dragged him to the ship after he dueled Boba Fett.”

That was all she needed to hear. It was as if all her strength returned to her, despite the fogginess in her mind, and it gave her the energy to run off toward the drop ramp. The ship was descending slowly, too slow for her liking. The service droid was quiet as he approached her, feeling slight remorse. He’d never seen Dreiah this nervous nor had he ever seen her so uncomposed.

They were silent for a moment.

“Please misses Bane,” she wasn’t expecting to hear that, and she was suddenly brought out of her panicked frenzy. That was a title she didn’t quite have yet - or at least, not legally - and yet hearing it at this point felt natural. She wasn’t sure if she would actually be called that.

Dreiah Alci Bane; she liked the sound of that.

“I must insist you stay on the ship. It’s dangerous.” She shook her head.

“Something’s wrong, TODO. I have to go find him. I can get there quicker than you can.” There was another brief pause, with the droid opting to stare at the much taller woman. Stern as ever, yet behind her determined and borderline angry expression was melancholy. The droid suspected her sudden mood had something to do with the necklaces they wore. Her hand was wrapped tightly around the stone, so much so that the droid feared her claws would dig into the sensitive skin of her palm.

Yes, it certainly had something to do with the necklace.

The ship had finally descended and Dreiah was out of the ship before the drop ramp was fully down, much to the dismay and protests of the small droid.

The Tatooine winds had begun to kick up the dirt and dust, which circled around her and threatened to throw her off of her path. The sandy buildings appeared almost white under the two suns, practically blinding Dreiah for a moment as she found her footing. TODO shouted after her, telling her to be careful as he watched her run off into the distance, silently hoping she’d return in time with his master.

It was almost as if she herself was running on autopilot - confidently running down the streets of Mos Espa as if she knew the place like the back of her hand. With the sun reflecting on the lightly colored buildings, she feared she’d never find him. Deep down, something was guiding her to him, and while she wasn’t one to believe in supernatural forces, one day she would reflect on this and know deep down that some divine force was leading her through the hostile streets.

Her heart was pounding harder than it was earlier, practically jumping out of her chest with each beat, as she continued to push herself. She was driven purely by fear and hope by the time she reached the sandy Tatooine terrain. She wasn’t sure what she was going to find when she finally stopped, and that utterly terrified her. She hadn’t been alone in so long, and now that she had someone, even if the relationship was complicated, she never wanted to go back. Dreiah could admit that at this point, she’d be a wreck without him.

Perhaps that was the universe’s revenge on her for the choices she made. She had property on Alcinia - a castle - and a large sum of money from when her parents died. She didn’t need to live the life she did, taking away other lives for her own sick enjoyment. Of course the fates would throw her someone who completed her so perfectly and taunt her with the idea of companionship only to take it away at the last second.

Her legs hardly felt like they belonged to her, and as she took the final turn they nearly gave out.

Anyone who hoped she wasn’t around - anyone who hoped she wouldn’t find him - would quickly realize their wish wasn’t going to come true.

She couldn’t hear it, but she could feel it. From her dry and burning throat tore a gut wrenching scream - a scream filled with dread and pain and love. It ripped through the air like her claws ripped through flesh. Those close by knew to stay away, but for some, it was more than a warning, it was a promise. She was going to tear the person who did this limb from limb; she was going to hang them by their wrists and let them bleed out on her castle’s floors.

The castle she was going to share with him.

Her blood curdling cry alerted everyone that Dreiah Kestha - famed bounty hunter and lover of Cad Bane - was in Mos Espa…

And she found the body of her lover lying in the middle of the street, as still as he was when he would finally rest.

“Cad…” She ignored how the sand shifted around her feet, getting into her sandals and making her move slower than she’d like. Her body was breaking down again, though this time she was unsure if it was because of shock or her ailment from earlier. She dove next to him, dropping to her knees so fast they popped. Her hand came to rest on his chilled cheek, though she wasn’t sure if that meant he was gone or not.

She mentally cursed his literal cold blooded nature as she frantically searched for a pulse. The light on his chest continued to blink, and it gave off a soft beeping noise that seemed to sync up with the faint beating of one of his hearts. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the weak pulse, letting herself relax slightly as she realized at least one of his hearts was working, though it felt weak, and she feared losing him before getting back to the ship.

His already pale skin somehow looked paler, and his eyes were open, staring blankly at the sky. The sight was haunting, to say the least, and Dreiah knew that if he survived this she would have to convince him to retire - to give up this life that could take him from her at any given moment.

If she weren’t so scared she would’ve scoffed at the idea. Cad would never give up his life as a bounty hunter for her, but maybe she could convince him to leave behind his feud with Boba Fett.

Dreiah grabbed onto his arm, lugging the lifeless limb up as she pressed a button on his gauntlet.

Meanwhile, back on the Justifier, TODO waited anxiously to hear back from either Bane or Dreiah. The alert light blinked tauntingly, and the service droid couldn’t help but hope that they were both safe. He had a bad feeling about that light.

His comm crackled and came to life with the sounds of the Tatooine winds and a faint voice. Immediately the droid jumped into action, listening closely for instructions, but all that came were distant voices and wind.

“TODO-” it was Dreiah. If the droid had an organic heart he was sure it would have dropped. It wasn’t good that she was answering. “TODO, I’ve found Bane.” That was a slight relief.

“Good! Where is he?” The droid asked enthusiastically. There was a delay, but when she spoke it only alarmed him further.

“He’s not looking so good…” Another crackle in the comm. “He has a pulse though.”

“Miss Dreiah, please, what are your coordinates?”

Dreiah paused for a moment, looking around at her surroundings before searching Cad’s gauntlets. She managed to find a hidden latch that opened to a small screen, one she’d seen him use before when they got lost. She read off the numbers and letters in a hurried manner, telling the droid to get there as fast as possible.

“Dreiah…” Her gaze immediately snapped to Cad’s face. He looked confused, and she could tell he was in pain. She dropped his arm and immediately held his face in her hands; she couldn’t hide the bittersweet smile tainted by her tears. He tried to listen to her, but he could barely hear her over the ringing in his ears.

He didn’t dare try to sit up, and the burning sensation in his chest reminded him of how he got in that situation. The job, Fett, that stupid stick he didn’t seem to notice on his back. All he could do was lay there and feel the warmth from Dreiah’s hands on his cheeks.

She came to find him.

After everything that happened he was still shocked that she would come to find him.

“Dreiah, Izrin, what are you-”

“Shh,” she shushed, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone. “We’re getting you out of here. We can help you, I…” She stopped herself. Her mind was running rampant with thoughts she shouldn’t be having. If we didn’t fight I could have saved him, she decided. If I was here this wouldn’t have happened.

One of her hands dropped to his chest, and she couldn’t stop the gasp that left her lips when she realized it was wet. Her hand was coated in a thin layer of green. Her body went numb again.

“I’m so sorry.” Words she’d repeat again and again until they’d lost meaning.

The wind began to pick up again, swirling around the two as the Justifier descended above them, kicking up sand and dust with it. Dreiah looked up with wide, teary eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she worried about the future.

Further in the city, Boba Fett watched as the familiar ship came down near the place he’d left his old mentor to rot. He wasn’t sure if he was worried or angry, but he knew that if Bane got on that ship this madness would never end. As he took a step forward, he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to face.

Boba had heard the screams, and he knew Dreiah would not hesitate in attacking him. Especially now, during her rescue attempt. Taking a step forward meant risking his life to finish this. Dreiah was tough, but he was almost positive he knew how to take down an Alcinian.

Immune to blaster fire, but not to a lightsaber or vibroblade. They had weak spots all over their bodies, one prominent one being their palms.

He’d have to get her angry enough to forget.

TODO hovered out of the ship with a stretcher, gesturing for Dreiah to bring Cad over. With all the strength she could muster in that moment, she lifted the limp Duros and put his arm over her shoulders, trying her best to move him without ripping him open even further. The droid lowered the stretcher far enough for him to practically collapse into it.

Dreiah turned around to collect his hat, but the sight she was greeted with was not a welcome one.

Boba Fett, in his Mandalorian armor, donning his helmet, was standing at the end of the road, staring her down. Dreiah snarled, flexing her fingers in a way that suggested she was going to attack.

“TODO, get Cad on the ship, now.” She demanded, not waiting for an answer as she stepped in front of the duo protectively. If Boba shot at them, or used one of his missiles, it would all be over. The rescue would be for nothing and while she might survive, she knew her loved ones wouldn’t.

Standing at seven feet tall, Dreiah was a sight to behold, angry and animalistic in her rage. Boba did fear what she would do next, but in all honesty he was done with them. She took a step forward, her poncho blowing wickedly in the wind. She was fast, but Boba knew he could be faster, he just had to focus.

When she didn’t move again, he realized it was a challenge. She wanted him to take a shot at her so she was justified in tearing him apart. He would be made an example for the people of Mos Espa, and Freetown, and even a warning to Din and Fennec. Touch Cad Bane, and suffer the wrath of Dreiah Kestha.

He wondered if he’d be able to kill her from where he was standing. Stopping Dreiah meant stopping this whole plan in its tracks.

She continued to stare him down, but her demeanor changed. She seemed arrogant - cocky - like she knew she could get away with anything. He wouldn’t dare pull the trigger on her.

Bane’s words echoed in his head, reminding him of what he was. He was a killer… but not anymore. If Bane truly was going to live, then Boba had done well in proving his old mentor wrong.

He put his blaster away and watched silently as Dreiah continued to taunt him.

“Dreiah, we have to leave now!” The Alcinian looked behind her to see TODO. He already got Cad inside, and they were waiting on her. With one last glance at the clone, she turned around, rushing onto the closing drop ramp without a second thought.

Bane barely seemed alive when she got inside, lying motionless on the table with only the steady rising and falling of his chest to indicate that he was indeed still alive. She rushed to his side, grabbing onto his hand and holding it close to her - how she wished she could never let go.

This whole ordeal made her sound like a lovesick teenager, but she couldn’t care. This was the second time she nearly lost him, this time was a closer call than the last.

“I have to start operating,” the service droid began remorsefully. “Do you want to stay like last time?” She glanced at Cad’s sleeping form and she assumed TODO had already sedated him. Hopefully he’d stay asleep for a while.

“Yes, please.” Her voice was much softer than before with no trace of bitterness or panic.

Now that he was there, she seemed much calmer.

She stayed strong during the procedure, watching the little droid hurriedly work at repairing and replacing parts of Cad’s damaged heart and lungs. It was harrowing to be sure, but not as nerve wracking as trying to find him on Tatooine. She stayed by his side for the rest of the night, waiting and hoping that he’d wake up and be fine. Then, the night turned to day, and TODO told her he had to get the bacta tank ready. She felt that same worry and heartache take over, but she didn’t stop the small droid from leading her back to her private quarters. She knew she needed to rest for a bit and she needed to give Cad some space while he recovered. The last thing she wanted was to chase him away now.

Her room was smaller than she remembered. It had been a while since she actually stayed in her quarters, opting to spend her nights with Cad in his own quarters or in the cockpit. The room was also emptier, with the clothes she kept on the ship being moved to his room as well. Just seeing the dark, old place made her want to cry, but when her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.

She could rest easy now knowing he was on his way to recovery.

[holylulusworld]

Her substitute (4) - Back Home

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms. 

Square Filled: Bonham Walker for @walker-bingo​​

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Bonham Walker, Stella Walker, August Walker, Abeline Walker

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, remorse, awkward situations, idiots in love, Walkers family is the best, arguments, implied smut

Word Count: 1,6 k

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

<< Part 3

“Y/N,” Stella clings to you, refuses to let go of you. The moment you got out of your old truck she jumped at you, crying as you came back. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” you swallow thickly when Stella tells you how much she has missed you. For now, you will hide you still don’t know if you will stay or go back to New York. “How have you been? I know my departure was—sudden.”

“It was his fault, wasn’t it?” she chokes out, looking up at you. “Why can’t he just admit he wants to go out with you? Dad should stop being so stubborn.”

“Your father and I, we are friends and partners. It’s complicated, you know. Maybe it would be easier if I wasn’t your mom’s best friend. I think Cor—I mean your dad doesn’t know how to express his feelings. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea that I stay here.”

“Why? You are family, Y/N. Please don’t leave us again. August, he doesn’t show it but he’s missing you too. He’s as stubborn as dad,” Stella sighs when you run your hand over her hair. “Dad is an idiot for not seeing how much you care about him.”

“There she is, the long-lost daughter,” Bonham smirks when you walk toward the house, Stella hot on your heels. She refused to leave your side since you are back in town, even followed you home when you tried to change clothing.

“Hi,” you let Cordell’s father wrap you in a hug. “How have things been since I’ve been gone? Do you still drive your wife crazy?” he snickers at your words.

“So, you’ve become an important FBI agent now?” he looks at you, searching your face while hoping you will come back. “I heard about Cordell and you. Why didn’t you tell me you are about to become our new daughter-in-law?”

“Bonham,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly, “this is all a misunderstanding. Cordell and I are only friends and partners.”

“Do you want to tell me you left your home, your family for a job you don’t want out of the blue? I know about the blind date and that you left town right after you canceled, the party,” he slings one arm around your shoulders to lead you into the house. “I am an old man, not blind nor stupid.”

“Love is out of the question for Cordell and me,” Bonham doesn’t say a word. He guides you into the house, biting his tongue. “Emily was the woman he loved, and it will always be her for him. I don’t think he will be able to open his heart for someone else.”

“How about we save the heavy topics for later and have dinner? Abeline made your favorite, and she made a pie to die for, Y/N,” you hate to say no to Bonham, so you nod silently, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You know, if he doesn’t man up and asks you out, I’ll handle this for him.”

“Bonham,” he laughs when you try to stop him from playing the matchmaker for you and his son. “Please don’t try to change his mind. Cordell is—”

“A stubborn man, but he has feelings for you, my dear. He’s like his old man,” Bonham ends your sentence. “Y/N, he’s a good man, with a broken heart. He just needs a little push. Let me push him if I must.”

“That’s delicious Abeline,” you try to break the awkward tension in the dining room. While Stella and August won’t stop asking questions about New York, the FBI and your training Cordell sits opposite you, frowning anytime you say something, “as always.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Cordell’s mother gives you a soft smile, offering another slice of the pie to you. “You are always welcome to join us for dinner. Cordell should invite you more often.”

“Mom,” Cordell clears his throat, eyes drifting toward you again. Tonight, he sticks to water, doesn’t even touch the beer his father offered to him. “Y/N will come around when she finds the time. She has her own life…maybe even in New York.”

“Dad,” Stella drops her fork. She grimaces, pointing her finger at you. “Do you want her to leave town again? Why don’t you ask her out? If you can go out with that other woman, you can go out with Y/N!”

“Stella,” August tries to spare you another hurtful scene. He’s grown for his age, and you give him a weak smile. “We talked about this, didn’t we?”

“Fine,” grasping for her water Stella glares at her father. “If she leaves all of us because of you, I will never forgive you.”

“I think that is enough,” Bonham speaks up. “Y/N doesn’t owe you anything, Stella. She is important to all of us, but this doesn’t mean she must stay in town and work as a Texas Ranger, not when she has the chance to become an FBI agent.”

“Grandpa,” Stella sniffs, looking at him, pleadingly. “Please. I don’t want to lose her too. He can’t ruin everything for us. Mom died because—”

“Enough,” this time you drop the fork. “It was my fault too. We arrested that man together. I was the one not wanting to give up and your mom and Jason paid the price. The guilt almost ate me up and your father was the one catching my fall,” you admit, pushing the tears away.

“What?” Stella inhales sharply. She always believed you are like Wonder Woman. Invincible and strong-willed. “But—but you seem so strong and…”

“Even the mightest people fall sometimes. It’s no shame to accept help from someone,” you clear your throat, eyes drifting toward Cordell. You know he’s ashamed Geri called you and that you saw him drunk once again. “Some people might say you are even stronger for accepting help.”

“Hi—erm, can I help you?” watching you clean the dishes Cordell awkwardly stands in the kitchen. “Mom said the dishwasher needs fixing. Let me lend you a hand.” He stands behind you to subtle sniff at your hair.

You can feel his chest press against your back when he tries to take the first plate out of your hand. “I—I can do this,” voice a little shaky you try to focus on the warm water soaking your hands, not the heat coming out of Cordell’s body. “How about you go back and chat a little or something.”

“Y/N, will it always be like that from now on? I want you to look at me the way you did before you left for New York,” he begins. “Please at least look at me. Even if you give me a dirty look. Just talk to me.”

“Do you think you are the only person thinking about shit all the time,” you place the plate back into the sink. “I think about Jason and Emily all the fucking time,” you turn around to jab your finger into his chest.

“Baby girl,” you whimper at the pet name. “I’m sorry—” he runs his large hands up and down your arms to calm you. “I should have stayed away from you, but I can’t. Y/N, I feel guilt too.” You huff at his words, not believing he feels sorry at all.

“Oh, you feel guilty for fucking me?” you retort, letting out a frustrated huff. “Do you know why I feel guilty, huh?” he shakes his head, swallowing thickly when tears well up to your eyes. “I feel guilty for getting them killed. I feel guilty for fucking my best friend’s husband. I feel guilty for hiding whatever we have from our families and friends. And I feel guilty for wanting you so bad that I can’t think straight when you are close to me.”

“Baby girl,” he gently cups your face, stroking your skin with his thumbs, “I’m so sorry for being an insensitive asshole. I should’ve told you how I feel a long time ago.” His lips softly press against your forehead, and you sigh deeply, hating he makes you feel weak all over again. “Please, give me a chance to show you I can be better.”

“I need to…I need to go,” you duck under his arm to escape the painful situation. Before you flee out of the house you look back over your shoulder to give Cordell one last glance. “Give me a few days to sort my thoughts, Cord. I just can’t be with you right now.”

“Hey, Ems,” you sit in front of your friend’s grave. “Do you think I should go back to New York? I-I know it’s wrong to love your husband, but I can’t stop my heart from beating only for him.” you sniff, wiping your eyes. “Shit, I can still feel his hands on me. He’s just—fuck. Cordell gets under my skin, Emily.”

Silence is a good friend tonight, so you sit there in front of her grave, drinking your favorite beer. “Do you remember when we first met? I thought you hate me, and you believed I am too cool to hang out with you. But the truth is, back then, I thought you are the coolest girl I ever met.”

“Shit, I wish you were here with me, Emily. I swear, nothing would’ve happened between me and Cordell if you were here. I could’ve never done such a shady thing,” you sip at your beer, sighing deeply.

“...and even now, I think about him and his fucking hands. God, his hands all over me and his lips against my throat. I love when he calls me baby girl. It drives me crazy, and I believe that I will lose my mind.”

“Coming,” Cordell grumbles, reluctantly opening the door to his house. “Y/N?” he gasps when you grab his shirt to bring him down for a messy kiss. “Baby girl.”

“Just shut up,” cupping the back of his neck, you kiss him again, this time slow and gentle. “I-I don’t know what to do. I only know that I want you.”

“I want you too—” you find yourself in his arms, your legs around his waist as he carries you inside his house. “Let me show you how much, baby girl…”

>> Part 5

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[pirate-au]

A Pirate's Life for a Prince (Part 2)

Summary: Roman was a dashing Captain, content with his exciting life out at sea, diving head first into adventure both on and off land. He wouldn't give up his life for anything, and yet he found himself...lacking something. He was never sure what.

When he meets Virgil, a seemingly common traveler in an old tavern, that lacking feeling in his chest goes away for the first time in a long while. So surely there's no harm in offering the stranger and his friend a ride, right?

Notes: TW for panic attacks, brief suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse

Thank you again to @cheshirevalentine for editing being the best

part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Virgil lowered himself to the bed, hands trembling as the weight of his decision finally dawned on him.

He pushed thoughts of Roman out of his mind for now, how the Captain had just given up his room for him, and instead turned his attention to an exhausted Patton who clearly just wanted to go home.

“They said they aren’t leaving until morning,” he said, watching as Patton lowered himself to the chair across the room. “You can probably still sneak off. I’ll be fine, I’ll… make up some excuse for why you left.” Patton looked up at Virgil as he spoke, lowering his hands from where he had been rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“What do you mean? It's much too late to be out and about, and I'd make it heck for myself getting back on the ship before they leave."

“You wouldn’t need to get back on the ship.” Virgil leaned forward, fighting the urge to fall back on the bed and close his eyes. He could feel the exhaustion weighing down on him, thick and heavy. “You’d go back home. I’d just rather I get to say goodbye than you being gone when I wake up tomorrow.”

Virgil stared at his lap, painfully aware of Patton’s eyes on him, hands clasped in his lap as he tried to ignore the ache in his chest, pushing down a sob at the thought of losing Patton. The man had been there nearly as long as he could remember. To be without him would be foreign and terrifying.

“Why would I be gone in the morning?” Patton asked. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, kiddo, c’mon.”

Virgil couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He really wasn’t in the mood to be given false hope out of kindness. Patton wouldn’t rat him out, he knew that, but he wasn’t going to uproot his entire life when Virgil couldn't even repay him. “You’re not coming with me, Patton. I’m never coming back.”

“I figured you weren’t coming back, Virge,” Patton said, his concerned frown only deepening. “Do you not want me to come with you? I figured you might, I know you hate being alone around new people."

“No, I… of course I want you with me,” Virgil said. He’d always known that one day he’d have to say goodbye, and it hurt, but Patton was… really not making it easy. “Pat, I'm spending almost everything I have on this ride. I'll barely have anything when we make it to Deigh. I can't pay you anymore.”

Patton just shook his head, leaning back in the chair. “I don’t care if you pay me, Virge. It’s not about the money.”

Virgil blinked, wondering if the stress and lack of sleep was making Patton delirious. "Pat, that's… that's why you're here. You stay with me because someone pays you to, and I can't do that.”

“I stay with you because I love you,” Patton said softly. “Not because of my job. You know I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to.”

Virgil let out a shaky breath, unable to look at Patton as he wrapped his arms around himself. "You don't have to do that. I've known you were paid to stay with me since I was a kid, Pat. I just… really would rather say goodbye now than never get to."

“We’re not saying goodbye. I don’t care about my job, Virgil. I care about you. I stayed with you because I loved you, not because I got paid.”

“Right,” Virgil scoffed, desperately trying to keep himself from crying. “You don’t care about getting paid. So if the king offered you more money than you’ve ever seen in your life to bring me back, you wouldn’t take it?”

“I wouldn’t take you back for all the money in the world,” Patton said firmly. Virgil knew that if he cried Patton would follow, so he had to hold it together for both of them. Patton’s voice seemed to falter for a moment, the man looking down at his hands. “You don’t know how much I wanted to get you out of there.”

Virgil sniffed, rubbing his eyes and staring down at his lap, listening to the creaking of the boat as people moved around above them.

“We used to talk about it a lot,” he mused. “When I was younger. I always asked you when we were running away, and then I... “ He trailed off, wiping his face insistently. He couldn’t cry. It was for both of them. “I grew up and I never... thought we actually would.”

“Well, we are,” Patton said. “You’re not going back. Not ever again.”

Virgil hunched his shoulders, still refusing to look up. “You… you have a life, Pat. You have responsibilities. I’m not worth leaving all that behind.”

“You’re worth the world, kiddo. You’re worth so much more than any amount of money the King could offer. I love you more than anything, you know that. I’m here to stay, just like I always have. I promise.”

“You have family—”

“You’re my family,” Patton interrupted. “You’ve been my kid since you were six, Virgil. I love you.”

Virgil swallowed, pulling his knees up to his chest. “You have pretty bad taste, Pat.”

“No, Virge,” he said. They’d had this argument more times than Virgil could count. “I don’t. I- I’m sorry. I know what they did and I’m… I’m so sorry I didn’t get you out of there sooner.”

"It's not your fault." And it wasn't, Patton had done everything just right. Virgil wouldn't have made it this far without him. "You did everything you could. I never… knew why you were so nice to me.”

Patton had been the first one to be kind, to not try to hurt or use him the second he met Virgil, and up until tonight, he’d been the only one.

Roman’s hadn’t tried either. He hadn’t seemed to consider it, not even once. And maybe it was stupid to trust him so easily, to jump on a ship with a man he’d only just met, he’d never get an opportunity like this ever again. It was worth the risk.

Patton sighed, shaky and small, and Virgil suspected he’d catch a glimpse of stray tears if he lifted his head. “I could have done so much more for you.”

“You did everything you could,” Virgil said again. “You made sure I wasn’t alone and that’s… that was what I needed.”

He heard Patton stand and make his way over to the bed, lowering himself beside Virgil. Shakily, he reached out, taking Virgil’s hands in his own. "I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you like that again, okay? I couldn't stop it then, but I can now."

He squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself for being the reason Patton sounded so miserable. Patton never should have seen the things that happened to Virgil, he’d be so much happier if he’d left it all behind years ago.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he admitted, barely a whisper. “But you can still change your mind. I won’t be mad.”

Patton lifted a hand, cupping Virgil's cheek, his thumb brushing gentle strokes as he watched him. “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere without you, kiddo.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“They won’t,” Patton said. “You’d know if Roman was suspicious, and I spent some time talking to Logan while you two chatted. We’re just two common travelers, and we’re gonna make it to Deigh and figure it out from there. Anything you want to do, we can do it.”

Virgil laughed, wiping his eyes and dropping his head on Patton’s shoulder. “We’ll be okay,” he agreed, closing his eyes again when Patton cradled the back of his head. “We made it out.”

“This is a whole new start,” Patton said. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Virgil’s head, holding him like he had since Virgil was a kid. “I can’t wait to adventure with you.”

-

The next few days at sea weren’t as peaceful as Virgil had imagined they’d be, but the excitement was something new to him and he found himself watching everything intently, awestruck.

Casting off that first morning had been hectic, Virgil woken up by booming yells and thundering footsteps above him, he and Patton clambering out of the bed they were sharing to hurry up to the deck to watch.

The crew had been scuttling around to their respective places, all smiles and jovial chatter, Virgil stepping back to watch them work.

The crew was loud and a little intense, but each one had smiled or nodded pleasantly when they passed, Virgil returning the gesture with a quiet wave. It took a bit of getting used to, and he knew Patton could tell he was caught off guard. Virgil had never been surrounded by this much kindness in his life, everyone pleasant and free.

Roman was busy directing the ship and his crew, too busy to really spend much time with his passengers those first couple days, so Virgil was careful to give him some space.

He was always polite when they did see each other, just as charming as he’d been when they’d first met, no sign of him dropping the facade for something more sinister now that Virgil was practically trapped on his ship.

It felt… genuine.

The Captain would stop what he was doing when he saw Virgil or Patton, hurrying over to say hello and check in, asking how they were faring on the voyage.

He’d get called over by a crewman eventually, bidding Virgil farewell as he rushed back to work, and Virgil would sit by the rail with Patton and watch the waves crash against the side of the ship.

Even in a new environment, Patton knew when Virgil was overwhelmed or anxious, always ushering him over to hold him at the perfect moment. Virgil still sought him out on his own when he needed the reminder of safety, but Patton always seemed to have some sixth sense that let him know when Virgil needed to be held.

He was grateful beyond words that Patton had stayed with him.

It was still taking Virgil some time to get his “sea legs” as Roman had put it, stumbling with each step when the wind would pick up, the ship rocking against the unpredictable waves.

That first morning, Logan had put down his work and made his way over to teach Patton and Virgil how to work on keeping their balance, as well as some methods to keep them from getting seasick.

Logan was… nice. Virgil was a little wary of him, and he knew Patton would keep a close eye on the first mate for a bit, but he didn’t seem to have any ill intent, intimidating as he was.

A few days into their voyage Virgil had gone exploring by himself, Patton busy with introducing himself to as much of the crew as he could.

Roman was up on the bridge, smiling as he gave orders to his crew, the wind tangled in his hair, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of Virgil.

The ship had chosen that moment to tip, almost sending Virgil stumbling right into the Captain’s chest, and Roman had leaned forward and swiftly caught him around the waist.

He’d had to spin a little to keep them from falling, leaving Virgil feeling wonderfully lightheaded, and when they’d steadied themselves Roman had given him an infuriatingly pleased smile. He’d held him around the waist just long enough to wink before he let go and returned to watching the sea.

Virgil had run right back to Patton after that, face burning bright red, refusing to talk about what had gotten him so flustered.

It had only been a few days, but Virgil had never felt so content. Unfortunately, this much excitement and change was making it nearly impossible to get any sleep.

Patton was sound asleep on the other side of the bed, but Virgil was stuck staring blankly at the ceiling, plagued with thoughts of his new freedom, his future, and Roman's stupidly innocent flirting (that absolutely did not make him blush) his head running wild after the last few days of a brand new life.

There was no point in laying here all night, listening to the endless creaking of the ship. Besides, he kind of wanted to see the ocean at night.

He was careful not to wake Patton when he eventually crawled out of bed, creeping across the cabin and slipping out the door to make his way out onto the deck.

He was still a bit unsteady on his feet, holding his arms out a little to steady himself, but the night was beautiful, stars scattered across the midnight sky, the air crisp and the breeze pleasantly cold.

He almost wasn’t surprised when he found Roman leaned against the railing, facing out towards the sea with the wind in his face. Virgil froze when Roman turned around, but immediately relaxed when the Captain smiled, laughing softly at Virgil’s unsteady movements.

“Why’re you up?” he called, motioning for Virgil to make his way to the railing. “It’s pretty late, isn’t it?”

Virgil really hoped his blush wasn't visible under the moonlight, and he wondered if Roman would be proud of himself if he knew he was the only person to make Virgil genuinely flustered. Not that he’d mention it.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Virgil said, finally making it to Roman’s side. “You’ve got a whole ship to run.”

With the moonlight dancing between the two of them, Virgil could swear he could count the specks in Roman’s eyes. He felt his cheeks flush and he quickly turned towards the sea, closing his eyes to the wind, the light spray of the salty water stinging pleasantly.

“The ship isn’t run solely on me,” Roman said. “I don’t get much sleep, anyways. I’ll be alright. What about you, don’t you need your beauty sleep?”

Virgil's blush definitely darkened at that and he smiled at the cheesy line against his will. He could feel Roman staring, and he ducked his head to let his bangs fall into his eyes. "I think it's pretty clear I don't get much of that as it is."

Roman turned and Virgil glanced over to him, the Captain giving him a soft, almost private smile.

“As if you were on fire from within,” Roman recited, putting his chin in his hand with his elbow up on the rail. “The moon lives in the lining of your skin.”

Virgil turned to him, laughing softly when he briefly caught Roman's gaze. For once, someone staring didn't make him feel tense or exposed. "I didn't know you liked poetry, Captain. Pablo Neruda?"

Roman froze, his face going beat red, and Virgil grinned as the Captain realized he’d been found with his hand in the poet’s journal.

“You caught me,” Roman laughed, his smile guilty as he straightened up and wiped his face with his palm. “Where did you come across Neruda?”

“Relax, it sounds better coming from you, anyway.” In the face of Roman's embarrassment, Virgil found himself much less nervous to respond with a teasing smile. “My, uh…my uncle always wanted me to be well read. Ever since I was a kid.”

“And he thought Neruda was a good place to start?” Roman teased, leaning forward. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were a royal, Virgil.”

Virgil knew he was teasing, that it was just another lighthearted joke. He hadn’t meant to react with anything other than a scoff, but suddenly his throat was dry, face paling as he tore his gaze from Roman to watch the sea again.

“Oh please,” he forced out, hoping his brief panicked stumble went unnoticed. “Can you imagine that? Me? Living up in a fancy castle?”

He felt Roman staring, the silence stretching on a moment too long, and Virgil clutched at the railing with suddenly unsteady hands.

“That would be crazy, of course,” Roman said slowly. “You wouldn’t be running away on a pirate ship if you were a royal.”

Virgil laughed again and- shit, his hands were shaking now. Maybe he could blame it on being a walking anxiety attack all the time. “Of course not. I’m just teasing you, Captain. Why don’t you recite more of your poetry?” He said, his nervous laugh catching in his throat.

Roman stood up straight now, and his smile was gone when Virgil glanced over. “Surely you’re not a royal. That would be crazy. You’re not a royal, are you Virgil?”

Virgil clenched his jaw, clutching the railing and keeping his eyes on the ocean. “I’m… I’m not a royal.”

He couldn’t look up when Roman took a careful step forward, setting a hand down on Virgil’s shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, and he just hoped Roman couldn’t tell he was shaking.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you’re not a royal, Virgil. This isn’t a joke. I can’t kidnap a member of the royal family on a whim.”

Even now, shaking on the deck of an unfamiliar ship and desperately trying to force himself to just get it together and lie before everything fell apart… he couldn’t help but feel grounded with Roman’s hand on his shoulder. “I…you’re not kidnapping me.”

“I am, Virgil,” Roman said, his frown deepening. “Unless you were specifically given permission, this is kidnapping. Did you-” he paused, lifting his hand from Virgil’s shoulders to run it through his hair, turning to step away. “Did you get permission? Or did you just leave everything on a whim?”

Virgil still couldn’t meet Roman’s eyes, feeling a bit like he was going to be sick. His heart was racing in his ears, beating so fast and so loud he wondered if Roman could hear it too. “I didn’t… actually think I would get out of the city so quickly.”

Roman froze, barely a heartbeat of silence passing before the Captain’s voice took over the deck, no longer excited and jovial.

“So you climbed on the first ship you found?” Roman whirled back around, arms thrown out to the side. “You can’t just abandon your duties like that! You have responsibilities, don’t you? Shit! I’m so fucked if I get boarded by a Navy boat!”

Virgil shrank back when Roman raised his voice, watching as the Captain began to pace the deck, first away from Virgil and then back. He mourned the loss of Roman’s touch more than he probably had the right to.

“I’m sorry,” he tried, letting go of the railing in favor or wrapping his arms around himself. “I just...I- you were nice and you offered me a ride and I—”

“You can’t trust everyone who’s nice to you, Virgil!” Roman turned back, his face a furious mask of frustration. “You ran away! Next you’ll be telling me you were the fucking Crown Prince!”

Virgil flinched back a little too fast, his breathing picking up. He felt small and cornered, the feeling unfortunately painfully familiar.

“I- uhm…” he trailed off, warily looking up to meet Roman’s eyes, not quite sure how to answer with words. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Roman dropped his arms to his sides, staring at Virgil with eyes wide in disbelief. “No. You’re not the heir. You did not run away from the crown of your kingdom on a whim. Surely.”

Abruptly, Virgil wondered if Roman was going to hurt him. He was angry, and rightfully so, much larger, and they were all alone- up on the deck in the middle of the night.

He wondered if he could make a break for it and get to Patton before the Captain grabbed him. Probably not.

“I’d been…thinking about it for a while,” Virgil said quietly. “So it wasn’t technically on a whim.”

Roman stared at him for a moment, the air between them tense, the only sound coming from the crashing of the waves below. "We're turning around. I'm taking you back. Go tell Patton, we'll be back by the end of the week."

“What?” Virgil felt everything screech to a halt, panic and dread hitting full force as Roman’s words settled and the Captain turned on his heel. He was moving to intercept his path before he could stop himself. “No! No, you can’t do that!”

Roman stopped, just for a moment to look down at him. “Yes, I can. You should get to bed now, it’s late.” He stepped around him, a hand on Virgil’s arm to get around. “Sleep well, Virgil.”

“No!” Virgil wasn't thinking anymore, acting on pure panicked instinct as he reached out to grab Roman's arm, desperate to keep him on the deck. “Please, please you can’t. You can’t take me back, I- I can’t go back. Roman, please.”

“Let go of me, Virgil.”

Virgil didn’t move, despite being acutely aware of how much bigger Roman was, and how close they were. It wasn’t pleasant anymore. “Please Roman, please. I’ll—” he hesitated for a moment, considering his desperate words. “—Roman, I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Virgil,” Roman said before the words were even out of Virgil’s mouth, the Captain tensing in his hold. “You have to go back. Now let go.”

“I can’t.” Virgil couldn’t move, still clutching Roman’s arm, and he distantly realized he couldn’t catch his breath either. “I’m- I’m not going back. I’m not going back, Roman I’m… please don’t make me. I can’t- I can’t do it again.”

Roman finally turned, firmly taking Virgil by the shoulders and bending down slightly to be eye level with the smaller man. “You have a duty, Virgil. And so do I. This is bigger than you and it’s bigger than me. I know you’re scared, and it’s ok to be, but you have to go back. I know it’s hard. Believe me, I do. I understand more than you know.”

“No you don’t.” Virgil was crying now, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He twisted out of Roman’s grasp, frantically backing away. “You-you don’t, I… they’ll just hurt me again if I go back and it’ll be worse and I can’t- I’m…I can’t do it again, Roman!”

Roman let him go, quickly pulling his hands away like he’d been burnt when Virgil started to back up. There was a moment of silence, the furious waves once again the only sound on the deck, overshadowed only by Virgil’s quick, panicked breathing.

“Again?” Roman repeated, voice quiet. “What- who hurt you, Virgil?”

“Everyone!” Virgil couldn't breathe, he couldn’t… he couldn’t go back. Not after finally coming so close to getting away. “They all- they all keep…they won’t stop and I hate it! You…you didn’t hurt me. You didn’t even try so I trusted you and- and now you’re taking me back.”

“You’re shaking, Virgil,” Roman said softly. He reached for him, freezing when Virgil scrambled back again. “I won’t hurt you. I… I’ll figure it out when we get there, you're not without help.”

Virgil could barely hear Roman at this point, too busy frantically trying to remember how to breathe, shaking uncontrollably as the Captain spoke.

All he knew was that Roman was still insisting on taking him back.

Because nobody cared if Virgil was hurt or used or trapped. He was the Prince. He was just property made to look pretty, wasn’t he? A pretty pawn to be placed on the throne.

He found himself glancing at the railing, the only thing separating him from the endless sea. “I’m not going back.”

“You have to go back, Virgil.” The Captain took a few steps towards Virgil, slow and steady, his hands out in front of him. “It’s the only option. You’re not safe out at sea or with me.”

Virgil took a step back as Roman approached, eyes darting between the Captain and the railing of the ship, tears now running freely as the hopelessness set in. Because no matter what he did, as long as he was alive he’d end up right back where he started. “I- I don’t care. I can’t do it again, Roman!”

And then, before any rational part of his brain beyond the panic could talk him out of it, Virgil darted forward towards the railing, eyes on the dark water below. He made it to the edge, lifted himself up and—

And then there were arms around him, grabbing Virgil by the waist just as his hands closed around the railing, hoisting him up and back away from the edge.

“No!” All he could register were hands wrapped tight around him, grabbing him, dragging him onto the ship that was taking him right back to the place he’d been trying to escape since he was a child.

He twisted and kicked and thrashed in Roman’s grasp, chest screaming in pain as he fought to catch his breath, but the Captain’s hold never loosened. Virgil’s stomach dropped when they both went crashing to the ground, the sick feeling in his stomach rising up into his throat until he felt like he was choking. Roman’s hold only tightened when they fell, Virgil’s back against his chest.

“Please,” he begged, the words falling from his lips without his permission, terrified and desperate. “Please, Roman not you too. Not…please don’t, please don’t do this—”

“Do what?” Roman asked, incredulous. “I’m trying to keep you from jumping off the ship! I’m not going to hurt you!”

“You’re making me go back.” Virgil couldn’t breathe. It felt like his lungs were being crushed every time he struggled to take a single breath. “You…you can do whatever you want to me just please. Please don’t make me go back. Please, just help me.”

Roman didn’t respond for a long moment, or maybe Virgil just couldn’t hear anything over his own panicked breathing, but after a moment the Captain’s hold loosened slowly until his arms were just loosely draped around him. Virgil didn’t have the energy to make a run for it, and he was terrified of the consequences of getting caught again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Virgil. I don’t want anything from you, I—” he paused for a moment, his breathing heavy, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not taking you back.”

Virgil still couldn’t catch his breath, lightheaded from the pain in his chest, so it took a moment for Roman’s words to register. He froze, stopping any futile struggling, eyes flying open again.

Slowly, still hesitant and cautious, he reached up with a trembling hand to clutch weakly at Roman’s wrist. “You…you’re not…really?”

He’d begged before, countless times to countless people over the years, but nobody had ever bothered to listen.

“No, I’m not.” Roman tightened his hold just a little, but it felt more like comfort than restriction. “If you’re that desperate not to go back, I’ll trust that it was that bad. I’m not taking you back.”

The flood of relief was dizzying, somehow more exhausting than the panic, and Virgil took in a desperate, shaky breath which quickly dissolved into a sob.

He twisted around, the Captain’s hold loose enough to let him turn until he could wrap his arms around Roman, holding on as tight as he could manage and dropping his forehead to the other man’s chest.

“Thank you.” Distantly, he figured he should be ashamed of how badly he was still shaking, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” Roman said, hugging Virgil to his chest. “It’s just human decency. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s not,” Virgil said, voice muffled by Roman’s shirt. “No one…no one else would. So thank you. Thank you so much.”

He still couldn’t stop trembling, cold and terrified, and he no longer had the strength to keep his eyes open on his own. Roman maneuvered slowly to rest a hand on Virgil's head, carefully running fingers through his hair just like Patton always did to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

Virgil melted into the embrace, letting out another shuddering breath as his own hold on Roman began to loosen against his will. He felt himself being dragged down to sleep, exhaustion weighing over him like a blanket. He didn't mean to say anything else, but he wasn't exactly thinking clearly right now. "I… I don't want to be hurt anymore."

“I won’t let them hurt you ever again,” Roman said. Virgil felt him reposition his hold to have one hand under his knees, the other against the Prince’s back. “You’re safe.”

Moving slowly, Roman stood up and took Virgil with him, holding the smaller man against his chest. The Captain’s arms around him were the last thing he registered before everything faded, and he let himself drift off to sleep.

Taglist: @i-really-like-dragons @stitches-system @poettheythem @remy-the-lemon-berry @shrubs-and-bushes @i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake @wordsmithandworm @the-dead-and-the-decaying @hope340 @winterwynd @thomas-sanders-tothe-standers @angstysunshine @sunshineandteddybears @pixelated-pineapple

[nephyscorner]

Hiiii my lovely baby! I just saw your request are open so I'm just stepping in! Could I please request a little scenario in which Zoro has a pretty strong argument with his S/o who used to be a Marine soldier and she leaves the ship and ends up getting hurt by one of her ex-comrades? And how would he react to that? 😊

( hope not to be too exhaustive baby! And hope that you like it! ) 😊

OMG my first request, thank you so much sweetheart ♥

As soon as I read it, the image appeared in my head, I hope you like it !!

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You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, but you weren't going to cry, not today.

It started as a quiet discussion, more like an exchange of words, but you didn't know if due to the stress of the fights in recent days or why, step by step the conversation became more intense, until both exchanged words that surely the day in the morning you would regret saying them.

You were with your boyfriend in the boys' room. Zoro looked away with a frown and you just gaped at him fighting not to cry.

- You're fucking bastard.- Your words came out as a growl from your throat, and then, you simply slammed out of the room. Zoro didn't hesitate to go behind you and stop you firmly grasping your arm

- Where do you think you are going? -His voice was calm but with a certain tinge of concern

- Away from you, from this damned ship, from everything.- You freed of his grip with a precise movement and went on deck.

- (Y / N) -Swaaan ~ -The cook cheerfully approached you but you stopped him suddenly

- No, not today. - Your angry face made his blood run cold. He wanted to ask you what had happened, but before he could react, you had already left the ship. He rushed in ready to confront Zoro. As soon as he found it, he immobilized him by holding one leg to his chest, pressing him against a wall.

- What the hell did you do to (Y / N)?

- What does it matter to you?

- She left the ship almost crying idiot! How are you going to do that to a beautiful lady?

- Whatever happens between us is none of your business ... now remove your leg before I cut it - With a swift movement he pulled out of his grip now pinning Sanji between one of his swords and the wall.

- You idiot! You know well there's a marine base here. They put a high price on her head and gave the order to kill if someone meets her.

- What makes you think I don't know, idiot? She's a very strong woman, that can defend herself. She isn't a crystal rose like you think they all are.

The argument would surely have continued for a long time, if Nami not come to hit both the head and bring them out of their idiocy.

- Calm down for a while. You -she said while pointing to Sanji- stop getting into other people's relationships, it's their problem and something they should fix, don't be intrusive. And you - turns to see Zoro - How can you leave your girlfriend as easy prey for the marine?, they have hundreds of soldiers! Go find her before something serious happens

Zoro was about to argue but he knew she was right. So he just turned to leave the boat, not saying a word or turning to see his nakama.

-------------------- Meanwhile --------------------

You had fled the ship and made sure you were alone before allowing your tears to shed. You leaned against a tree and hugged your knees while hiding your face in the crook of your arms. You aren't sure how long it has been since you stayed like this, but suddenly you heard a familiar voice.

- (Y / N), are you? - You raised your face and there was Colt, your old friend from the childhood and marine.

Both had grown up together, trained together, and luckily, you entered the marine together. You were inseparable. But as time passed, a need for freedom grew in your womb, for liberation. You disagreed on many of their policies. Colt felt it too, but unlike you, he was always a little scared. So when you met the Straw Hat Pirates, he understood your decision to drop everything and go with them. He even helped you escape, although that betrayal remorse haunted him all these years.

-If she isn't with us, she will be against us. And as such, we must end it without hesitation as soon as we see her. From today, she is considered a marine's enemy - The words of his superior echoed every day in his head.

- Colt, look how much you've grown! - A smile was drawn on your face when you saw your friend. You quickly dried your tears and hugged him tight. Unfortunately, you weren't reciprocated, so you slowly walked away and looked at him a little concerned - Is everything okay?

- I'm sorry (Y/N) - After his words you found him pointing a gun at you, with a bit shaky hand

- Uh ... C ... Colt, what is this? - You looked at him with wide eyes in disbelief

- Sorry, marine's instruction, if you aren't with us, you are one of them, so we must kill you

- ARE YOU CRAZY? It's ... It's me, (Y/N), how can you do this to me? INSTRUCTION? Did you get brainwashed? And the freedom you craved so much? You don't have to do it if you don't want to, you own your life, they can't tell you what to do. YOU ARE FREE TO CHOOSE.

- Sorry, it's my duty - he triggered the weapon against you, generating a deafening noise. You fell slumped to the ground, but thanks to his shaking hand, instead of hitting your chest, the bullet pierced a few inches higher. Colt had come up to finish you off, but when he aimed the gun again, this time at your head, a sharp blade appeared and cut off his hand, causing it and the gun to fall to the ground. Colt backed away howling in pain and when he looked up, he saw Zoro, preparing to use his Santoryu

- How dare you? -He growls placing the third sword in his mouth and pouncing on him ready to kill.

All the noise had attracted the attention of the rest of the soldiers, so didn't take long to surround the area. Zoro stood right in front of you to defend you from anyone who tried to take the opportunity to kill you, and the last thing you could see and hear before you passed out was how the soldiers tried to deal with Zoro, as he sent them flying through the air. one by one.

When you opened your eyes you were back at Going Merry, Chopper was finishing bandaging your wound, while Zoro was leaning against a wall further back.

- (Y / N)! (Y / N) You're okay !! I thought you wouldn't wake up, you lost a lot of blood and I was very scared !! -The little reindeer screamed while he tightly secured your bandages. - With this you should feel better in a while, but you're very weak, so please rest, I will tell Sanji to cook something for you to give you energy - You smiled and thanked him, to then see him leave the room.

You turned to see your boyfriend that just then, he turned his face to see you.

- Suppose I should thank you - you muttered as he approached the bed.

- Don't ever do something so stupid- He started by saying some angry, but then he sighed and put a hand on the back of his neck.

- I ... I'm so...- Before you could finish the sentence, you could feel how his lips were pressed against yours. A soft and loving kiss that you responded to with the same dedication. After a few moments he separates and rests his forehead against yours

- I was very worried, if I had been a second later... I'd never have forgiven myself. From now, let's solve things by talking, please...

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@mer92 I hope you liked it sweetheart, and thank you very much for being my first request 💕

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▲Tag list is open, just ask ▲

[toonformers]

Ignorance is Bliss (Transformers Prime fanfic)

I made TFP Centishock! Uhhh hope you like it!

“Survival log number 309. I am still marooned on Cybertron, with no means of escape. No ship of which I can fly out, no functional space bridge, communications cut off entirely, and no sign of any Decepticon returning to the abandoned planet soon. I only rely on recording my thoughts for now. However, the battery could run out at any moment, and I will be subjected to the horrors of insanity. I need to act fast and find a new power supply for the recorder if I am to survive my own mind in this wasteland.

However, when one is completely blind, said action can prove…difficult. I have been thankfully able to prevent any infection in my optic and have managed to scour Cybertron for useful parts for my experiments just fine, but I’ve yet to repair the optical nerve within my helm. I’ve not studied enough medical science to perform such a delicate repair, and my lack of sight only complicates the procedure. Accidental damage to my processor is a high risk. Therefore, it is illogical I perform such a repair until I find a suitable corpse to reference off, so I may distinguish each part of my system. Ironically, in a planet where all that is left is rubble and corpses, none of them bare heads….at least not whole ones. …Hmm, it seems I was mistaken. There is also one life…apart from my own.”

The purple mech suddenly whipped behind him and fired his canon; he couldn’t see, but the sound of light footsteps following him were easy to detect when all he has heard since being left behind was his own voice, rumbling of debris collapsing and the complete silence dead at night. Shockwave found it strange he could not detect their energy signature, he assumed it was some form of surviving Cybetronian fauna, looking to devour him. He hummed a little, assuming he had gotten the creature in one shot, but then he could hear it: shaky breathing. However, there was no growling or screeching. Perhaps he had injured the creature enough. Being a scientist, he decided to try to investigate what was his attacker, to see if it could provide anything useful. Shockwave felt around for the nearest metallic plate, then banged on it with his arm, allowing the sonar vibrations to reveal a faint purple shape hidden behind debris within his current state of black nothingness. A bot.

“Show yourself.” He said as he slowly walked towards them, his footsteps thudding as he got closer. “Do not try to outrun me, for it will only quicken your demise.”

“I won’t…” A delicate voice responded, cold and calculating like him, but with a hint of fear in their tone. “…as long as you don’t shoot me.”

Shockwave hummed pensively as he heard the voice. “A femme…” He mumbled to himself. “I was sure that there was only one surviving Cybertronian femme…and it was the same one who sabotaged my technology and left me to rust with her colleague. Hope for your sake you are not the same femme…”

“I am not.” The femme swiftly responded; the light footsteps of her standing being heard. “I have never seen you before. We do have in common the aspect of abandonment, though. I was separated from my colleagues in the crossfire, an explosion left me unconscious. When I awoke, I was alone…or so I thought.”

The purple mech did not want to admit it, but he had some sympathy for the femme, and was willing to let her live…for now. However, an essential question remained within the cold, possibly emotionless mind, and the answer would determine whether this femme would live…or die. “I see…what is your faction?”

“Does it matter?” She replied. “We are the only two left in the entirety of Cybertron and will possibly not be in contact with others of our side for the rest of our lives. Fighting to the death would be pointless, as it will not change anything. One of us will still be alone.”

“Hmm…wrong answer.” He responded in a deep almost growling tone as he prepped his canon. It hummed as Shockwave felt the warmth of a charge building up in his weapon and pointed it to the stranger.

“Your optic is broken, is it not?” The femme responded, her previous fear seemingly gone as Shockwave simply stood there, thinking. He kept his canon pointed at her as he allowed her to speak. “Your optical nerve. I can see it’s severely damaged. I am a scientist, but I was trained in all branches of science, including medical. I can repair your wound, then you won’t need to do it yourself. You don’t need to worry about me trying to kill you. I am not skilled in combat, and your size and strength leave me at a disadvantage. Therefore, it would be pointless to try. I’d rather help, regardless of faction.” She sighed softly, hoping that was enough to convince him.

“I find your argument…logical.” The purple mech responded, then lowered his canon as it powered down. “I will allow you to repair me, miss…” He trailed off, allowing the femme to speak her name.

“Centinela. Centinela Minor. Scientist. All-round specialty. And you are…?”

“Shockwave. Chief Decepticon scientist. Genetics specialty.” He extended his servo for a handshake, and Centinela grasped it gently. Her servo was very soft and small with very few scratches, as though these servos had never been in the deep pit of war until recently. Meanwhile, Shockwave’s large clawed servo was full of old and recent scratches, making it feel very rough. And his grip was usually firm, however it softened when he noticed just how small the bot was. By estimate, the femme would be just barely chest height to him, frail and tiny. She made the right choice to not run away, much less try to defend herself. He then let go of the femme’s servo and sighed. “I have a research facility in Tarn. It’s about a megacycle away. It has all the materials required for you to repair my optical nerve.”

“All except the actual nerve…” She responded with a sigh. “The damage is so severe; I’ll have to replace your nerve with another one. I have my own research facility in Tarn as well. There are some bodies who have donated themselves to science of which I can use. Perhaps we should go there first.” Shockwave hummed in response.

“Very well. I will follow you.” And so, the two went off to Centinela’s laboratory, the purple mech suspicious the entire way, and understandably so. He was trusting a stranger, who refused to let him know of her faction, was being led to her laboratory, all while being totally blind. On the other hand, however, Shockwave had a small hunch that this was one of those situations where ignorance is…advantageous. Bliss is illogical.

//

Let’s call that part one. Thinking of doing more. We’ll see!

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 4

Maul x sith!reader 

Word Count: 3k

WARNINGS: Fear, graphic depictions of death and fire, slight gore. Mentions of slavery again, being tortured. Thoughts of suicide. But I promise it's also fluffy.

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       Without a sun to draw you from your slumber this ‘morning’ you were not the first one to wake. When you opened your eyes there was a dim light from a data pad a few inches from your face. Headlining something about a new attack against the Duchess of Mandalore by a terrorist group. Your head was too fuzzy to make the words out so you simply closed them again. Bringing you back into the world were two realizations. One, your head was gently rising and falling. Two, you felt warm fingers drawing light, rhythmic circles on your lower back. If you weren't slightly hung over you would have sworn that you heard a gentle purr beneath your ear.

    You caressed your cheek on whatever you were laying on. "Are you awake dear?" That low velvety voice you recognized asked you. Opening your eyes again, fighting through the daze you took in the details around you. Your arm was wrapped around Maul’s waist while your leg lay over the top of his thighs supporting the back of the data-pad. His lovely red and tattooed fingers brushed against your thigh as he held the device in place and slowly scrolled through the article. You tilted your head up to your master quickly realizing how close your faces were. He smirked down at your heavily lidded eyes. "How's your head?"

"Not as bad as I would've guessed if I'm being honest."

"Good." He stated turning his attention back to the news article. "I would've made some caf but as you can see you've kept me pinned to this spot all morning." Redirecting your eyes to the story he was reading you stated simply, "eh I'm not sorry. If you wanted your caf that bad you would have just moved me or woken me up for that matter." You felt the rumble in his chest as he chuckled.

"You're not wrong."

    A few more minutes passed in a comfortable silence; you hadn't moved. Maul made a mental note of your comfortability as well as his own. You didn't know this but you were the first living thing to touch him so gently and for so long. Every time your skin came into contact with his made him feel like it was a first and every time you parted, he feared it would be the last. You yourself hadn't been touched kindly in quite a long time either and relished in the contact. Grateful for now that it wasn't talked about. It just happened.

"Do you think this Mandalorian Duchess will be assassinated?" You asked.

"Not if the Death Watch wish to seize power. The people of the planet wouldn't support them. She has the love of her citizens for now and that I believe is what's keeping her in her station." You hummed in agreement at his statement.

    Maul sighed and put the data-pad on the table next to the bed and ran his fingers through your hair absent-mindedly. You looked up at him. He ran his thumb across your cheek and gazed into the eclipse of your eyes. His own pupils dilated just slightly before he blinked and looked away.

"Come, as comfortable as this is, we should both get some food in our systems." Your stomach rumbled just as he said this causing him to smirk. "It seems as though my timing, as usual, is perfect."

    Reluctantly you rolled over and stretched, causing the tunic you wore to rise dangerously high. Maul noticed this. The two of you made your way to the common area. He made the caf and you fried up some large mystery eggs you found in the cooler after verifying with him that they were in fact food.

"So master, what's on the schedule today?" You asked before stuffing your mouth greedily with the hot breakfast.

"You're going to practice your patience. Meditation. I was lax with you yesterday but were going to be traveling quite a bit and we can't play sabacc constantly."

"Anything I should focus on?"

"Well albeit odd, you made quite the connection with that rancor. See if you can't reach out and keep tabs on him. Or something else of your choosing. Try to reach out as far as you possibly can. I'm interested in your limits." You nodded your head and drank your caf.

    You spent some time stretching before sitting down back-to-back with your master on the floor. You closed your eyes and allowed the heavy blanket of the force to swallow you up until you no longer felt the metal floor beneath you.

    Images of the forest on Dathomir became clear. The swaying of the surroundings as if you were looking through Angel's eyes. You were glad he was okay. Then something else tried to take over. You let it happen. The old man who taught you sabacc appeared. "There's no need to hide little one. I won't sell you off or hurt you. You look hungry. Here.... where are your parents?"

    The vision changed and you were standing in the center of your village. The jedi that came to test you spoke without feeling, without caring, "no we can't take her. She’s far too emotional, chaotic even. If we teach her to use the force she will only be consumed by hatred, evil and darkness." Tears fell from your small eyes, only three or four years old. "I'm not evil..." Then everything was burning, your friends were screaming and you ran. You ran to your home which was overwhelmed by the inferno. Your mother was crawling out of the front door on her belly completely engulfed in the flames. Her skin half burned away and eyes melting. She tried to say something to you but the only sound she could muster was a throaty gurgle of blood before her life rattled away.

    You turned to run, your mother's gurgling screaming in your ears. You kept sprinting until you were older, chasing a small prey animal in the wilds of an unknown planet you had traveled to while stowed away on a transport. Catching it in your hands, you were so hungry you tore into the crying creature, blood dripping down your chin.

    More fire blazed around you. Mountains of scrap. Again, you were eating live vermin but your legs didn't feel like yours. You couldn't feel them at all. Eight spindly legs of scrap clumsily carried you down a hole. You screamed a name that felt foreign on your tongue until your throat burned.

    Your arms were chained to a ceiling, dangling you so your toes just brushed the dirt floor. You won't submit. He whipped you until you were drenched in your own blood, convulsing from the electricity but you didn't scream. You didn't cry. You felt your savior's presence like the shadow on a wall. You knew he'd come for you... eventually. All you had to do was hold on. To wait for him.

    There he knelt in front of you. While you were bound in the market place. The Zygerrian removed your blindfold, your eyes cold as he looked into them but your mind screaming "PLEASE. PLEASE TAKE ME. GET ME OUT OF HERE. I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE. I DONT WANT TO BE ANYMORE! IT’D NOT FUCKING WORTH IT!”

    Your eyes shot open. Utterly blown in fear, in rage, in torment. Once again, your master knelt in front of you but it was different this time. His eyes were soft, worried. He wanted to touch you; his hand outstretched but he didn't know if you wanted to be touched. Instinct made you shrink away and bare your teeth, eyes darting rapidly around the ship. Quickly accounting every detail to ensure this wasn't a vision. Once you were almost convinced you crawled back to your master and with a shaky hand you reached and touched his face. You felt him, he was real. Only then did you settle, pushing the beast back down inside you.

    Maul's nails dug into his thighs as he went over in his mind everything he had seen. He looked to you again, you wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Please know I didn't try to go inside your mind Y/N.." he used your name and spoke softly.

"A door appeared in front of me, I didn't know what lay beyond so I opened it and I saw... everything, felt what you felt." He paused "I know you saw one of my memories, before Savage found me."

Only then did you look at him, apologetically. "I'm sorry master I don't know what happened."

"Were you going to kill yourself if I didn't take you from that slaving scum?" Genuine concern shown in his eyes and shame flickered across yours. You sighed a single "yes." He nodded in understanding. He inched a little closer to you. "Do you still think about doing that?"

"Master... it's been 20 years since I lost my family, my village.. and 15 years since that man taught me to play the cards... it had been 15 years since someone cared that I ate or didn't outright try to harm me or kill me. Until you and Savage came along. No, I don't want that anymore." He lunged towards to and pulled you tightly into a fierce embrace. One hand gripping your back and the other woven in your hair.

"Please know my life is better with you in it little one." You inhaled deeply with your face nestled in his neck. Taking in his scent like you'd never smell him again, your arms firm around him as well.

    Without thinking you glanced at the chronometer within your view. "Thirteen hours?!" You exclaimed. "It felt like ten minutes." Maul pulled away from you. "Nothing kills time like sleep or meditation."

"Well now I feel like I need the former." You pinched the bridge of your nose and rubbed one of your temples.

"That’s fine but.... I'm not going to dance around it tonight. You're coming with me again."

"Oh you'll find no argument here." You tried to smile but it twitched.

    You opted to shower before going to sleep. Clean body clean mind, or so you tried to convince yourself. Maul was waiting for you in his bed, chest bare to you and his back leaning up against the wall. The reflection of the data-pad shining across the lenses of his reading glasses. It would have been a sinful sight if your mind hadn’t been otherwise occupied. He looked up at you, sheepishly standing at the foot of his bed. Setting the device down on his bedside table along with his glasses he leaned forward and stretched his hand out to you. Slowly you crawled up and over to him. He pulled you onto his chest and wrapped you up tightly with the soft fabric. Thrumming of his twin hearts easing the anxiety in your belly.

"We will reach our destination tomorrow."

"I've never been to Corellia before. What’s it like.”

“The inhabitants of Corellia have always been known for an insatiable wanderlust which led to a booming ship building economy. It exports talented pilots and ships while importing just about everything. As far as core worlds go, they don’t ask questions other than ‘what are you buying’.”

You replied with a hum and closed your eyes, allowing his hearts beats to lull you to sleep.

    Thinking for just a moment before stifling his worry, Maul brushed his lips lightly to the temple you had rubbed earlier. Feeling a deeper kinship with you after what he had seen and realizing you had a past that wasn’t unlike him own in many ways. He wondered if you found these tender moments with him as intoxicating as he found them? Nothing you had faced in your life stopped you from having fun, finding amusement, allowing yourself to be soft when the opportunity arose. You were stronger than he was in that regard and he admired you for that. He only wanted you to feel kindness from him. He wondered what further depths he would've sunk to if Savage hadn't revived him. He wouldn't have ever known moments like these, where you clung to him in your sleep. He decided he would thank his brother again later.

    Corellia was like nothing you had ever seen before. Tall towers reached for the atmosphere itself but without the insufferable heat and dryness of Zygerria. Beings of every species chattered happily in the streets. The city of Coronet 'the Jewel of Corellia' as many of the lit signs read, was nestled against an expanse of water. Your master had given you a heavy purse of credits and sent you on your way to shop and enjoy the city. Saying only that'd he'd find you when he was done refueling and stocking up on the more boring items needed for your travels. One of the locals pointed you in the direction of Treasure Ship Row. A bazaar that you could supposedly find anything anyone could ever look for; at least, according to the Twi’lek who pointed you in its direction.

    You had never held even a fraction of the money Maul had given you, you felt like a Queen passing through the many shops and held your head high. You had all but forgotten you didn't even have shoes until you found a little shop with lovely dresses in the window.

    The shop girl was kind and inviting despite your disheveled appearance. Sure that she had taken note of the large purse that hung from your hip. She aided in your search until you had a nice stack of both appealing and practical clothing.

    You allowed yourself to be pampered at a nearby day spa the clerk had recommended to you so that you didn’t get your new clothes and shoes dirty so quickly. Utterly famished after your day you found a relatively clean little bar deeper inside the Blue Sector.

    Taking a seat at the counter it didn't take long before a deep voiced Kel Dor took your order. Flashing a grateful smile, you dug into your fried Nuna Legs and sipped from a glass of red wine. A handsome Chiss, you assumed was a mechanic by his dress, took the seat next to you at the counter and gave you a wanting side eye.

"No." You stated curtly not looking up from your glass.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask." He smiled and ordered a malt liquor while the Kel Dor poured you a second.

"The nature of your question doesn't matter. The answer is no." You hadn't turned to him until he chuckled. You raised your brow.

"I was going to ask what a lovely flower like you was doing here. That's not a yes or no question." Sighing you turned to him realizing that you weren't going to get rid of him so easily. You eyed him slowly, he really was handsome despite the streak of grease across his cheek. He flashed you a charming smile you were sure he had rehearsed.

"I can see you've enjoyed the market."

"I have. And although I must say I appreciate the red of your eyes, this lovely flower prefers her companions to have thorns rather than grease stains." You turned back towards your drink sensing your master before you saw him.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" The Chiss asked genuinely confused. You smirked into your drink when you heard Maul clear his throat. The stranger looked back vaguely frustrated and widened his eyes as your master removed his hood revealing his crown of ivory horns.

"Oh, don't be frightened on my account. You're doing wonderfully."

The Chiss quickly left the seat and your master called out to him with a complete lack of tone or emotion. "No, don't go. I'd hate to take your seat."

Both you and the Kel Dorrian bar keep chuckled at his candor as Maul took the newly freed seat swinging back the drink the stranger had left. He smirked at you, noting your black cotton romper, keeping the style of a plunging neckline but now your arms bare and your legs covered. He also noticed your newly painted red nails and ruby studs in your ears.

"Wealth looks good on you."

"Wealth looks good on anyone who knows how to spend it." you quirked the corner of your mouth up and tossed the purse back to your master keeping a small handful.

"Is the ship ready?"

"Ah yes, your destiny awaits little one."

    You gestured to the man behind the bar and settled your tab, giving him a generous tip. He flustered at the gesture, only answering him with beaming smile. Maul stood and offered you his elbow which you gladly accepted and the two of you sauntered out of the bar, not before blowing a kiss towards the irritated Chiss.

    Maul liked the idea of men trying to woo you only to be met with rejection much more than he thought he would. He liked having the eyes of men who wanted you on him as he led you out of the establishment. He had appreciated your looks before, albeit a wild kind of beauty. He had never imagined you to clean up so well though, adorning his colors of black and red. He allowed his mind to drift to the thought of ruling with you by his side, with your chin held high and the power emanating from your soul, you looked incredibly regal with this newfound confidence. Was this your standard demeanor when you weren’t in the role of a student with her master?

    You boarded your ship and sat next to your master in the co-pilot’s chair your eyes lit with excitement. "To Malachor?"

"Yes my dear, to Malachor."

[yoditorian]

lacuna- part 6

din/reader

once again i left my writing down to the wire and did the bulk of this today so that’s why its Like That, as always a huge thank you to my wonderful @brothersdrxke for being my favourite sounding board and reminding me i am capable 

MASTERLIST

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swears, violence/death/murder, reader has a panic attack if you squint (not specifically mentioned and only referred to in one sentence), angst and arguments, we got a little more explicit with the smut this time (with added biting), 18+ no babies thanks

Nevarro’s cantina is always dusty. Something that’s struck Din as odd for as long as he’s been meeting Guild reps there, since the planet itself is all humidity and sulfur.

“You know, I’ve never met a hunter quite as efficient as you are.” Karga smiles warmly, but there’s something about his tone that makes Din’s skin crawl. The way he drawls out ‘efficient’ makes him wonder if he means something else. He hopes he doesn’t get asked anymore questions.

A set of new pucks slide across the table towards him, and Din pockets all five of them without even really looking. An amateur move, one he knows better than, but the longer he stays under the new Guild rep’s piercing stare the more he feels like he’s being studied.

“They’re of your usual calibre.” Karga reassures him as he stands to leave, not fool enough to try and palm off any jobs that nobody else will do.

Though the pucks are heavy in his pocket, you’re the only thing on Din’s mind when he steps into the shadow of the Razor Crest. You always are. He sees you everywhere, welding the outer panels together, meticulously painting the orange stripes “because they’ll look cool, Mando.” He sees you every time he has to rewire the internal electrics, that smudge of engine grease that seemed to be a permanent resident on your cheekbone back at the space station, or with the top half of your body wedged in a wall panel and your ass in the air.

The memories of you building the ship used to make him smile even after the worst jobs. Now they just make his hands shake.

You’ve been haunting him more than usual. Every time he turns around in the ship he calls his home, it’s like he expects to see you tinkering with something in the hull or staring up at the stars from the pilot seat with your feet up on the console. Something the others in the crew used to scold you for, but never him. It was endearing, to see you so at home in control of a ship. Any ship. Like you could speak their language.

Din knows it’s because he hasn’t heard from you since you told him you survived. Not that he really expected you to after he didn’t respond.

He almost did, he wanted to. He stares at the comm for hours at night, turning the stupid little thing over in his hands like it holds the secrets to the universe. Maybe it does. Maybe if he had the guts to say something, to say anything, to you. Or maybe he already knows the secrets of the universe, the one that matters to him anyway, and he’s just too afraid to think about it. He doesn’t contact you, he can’t contact you. Not when he knows exactly what it is he wants to say. It’s unfair to the both of you to speak it out loud.

He’s pretty sure you already know anyway. He doesn’t need to say it, maybe he never did. Maybe you’ve always known. How could you not? He’s never been soft like this with anyone the way he has with you. He’s never made so much space in his heart for somebody else. There’s no way you can’t tell. He feels so much for you, so much, there’s hardly any room inside left for him. It must be so obvious. And if he had any control when it comes to you, he could pretend like you don’t make him want to claw out his own heart and hand it to you. It’s yours anyway.

But Din compartmentalises, the way he always has. He takes a deep breath and packs every thought of you back into the box and stows it firmly away in the back of his mind. There will be time to miss you later.

It’s the worst job he’s ever had. By far. This is one bounty he’s not sure he can bring in.

Cork Gyll’s smile is sickening when he sees Din standing in the doorway of his home. If you could even call it that. It’s more of a cave, with an improvised door of thin sheet metal and a badly constructed bed against the far wall. A small metal crate is tucked just underneath the bed frame, half concealed by a threadbare blanket. Not much else, not that Din was expecting much of anything. The dar’manda sits and regards him for a long moment.

“You were there, Beroya.” He spits the title out like it’s a dirty word. It probably is, in his mind. Din only nods.

He should stun him and cuff him and drag him back to the Crest to freeze. That’s what he should do. But it’s too intriguing. Their situations are too similar. Din can’t help himself.

“Why did you do it?” 

Cork perks up at that. Like he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to at all, like he thought he’d just be dragged back to the noble family that ordered the bounty to atone for his crimes. Crimes Din doesn’t even know the extent of.

He loved her, is the first thing he recounts. A dreamy look in his eyes replaces the amusement at fate’s cruel blow. Is that the same look Din gets when he thinks of you?

He’d loved her to the point of removing his helmet, breaking the creed he’d followed all his life, for this daughter of some Outer Rim noble family he was running security for. Cork reddened at the memories of her fingers tracing his face when he bared himself to her the first time, the second time, and every time after that.

But his eyes grow dark suddenly, an odd coldness sweeps the room, and Din finds his hand inching ever closer to the blaster strapped to his hip. Just in case.

He’d proposed. Of course he had. She’d seen his face so many times and they loved each other and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, the guilt of breaking the creed had been at war with the space he’d made for her in his heart. But she’d said no. She had responsibilities to her family, to the son of another powerful family on the planet whom she’d been promised to before either of them were even born. She loved him, she loved him so much, but her answer was no.

Cork had panicked for his creed, her answer struck him so terribly in the chest that he hadn’t even registered that he’d drawn his blaster until there was a smoking hole between her eyes. Her beautiful eyes. But that was the way. No one alive had seen his face, and he’d been declared dar’manda anyway. He’d lost his love and his creed by his own foolish hand in the space of a few hours. And now? He’d likely be killed for it too.

The raw pain in Cork’s voice as he recalls what he did to his love is enough to make Din accept what he has known all this time to be true. He could never, would never, hurt you for anything. Not even the creed, he was a fool to think otherwise. No matter what it came down to. He’d take dar’manda over being responsible for your death. He’d take exile and disgrace and whatever else they dealt him if it meant he got to feel your skin on his. Your lips on his. No creed or vow or religion could ever bring him the solace that you do. Duty be damned.

Din moves silently across the room with the cuffs, something tells him Cork will go willingly.

He is so very, very wrong.

Part of his mind is still so absorbed in the story, in thoughts of you, that he notices Cork grabbing a heavy wrench just a second too late. It collides with the side of his helmet, taking out one of his auditory sensors and leaving his ears ringing. Cork takes the opportunity to strike once, twice, three times, at his chestplate in a vain attempt to wind him. He winds up for the helmet again, but Din throws himself onto his attacker before he gets the chance. While not graceful or calculated, it does the trick.

Cork laughs as he’s tackled to the floor, a horrible grating sound in his throat. Din doesn’t hesitate to pull his blaster and fire. The other man flops, lifeless, beneath him. The puck said taking him alive was preferable, but somehow Din’s not sure they’ll mind.

The wrench is still clasped in Cork’s hand, old and rusted but oddly familiar. A Mythosaur skull is carved into the base of the handle, and he knows. He must have taken it from the forge at the covert and stashed it before his exile, suspecting a bounty would be set on him. It’s no wonder the thing almost caved his helmet in. Din rips it off in the privacy of the room to inspect the damage, a dent the size of his fist in the right hand side and the auditory sensor is sparking. He’ll need a whole new one.

It’s as though the Armourer is expecting him, she never seems to be surprised by the state of some of the warriors who walk through her door. She simply directs him to a small curtained alcove and asks that he deposit his helmet on the shelf in the wall when he’s hidden.

“You should not regret it.” She speaks clearly, certainly, after he tells her how he sustained such damage. Din’s not sure he can agree with her this time around.

“He was a vod.”

“He was dar’manda. His crimes could never be forgiven. The vows you spoke for your creed no longer applied to him.” She places his new helmet, forged from the remains of his broken one, on the shelf for him to take. It’s been so long since he got a new piece, Din has forgotten how shiny beskar can be. His face stares back at him, distorted by the curve of the metal, for a moment before he finally puts it on. A perfect fit.

Green Squadron, you’re making your final approach.

It’s still kind of jarring to hear a droid coordinate the drop instead of one of the officers back on one of the rebel cruisers. Just something you’ll have to get used to, you suppose.

Three loud beeps sound from your dashboard and you flick the correct switches to drop out of hyperspace in perfect synchronisation with the rest of the team. The two cadets on this particular training session are a little shaky, but they come back into formation once they’ve reoriented. Until another ship appears out of nowhere, uncomfortably close to your left hand side. The squadron scatters, cadets panicking over the comms as your commander demands to know why it wasn’t caught on the sensors. You’re about to echo the sentiment, until you realise exactly why it’s not running a beacon.

“Green Leader, I know that ship. Request a line.” Your heart is in your throat the moment you spot the mismatched panels, the orange stripes you’d spent hours making sure were even.

“You know it? You’re sure, Four?”

“I built it! Put me on the line!” You don’t mean to snap the way you do, but the longer he stays in range the more danger everybody’s in.

Part of you expects a fight, expects your commander to doubt you, but it only takes another second for your comm light to flicker to life on the dash. You can only pray you can convince him to haul ass before the commander gets antsy and calls you to fire.

“Razor Crest, this is a New Republic drill. Please proceed to a safe distance from the training zone.” You want to tell him it’s good to see him, that he’s alive, but you’re all too aware that every one of the team can hear you. Best to stay professional.

The way your name echoes around the cockpit makes your stomach flip. His voice is soft, like he’s surprised it’s you, the tone barely appropriate for the kind of company you’re in. You don’t look forward to the questions you know will follow this session.

“Razor Crest,” You can’t keep the urgency at bay, “Please proceed to a safe distance or we will use force.”

Stars, you don’t want it to come to that. But the Crest is pre-empire, something you’ve noticed leaves any senior officer more than a little on edge. Hell, you would be too if you didn’t know who was at the helm.

“You’d shoot me down for the rebellion?”

“I would.” You answer immediately, because yes, yes you would. There’s no question. The same way that you’re sure, if it came to it, he’d kill you for his creed. Duty is a far more powerful thing than either of you.

Din sits on the comm silently for a long moment, as if he doesn’t believe you. Or maybe he’s- no. You stop that train of thought before it can even leave the station. He’s not shocked at your admission. He would do the same.

Green Squadron remains steady in formation, but a low order from your commander comes over the team system.

“Lock s-foils. Prepare to fire.”

“Mando!”

Din flies out of reach and on his way the second he registers the blind panic in your voice. It would be beautiful to watch the Crest arc through the stars if you weren’t so fucking terrified you were about to be ordered to pursue. But the order doesn’t come. Instead, Green Leader starts leading the cadets through drills, designating you and Shara to keep guard.

A private comm request appears on your display, and you accept without hesitation.

“So, Mando?” Shara doesn’t sound amused, or excited like she might have in any other situation. She sounds worried. Maybe she’s right to be, you’re still trying to remember how to breathe.

“Mando.” You confirm, but you leave it at that. She doesn’t pry. You’re thankful she doesn’t ask any more questions before you can do something really stupid like cry, or fly off after him.

You find yourself at the inn at Mos Espa as soon as the training run is over. Your commander can reprimand you for taking the A-Wing when you get back to base, a vague excuse about staying on top of your patrol duties has been ready on the tip of your tongue since the moment you decide on the detour. They could handle a few hours without you and your ship.

It’s unspoken, but somehow you know he’ll be there. And he is.

Perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed in your usual room, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his fists. Just watching the door and waiting for you. There’s deep scratches in the red paint of his armour, chunks missing where it was intact before. He’s got a whole new helmet.

“Fuck, Din, what happened?” You wonder about the injuries underneath the metal. Whether there’ll be new scars to trace, freshly healed wounds to run your lips over in the moments after-

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Don't use my name again. Ever.” Even with the modulator, you can hear him force the words through gritted teeth. He doesn’t sound angry, he sounds in pain. You’re only more confused as he stands and starts to shed the battered armour, giving way to sheer, blinding rage at the way he sets the pieces down on the table so reverently. Not unlike the way he handles you.

“So I can’t say your name but you’ll still fuck me. You’re gonna make me call you ‘Mando’, but you’ll still take off the helmet and kiss me?” Your hands shake at your sides. You’re so angry. You want him to reassure you, to backtrack and tell you he doesn’t mean it. Maybe you’re too used to the way he’s always been so ready to comfort you, to hold you and fit himself into the empty space in your ribs that you know is meant for him. Instead of the gentle words you’ve come to know from him, he only presents you with silence. Silence and anger on both sides, maybe misdirected, maybe not.

You’ve always respected his creed, his Way. But you’ve never had to like it.

In only his flight suit and helmet, Din stalks over to the doorway with one hand on the side of his helmet and plunges the room into darkness. You don’t hear him approach you, don’t even feel the air move until he’s standing chest to chest with you, lungs heaving. The Hunter. 

Your forehead bumps into the lifted lip of the helmet when his empty hand creeps up your back and pulls you by the neck into a bruising kiss, although he’s quick to send the thing crashing to the floor and free up his other hand to grab at you.

“You don't,” He lifts your shirt over your head, “Know me.”

“No?” You reply, sinking your hand into his suit to squeeze him through his underwear. He growls, like he always does when you do that, and his mouth is hot on yours again. He has always known you, just as you have always known him. However reluctantly.

It’s a power struggle like you’ve never experienced with him. He’s pushing as you’re pulling and every touch is burning and biting, each determined to get your way. Somehow you don’t think there will be any winners tonight.

His every touch cuts you down to your bones, every drag of his fingers as he exposes more and more of you to the night threatens to tear you apart. You revel in the way he’s grabbing you, twisting and turning you just to his liking, and find you don’t miss the softness one bit. Not right now. Your blood still boils at how he’s stepped back from you, revoked the one thing of his you thought you had. Although maybe you never really had it in the first place. 

You don’t give in, you can’t. He’s got you pinned against the bed, smug smile pressed into your neck at your breathlessness, and you sink your teeth into his shoulder. He tastes like salt and metal and you lose yourself in the deep groan that rumbles through him.

Din’s sure you’re trying to break him and, honestly, you’re well on your way to succeeding. Taking him apart piece by piece and leaving him shattered for treating you the way he has. He deserves it. Although he’d argue this is certainly a humane way to exact your revenge. Every touch, every moan and squeal and bite, sends another crack spider webbing through his guard. He’s done pretending every time is the last time, you’ve settled so deep in his heart he’s not sure he could ever dig you out. 

It’s later, in the dark and quiet, when the anger and desperation has faded that you whisper.

“I know you better than I know myself.”

And for a moment, he can pretend that you’re right.

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