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[random-thot-generator]

Don’t Leave Me Hangin’

MANDO x FEM READER

Summary: Reader gets stuck aloft in one of the Kom’rik’s cargo nets and has to call out to Mando for help. Filthy Mando smut ensues.

Warnings: explicit language, swearing, explicit sexual content, porn without plot, well, maybe a tiny little hint of plot, oral- f receiving, PiV, squirting, cum play(?), it’s messy- nuff said, Kom’rik sex, improper use of a cargo net, reader is an idiot who should think things through, Mando is an opportunist, no use of Y/N, maybe? bondage - Mando doesn’t help her out of the net like- immediately, but reader ain’t complainin’

(N/A: The brain fog has FINALLY lifted, and I wanted to write about my most recent random filthy thot. This is the result. It’s a long-ish, smutty one shot. Reader & Mando are in a situationship - friends-with-benefits type deal. I’m picturing like a live-in nanny/housekeeper kind of thing, but I don’t think I ever specified. This is post-season 3, and Mando’s living his best life on Nevarro. He and reader are in a Kom’rik, because I need room for my smut to flourish, and I didn’t want to resurrect the poor old Razor Crest from the ashes. If I missed any tags, let me know. And I hope you enjoy.)

Word Count: 4280

You really should have thought this through better.

That was your first thought after the cargo net stopped swinging, and you regained a modicum of composure. You winced at the sound of the net’s straps creaking under the strain as you tried to shift your weight and then froze. You remained completely motionless, afraid to even breathe, for several more moments.

“Shit...” you whispered in a quaking voice, peering down at the floor of the cargo hold several meters below you. You then glanced up at the winch mechanism above your head, praying it held. How in the hell were you going to get yourself out of this?

It had seemed like such a good plan at the time. You had just stepped out of the Kom’rik’s small ‘fresher, having showered and changed into your sleep shirt before bed, when you’d felt the ship drop out of hyperspace with a small lurch. You heard something clatter in the cargo hold below and blew out a tired sigh, knowing it was probably nothing but also knowing you wouldn’t be able to rest until you checked it out.

Grumbling under your breath, you had climbed down into the hold. Only the emergency lights were on, the ceiling and corners hidden in shadow, but you spotted something lying near a tier of shelves attached to the hull’s interior wall. It was one of the kid’s favorite cookies, the teal ones with the creme filling. Peering up into the gloom, you spied an opened foil sleeve of cookies perched on the edge of the highest shelf.

“How the hell did he even get up there?” you said aloud, shaking your head. Jedi training aside, the kid was far too much like his dad, a little risk-taker. You heaved a sigh, with no small amount of exasperation. 

Stars only knew what else he had left up there. Come to think of it, you had given him your datapad earlier to watch cartoons and hadn’t seen it since. Sighing in frustration, you began looking for a way to reach the top shelf. The propulsor lift was still charging, so that was a no-go, and you didn’t see a ladder of any sort that wasn’t attached to the ship already.

And then you had spied the cargo net.

It was dangling by its hooks from a mechanized winch and pulley system attached to the ceiling. It was used to keep extra containers suspended above the floor to free up space, its track running the entire circuit of the area for maneuverability and convenience. Designed to hold several hundred kilograms, you were certain it could support your own weight. You could use it to lift yourself up to the shelf, retrieve whatever was up there and then lower yourself back to the ground. Easy peasy, jogan squeezy.

Detaching the control pad for the winch from the wall, you climbed inside the net, lacing an arm through the holes for a better grip, and then planted your bare feet on the cross sections of the heavy straps. It was a bit shaky at first, but once you gained your balance, you quickly ascended until you were at eye level with the top shelf. Tucking the control pad under your chin, you reached up to feel your datapad under your fingertips and sniffed in amusement. You’d have to give Grogu a good talking-to in the morning, but for now you at least had your datapad back. Slipping it and the sleeve of cookies off the shelf, you shuffled the objects around, your grip on the net slackening.

It was then that the Kom’rik made another jump into hyperspace, making the ship jolt with the transition. You shrieked when the net began to swing wildly, feet slipping out from under you as you let go of everything in your hands to hang on for dear life. Panting for breath, heart thundering in your chest, you clung like a monkey-lizard to the straps and prayed the net didn’t break.

So, there you were, hanging above the hold like a piece over-ripe fruit, arms and legs entangled in the net with no way down, because, of course, you had dropped the winch’s control pad when you dropped everything else. You could see it lying on the floor below you, right next to the broken casing of your datapad.

“Shit!” you repeated, leaning your forehead against the straps and huffing out an angry breath. Could this situation get any worse, you wondered. You’d have to yell for Mando to come get you down, which you weren’t looking forward to, but who knew how long it would take before he even came back this way? What if decided to just sleep in the cockpit? Would you end up hanging there all night?

The thought made your awkward position in the net feel even more uncomfortable. Your feet had slipped through the holes, so your legs were now dangling under you, the straps cutting into the tender meat of your thighs. One of your arms was still threaded through the net while the other one was pinned close to your side. You could feel the cold air of the hold settling into your bones and making you shiver, the thin material of the tunic doing little to stave off the chill.

You knew that the longer you hung there, the colder you were going to get, the number your limbs were going to grow. Your feet were already stinging and your teeth chattering. There was no help for it. You had to call for Mando.

“MANDO!!!”

Your voice bounced back at you, making your flinch. Holding your breath, you waited to hear his boots thudding against the metal floor overhead, but nothing. He hadn’t heard you.

“MAANN-DDOO! HEEELP!”

You waited. Still nothing.

Oh, stars, maybe he had fallen asleep in the cockpit. after all. With the door sealed, he would never hear you. Panic began to creep in, shortening your breath as it constricted your lungs.

“MANDO! PLEASE! I’M STUCK IN THE HOLD! MAN-DOO!!!”

“What the hell are you doing?”

You heard his voice coming through the ship’s comm system and could have cried in relief. You’d forgotten the cams located throughout the ship. Stars, he’d probably been watching you this whole time. You were never in danger.

“I... I’m stuck, Mando.”

A gravelly bark echoed in the hold before turning to static. Great. He was laughing at you. “Obviously. Listen, I need to recheck the coordinates in navi and set the autopilot, then I’ll come get you down. Just, uh, hang tight,” he drawled, another garbled sound slipping out of his vocoder.

You bit your tongue to keep from saying something you might regret. You were in no position to taunt or snark back at him right now. “Fine,” you mumbled, and slumped into the net.

It was only a few minutes before the sound of his heavy boots were thudding across the metal floor above you, his footsteps music to your ears. You heard the clang of his armor hitting against the ladder before he slid down into view, feet landing with a solid thump in the hold. He approached at a leisurely pace, seemingly in no hurry, then stopped to stare up at you. His helmet tilted back, black visor glinting in the low light. Planting his hands on his hips, he tipped his head, first to one side and then to the other.

“M-Mando? What’re you doing? Can you get me down now, please?”

Mando hummed, his stance shifting. His arms dropped down to his sides, hands curling into fists. “You must be getting pretty cold, huh?”

You bunched your brows up in consternation. “Um... yeah? It’s fr-freezing down here.”

He nodded slowly, keeping his visor trained on you. “Hmm. Thought so. You’re not wearing anything but my old tunic. It’s not covering much. Is it?”

You quirked a brow at the change in his voice. His smooth baritone had dropped an octave or three, and it had a distinctive husk to it now. His tone was the one he used when the two of you were alone with the lights off and he was taking you apart, dark and sinfully seductive. It made you squirm despite your precarious position, and the net began to slowly sway back and forth. The edge of a strap slid into the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you felt your lower lips part. A low groan issued from his vocoder. Your mouth fell open.

Sweet Maker, your pussy was on full display for him. You hadn’t bothered with underwear after your shower, planning on putting on a clean pair once you got back to your sleeping quarters. Heat surged through your body, both from embarrassment and unexpected arousal.

“Mando...” Your voice sounded so small and breathy in the cavernous space.

“I can see everything, pretty girl,” he told you, taking an unconscious step closer. He was almost directly under you now, peering straight up at your exposed sex. Mortified, you felt the slow trickle of your arousal easing out of your channel. You weren’t dripping, not yet, but the thought of him standing beneath you, staring at your most vulnerable parts had your breath panting out in little puffs. “You... Are you going to... get me down, now?”

You heard the back of his gauntlet scrape the metal floor as he picked up the control pad for the winch. His breath was rasping through his vocoder, the sound of leather creaking as he moved underneath you. You felt the winch catch and then begin to whir as the net began to lower back to the floor.

“Thank the stars,” you whispered, anxious to be back on solid ground again.

You didn’t quite make it, though. You were still a few meters above the floor when the winch came to a sudden stop, leaving you to sway like the pendulum of a run-down clock. “M-Mando?”

“Look so pretty like this, sweet girl,” he murmured below you, and you felt his gloved fingers trail across the back of your thigh. You gasped at the contact. “Close your eyes,” he husked out, voice gone to gravel.

You didn’t even bother to ask why, just snapped your eyes shut and held your breath, waiting. You heard the slap of leather on the floor, guessing it must be his gloves he’d just taken off, and then you felt his bare fingers tracing the straps that dug into your thighs. His fingertips grazed along the edge where the strap met the skin, the sensation making you tense as heat spiraled in your belly, diffusing through your pelvis to spread in a hot rush of slick that trickled out to cool along the petals of your open folds.

“Oh, mesh’la,” Mando cooed, dark and low. “You’re dripping for me, pretty girl.”

A whine escaped your lips, breath catching in your throat as you felt his fingers slide through your arousal, gathering your essence on his fingertips. There was the pneumatic hiss of air as his helmet disengaged and then the ring of beskar ricocheted around the hold as he dropped it to the floor. You could hear the lewd, wet noises he made as he suckled his own fingers, moaning at the taste of you.

“Don’t move, baby girl.”

“Oh, Maker...” you whimpered in a quaking whisper.

You could feel your walls clenching in anticipation. Mando had never used his mouth on you before, said he’d never gone down on anyone before, but as the winch whirred back into motion only to grind to a stop again a moment later, you guessed you were about to find out if this would be his first time.

When you felt his hair tickle the backs of your thighs, an eruptive shudder passed through your entire body. When his nose grazed over your clit, you jolted in the confines of the straps hard enough to send the net swaying, but he caught you and brought you back to center.

“Sh-shh... Easy, baby girl. I got you...” He paused, sniffed. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he hissed out in a rush, and you heard him inhale, could feel his nose right at your parted lips. It was so filthy, so obscene, what he was doing, but it made you quiver with lust, just the same.

His hands came up to grip your ankles, holding you in place. “That’s better,” he murmured, hot breath gusting over your damp folds, eliciting another shiver from you. “Let me hear you, pretty girl. Want to know how good I’m making you feel. Okay?”

You nodded your head furiously, swallowing in an attempt to bring a bit of moisture back into your parched mouth. “Y-Yeah. Okay, Mando.” You didn’t even care that it came out as a whine.

The first touch of his tongue had you choking on air, hips stuttering, not sure whether to rock forward or away from the lapping muscle, but his strong hands held you fast, not letting your squirm away. He dragged his tongue in a slow, hot line from your entrance to your clit, and you moaned like a porn star. You could feel his cheeks bunch up as he grinned at your reaction, and then he flicked his tongue over your pulsing clit again, pulling a sputtering,” Ha-aaa-aaah!” from your gaping mouth.

“You like it when I do that?” he purred lowly into your folds. “What about when I do this?” He enveloped the sensitive bud with his lips, tongue flickering over it with feather-light touches, making you writhe and grind against his mouth. He groaned, then suctioned his lips around it and sucked, pressing his tongue firmly against it. Your plaintive wail echoed throughout the ship.

“Fuck me...” he moaned, panting for breath, his voice shaking. He was completely wrecked. With a desperate snarl, he dove back in with a vengeance, tongue laving your inner folds, twirling around your entrance, lapping at your juices before kissing and sucking at your puffy, parted lips. He was devouring you whole, winding the coil in your core into a taut vibrating spring of tension. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, your breaths wheezing out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“Mando! Mando, I...” 

You couldn’t even voice a coherent thought, couldn’t tell him what was about to happen, but he seemed to understand, nevertheless. His fingers slid along your pulsing folds to catch at the rim of your entrance, circling it once before slipping inside. Your walls immediately clamped onto the digits, muscles undulating to pull them deeper. He growled at the feeling and latched onto your clit again crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion, the strokes sharp and quick as they tapped out a devastating tattoo against the spongy membrane of your G-spot.

The world went white behind your pinched eyelids, and you weren’t even aware of the choked scream that tore out of your throat as you were blindsided by your orgasm. The spring in your core gave way with a snap and warmth flooded from your center to gush out around his fingers and over his arm, splattering his lower face, cowl and chest plate.

“Ha!” he crowed. “That’s it! Fuck yes!”

You were barely hanging on, your very bones liquefied as you twitched and groaned with each consecutive pulse of your climax. If you had oozed out through the holes in the net to pool at his feet, you wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

“So fuckin’ good, for me. Look at that. Fuck, I need — nngh!”

You heard the motor of the winch whir back into life, then felt the cold sensation of the floor touch the bottom of your feet. You couldn’t have held up your own weight if your life depended on it, however, and so folded up with the netting as it came to rest on the floor. Strong hands lifted you out the mess of straps, hands moving over you, manipulating you as he whispered feverish words in Mando’a  like some fervent benediction.

You felt your back come to rest on top of the netting, the worn fabric of his cape spread out beneath you to serve as a barrier against the rough material. You had yet to open your eyes, jaw slack as you floated somewhere high above your physical body in a state of pure bliss.

Mando placed his calloused hand over your eyes, unwilling to test fate more than he already had. He felt crazed, rabid with lust, his only desire to be buried balls-deep in your cunt.

“Need to feel you, sweet girl,” he gasped at your ear, his breath stuttering against your neck. “Please, I need — “

“Yes! Stars, please, Mando. Want to feel you inside me. Do it...”

He whimpered as he lifted himself away long enough to scrabble at the closure of his pants, shoving them down with his underwear to the top of his thigh plates, a frustrating exercise to complete one-handed. When his cock sprang free of its confines, he moaned in relief, pumping it roughly a couple of times as he spread his leaking precrum over the head with his thumb. With a grunt, he fell between your thighs, notching himself at your entrance, inhaling a deep breath before he sank into your greedy, grasping cunt with an audible squelch.

“Fuuuckin’ hellll...” he moaned out as he slid inside your fluttering walls, grunting again when he felt them collapse around his cock and seize it in a vice grip. It was a struggle to draw himself back, the sensation making his balls draw up tight against his body. “Too good... too tight... Gonna make me cum...” he mumbled under his breath, fighting off his orgasm. When he had withdrawn a about halfway, he couldn’t stand it anymore and plunged back in, thrusting hard enough to shift the netting beneath you.

You sobbed, the feeling of being so full overwhelming, your shaking legs coming up to wrap around his hips, ankles locking over the flexing muscles of his ass. He was driving into you with abandon, the toes of his boots squeaking on the floor to find purchase, bracing his body against yours. His other arm he shoved under your back, fingers hooking over your shoulder to pull you down on his cock to meet each hard thrust. He was growling, muttering curses in multiple languages, hissing as you clenched and pulsed around him.

“Ah, fuck, sweet girl, I’m gonna — Shit! Fuck, baby, where do you want — “

“Inside... Want to feel you cum in me...” you moaned out, another orgasm rising like a massive wave in your core. “Ah, fuck!” you whined.

Your words snapped that last thread of control he had, and he surged forward, thrusting in wild, arhythmic strokes that sent you careening over the edge. Your climax washed over you like a euphoric wave, slow and liquid, a golden warmth that engulfed your lower half before spreading like molten honey.

Mando could feel your walls clamp down and spasm, milking his cock, drawing him in deeper. He threw his head back and came with a bellow, a primal, jagged roar of triumph. His chest lifted as his back arched, his cock exploding inside your walls, pumping ribbons of his thick seed deep into your hungry cunt.

He barely managed to throw an arm out to catch himself before falling forward. He was trembling above you. and when his elbow buckled, his head fell to your chest. His nose was smooshed into the side of your breast, his panting breaths teasing the sensitive bud of your nipple into a hard little nub beneath the thin material of his tunic. He gave a dazed grin at the sight, wishing he had the energy to take it in his mouth, but he wasn’t sure he could even lift his head yet.

“Stars, pretty girl. I think you’ve killed me.”

A breathless wheeze of laughter burst out of your chest, and you reached up to pull down the hand now splayed limp over your face to your lips. You left a lingering kiss in the palm as you crooked your other arm over your eyes, just so the temptation to peek wouldn’t get the best of you. You felt him lift his head with reluctance, his weight shifting, before his lips pressed to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss.

“You alright? I know I went pretty hard this time. I didn’t mean to lose it like that, but — “

Your hand came up to touch his face, landing on his neck instead. You slid it upward to cup his jaw, the feel of his patchy beard against your palm endearing. “Don’t you dare apologize,” you told him and drew him down for another kiss. “It was perfect. The best I’ve ever had,” you whispered against his lips.

He sighed, smiling against your mouth in relief and pleasure. When he shifted again, he saw you grimace. “Did I hurt you, sweet girl?” he rushed to ask, lifting his weight off you.

You giggled and shook your head. “No, it’s not that. There’s something cold and sticky all over your chest plate. It feels... icky.”

He glanced down to see your release from earlier smeared over his beskar, and he chuckled, low and dirty. “That’s your fault,” he teased. “You drowned me when you came the first time.”

Your mouth dropped open and, if not for his hand coming down to hold your arm in place, you would have jerked it away from your eyes to stare at him in shock. “I did not!” you gasped. mortified.

“Oh, you did, pretty girl,” he crooned. “I want to make you do it again.”

“What? N-Now?!”

A full-on laugh rumbled out of his chest this time. “No, sweet girl. As much as I’d love to, I don’t either one of us is going to be able to go another round after that last one.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” you blurted out, and then winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean —”

He sniffed in amusement and pecked you on the lips. “I know what you meant, mesh’la.” Sitting back on his knees, he rubbed at his face, grinning at the sticky feel of your spend drying in his mustache. He was positively covered in your cum, and he fucking loved it. His poor cock gave a valiant twitch before he tucked it back into his pants and stood. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get in the shower.” He retrieved his helmet, slipping it back on before bending to take you by the hand.

You groaned. “Just lemme sleep here. Can’t move right now.”

“You’ll freeze down here,” he chided you. “Now come on. I’ll help you.”

You whined as he hauled you onto your feet, and you staggered on your shaking legs. He shook his head and turned his back to you, bending his knees slightly. “Hop on. I’ll carry you up the ladder. Otherwise, we will be down here all night.”

You made a face at him, but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, making a weak hop to get onto his back. Grasping your thighs, he hitched you up a little higher and stood, then trudged towards the ladder at the opposite end of the hold.

“Oh, stars,” you moaned out behind him, dropping your forehead to his back. “Do you think we woke Grogu? We were, uh... ahem... We were, you know, a little loud,” you whispered.

“Well, the ship’s still flying, and I didn’t hear anything break while we were down here, so I’m going to say no.”

You giggled. “He’s gonna get it tomorrow morning,” you vowed. “He was the reason I got caught up in that stupid net in the first place. He somehow managed to get on that top shelf with a whole sleeve of cookies and my datapad.” You paused, moaned again. “Shit. My datapad. It broke when I dropped it.”

“Don’t worry, mesh’la. We’ll get you another one, and I’ll talk to Grogu myself tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Okay?”

You sighed, a little grin tugging at your lips. “Okay.” You heaved a sigh, tightening your grip when Mando started to climb up the ladder. “I know one thing. I’m burning that stupid net when we get back to Nevarro.”

Mando huffed and shook his head. “Like hell you are. We’re bringing that home with us. It’s going up in the bedroom, right above the bed.”

You gasped in shock, rearing your head back. “Mando!”

His rumbling chuckle bounced off the metal walls of the ship, and a warmth like the sun bloomed in your chest as a smile as big as the Dune Sea spread across your face.

“Okay, fine. We’ll discuss the cargo net later. But right now, I want a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mando purred, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Taking your hand, he led you into the ‘fresher.

Despite Mando’s earlier doubts, you found out that you both did indeed have another round left in you.

(End notes: Just wanted to mention @saradika because she created the dividers and banners I’m using. She makes them for free. You can check out her masterlist on her blog. Her fics are *chef’s kiss* too.) 

[sashketter]

Karaoke night at 79s with the 501st

Rex: He refuses to sing, full stop. Several shots of tihaar and he’s still obstinate. All forms of bribery, offers of credits and manual labor, don’t budge him. Fives tries to pull him by the arm and ends up flat on the floor. Only after a pretty Twi’lek joins in does he relent; not because he wants to impress, but he can’t refuse a polite, curious woman. He favors something mid tempo, a steady beat that he can change his pace with. He starts soft and ends big on a note just above his range. He knows it’s not his best, but he thinks if he hams it up now, his men won’t force him to sing again.

Jesse: He needs two draughts of beer before he’s ready. He goes with something peppy and familiar, a current hit that everyone knows and can sing along to. His tenor is serviceable, but he’s not satisfied with it, thinks he needs more practice and instruction. He hopes getting others to sing with him will cover up his faults, but he ends up making the room more rowdy. They prod him to keep singing, and he obliges, but his voice is hoarse by the end of the third song. He sits at a table and hums along the rest of the night.

Hardcase: He’s the first to the mic stand, unprompted and fully sober. He picks a rock song, something he can more yell than sing. He’s tone deaf and knows it, but like Jesse, he enjoys working the crowd. At least his dancing - or rather, flailing - is entertaining. He’s up at the mic several times throughout the night, his voice rapidly turning rough, before his brothers have to take turns restraining him. Surprisingly, only beer keeps him seated at the bar for the rest of the night. He loudly cheers on whoever’s singing.

Tup: He accidentally mixes his drinks working up the courage to sing, switching between beer and brandy and something stronger than both. He’s teetering on the edge between drunk and hungover, but his brothers don’t notice. He knows he won’t last before his stomach betrays him, so he plows through a short, uptempo song before heading to the fresher. Kix follows behind and orders him water for the rest of the night.

Dogma: He wants to sing, to have fun like his friends, and thinks some liquid courage will help. Unlike Tup, he sticks to the same cocktail, but ends up drinking too much and gets too sick to sing. Kix sits him next to Tup at a booth far from the stage, with a pitcher of water and a plate of food between them.

Kix: He’s up at the mic early, sometime soon after Hardcase. He knows he needs to be available to those who are using the bar to self-soothe. He holds a glass of something brown on the rocks while crooning something smooth and jazzy. He’s a baritone and sings well, not a surprise to those who’ve been under his care and become unwitting audience to his absentminded humming. He sings in place of every other brother too drunk to make it to the mic stand.

Fives: He shares a drink with the men before going to the mic. He tries to coax Echo into a duet, but the other Domino won’t budge. He picks a ballad, something he can use to show off his range. He thinks he sings well, and he stays on key for the most part, but Rex and Kix wince when his voice cracks during the bridge; he likes to push himself. He serenades the women closest to the stage, taking their hands at turns, much to the ire of their dates. He takes a big bow to big applause at the end. He’ll likely finish the night with the last song, the rest of his brothers too tired or far gone to continue after midnight.

Echo: He blushes at the sight of the stage. Fives elbows him throughout the night, thinking he won’t sing, but during a rare silent moment, as Kix adds another brother to the designated booth, he goes up unbidden. He picks a song that starts slow and ends uptempo. Fives’s jaw is on the floor while Rex and Kix share a knowing wink: the captain and the medic had been working to ease Echo out of his shell and found music to be the key. True to his name, he sounds like a pro, almost like the original singer of the song.

[ariadnes-red-thread]

The Last Word: Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE: LOOKING TOO CLOSELY

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter [coming soon]

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Chapter Summary: Mal settles into the 501st, but running into a familiar face in a clone army is the last thing she expects

Chapter Warnings: Some swearing (mostly in mand'o), Mentions of Umbara/past trauma and past sexual situations

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Recommended Listening: Looking Too Closely by Fink

A/N: Whoops, so maybe by "Coming Soon", I meant 14 months later. Sorry, I was crippled by self-hatred, perfection paralysis, and fears of my own incompetence. I'll try to be more cool writer girl next time. Thanks to everyone who connected with Mal and with my writing, and reached out to remind me that this might be a story worth telling. I love and adore you forever.

Ao3

Taglist

“Welcome to the 501st.”

Rex extended his hand out to Mal. For the briefest moment, she stared at his gauntlet, decorated in blue and white. The gap between them felt lightyears apart, and she was almost surprised at how quickly her hand closed the space. Taking his hand, she turned her eyes up to meet his and smiled, trying to reflect the Captain’s own warmth back at him. Mal gripped his hand firmly as she tried to shut out the hundreds of soldiers marching around the 501st’s hangar. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her discomfort. This was an opportunity, and she was grateful for it. It just felt odd, like putting on someone else’s clothes. The size was right, but the fit was all wrong.

Calling it the 501st’s hangar wasn’t entirely true. In a day or so, this battalion - her battalion, Mal quickly reminded herself - would ship out, off to a different star system, and another troop would take over this space for their leave. But for now, it swarmed with blue and white troopers. This system was designed for convenience and space-saving, but it gave Mal, and all transfers, an advantage. She already knew where everything was, from the medical supplies to the fresher. Still, after a briefing on protocols (all of which she learned a long time ago), Rex insisted on giving her a tour.

As he led her through the stacks and pointed out where the medical supplies were being kept, Mal had a feeling he was trying to distract her and that her feeble efforts to mask her unease hadn’t gone far with the blonde clone. She wasn't surprised.

Mal spent most of her life taking care of other people. It had taken a long time for her to get used to the way the Wolfpack watched over her. But she smiled, realizing that all the ways they had helped her made her softer now, more ready to let someone else in. So she tried to relax as she followed Rex, letting him point out where the extra gauze was stored, which fresher to use, and where to find the ration bars if she needed a meal.

Despite herself, Mal soon found herself feeling almost at home. Wolffe was right. Rex was the best. She watched as he would stop occasionally to check in with a passing soldier.  He would slide an arm over their shoulder or rest a hand on the pauldron. Sometimes the check-in would be wordless, just a nod between the two men. Sometimes, Rex would mumble a bit of mando’a, and his brother would smile. Just as quickly, his attention would be back on her. There were a couple of moments when she thought she might have seen a shadow pass over his face as his eyes lingered on a soldier for a moment longer or as he scanned the crowd, looking for someone he couldn’t find. She might have imagined them, though, because, in the next breath, he would turn back to her with a charming grin and point out where someone named Jesse had hidden more snacks.

As Mal peered over his shoulder while he rifled through a med-pack and showed her the simple, familiar contents, the tension started to leave her shoulders, and a wave of ease settled onto her brow. There was comfort in the sameness. And comfort made Mal curious.

“So, who am I working with?” She turned her attention from the med-packs back to the throngs of troopers scattered across the platform.

Rex followed her gaze. With battlefield precision, he scanned the crowd, searching out his medic. The Captain spied his target in split seconds.

“Oi, Kix!” Rex’s voice boomed over the thunder of boots on durasteel.

At least two dozen men jumped to attention as their commanding officer’s call echoed off the soaring walls of the vast space. There was a clattering of dedlanite as a trooper dropped a container of DC15Ss. Across the bay, a clone with a medical sigil on his shoulder peeled off from a group of soldiers. A collective sigh went up through the troopers as they each realized it wasn’t them who was being summoned by their CO.

The medic, Kix, jogged across the hangar to where Mal and Rex were standing with only the lightest sense of urgency. Mal eyed the medic as he got closer. Crux was clinical and quiet, a man of science born from science. Their only heated battles (recently anyways) came when he felt like she was acting on her gut rather than evidence. Kix didn’t appear to be cut from the same cloth. His helmet was tucked under his arm, and she could see how brightly he smiled as he threw greetings and quips over his shoulder at brothers who whistled and cat-called as he ran by. His appearance was as bold as his crossing, with hair closely shaved into intricate lighting bolt patterns and an Aurebeseh tattoo on the left side of his scalp. When he got close enough, Mal could finally make out the writing, ‘The only good droid is a dead droid’. Mal couldn’t help the smile on her face. It was a sentiment she could get behind. The 501st medic came to a halt next to Rex.

“This is Kix.” Rex clapped the medic on the shoulder. “You’ll report to him. There’s the CMO Coric somewhere too but you’ll meet him later. Kix here is the head medic for Torrent Company and the most dedicated medic I’ve ever met. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Aw shucks, Captain.” Kix laughed at Rex. He shifted slightly under Rex’s grasp, just a little further from the Captain. “Nice to meet you…”

He held out a gauntleted hand as he waited for a name.

“Mal.”

“Nice to meet you, Mal.”

Rex watched for a moment before he began to shift from foot to foot. He wasn’t a man who sat still for long, Mal noticed. She wondered if he’d always been like that or if this came from being burdened with so many responsibilities. Wolffe was the same way, his attention jumping from task to task, somehow always simultaneously present and attentive, but still somewhere else.

“I’ve got a meeting with the generals.” Rex finally said as he clapped his gloved palms together. “Kix, you mind helpin’ her get settled?”

“On it, sir.” The medic replied, brightly.

“Thank you, Captain.” Mal turned to Rex. "I feel very settled in."

"Wolffe wouldn't have let me live it down otherwise." He said, waving away her gratitude.

“Come on, I’m starving. Let’s go to the mess.” Kix motioned for Mal to follow him, already spinning on his heel. “You can meet some of the men.”

“Good luck.” Rex cheekily yelled after them.

“I can handle the 501st,” Mal called back over her shoulder, “I put up with the 104th for years.”

Rex laughed and nodded as though she won a hand of sabacc. With a small salute, he turned in the opposite direction and disappeared into the gears of the GAR.

“He’s just being dramatic.” Kix rolled his eyes as Mal caught up to him. “The boys are all good fun.”

She fell into step beside the clone as Kix started to make his way down the long durasteel hallway to the mess. Mal lost track of time while Rex was showing her around, but it must have been getting close to dinner because most of the other clones were starting to head in the same direction.

“You get the full tour?” Kix raised an eyebrow as he flashed a knowing eyebrow.

“Captain Rex was very thorough,” Mal smiled back, instantly at ease with the small gift of an inside joke.

Mal watched the medic out of the corner of her eye as they walked. He nodded to every soldier that passed, but the ones with decorated armor got a verbal greeting or a pat on the shoulder.

“How long have you been with the 501st?” Mal asked, curious about her new CO. 

It had taken a long time for her and Crux to warm up to each other. They started at the same time, joining the decimated 104th as it was rebuilding. Crux wasn’t thrilled to be serving with a civilian, and Mal had her own grudge, which was no fault of Crux’s. She knew it was irrational to dislike him for not being Tye, but she couldn’t help it. Still, once they stopped yelling at each other, they found that they worked well together. Crux’s strength was in his analysis and his textbook memory. Mal’s came from her quick thinking, calm under pressure, and her well-trained gut instincts. They came at problems from different routes, but almost always ended up at the same answer. Another ache passed through her as she realized their last mission working together would be just that. For now anyways, she tried to reassure herself.

“Just after Teth. Got assigned to Rex after that disaster, and he’s been grumpy about it ever since.” Kix flashed a cheeky smile at Captain Rex’s expense. “I’ll be honest, this is the first time we’ve had a civilian medic.”

Mal shrugged. It wasn’t surprising. There weren’t many civilians in the GAR, and even fewer were medics. The government official that helped her at the recruitment office had tried to talk her out of signing up in at least fifteen different ways as she was filling out the dataforms. 

“How about you?” Kix asked, “How long have you been with the 104th?”

“I joined after Abregato,” Mal answered. It wasn’t a lie.

“Hmm, I remember that one.” Kix frowned as he rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved palm. “I helped take care of Wolffe and the other two when they got back. Commander Tano still talks about it sometimes. Rough stuff. Glad that was before your time.”

Mal had heard a lot about Commander Tano, and even seen her from a distance on the Venator a few times. The Togruta Jedi padawan was hard to miss and liked to visit General Plo when she could. Boost, Sinker, and Wolffe spoke about her in hushed, grateful tones. Mal supposed that she did too. It wasn’t surprising, given that the whole of the 104th would have been wiped out if not for Commander Tano. Mal knew exactly to whom she owed her friends’ lives.

“You must have started with Crux, then.”

Mal looked back at the clone to find him watching her with a glance that was trying to appear more casual than it was. He must have seen something in her face change at the mention of Abregado. The clones in the 501st were good at distraction, Mal was starting to notice, but she was grateful for the change in subject.

“You know Crux?” Mal tried to match the Kix’s bright tone.

“Yeah, we went through medic training together,” Kix said. “Crux and I shipped out after Geonosis. Both the 501st and the 104th had hard times of it. Trained with Tye, the first CMO for the 104th, too, but he would have been before your time.”

Mal’s spine stiffened at his name.

A flash of a smile.

“You deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Mal agreed, even as her heart clenched. “Before my time.”

“Heya, Kix.”

A clone with a large Republic cog in the middle of his helmet fell into step beside Kix. He elbowed his friend as his helmet tilted towards Mal. She could feel his eyes as they looked her up and down before he spied the medical sigil on the shoulder of her jumpsuit.

“Rex finally get someone to replace you?” The clone elbowed Kix again.

“You’d be dead without me,” Kix replied without missing a beat. “Mal, meet Jesse.”

“Hi!” Even through the modulator, the man’s greeting was warm.

The clone named Jesse stripped his helmet from his head. He tucked it under his arm as he flashed Mal a sideways smile. The cog that had decorated his helmet matched a tattoo that covered most of the upper half of his face, spanning from just under his left eye to the top of his clean-shaven head. His smile stretched across his face, bringing a glint to his eyes and wrinkling the edge of the cog.

“Nice to meet you.” Mal couldn’t help but smile back. “Nice tattoo.”

“You like it? I lost a game of sabacc to Hardcase, but I’ve grown attached.” Jesse ran a hand over his clean scalp as he grinned a little wider. “Spotchka may have been involved.”

“It suits you.”

It did. The clone had an animated face, his expression written all over it, and the tattoo emphasized every look. Mal imagined he wasn’t very good at sabacc.

“I like her.” Jesse turned to Kix with an air of grievance. “You never compliment me.”

“She doesn’t know you yet.” Kix chuckled.

“You’re just mad you’re not the prettiest medic in the 501st anymore.” Jesse snapped back.

Mal winced at the comment. She had a feeling Jesse was just kidding and that the joke was more at Kix’s expense than hers, but it was irritating all the same. Mal had never met a clone who thought less of her expertise because she was a woman. Still, there were plenty of civilian mechanics and medics who did. Any other day, the comment would probably have rolled off her. Instead, Mal thought of the clone from the night before. Would he think less of her if she ever had to treat him? Would he trust her? She quickly pushed that thought aside. No point in considering it. In an army of a billion clones, that wasn’t something she would ever have to worry about.

“Hard to compete with Kix.” Mal quickly spoke.

Just like that, the worry was gone, and Jesse was reaching around Kix to slap her on the back.

“I like you,” He let out a belly laugh as he repeated his approval.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make me regret introducing you two already.” Kix rolled his eyes before they suddenly flashed.

Mal followed his look down the hallway. Just ahead, two troopers walked with their helmets pressed close together like they were strategizing. One was dressed in clone trooper armor, and the other wore the unmistakable kit of an ARC trooper. His kama swayed around his hips as he walked, arm over the shoulder of the other trooper. They seemed to catch Kix’s attention.

“Now, these two, you definitely need to know. Gotta watch them closely.” Kix spoke, his voice raised and playful. “They spend more time in the medbay than the rest of the battalion combined.”

They stopped and turned at Kix’s words, the sound of mocking modulated laughter coming from their helmets. Kix and Jesse paused with them, forming a small crowd in the busy hallway, like rocks in a river.

“This is Mal, our new medic from the 104th.” Kix gestured.

The clone troopers pulled their buckets from their heads. The first man smiled sweetly, a contrast to the single teardrop that decorated the lower lid of his left eye. Mal barely registered him, though. She was too busy gaping at his friend. The second man flashed a knowing, familiar grin. Even without the temple tattoo, Mal would have recognized him anywhere.

Fives.

The first thing Fives saw as he rounded the corner into the mess hall was Jesse’s face. His vod immediately looked annoyed and that put an extra spring in Fives’ step. Nothing like the sheer pleasure of irritating Jesse without even having to put in the effort.

“Ah osik, I bet Tup 5 credits you’d miss roll call.”  The lieutenant frowned at Fives over two steaming paper cups of caf.  

“Come on, Jess.” Fives grinned at his older brother. “You know me better than that.” 

Fives picked up the two cups before he turned, seamlessly slipping the drinks out from under his vod's nose. Jesse leapt up and yelped but, short of leaping over the table, there was no stopping Fives.

He kept moving down the hall, practically gliding, as Jesse’s swears faded behind him. He hummed, sipping on the black caf that Jesse had poured for himself, and savoring each jolt to his taste buds. Fives meandered his way through the maze of the base, nodding to brothers that greeted him. Faces, armor, and haircuts were all distinct. He recognized them all but most of the names escaped him. It was becoming harder and harder to keep track. There were so many, and they came and went all too quickly. It made him feel old in a way that an eleven year old probably shouldn’t. Was it eleven? Or was it twelve now?, he wondered. Who could keep track of decanting days anymore? That was Echo’s job and, without his twin, he wasn’t ever in the celebrating mood. Finally, Fives slipped into one of the main supply rooms, where he paused before a large supply shelf. It was pressed up against the durasteel and tucked in the back of the dark storage space. 

“Hey, Tup. You there?” Fives called.

“Roger, roger.” Tup called back.

The long-haired clone popped his head over the edge of the fourth shelf, about eight feet off of the floor. He perched there for a moment, chin resting on his hand as he smiled down at Fives. Fives grinned back up at his vod. Tup found the empty shelf the first day after the Umbara deployment, and he dragged a mattress up there to turn it into a getaway. Fives didn’t ask why he wanted one and Tup didn’t volunteer the information. Instead, Fives just helped him redirect several blankets and a mattress from shipping to an “ARC training mission” and, in a comical heist that involved General Skywalker nearly catching them, assisted Tup in smuggling the large bedding into the supply room.

“So, how was the night, vod?” Tup winked.

“A gentleman never tells,” Fives smirked up at his brother.

“Well, luckily, you’ve never been a gentleman.” Tup laughed as he swung down from the shelf, landing gracefully beside Fives.

“Hey! I brought you caf and everything.” Fives held out the second cup to Tup, who took it without hesitation.

“Ah yes, three creams. Just how Kix takes it.” Tup chortled as he sipped on the warm liquid.

Fives smiled back at the younger clone. Losing Echo left a hole in his heart that he knew would never be filled, and it had been a long time since he had felt a connection with one of his brothers like that. Tup was different though. He reminded him of Echo in some ways. He was quietly smart. A little nerdy. But he could still merk a Seppie in seconds and without hesitation. He was clever, more clever than most people realized. Fives was still impressed with the plan Tup came up with to capture General Krell. While he knew he could never replace his twin and he wasn’t looking to try, he felt a little more whole lately when Tup was around.

“Now, come on vod.” Tup threw his other arm around Fives, “Tell me about the night.”

He filled Tup in on a few of the details while they made the walk to roll-call. He skipped the feeling that she had given him when he made her laugh or the way he wished someone would bottle up her scent. Instead, he talked about the other stuff, like how great her tits were and how hot the sex had been. Tup dutifully listened to all of it with a small smile on his face. 

They made it to roll-call right on time. Jesse glared at Fives over a fresh cup of caf. Fives gave his fuming vod a wave just as Rex called them to attention. The Captain marched down the line, inspecting his soldiers. He paused in front of Fives.

“Nice to see you made it back,” Rex muttered, cocking an eyebrow at the ARC.

“No idea what you’re talkin’ about, Sir,” Fives smirked at his old friend.

Rex let out a familiar sigh of exasperation as he shook his head and continued back down the line.

It was Fives' least favorite kind of day. Drills, strategy meetings, and more drills. The drills drove him crazy. It was all pretend. There was no room to be creative or stakes to make the shineys take it seriously. It seemed like they were getting sloppier and sloppier, and nothing he said would get through to them until the blaster fire was real. The strategy meetings weren’t bad, but it was all a lot of talk and pretend. He knew it was important. Fives got that. But there was never a day that he didn’t want to be out there, in the fight, instead of planetside doing drills.

“We’re gonna have to reconsider how we’re using our resources holding Felucia,” Tup was still thinking about their last meeting as the day wound down and they made their way to the mess. Fives was only half-listening, having had his fill of strategy talk for the day, but Tup kept going, his enthusiasm obvious though his modulator. “Focusing on hyperspace lanes instead of the planet itself could help us protect the whole system. We keep fighting these high-cost, low reward battles on the planet’s surface.”

“S’not a bad idea.” Fives heard enough that he looked his vod up and down.

“It’s a great idea.” Tup looked back at him and Fives knew, even through the helmet, exactly the teasing look his vod was giving him. “Don’t you run to Rex and steal it.”

Fives snorted and wrapped an arm around Tup’s shoulders.

“I would never dream-” Fives started to protest before a voice rose up behind them.

“… these two, you definitely need to know. They spend more time in the med bay than the rest of the battalion combined.”

Fives barked out a laugh. Tup joined him as he tilted his helmet at Fives. He rolled his eyes at Tup and knew, in the same way that Tup knew what expression he was making; Tup was rolling his eyes too. They paused their walk and turned towards Kix's voice.

He was glad he had his helmet on. Standing there, walking with his vode, was the woman from this morning. Her form was now hidden behind a civilian medic jumpsuit, and her long red curls were pulled back away from her face, tied back into a low bun, but he knew her in moments. 

He knew the light in her eyes as she laughed at Kix’s words. He recognized the smile that danced on those soft lips. He knew the smattering of freckles he could map out on her nose and her cheeks. He knew the way her skin would feel if he were to dig his fingers into those hips, barely hidden by the bulky jumpsuit. Maker, he knew the way she smelled still and could taste it in the air. Or maybe that was just him and the way she lingered on his skin.

Pull it together, Fives. He warned himself. His heart wouldn’t slow, though. He couldn’t believe his luck as he took in the blue markings on her jumpsuit. She was here, and she was theirs. 

“This is Mal, our new civilian medic transfer from the 104th.” 

Fives barely heard Kix as he stripped the bucket from his head. He waited for Mal to squeal, to laugh, for the joy to spark in her eyes like it had last night.

“This is Tup.” His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as Kix droned on, “And this is Fives, our resident ARC.”

“And resident pain in the ass,” Jesse added loudly.

Fives ignored Jesse as he pressed his lips together in a knowing smile. She knows, you di’kut, he wanted to shout, but Mal spoke first. 

“Nice to meet you.”

[werechicken]

Siffren Trauma Stuff (Warning Spoilers)

-Siffren sometimes wakes up screaming in the night that he’s still in the loops and any happy memories and things he’s doing now are reset. Isabeau finds the best way to help Siffren sleep better is to squeeze his hand while sleeping.

-when living with Isabeau Sriffen had a bad spell of it and begged Isabeau to hide all the sharp objects. Isabeau felt worried when Sriffen had accidentally broke a drinking glass and stared at the shards for a full ten minutes before cleaning them up without incident.

-due to all the Timeceafting Siffrens body smells faintly of sugar, which gets more intense when he sweats or gets anxious. It’s theorized his body is permeated with the Time craft stuff and will always be part of his bodies makeup

-as a result the smell of his own body can sometimes bring back a panic attack, making him think that something will reset time and undo everything.

-Isabeau gradually has to get Siffren used to the idea the smell means nothing and it’s a boon to smell so sweet

-for a long while after tho, Siffren got horrible rashes due to having bad panic attacks over smelling like sugar and attempting to scrub his skin raw to get the smell away.

-Siffren gets better and much to his and others delight, he acts as a mobile air-fresher that can make a room smell sweet like a bakery, especially prevalent in winter evenings with a roaring fireplace going.

-Siffren is a cuddle slut and people can tell when he and Isabeau cuddled or spent any amount of time together because Isabeau would smell heavily of cane sugar.

-a new thing Siffren finds to ground himself is to carry a pocket watch and watch the hands move.

-Isabeau has made Siffren a new eyepatch with a starry eye stitched pattern on it. Ever since this happens Siffren has made at least a weeks worth of groan worthy eye related puns. Bonnie is absolutely delighted.

-Siffren still bumps into stuff out of his field of vision and one time bumped into a store counter so hard he just slumped to the floor and sat there for an hour, remembering the dreaded counter from the time-stricken House of Change. The store felt so bad they gave Siffren a permanent 50% discount. He pays double out of politeness, unless they are selling Malanga Fritters.

-someday, Siffren teaches Bonnie the importance of peppers in Malanga Fritters. They’re the best thing they ever tasted.

In the end, Bonnie moves back home and becomes a Rock craft instructor. They send Siffren and Isabeau a large box of Malanga Fritters to this day.

-Mirabelle becomes a teacher of the House of Change and one day becomes Headmistress. She has a very strict policy on the forbidding of Wishcraft and Timeceaft, except in the grounds of how to identify its use and counter it should it be misused. She one day encounters the God of Change and let’s then know she is very cross with how they treated Siffren. She doesn’t remember the details of the aftermath of that, but she dimly recalls a contest, the terms of which if she wins the Change God has to apologize to Siffren for enjoying watching his Suffering during the loops. She wakes up with an apology letter that is addressed to Siffren which consists of the words “ims sowwy” and a box of Malanga Fritters that never seems to empty for a year.

-Isabeau designs clothes and with Siffren as a model manages to perfect the advanced craftwork that made Siffrens cloaks so comfortable in all temperatures, and even alter itself to grow and change with the wearer. The clothes become a hit across the nation of Vauguaarde and other continents. While Siffrens home nation may be gone for good, some measure of its crafting marvels live on in the clothes Isabeau makes that were reverse engineered from Siffrens own.

-Odile eventually returns home and founds a school to study Time Craft, particularly to study what exactly happened to Siffrens homeland. While it left more questions than answers, the entire populace is now aware of the survivors struggling without memory of growing up, without a past. In Conjunction with Mirabelle, Odile also founds a series of charity orgs that focus on finding the displaced survivors of the disappeared Nation to the North, offering counseling and a means of reconnecting to others. Siffren encounters the Croissant Vendor once again, and through hard work starts to enjoy Croissants once again.

Loop sometimes pops up. They still feel tremendously guilty of attempting to kill Siffren. They managed to work with Odile sometimes, and eventually reconnect with people. They work full time with the Vanished Kingdom Outreach, and find a fulfillment they had missed for so long. Loop tries to give Siffren his coin back, but he has Loop keep it. Loop immediately uses it to buy a croissant from the new vendor in town, who finds him familiar…

-While each of them drift over time, once a year the King Butt Kicker Gang reunite in a cabin and catch up over the years events. They also each attempt to hold Siffrens hands, but by now the Trauma of the Loops and the past are nearly a distant memory.

-The King is still frozen in time, and a resting place is built around them as memorial and reminder that we should all tend to the hurt and the lonely amongst us. While they can’t perceive anything but the name of their country, somehow he is aware that Sriffens clothes have become something everyone wears and holds dear. His heart leaps with joy during these locked moments, as he realizes all along these fragmented artifacts are more than enough to have the world remember the Nation that Was, in some way or another. He will never become unfrozen, but this is his personal choice. He would rather be frozen with the name of his Country fresh in his memory, than die without it.

———-

Stiffen grows old with Isabeau and his friends, and they even make new ones that are in awe of their tale of heroism, tragedy, and comraderie.

And while Sriffen still can’t stand the taste of bananas, they all lived happily ever after.

[twostepstyless]

“What in the name of god, are you wearing?” Y/N stops dead as she enters the gym seeing Harry jump a foot in the air and drop his phone against the floor in the process as Y/N caught him taking a quick little mirror selfie.

“Jesus fucking Christ! You scared me,” Harry gasped, bending down to pick up his phone and slide it into the pocket of his shorts.

“Feeling yourself, were you?” She smirked, keeping her eyes on him through the reflection of the mirror as she sat their water bottles down that she had just been to refill for some post workout hydration. While she was gone, Harry had stripped out of the vest that had clung to his sweaty, clammy skin, towelled himself down and changed his t-shirt to feel a little fresher until they got home to shower.

“Maybe just a little bit,” he smiled sheepishly, eyes glancing up to catch her amused gaze in the mirror.

“Turn round and let me see what you’re wearing, I haven’t seen this one before I don’t think,” Y/N couldn’t make out the whole design, she assumed it was a new vintage t-shirt, the design was a little cracked but the colours still vibrant. Harry spun on his foot and pinched the hem of the shirt pulling it taught to show off the print with a shit-eating grin gracing his features. “Oh my god,” Y/N slapped a hand over her face as a fit of giggles came from her, “that’s the best thing I’ve ever seen, where did you get that? Or is there a secret stash I’ve yet to find out about?” She asked as gazed at the nearly 11 year old t-shirt that graced her boyfriends body, the cracked print of his much younger self in varying shades of blue right at the top.

“My mate found it in a charity shop and sent me a photo, and I couldn’t not have it,” Harry shrugged as he smoothed the top down against his still warm skin.

“Hope you got a good photo of you in it then because I will definitely be steali– oop sorry, I meant borrowing that top now,” Y/N laughed as she approached him, her finger trailing over the picture of him.

“Why am I not even surprised?” Harry rolled his eyes playfully.

“Oh my god, you were so bloody cute,” Y/N giggles finally tearing her eyes away from the picture of 17 year old Harry and into the eyes of 29 year old Harry.

“What do you mean were cute?!” Harry gasped in faux offence as he picked up their water bottles and pulled her towards the exit of the gym.

[asksavel]

Happy New Year!

December 31st has come and gone for me at this time, and it's the new year. I'm doing my thanks on this bright new year because some may know or remember that that date is not one I like.

I want to say thank you to so so very many of you that have touched my heart over what was argueably one of the worst years of my life offline. Too much happened, simply too much, and it's not a story for here, nor this day.

I want to walk into the new year with a much fresher mind, a much happier mindset, and get back into finishing this story, along with starting a new one that I truly have two very special people to thank, but also all of you! Because if it wasn't for your love towards Kyogre, Groudon and Kyurem, @askthehoenngods would not exist to continue the mantle once this blog is done.

(The simps were a hilarious surprise that truly made me laugh so very hard. Keep doing your thing over there. ;) )

And so, I thank:

@symphonies-of-silver - for designing an incredible Kyogre for me, and went on to design my universe's Groudon. It's been a true pleasure to chat to you and get to know you this year. Thank you <3

@lustrous-dawn - For sharing your wonderful world with me, to talking to me, to putting up with me this year. I truly look forward to not only reading your works, but for what we both have in store. I sincerely hope this year is kind to you. Should you ever write a book, know I'll be your first customer. ;) Thank you <3

@askdeoxys - We don't talk much, and we don't need to. It's nice to know one of the old crowd is among us once more, sharing your light with this community. I wish we could've talked more last year about fun stuff rather than everything else, and I feel I let you down. I'm sorry that I did, and I hope this year, I am more like the person you remember and hold close. Thank you <3

@curce - Thank you for everything. Your kindness, your asks, and for accepting me even at my worst this year. Thank you.

@vall007 - Your pure, unrelenting positive energy is a joy to be around. You are wonderful and I am blessed to know someone so truly kind. Thank you.

@lightofunova - I was thrilled to have you as my secret santa this year! We don't talk much, but that's because I don't feel we need to to know that you're appreciated very much. Needless to say, you left an impression on this old fool ;) Thank you.

@asktheisle - You knew my secret with Laivan and kept it ;) But not only that, it's been awesome to get to know you more last year. I hope this year, we can continue that trend. Thank you <3

@askthetraveller - For always having my back, for always being there, know that I treasure you. You are my best friend. Thank you always Bagel.

To everyone in both the PokePalooza server and the Pokeask Lounge servers, I say thank you all for putting up with me and my silliness. PokePalooza especially for showing me deep kindness in one of the darkest moments of my life, the advice you gave me and the sympathy. You have all shown me love, to which I can only ever be thankful for.

2023 was a dark year, but it helped to know so many people had my back. So many people out there have been here, following and supporting, all nearly 1,500 of you (yep that milestone is very close ahaha)

Here's to a much brighter future. <3

Love, Skins

[writingstuffs12345]

Sally Face Gang finds out you struggle(d) with SH

TW: Mentions of self-harm

Sal:

Actually really understanding about your struggles

Helps you when you're having urges

"I kissed the scars on their skin" /ref

Larry:

Paints over your HEALED scars if you let him

He'll run his fingers over your scars (more so when he's high)

Just like Sal: "I kissed the scars on their skin" /ref

Does his best to help you keep fresher scars clean

When he paints you and if you're okay with it, he'll add your SH scars

Ashley:

Offered to find a tattoo artist who would be comfortable tattooing over your healed scars

Draws designs on your HEALED scars

If you're comfortable, she'll kiss your scars

Got you into art as a way to cope with self-harm

Todd:

Became your therapist /hj

Kinda struggles to help you with it because he doesn't understand why someone would do that

Went to Sal for advice on how to help you

Keeps a first aid kit on him if you relapse

[ereardon]

As It Was [Chapter 4][Hangman x Reader]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: When Jake Seresin calls to tell you he’s accepted a permanent position at Top Gun, you’re elated to finally be living in the same city as your best friend. But everything changes when Jake tells you his news — he has a new girlfriend, and he’s serious about her. And while you want to like her, for Jake’s sake, something about her feels wrong. Jake's arrival in San Diego also puts you in the direct path of Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, who has set his sights on you despite being Jake’s sworn enemy. Every move Rooster makes, Jake intercepts. What game are these two playing, and why is Jake more concerned about you moving on with Rooster than he is about his own relationship? 

WC: 5K

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, no use of y/n, violence, smut, Greek life, mention of vomit

Series masterlist here

The night you met Jake Seresin, you were dressed in a fuzzy cow costume. 

It was hell week for the sorority, and that night’s test was to crash a fraternity formal in animal costumes, steal a date, and meet back at the old bell tower on campus. You had drawn sticks from a cup that designated the costume, which ranged from sexy cheetah to oversized elephant. You had pulled the cow costume which included a hood, as well as bright pink rubber udders on the front. 

“I’m going to throw up,” you said, turning to the girl next to you. She had on a monkey costume — headband with ears, large furry suspender pants, ugly brown t-shirt. 

She looked you up and down. “Not in the costume, they’ll never get that out even at the dry cleaners.” 

Paulina, the chapter’s president, stood in front of the group, tiny pink dress pulled taut across her washboard abs. “Alright girls, time to pair off and find your partner. Remember, nobody gets on the arc without stealing a date. Freshers count, but bonus points for upperclassmen. You have twenty minutes.” She sunk a fresh manicured finger onto an old school stopwatch, the kind your gym coach from elementary school would have, and the rest of the girls bolted ahead toward the stately door of the SigEp house. Their ferocity and intensity scared you, and you jogged through the open door after them. 

Everywhere you looked, there were girls in animal costumes chatting up available men. You wandered through the rooms of the house, but every guy you spotted was snapped up instantly. The minutes ticked by in seconds, and you felt a sweat breaking out on your neck under the hood. 

Meandering to the back of the house, you opened a door to the back porch, stepped out under the glow of the single security light, and unzipped the top half of the costume, exposing the sports bra you had on underneath to the cool night air. 

“I think that’s cheating.” You whipped around, coming face to face with a blond in a blue blazer and slacks, an untapped keg at his feet. 

“What?”

“You’re supposed to convince someone to go with you while you’re still wearing the costume. It’s cheating if you show how hot you are underneath it.” 

You smirked. “If by hot you mean sweaty, then you’re right.” 

He shook his head. “Nope, just hot. Plain and simple.” 

You eyed the keg at his feet. “So you’re the fraternity waterboy?” 

“Ouch, sweetheart, that hurts,” he said, putting one tanned hand to his chest. “I’m a pledge. Gotta do my share of the work. Tonight, that means keg duty.” 

In the distance there were screeches and you saw couples flocking out of the house, running toward the bell tower. Your watch said you had eight minutes to spare. “OK waterboy. What will it take to get you to run away with me tonight? I can offer you instant ramen, a nearly empty coffee cart gift card, or one hour of chemistry tutoring. Yours for the choosing.” 

He flashed you a pearly white smile while leaning against the railing. “Darlin’, you don’t have to offer me a damn thing. I’d run away with you anyday.” 

You rolled your eyes and zipped the costume back up, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “Hurry up or we’re going to get cut,” you said. “Last ones have to clean the house tomorrow.” 

“Well we can’t have that can we?” he asked, threading his fingers into yours and pulling you down the back stairs. “I’m Jake, by the way.” 

“Abby,” you replied, smiling. 

“OK, Abby, can you run in that costume?” 

You shrugged. “Time to find out.” 

Jake tugged you along toward the bell tower. When you tripped over a curb, he leaned down and grabbed you. “You don’t know anything about me,” he said, “but I’m more than a little competitive. So don’t wimp out on me now.” 

You laughed and let him drag you to the finish line, with two minutes to spare. Four other couples came in after you, and three more after the buzzer ran out. Jake high fived you once Paulina’s alarm went off, signaling the challenge time was up, and let out a whoop. You laughed and saw him eyeing you. 

“What?” you asked as the rest of the couples started to split off. You unzipped the costume again, this time stopping right above your chest. “Is it the costume? It’s stupid, I know.” 

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I’m just thinking how lucky I am that you picked me, of all people.” 

“Being a waterboy has its perks.” 

Jake laughed and stepped closer, brushing a chunk of hair behind your ear. It felt different than the buzz that had radiated up your arm when he had touched your hand earlier. This felt intentional. “I’ll see you around, Abby.” 

And then he dropped his hand and walked away, throwing one last glance over his shoulder. You caught his green eyes and smiled, and he grinned back before disappearing into the early morning mist. 

***

“I literally do not know where he gets off being so high and mighty.” You sighed and tossed one arm over your eyes. Phoenix tutted her tongue, setting down a bottle of wine and plate of cheese on the coffee table and sitting down next to you on the couch. 

“Have you met Seresin?” she asked. “That’s literally his personality.”

“That might be Hangman,” you said. “But it’s not Jake. He’s never been that way with me before. This is a whole new side of him, and I don’t like it.” 

“I think you’ve seen a side of him that none of us have seen before,” she replied thoughtfully. “To us, he’s a jackass. To you, he’s your best friend. There has to be some redeeming quality deep down that we just haven’t seen but that you know about.” 

You nodded. “When he’s good, he’s perfect. Jake is the person who has been there for me for everything. Every break up. Every bad test score. When I wanted to leave big pharma and go into academia he was the only one cheering me on.” You looked up at Phoenix and shook your head. “I thought having him back here would be great. But all it’s done is drive us further apart.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“What about Rooster?” she asked. “What are you doing with him?”

You shrugged. “Bradley? He’s great. We’re having a really nice time.” 

Phoenix leaned over and pinched a piece of cheese between her thumb and index finger. “Brad is one of my best friends. I just don’t want to see him get hurt.”

You reached out and laid your hand on her knee. “I promise, that is not my intention. I like him a lot. I’m just not trying to rush anything.” 

“So you’re not just using him to make Jake jealous?”

“Oh my God, no! I genuinely like him, Phoenix.”

She smiled and popped the cheese into her mouth, swallowing before starting her next sentence. “He deserves someone good.” 

You leaned back into the couch cushion. “So what’s this beef between him and Jake? Or is nobody going to ever tell me.” 

Phoenix shook her head. “All I know is they had a mission together before the Uranium plant where I met Hangman. And by the time we got there, they were already on the outs. Brad’s never gone into full details.”

You sighed and bit into a grape. “I’ve known Jake to have people he doesn’t like before. But this? This is a new level. I’ve never seen him so agitated by someone before.” 

“I don’t think it’s just Rooster that’s got him hot under the collar.” 

“What do you mean?” 

She gave you a devilish grin. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Kidding about what?” 

“It’s pretty obvious there’s a part of him that’s in love with you.” 

You laughed and waved your hand in the air. “No. Absolutely not. I can see why you say that, but no.” 

“Come on,” she said, leaning forward and draining her wine glass with a quick tip back into her mouth. “The way he looks at you?” 

“You know, Bradley said the same thing on our first date. Something about seeing the way Jake looks at me.” 

“Because it’s so obvious. He doesn’t even try to hide it.” 

You shook your head. “There’s a fine line between friendship and love. We’ve just hovered on the end of the friendship spectrum for so long that maybe it looks like something it’s not to an outside viewer.” 

Phoenix ran one hand through her silky brown hair. “There’s something there, even if you don’t see it. I’ve known Hangman for a while now. And I’ve never seen him talk about anyone the way he talks about you.” 

“What about Diana?” you asked. 

She laughed. “What about her? Who is she even? I don’t buy that for one second. He shows up out of the blue with this wallflower. Jake Seresin, really?”

“They’re living together.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Shut up.” 

“I’m dead serious.” 

Phoenix was quiet for a moment. Then, “I still don’t buy it.” 

You laughed and reached for the half empty wine bottle. “What’s there to buy? He told me himself. I went over there. I saw how they were. They’re sweet with each other.” 

Phoenix looked up, her brown eyes smoothing over yours. “Mark my words. It won’t last.” 

***

You pulled your phone out of the top drawer of your desk after your last lab of the day and sighed. Five missed calls from Jake. Two voicemails. You clicked the first one. 

“Abs it’s me. I’m sorry. Honey, I am so sorry. I was drunk and I was an ass, and there’s just a lot of history there with Bradshaw that you don’t know about. I promise, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Please call me back? I’m sorry.” 

You sighed and pressed the second message. 

“I think this is the longest we’ve ever gone without talking. Even when I stood you up winter formal sophomore year, you still had dinner with me at Branford the next night. Remember? Anyway, Diana is out of town this weekend visiting family. Can I have you over for dinner? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. If you want to, you can bring him. I miss you, Bubs. More than you even realize. Love you. Call me back.” 

Leaning back in your desk chair, you sighed and slid the phone over to the edge of the desk. There was a stack of lab reports a hundred high on the desk, along with scantrons for the midterm exam. You had a journal research article due at the end of the month and had only started the abstract. 

Outside, the sidewalks were teeming with students. Thursday afternoon meant half of them were getting ready to binge drink the night away, while the other half toiled away in the library until the nerd bell kicked them out at two in the morning. You had always been the latter, and Jake had been the former. It’s what made you work as a pair. 

Your phone buzzed and you almost ignored it, but then thought better and flipped it over. Bradley’s name slid across the top and you instantly hit the green button. 

“Hello?”

“Hey there,” his deep voice rang out over the line. You smiled and propped your feet up on the desk, leaning back into the plush chair you had begged the department for. “What are you up to?” 

“Just sitting in my office, thinking about what I’m going to eat when I finally make my way through this stack of grading.” 

“Blow it off and let me take you out.” 

You groaned into the microphone. “Ugh, that sounds amazing. But if I don’t want to get stuck here all weekend I should get a head start on these.” 

“God, baby, don’t moan into the phone like that. Gets me all kinds of bothered.” 

You laughed. “Oh yeah?” 

“Mmhm,” he whispered huskily into the phone. “OK, how about I let you work tonight and tomorrow you let me take you out? How’s that for a compromise?” 

“Is it too early to ask for favors?”

“Ask away.” “Jake called. Well he called about five times. Apparently Diana is out of town this weekend and he wants to have us over for dinner. You and me.” 

You could hear the surprise threaded through Rooster’s voice. “Both of us?”

“I know, I’m surprised too.”

“But you want to go,” he said. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Abby,” Bradley pressed. “You want to go. You wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.” 

You were quiet on the other end. Pondering. He wasn’t wrong and you hated that. As poorly as Jake had acted, you missed him, too. He was not just part of your routine. He was an extension of yourself. “I know he’s an ass,” you said and Bradley huffed. “But he’s my best friend and I do love him. So maybe I owe him the space to give us an apology.” 

“If you really want to, I’ll go,” he said. “Seresin is not high on my list of favorite people, but you are.” 

You smiled. “God, you’re adorable.” 

“So you’ll be in your office all night tonight?”

“Unfortunately, I think so,” you said, eyeing the stack of papers again. “But I’m all yours tomorrow? I’ll see what day Jake wants to do dinner and will let you know.” 

“OK, baby. I’ll let you get back to work.” 

“Bye,” you whispered. “Bye, hon.” 

You clicked the phone off and sighed, and then pulled up Jake’s contact. 

Bradley is coming to dinner, too. Tomorrow or Saturday? 

He texted back instantly. Either. Your choice. I can’t wait to see you. 

Tomorrow, you replied. 

I’ll see you tomorrow, he wrote back. And then, I miss you, Abs. Not talking to you every day kills me. 

You sighed. I hate that I miss you, too, you wrote and then clicked off the phone and turned it over. 

Darkness blanketed the office and it was hours before you realized just how dark it really was, flicking on a small lamp on the desk before pouring over the last of the Tuesday afternoon session lab reports. 

It was so dark and spooky that you jumped when your office door inched open. 

“Fuck!” you screamed as Bradley’s mustache came into full view. 

“I’m sorry!” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “I wasn’t trying to scare you.” You stood up and crossed the room. “What are you doing here?” You wrapped your arms around his large form, and felt him squeeze you tightly. 

“I’m here to rescue you,” he said matter-of-factly. “Come on, you’ve done enough work for the night. Let’s go have some fun.” 

You smiled and nodded, crossing the room to grab your phone and purse. In the parking lot, you looked up. “My car is here.” 

Bradley pondered it for a moment. “OK. How about you follow me, then?” 

You nodded and he kissed you quickly before hopping in his truck. You pulled out behind him in your coupe, following him on back roads in the darkness. Finally, Bradley pulled into a cute bungalow near the beach and you pulled up next to him, getting out of the car. “So, this is where you live?” 

He stepped up to the front door, painted cherry red, and inserted a worn key. “It’s nothing special, but it’s home.” 

The house was charming, with warped wooden floors and a small kitchen. There were photos lining the walls and you noticed a man who looked incredibly similar to Rooster in many of them. Rooster walked straight into the living room and waved a hand. 

“Make yourself at home,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” 

You dropped your purse next to the couch and went to examine the photos on the walls. A blonde woman with short hair and the mustache guy were in most of them, as well as some of Bradley and his friends over the years. There was one of him and Phoenix in flight suits, and another with the full dagger squad. Even Jake was in the corner of that, surprisingly. 

“I thought you might be hungry.” You whipped around to see Bradley carrying a tray with sandwiches on it, a bag of chips, a big bowl of strawberries, and two beers and water. “Wasn’t sure what you’d want, but this is the best I’ve got.” 

“You’re adorable,” you said, crossing the room and brushing his arm before collapsing on the couch as he set the tray down on the low coffee table. “You have no idea how exhausted I am. Why did I think it was a good idea to be a professor?” 

He smiled and handed you a beer. “I don’t know, but I gotta say it’s insanely sexy.” 

You laughed. “Being a professor is sexy?” 

“Oh yeah. It’s the leveled up version of the schoolteacher fantasy. Are you going to flunk me, Professor Minces?” 

You took a sip of the beer and put it back on the tray before hitching forward, crawling slowly over Bradley until you were eye to eye, his head pressed back against the armrest of the couch. “That depends, Lieutenant Bradshaw. Have you been skipping class?”

He shook his head and grinned. “And miss seeing that ass while you stand in front of the class? No way in hell.” 

You tutted his cheek mockingly, and he grabbed your wrist tightly. “That’s no way to speak to your professor, now is it?” you whispered. 

He moved his grip from your wrist up to your chin. “Kiss me and I’ll make it all worth it, I promise.” 

You leaned forward and pressed your lips tightly to his, Bradley’s arms quickly wrapped around you and he sat up, pulling you onto his lap before standing and carrying you across the living room. He didn’t break the kiss once, not even as he jiggled open the door to the bedroom. It wasn’t until he deposited you on the bed, kicking off his boots, that he let go for a second. 

To your surprise, he reached down and slipped off your heels, placing them gently on the ground next to his discarded boots, before running his hands up your legs, over the material of your work slacks, until he was hovering above you. 

“God, you’re sexy.” 

You reached up and threaded your fingers in his hair. It had been two weeks since you met Bradley but he felt familiar in a way you hadn’t experienced in a long time. There was something magnetic about him. Perhaps it was how easy he let you in. Or how absolutely fucking gorgeous he looked when he was staring into your eyes, his giant hands trailing along your side. 

“Tell me what you want, princess.” 

“Just you,” you said, wrapping your legs around him and pulling his face back to yours. You felt him groan on top of you, dropping down to his forearms, tongue pushing between your lips. 

In a moment, Bradley was everywhere. 

His hands inside your blouse, ripping open the buttons and you heard one fall to the floor but you didn’t care. Not when his hot mouth was on your nipple, a hand yanking down the bra cup to expose you to him. You moaned into his shoulder as he rolled his hips against yours, and even clothed you could feel him, hard and stretched against the tight denim he was wearing. 

Bradley’s hands on your bare thighs as he rolled your pants down achingly slow, taunting you. 

The heat of his skin as he pressed his naked body against yours, your legs wrapped around his torso, his mouth pressed to your neck, your fingers clawing on the back of his muscular back. 

His mouth between your legs, making you cry out his name. 

The way he grinned as he pulled his fingers out of you, licked them feverishly, before leaning over and kissing you tenderly. 

Bradley’s unabashed moan as you nodded and he sunk his cock into you, slowly, filling you to the brim. The way he rocked against you slowly until you were comfortable, and then reached his fingers up around your neck and drove into you repeatedly while you gasped his name. 

“What do you want, kitten?” he gritted, fucking into you, one hand easing up on your throat, the other gripped tightly around one thigh, pressing your leg back so he could push further inside of you. 

“Want you to come inside of me,” you whispered hoarsely. 

Bradley loosened his fingers on your throat by an inch. “Say it again, like you mean it.” 

“Come inside of me, Lieutenant,” you moaned as his other hand moved from your thigh to your clit expertly and you started to crash around him. “Fuck, fuck, please, Bradley. God, yes!”

That tipped him over the edge, and he was sputtering, cursing, moaning as he collapsed on top of you, your hands stroking his back softly. After a minute, he peeled himself away, propping up on one arm. “Holy shit,” he murmured and you laughed, pressing your face into the pillow with a blush. “You OK, sweetheart?” His thumb reached out, grazed your cheek. He could go from sweet to fucking you into the mattress in a second, and then back to sweet in an instant. It would have given you whiplash if it didn’t excite you so much. 

You nodded. “Perfect.” 

He laid back and turned his head to look at you. “Yes, you are.” 

You chuckled and stood up. “Can I use your shower?”

“Only if you let me join you.” 

You took off toward the bathroom you had spotted next door and Bradley chased after you, your laughs echoing through the small hallway of the house. 

In the morning, you woke up to the sun shining brightly through the light curtains of the bedroom. Bradley lay next to you, naked under the pale gray sheet, snoring lightly, his hair curled around the edges. 

He felt different than the men you had been with in the past. As you shrugged on a shirt of his from the closet, a large button down that hung to your knees — he had ripped your shirt from the day before to shreds in his eagerness to take it off of you — you realized why he felt that way. 

Despite their differences, Jake and Bradley had one thing in common. 

They made you feel safe. 

***

Bradley looked at you across the truck consol. “Are you ready?”

You glanced over at him. He had on a blue button down shirt, a pair of jeans and boots. He looked calm, cool, and collected. 

Meanwhile, you felt a pit growing in your stomach. In fourteen years, you had never once iced out Jake the way you had over the last week. It was the longest you had gone without speaking, like he said in his voicemail. But it was also the longest you had ever let yourself be mad at him. 

You took a deep breath. Bradley opened his door, got out and walked around to your side and helped you down from the truck. He gave you a once over, taking in your long sleeve dress with the cinched waist. “You look great,” he whispered, taking your hand. 

“Don’t kill each other, OK?” you begged as you two approached the door. 

He chuckled. 

“I mean it!” you said, swatting his arm. “Or I swear to God.” 

Bradley laughed. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll match him. If he’s behaved, I will be, too.” 

You grimaced. “God I hope there’s wine.” 

Bradley reached out and knocked on the door, two sharp knocks. The door swung open immediately, revealing Jake standing in a pair of socks, jeans and a crew neck sweater. You hated how good he looked when he was such an ass. 

Normally, you would throw yourself into his arms. It felt unnatural to stand there for even a moment, weighing your decision. 

“Hey Bubs,” he said softly and his voice started to wear away at your icy exterior. He leaned forward for a hug and you leaned in only the top half of your body, catching his cheek and giving him a side kiss. Jake’s fingertips danced lightly over your waist, until you pulled away. He gave you a sad smile. 

“Hey Jake,” you replied, stepping instead and reaching for Bradley’s hand, pulling him in next to you. 

“Hangman,” he said, nodding. 

“Bradshaw.” 

“Thanks for inviting us over.” Bradley was already compensating for your inability to act normal. He looked around at the house. “Nice digs.” 

Jake shrugged and shut the door. “Mostly Diana’s doing. I’ve never been one for interior design.” 

Since you had first come to the house, all of the boxes had been cleared away. Black and white photographs lined the entry wall. You spotted a couch across from two chairs in the living room that you know Jake never would have chosen himself. He was more of a giant sectional type of guy. Something big and plush to watch the game on, fall asleep on, fuck on. He liked things to be multi-purpose. The house barely looked like his. 

“Come in,” he said, leading the way into the living room. “Do you want a drink?” “God, yes,” you breathed and he laughed. 

“What'll it be, darlin’?” 

“White wine is good.” 

He nodded. “Bradshaw, what can I get you?” 

“Bourbon, if you have it.” 

“Done. Make yourselves comfortable, I’ll be right back.” 

You gave Bradley a look before settling on the couch. “This is weird,” you whispered to him. He took a seat next to you. 

“I know, baby.”

“He’s trying, though,” you said. “He hasn’t thrown a punch your way yet.” 

Bradley chuckled. “Permission to punch him back if he does?”

You ran a finger down his face and smiled. “Permission granted, Lieutenant.” 

Jake appeared with the drinks and you downed the wine. “So, how have you been?”

You looked at Bradley. “Fine, busy.” 

Bradley nodded and threaded his fingers through yours. “A little sleep deprived.” 

Jake’s jaw tightened as he took in Bradley’s innuendo and your tight grip on each other, but he simply tossed back his drink — straight bourbon. Bradley did the same and you sighed. It was going to be a long night. 

Later, at dinner, you had two more glasses and started to feel fuzzy. Jake had ordered in food, not willing to take the risk on his cooking skills which were limited to fried eggs and bacon. You watched them carefully. How they spoke to each other. How they stood around each other. There was a familiarity, and a coldness. 

You watched Bradley as he told stories, made conversation. Once, you looked up to see Jake watching you, instead. You caught his eye and instead of turning away or looking down, he simply smiled. The way he was looking at you gave you a pang in your stomach. You turned away instantly, back to Bradley. 

He stretched his hands over his head. “Well, Seresin, thanks for dinner. But we should probably be going. I have a long run planned for tomorrow and Abby here is apparently behind on some grading.” 

“Oh, really?” Jake asked and you nodded. 

“Unfortunately. Midterms. I really should get a TA but sometimes they’re more hassle than they’re worth.” 

You stood up alongside Bradley, and Jake rushed to his feet. “Abs, could you stay? So we can talk?” 

You hesitated, literally standing between Bradley and Jake. Each one giving you a look. Bradley’s was surprise mixed with disdain. Jake’s was hopeful, saturated with pain. “Sure.” 

Bradley tightened next to you. “Can we talk outside for a second first?” he asked gruffly. You nodded and let him pull you down the hallway and out the front door, slamming it a little too hard behind him. Outside, you looked up at him. He was pacing around the porch. “Is this what it’s going to be like?” he asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“He comes first, is that it?” he demanded. “I’ll always be the B-squad to Seresin in your mind. He asks you to stay, I ask you to go, and you stay.” 

“Bradley,” you said, stepping forward and catching his arms in yours, calming him. Grounding him. “No, that is not it.”

“Then leave with me,” he said. “Let me take you home and make you mine.” He leaned down, breath hot against your ear. “Now that I know what it’s like to be inside of you, I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

A jolt zipped through your body and you looked up at Bradley. He was looking at you so intensely you thought you might melt into a puddle of wax right there on the porch. 

“I won’t be long,” you said and watched as his face fell. “Jake and I, we just have some laundry to air out. I promise, I’ll be back in your bed in no time.” 

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Just forget about it, OK?” 

He brushed past you and jogged down the steps. “Bradley!” you shouted. “Baby, please. Don’t take this the wrong way.” 

Bradley looked up and shook his head. “Without even realizing it, you’re choosing him. You two are the same, you know. It’s going to get you in trouble one day.” 

He climbed into the truck and peeled off, and you were left standing on the porch, watching him drive away. 

“Abby.” You whipped around to see Jake standing at the door. 

You walked over and he reached out to cup your cheek with his palm. Looking up at him, you said, “Is he right? Do we choose each other over other people? Are we doomed?” You laughed to hide the pain, but Jake was still. He had shifted so one hand was pressed above your head against the door frame as you leaned back against the white wood. 

“Diana said the same thing to me the other night,” he replied softly. “And the truth is, Bubs. If it came down to it, yes. I’d choose you.” 

Tag list: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @blue-aconite @abaker74 @vir-tual @justanothermagicalsara @hiddleless @lexhalstead3 @stevieharringtongf @katiebby04 @clairedelarosa-blog @chiffondaydreams @evans-dejong @thechillingadventuresoftayla @hopefulinlove @teenwolf01 @emptyloverofmine @zablife @lgg5989 @tallrock35 @shanimallina87 @kkrenae @maggiedanikka 

[designfresher97]

HOW TO BUILD A CAREER IN INDUSTRIAL DESIGN?

A place for design and architecture talent to plan their careers, advance, connect, and find employment is called  Design Fresher . We are a one-stop resource for knowledge sharing, information searching, learning new skills, and connecting with businesses to advance your  career in design .

[chaoticgeminate]

If My Heart Was a House

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.5k

Content/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Allies to Lovers, A/B/O dynamics (rut and heat cycles, nesting, knotting, pheromones), jerking off in the shower, brothels, beating up Imperials, Unprotected PiV, Oral (f!Receiving), spit as lube

Notes: Omega!Din and Alpha!Reader, they traveled together pre-Grogu, dynamics are a little different here since I sort of used bird behaviors for Alphas (showy and prefer bright colored clothes). Set between season one and two, asks are open for them if you're ever curious about more. Yes the title is the Owl City song.

“Roast nuna, one credit for five!”

“New durasilk shawls and scarves, treat yourself to core world fashion finery!”

“Please come, look at the fine jewelry made from only the rarest stones.”

Vendors shouting over one another for the attention of the crowd, the sharp roasting scents of meats and vegetables mingling with the tables of spices and heavily perfumed incense made for a chaotic dance through the crowd. Mando and the pollywog were on a hunt for a bail jumper, the armored warrior had tasked you to restock on rations and essentials, leaving you to all of this. Not that you minded much. The explosion of sensation from the sounds, the scents, the feeling of the sun on your skin was a welcome reprieve from the quiet of hyperspace.

Already the ration packs were being delivered to the hauler you’d rented, leaving you to find the cosmetic requirements like soap and towels, opting for low expense and bulk purchases over something indulgent. The number of times towels had been ruined by Mando bleeding all over them, washed as best as they could and then being turned into cleaning rags, it was easier to just buy the cheaper ones.

“A practical traveler.” You looked up at the shopkeeper as she folded some sort of flowy material, it was pearlescent in the light of the sun and stacked on the wall behind her with the rest, and she motioned to the packs of vacuum sealed towels you were holding under one arm.

“Unfortunately, these get turned into cleaning rags far too quickly to risk splurging on something better.” The Omega laughed softly, the musical quality of her voice combined with the warm scent of her pheromones made the hair on your arms and down your back stand up, your mind buzzing pleasantly. As you handed over two packs of towels, a bulk pack of soap sheets, and a hair moisturizer pack it was hard not to look at the bottles of oil for shaving and facial hair care.

Not only were they right there but the sleek bottles were an eye-catching shade of teal.

You knew Mando had facial hair, he’d told you that much when you asked why he had a straight razor, but you also knew that he didn’t use any lather to shave -there was none to be found in the fresher- and that he’d complained about it getting caught in the helmet lining if he went too long without shaving. You snagged a bottle each since the instructions said not to use more than a drop or two, and the Omega’s brows rose before she hummed.

“Part of a traveling flock then?”

“No, uh, ‘m not part of any of that. I don’t like those sorts. This is for a bounty hunter I know.”

In recent years -a few decades now- there’d been groups of Alphas that began flying around the galaxy together, being dubbed flocks with how often they flew, going around trying to bully Omega into a mating bond and even causing trouble in local cantinas doing so. It wasn’t like that sort of thing was unusual for an Alpha to do, your designation had a tendency to be showy bastards and bossy as hell, but you hated being lumped in with all of it.

The flocks weren’t even gender specific, plenty of Alpha women and non-binary Alphas were in these groups being just as brazen and pushy as the males, and while it was true that there were Omega out there who liked partners like that… none of that was you.

“You might want to consider something colorful then, walking around with your head low has eyes on you, people think you’re an Omega.” The advice made you look up and look around the market slowly, making sure it looked like you were just perusing the stalls, and you realized that she was right. Several others were watching you from afar, all of them donning some vibrant article of clothing like a tunic or a jacket.

It was instinctual, the desire to be noticed, something you struggled with because in your line of work -bounty hunting and protecting the baby- that was the exact opposite of helpful. You’d managed a compromise in the beginning with a woven string bracelet that had vivid teal strands mixed in the soft tan linen, made by Winta on Sorgan, but it’d been destroyed a few planets back.

All you could really do was sigh, motioning to the sheets of durasilk she had on the shelf behind her, and the Omega studied you before choosing the one that was a vibrant red shade after holding a few different colors up and comparing them. The material was smooth and soft, light but also durable, with the very faint embroidering of lines that made you think of sand dunes.

After folding the long length of material into a triangle you simply wrapped the ends around your neck and tucked them under the front so that it was draped almost like a loose bandana. A tight knot would give an opponent something to grab on to, to restrain you with, so you kept the ends loose.

Once the rest of your purchases were sent off to your hauler, the small floating cargo speeder being watched over by the owner, you decided that you were done and followed it back to the Crest. You took a pitstop top grab some fresh food, before you had to live off rations again, and made sure to grab more than enough for all three of you,

 The eyes that had been on you disappeared, adjusting your body language to present as more confident and aggressive than usual to be safe; Mando was sitting inside the ship when you got there, the ramp was open and he was cleaning one of his many blasters. The sand had gotten into it, you could see the coarse grains being swept away by the light breeze from speeders and haulers moving throughout the shipyard.

“Finished already? I wouldn’t have lingered in the market so long if I’d known, sorry.”

After paying the second half of the holding fee for the hauler you began unloading the boxes, seeing the door to the cot was closed -and likely where the baby was being hidden- you made quick work of dismissing the droid and the Beta in charge of the service. One quick inventory list slapped onto the crates, setting the soap sheets and hair oils into the fresher cabinet, you then went to get the baby so you could give him the roasted nuna you’d bought for him.

His eyes were wide open when you opened the door, your body blocking his form from view, and the excited grab for the roasted meat when you pulled it out of the insulted bag made you smile fondly. For such a curious, trouble-making, little pollywog he was damn adorable and his ears twitched as he tried to shove a whole one into his mouth.

“Small bites, don’t shovel it all in, come on now.”

Sure he’d eaten whole birds and whole mudjumpers before, with no consequences, but teaching him manners was something you were trying to work on. Soup was something he had down, he could sip bowls of soup easily, but whole meals? Rations? It was a work in progress. The ramp began closing and Mando’s steps across the hull were your warning that he planned to take off, your free hand going to the bag on your shoulder.

“I got you something too, Mando, I’ll feed the baby down here so you can eat up in the cockpit. I think one fresh meal after weeks of soup and rations will be good for you.”

You held out the takeaway container in his general direction, if you even looked away from the pollywog he’d scarf the rest of his food down, and you felt the weight of it leave your hand before there was a light touch at the red fabric around your neck. Now you did turn your head, seeing Mando’s helmet tilted as he took you in, and you realized he was probably confused by the sudden vibrancy in your wardrobe.

“There were Alphas watching me at the market, they thought I was an Omega, so I figured this would keep them off my back. Should have expected it, since it’s happened a few times now.” You shrugged off your discomfort at being so bad of an Alpha that you could be confused for an Omega in a crowd, the idea that all Alphas were showy and aggressive wasn’t wrong but it wasn’t difficult to suppress the more aggressive aspects of your designation, which made you think it had to be just you.

Mando’s reply was interrupted when the baby took an accidental bite out of your hand, the sharp sting making you yelp as the pollywog took advantage of your relaxed grip on the food to devour it in one gulp as you inspected the imprint of little teeth in your skin.

“Little bugger, that was mean, you need to be more polite.” The baby looked up at you like you were in the wrong, and of course he would think that since you were slowing down dinner time by insisting he take small bites. Mando seemed to choose retreat since you heard him ascending the ladder to the cockpit, reminding you -yet again- that you were kind of a shitty Alpha traveling with someone who had to be the most prime Omega specimen in the galaxy.

The Crest began take-off so you seated the baby in his pod, to prevent him from flying all over the hull, and settled into your hammock as you waited for the ship to exit atmosphere and enter hyperspace. Eating now while you were still dealing with the slight turbulence of exiting a planet’s gravity was a recipe for disaster.

He had to get it together.

Din scrubbed his hands down his face in the fresher, you’d already showered so the faint musk of your pheromones was7 still present in the air, and it was making his body react very enthusiastically to the unintentional dosing of scent. He had been completely thrown when you’d returned, glancing up only to immediately lower his gaze at the addition to your wardrobe, the vivid red was so eye catching and it looked good on you.

Every instinct to rip his helmet off and scent you had been very thoroughly tamped down as he gathered himself, up until you began feeding the kid; the care you displayed for the baby was like a shot right to his designation’s very nature. When you’d begun feeding the kid it practically purred Alpha cares in his ear, making his heart speed up, and then when you’d so calmly shoved food in his direction too?

Alpha provides had practically echoed in his head on repeat.

As an Omega he was very used to the usual flaunting and preening and prancing that Alphas were known for, independent clients were quick to try and play to his instincts for any sort of discount they could try and get from him. You’d never outright thrown your designation in his face, challenged him when he gave you orders, or even remotely tried to use any sort of pheromone manipulation tactics on him.

Respect was something that always made him take notice and the respect you showed him, by treating him like he was just a person instead of just a potential mate, had created this horribly confusing infatuation that Din had no idea how to handle. He wanted to drag you onto his uncomfortable sheet of barely-there padding so you could cover him in your scent, so he could shut the door to the cot and blacken the space and you could sink those teeth of yours right into his scent gland.

He inhaled heavily to catch the traces of your scent in the thick steam and wrapped his hand around his cock, he was hard and leaking at the very idea of your teeth breaking through his skin as you leaked with his spend. Din couldn’t help but create this fantasy of you taking care of him during his heat, riding him until you were sore and needing his mouth to soothe the ache between your thighs as you used your hand and mouth to soothe the insatiable need to fuck right out of him.

Just the thought of squeezing your plush hips, of your bare skin against his, as his knot locked the two of you in place made him spill all over the wall.

He stared at the ribbons of his seed being washed away by the splash of the water, remorseful that it was dripping down the fresher stall and not your thighs, but Din wasn’t sure how to go about asking. He could just go out there and tell you that he wanted you to scent him, that he wanted you to claim him, but he’d seen the way you always shied away from attention.

Other Omega noticed your calmer, subdued, nature despite being an Alpha and flocked whenever you strut through a town at his side; not-so-subtly trying to entice you to join them for some fun. Offers you never seemed interested in taking up, not that there was an issue with that, and he sighed as he turned the water off to get dry. He knew you weren’t against sex, that you weren’t disgusted or put off by it, you’d confessed to having lovers in the past when your rut would hit.

As he slipped on a new pair of underclothes Din paused at the sight of the very vivid bottles in the cabinet, inspecting the labels and swallowing thickly as a new wave of affection ripped through him. The scent was subtle, not heavily perfumed, which was always an issue with products like this because of the helmet trapping scent or the lining holding the smells; and he set his razor down on the sink and decided to use your gift.

The shave cream created a smoother glide and even his skin felt better, softer, once he rinsed everything off. The oil for the hair he kept wasn’t going to act instantly of course but he wondered if it would soften the patchy beard he kept, the idea that you’d bought this to feel his face rub against yours sent pleasant chills down his spine as Din put everything away and dried his hair before he slipped his helmet back on.

He left his dirty flight suit in the sonic scrubber and as he stepped out to clean his armor he felt his throat catch, you were sleeping in your hammock but had to have shifted around because your undershirt had ridden up and your blanket was half hanging on the floor. One bare leg was thrown over the edge of the fabric and he caught a glimpse of the scant material hidden under what little blanket remained, his eyes shooting to his cot where the kid was also sleeping in his hammock.

Carefully, so he didn’t wake you, Din brought your leg back up into the hammock so you didn’t accidentally roll out; he caught your blanket before it could fall completely and draped it back over you, tugging your shirt down and running a bare hand along your cheek. You crooned and purred softly as you nuzzled into his hand, comfortable with his presence, and Din spotted the red fabric piled on top of your clothes for tomorrow.

He glanced at you, almost afraid you’d wake up, before lifting his helmet and lifting the fabric to his nose; it was so strongly covered in your scent already, enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut and return it so he could retreat to sleep before he did something else even more embarrassing.

You couldn’t be happier that you’d gotten the red shemagh as you draped the fabric over your head and the bottom of your face, the durasilk helping to protect your skin from the heat of the twin suns, and your tech goggles helped obscure the rest of you while giving you a few advanced HUD options to ensure you didn’t lose visual clarity. Mando was on another hunt, he’d taken the baby with him again, while you were off to catch the other quarry in the opposite direction.

Having two quarry on the same planet wasn’t unusual and it was easier to split up like this, though you’d noticed Mando had been a little reluctant to do so today, you chalked his nerves up to the fact that your prey was an Imperial. He knew your history with the Imps, that your little hometown had been victim to raids for years before they decided to wipe it off the galactic maps, that you’d been the one to lead the children away from the destruction and get them to safety while all your parents had died in the assault.

Omega were protective of those they cared for, that was a well known fact, so having any proof of him caring for you even if it was something like this made your heart skip in your chest.

Flipping through your vision options, dimming the glare of the sun and enhancing your view, it was easier to see the start of the small town far ahead in the distance and you could have breathed a sigh of relief. While you had some mild regret for not renting a speeder, seeing as it took most of the morning to walk here and you’d likely have to trek back dragging your unconscious quarry, it was better this way.

Mando’s hunt was a much further distance so he needed the Crest, and when he was done, he’d come find you at the rendezvous location or be waiting there for you. Keeping your face covered as you approached, making sure your posture was tall and commanding as you kept one hand on your blaster, the townsfolk that were out and about all peered at you before returning to what they were doing.

Omegas, all of them, you couldn’t smell a single Alpha in the area and your eyes narrowed behind your goggles since the Imp you were after was an Alpha. Either he was suppressing his scent with pheromone inhibitors or he had moved on and your intel hadn’t been enough up to date, the idea that the little creep at the outpost lied to protect the quarry also presented a possibility.

Seeing as Karga didn’t have a damn tracker for this one, just a puck to your annoyance, and then triggered your natural show-off instincts by challenging your abilities right in front of Mando it was a wonder your mood wasn’t worse.

“Well, hello stranger.” You turned and felt your face warm under your cover as the Omega sent you a flirty wink, the line of her cleavage was very prominently on display and instead of hiding from the sun she had a lot of skin open to sunburns. Instead of remarking on that, like some kind of fucking creep, you cleared your throat and tipped your head in greeting.

The surprised look on her face melted to something pleased as she reached out to play with the end of the durasilk where it draped slightly over your chest.

“You’re a sweet Alpha, I’ve never had one like that, most that come here are bossy. You looking to show a girl a good time?”

“I’m hunting, actually, has another Alpha come through recently?” Using any sort of pheromone or tone shifts against an Omega was something you hated doing but in this case you had little choice, she was too close to her heat and would definitely lose focus if you didn’t, the stern tone and the way you stood up straighter snapped her right out of that syrupy haze of pleasure seeking for now.

“Yea, we got one, he isn’t kind.”

You pulled out the puck to show her the face, earning a nod, and followed her gaze to the unassuming door behind her. You should have guessed he’d find and hole up in a brothel, probably expecting any Alphas that came after him to get distracted by the Omega pheromones within, and you slipped a few credits into the woman’s hand in thanks before reaching under your scarf to slide your respirator filter over your mouth and nose.

Omega pheromones typically elicited the same instinctual responses in Alphas, but every person -Alpha, Beta, or Omega- had their own natural scent that helped create a unique chemical cocktail for others to pick up on. The sleek mask allowed you to breathe but had a unique pheromone filter to make sure you didn’t accidentally trigger a rut, since pheromone exposure was the leading cause of off-season rut incidents.

A few people looked at you as you walked in, no doubt taking in the oversized goggles and mask obscuring your face, but the owner looked relieved and you slid the bounty puck across the table to show her the image of your quarry. With crimes off assaulting Omega, in particular one bonded to an enforcer of the Hutt Cartel, you weren’t surprised that she was willing to give him up as she led you toward the room.

Punching the door switch and walking in on the Alpha choking out the young man he’d paid for, making your blood simmer in outrage, you used a tranq shot and watched the effect kick in immediately.

“I’ll be taking him off your hands, anything he owns is yours.”

Watching the owner fuss over the young man as you dressed and restrained the Imp, tossing him over your shoulder since it’d be easier than dragging the bastard, the young man let out a whine that drew your attention.

“Thank you. I’d like- could I offer you a good time as gratitude for saving me?”

“No, it’s not necessary, you should rest instead.” He looked surprised at your refusal, you knew that you carried no trace scent to indicate you had a mate, but then he smiled and nodded in response. Leaving the brothel, and the town, was easy to a point; you did not count on the Imp having friends though.

When he didn’t see you at the rendezvous point Din kept the Crest moving toward the coordinates you’d gotten for your hunt, you would have left some indicator that you’d arrived and there wasn’t one to be seen, it would be easier anyway. There was something burning in him, a feeling that something was wrong, and the kid had been very cranky out of the blue; if there was one thing Din knew for certain it was that the baby had a connection with you that transcended distance, the crankiness was a bad sign.

As the sand dunes passed by he finally noticed what looked like shapes moving in the distance, seeing you in a full-on fist fight when he got close enough, and Din snarled as he whipped the Crest around to land. The kid shut himself into the bunk and the second the ramp was down he was firing at two of the idiots that turned their attention on him, the sound of your furious snarls as you bared your fangs at the Alpha you had pinned sent a sharp thrill down his spine but Din shoved that reaction down fast.

The quarry was bound, unconscious, and Din suspected you’d dosed him with a tranq -maybe even twice- to keep him from escaping. He could see you’d taken out at least six of them on your own with how many bodies lay bleeding out in the sand, he grabbed your arm to pull you up after saying your name but he didn’t expect your fist to swing and slam into his chest plate. The sharp impact and the crunch of bone -your hand now broken from the impact- elicited a howl of rage that made Din realize you’d been pushed into a rut. He had never actually seen you like this before, this aggressive angry thing that saw anything as a challenge, and the Alpha below you snarled before Din put a shot through his head and wrapped you in his arms as you continued to try and fight him.

“It’s me!” He tipped his head up so that his neck was bared a little more, so that his pheromones could pierce through the veil of your rage, he needed you to calm down so he could get a bacta shot into you and heal your hand. The moment the scent registered he felt you begin to calm, the growls and snarls softening, but Din knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it. He hated doing it but he brought his helmet down hard, head meeting yours, and knocking you out cold with the hit; after stripping the valuables off your assailants and putting the bounty in carbonite Din set you down in the bunk and moved the kid to the cockpit.

The bacta shot was a half dose, since there was bone to mend, and he secured your wrists to be safe since he didn’t know what sort of temperament you’d have when you woke up. Bacta was a lose-lose situation with any Alpha, its healing properties be damned, some Alpha woke up enraged and pushed into a more extreme version of a rut while others woke up beyond starving as their bodies worked double time to burn calories and get the healing agent to wear off faster.

He took the Crest to the nearest town for a supply grab after fetching your broken filter mask from the sand, knowing that if you were the latter you would eat through at least two weeks of rations on your own, and realized that you’d been here. Your scent was soaked into the sand and adobe buildings, the brothel -an Omega establishment- reeked of heat and sex and your scent was mingling with it.

“So, she did have an Omega.” One of the women looked him over, the prominent display of skin and cleavage pretty indicative of being tasked to lure people to the brothel. The food stall owner stacked another box of rations -your favorites, even if they were a little pricier- onto the two boxes he already had.

“She?”

“The bounty hunter, the Alpha, she refused all of us even after saving us from that Imp and being offered a freebie. She was sweet, most of us were sad to see her go, I figured she had an Omega waiting for her.” The fact that you’d refused the others sent a shot of sharp victory and possessiveness through him, you hadn’t even entertained any other Omega despite being in a place that most Alpha would lose themselves to, and even though you had on your respirator and goggles Din knew that if you wanted to you could and would have stayed.

The fact that you hadn’t chosen them, even if you technically hadn’t said you chose him, made his blood sing; he was the Omega you spent your time with, he was the Omega that got to see you feel safe enough to sleep and provide you food and a little home in his ship.

“We’re not… we aren’t.”

“You should probably tell her that you want to be, honey, Alpha like her -that actually respect Omega like us- are far and few between. Not that I think any old Alpha would be able to take you on without a serious fight on their hands, but if she’s what you want you should make it clear before someone else does. Alpha and Omega stereotypes? None of that matters when you really care about someone.”

The woman let him be after that, though she tossed a cheeky ‘you can always tell her she has a fan club here and we’ll treat her right, too, honey’ over her shoulder, and Din paid for the rations before heading back to the Crest with his heart thundering with the knowledge that she was right. Who cared if he initiated things first, who cared if he was the one asked you to claim him, why did he have to wait for you to show interest?

Luckily the kid had not snuck down while he was gone, allowing Din to set down and add the rations to the inventory list before heading up to get the ship into hyperspace, you’d need to be changed and cleaned up anyway and that would be easier without the baby trying to heal you or fuss at you to wake up. Once Din got the Crest into atmosphere, he heard the kid grumble and sighed at the kid’s attitude, placing a hand on his head gently.

“I need you to stay up here a little longer, once we get to hyperspace, and don’t touch anything. I have to clean her up and get her into comfortable clothes.”

He was glad the kid just closed his pod, pouting, and Din’s own growl earned a smaller one in reply; it was kind of cute, honestly, and he began to suspect that the baby -if his species had a secondary nature- was more Alpha than he thought.

You were still sleeping when Din climbed down the ladder, removing his cloak and armor to make it easier to maneuver you and not take up as much space, and he did his best to be respectful as he laid you down on the supply crates and fetched a rag and bucket of water with some soap sheets rather than try to shower with you. The red scarf was tossed with the rest of your clothes into the sonic cleaner, with additional time tacked on for blood removal, and he couldn’t help but run his hands down your skin just to feel you beneath his fingers before getting to work on cleaning you up.

He slipped one of his spare under shirts onto you when he was done, along with fresh undergarments, and part of him preened at the sight of you in the material; knowing you were blanketed with his scent. Sliding you back into his bunk, forgoing any pants because you never slept with them on anyway, Din kept the door open and decided to sleep nearby so he didn’t have to restrain you again.

If you woke up aggressive, he would handle it. “Come on, kid, let’s get some sleep.”

You slept for two days straight, the brace he’d made for your hand to make sure it healed properly had worked according to the basic x-ray he ran, and Din nearly jumped out of his skin when you finally stirred; he’d slept sitting up against the wall while the baby stayed in his pod nearby and your soft whine of discomfort was cut off by the fierce growl in your stomach. The kid woke up to the sound, eager to make sure you were okay, and Din tipped his head up as you rolled and peered down at him. He watched you take in your place in his bunk, his place sitting on the floor without the rest of his armor on and the top half of his flight suit missing, and the baby’s frantic grabby hands.

“What happened after you pulled me off that Alpha and knocked me out?”

“You remember that? Being in a rut, I mean?”

Din knew that it wasn’t fair to assume all the Alpha stereotypes were right, especially since Omega stereotypes were only partially true, but you’d seemed so out of it when he found you. He got up to get one of the ration packs and nearly tripped over his boots when you brought the collar of his shirt up and sniffed it, your eyes lifting to look at him, and then a shy smile bloomed across your face that made his heart race.

“I always remember them, at this point I don’t know if I’m just an outlier but when I do get into a rut, I know exactly what I’m doing. There are things I can’t stop, like when I punched your chest plate, but I’m consciously aware of it happening.”

Din watched you inspect your hand, flexing your fingers and checking for any residual ache, and when he handed you the ration pack he watched your eyes take in the packaging. You rarely purchased anything expensive or indulgent, with how often the two of you ruined everything there was little point, but he wanted to give you this at the very least.

“Mando-“

“Eat.”

You leveled him with a look but nodded, activating the heating element and letting it warm the meal inside as Din got the baby’s meal ready, and he watched as you pulled your legs up and patted the flimsy cushion for him to sit before relenting. The warmth of your arm pressed into his as he sat right next to you, pulling the kid in his lap to feed him, and he kept a careful eye on you as he fed the baby.

After a moment of silence, just a calm between you, he was ready to talk but you beat him to it.

“How would scenting work, with your helmet I mean.”

Scenting was sort of like courting, an old custom that had been started among people being betrothed or engaged, it was a way to tell others that a person had someone who they wanted to mate with already. To ward off unwanted advances, typically romantic; although some Omega women would have platonic Alpha friends scent them before going out to party as a way to ward off unwanted attention.

It required unhindered access to the scent glands right below the ears. The very thought of your skin against his there sent his heart into overdrive, he knew he was releasing strong pheromones when your grip on the utensils tightened enough that he could see the strain in your knuckles.

“A blindfold.”

You nodded at his answer and shoveled food into your mouth, he hoped you were asking because you were interested, and Din sighed again when the baby began to mimic your pace eating. You would need more than one pack though, after all of that, and he could tell you were still very hungry when you finished the first meal off. He gave you a second one and put the baby in his pod since the little one was now trying to snatch at your meal, and Din felt you lean into his side a little more as the two of you sat there together.

His mouth opened, to ask, but he just couldn’t right now. You were recovering from your reaction to the bacta, the kid was right here, and if he started that conversation, he wasn’t sure he could stop it from going too far if you gave him a positive response.

After you finished off the second ration pack he wasn’t surprised when you got up, the shirt long enough on you that you didn’t even need pants, and Din watched as you picked up a bottle of water too before chugging the entire thing. He’d expected you to be ravenous so he simply began cleaning up behind you, setting your cleaned clothes out in case you wanted to change, and you reached for him when he went to get the kid up into the cockpit before the little one decided to join you in decimating the food supply.

You hugged him, making Din shiver as every hair on his body stood on edge, and he cupped the back of your head before pressing his forehead much gentler to yours.

“Is this- is this okay?” He angled your face toward his neck without actually pushing you, the scent of your pheromones teasing him as they slipped under his helmet, and he swore he felt you shiver as he offered you the bare side of his neck. Everything felt still as he waited for your answer, the racing of his heart and harshness of his breathing felt so much more intense, like some sort of pivotal decision was being made.

“Yes, Mando.”

Your breath coated his skin before you closed the distance on your own, accepting his request as you bathed his skin in your scent, the touch of your scent gland and the wash of your pheromones making his head spin. He heard the low coo from the kid, reminding himself that there was an audience, and it was so much more difficult to let you pull away with you wearing his shirt and laying your claim on him.

He wanted to build you a nest, to make somewhere small and dark and comfortable where he could feel every part of your skin against his, the warmth of acceptance making him giddy. Your hold on his suspenders was firm, keeping him still as you moved to the other side of his neck, and Din’s stupid knees began to go weak as you got more confident with your touch.

“Cyare, I- we need to find someone to watch the kid.”

“I know, and we will. I can’t- my hand is still a little sore and I’m still starving so this is just so I know that people are aware you’re mine.”

The possessive growl in your voice made his cock go hard in an instant, and he knew you felt it when you hummed softly, and Din hissed when your teeth teased him gently. “Soon, Mando.”

You had one last job before it was time to turn in the slabbed bounties to Karga, Mando was refusing to allow you to help while you recovered, and you knew that it made sense for you to stay with the baby; your body was finally starting to recover from the bacta dosing, you’d easily decimated a month’s worth of rations in a week as your system recovered from expending so much energy to burn off the medicine.

While you weren’t exactly a liability you knew that Din’s worry was amplified by his feelings for you and by his instincts.

The armored Omega had been firm in keeping you comfortable -as comfortable as one could be on the shitty cushion he called a mattress- and you let him fuss over you, the man naturally cared for those he was close to but his instincts were likely going haywire over you needing to rest up. He had removed your hammock, despite your complaints about how uncomfortable his thin cushion of a bunk was, but you didn’t mind the compromise.

You had not expected for him to strip down to only his undershirt and compression leggings and join you in the bunk, laying on the pad and having you lay on him, and when he’d closed the door so that the space was black he had removed his helmet. The pneumatic hiss was deafening in the space as his modulated breaths softened, as he gave you all of him the only way he could right now.

Never, in a thousand years, would you forget the feeling of his hands holding you against him as he pressed his cheek to yours for the first time. His facial hair was softer that what you expected, it smelled like the oil you’d bought him, and the fact that he used it made you preen that your gift was well-received.

You hadn’t thought about how he kept the kid out of the bunk initially, letting him fall asleep in his pod and sealing him in, but now it made sense. Mando had soaked you with his pheromones and you’d done the same, hands pressed to his pectorals to grip the shirt fabric when he finally kissed you after making your head swim from how strong his scent was and how good it felt to be wrapped in it.

“Mando-“

“Din, my name is Din Djarin and I’d like you to use it, Cyare.”

Avoiding the use of his name had been intentional, he himself had never told it to you, so you had firmly pretended not to hear Moff Gideon use it. Having his permission to do so made you smile against his lips; it was really all you needed to know that this man had truly chosen you out of every other Alpha in the galaxy. You breathed the single syllable name out in a sigh when he pressed your core against the hard line of his cock, when he rocked his hips up and captured your mouth again, and he shushed the rumbling growl that formed in your chest when he nipped at your neck.

“Want to- want to have your first time with me in a nest, would you be okay with that? Waiting until I can make a nest for us?” The idea of him making a nest for you to share sent liquid heat right through you, making your cunt throb as you began to leak into your underwear, you had only ever dreamed of being wrapped up in a nest with this man and to know that he thought about it too?

How could any Alpha get this lucky?

“I’m- I can wait, Din.” Your voice was breathy with desire and he groaned, slotting his mouth to yours as he planted his feet to grind against you, it was heady and overwhelming in the best way as you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts; you didn’t care that he wasn’t going to fill you tonight, that he was going to make you cum from just rubbing himself against you like this because you knew that when he made that nest you weren’t going to be leaving for a long time.

A sharp mewl escaped you when you felt the swell at the base of his shaft, felt the heft of his knot forming, and it made you rock down harder as his pheromones sharpened and his grip tightened and you felt the liquid warmth as he let out a strangled growl right into your mouth; you nearly screamed when one of his hands pulled the gusset of your underwear out of the way to slide two fingers into you as his thumb slid up through your folds to stroke your clit.

He swallowed down your sharp snarl of his name as your clamped down on his fingers, as your slick soaked his hand, and Din shivered beneath you as you nuzzled him and carded your hands through his hair to shower him with affection to temper your urge to sink your teeth into his skin. Din chuckled and you nearly yelped when he rolled you onto your side, so he could curl his broad body behind yours.

“We’ll clean up in the morning, Cyare.”

When you woke up, to him nuzzling you and whispering your name, Din kissed you deeply before putting his helmet back on to open the door of the bunk. The kid was still asleep at least, since it was early enough, so you were able to get into the fresher and wash up before sending the broad Omega in after you; Din’s chuckle when he emerged made you wink, since you’d flooded the steamy fresher with pheromones when you’d finished up.

As you handed him a ration pack to eat, expecting him to take it up into the cockpit, you didn’t expect him to take your shemagh and wrap it over itself several times before holding it out to you without a word. You realized it was meant to be a blindfold and you closed your eyes before turning around, letting him tie the red fabric over your face, and the hiss of his helmet was softened by the space of the hull before your felt him pressing his cheek to yours.

“Shouldn’t take too long.”

“Not with the best bounty hunter in the parsec on the loser’s tail.”

Din preened at your praise, even if it was Karga’s chosen moniker for him, and only when he was thoroughly drenched in your scent did he pull back to sit with his back to yours so you could eat together. The baby wasn’t due to wake up for another hour -you’d managed to get the little pollywog on a sleeping schedule at long last- so neither one of you rushed to eat.

“Keep the ground security protocols engaged, don’t leave the Crest while I’m gone, this area isn’t safe.”

“I’ll keep my blaster on me too, then, just in case.”

“If you could stay up in the cockpit that’d be great, this one is a Devaronian so I don’t want you or the kid in the line of fire if something happens.”

“Din, like hell I’m going to stay up here knowing you could get hurt. I’ll keep the kid up in the cockpit when I know you’re coming back and I’ll stay near the weapon’s locker since you’re going to bring him up the ramp, that way I can tranq him if he breaks your hold somehow.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well, I don’t like that you’re going out there without me to back you up, how am I supposed to make sure you don’t get hurt if you go alone? Do you know how hard it is for me to sit back and let you go while I stay here?”

You felt him pause as your voice exploded out of you, the difficulty of warring with your instincts and respecting Din’s skill was hard, and you dropped your head before setting your food aside to hug your knees to your chest. Din’s arms circled you gently and he pulled you against him after he turned around.

“Hey, no, talk to me Cyare. Don’t hide what you’re feeling, please.” His voice without the modulator was a lovely baritone that made you want nothing more than to just curl up against him in a pile of blankets, to have him whisper praise and affection in your ear. Instead, he was crooning and purring, trying to get you to tell him what was going on in your head after your temper flared.

“Just because I have a better hold of my instincts doesn’t mean they aren’t there, Din. You’ve chosen me to be your Alpha, I’m supposed to be the one that goes out and gets hurt so you -my Omega- can stay here and keep our home safe, keep our young one safe. I’m willing to compromise and stay here but you cannot expect me to stay where I can’t help you if something goes wrong.”

 “Cyare, I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about how you’d feel with me asking you to stay out of the way, my desire to make sure you’re safe doesn’t excuse me from ignoring your instincts and feelings. Thank you for compromising and thank you for respecting me and what I’m capable of, I will try not to forget again.” If it were anyone else you would think it was mildly condescending but you knew that Din meant every word sincerely, that he was learning you just as much as you were learning him, and you huffed softly.

“Thank you, Din.”

A low grumble from the pod made Din let go of you, turning around fast and sliding his helmet on right as the baby let himself out, and you smiled as the little one reached for you when he spotted the rations open. Din got up with his half-finished meal, opening a new pack on the way over, and you finished eating as the Mandalorian fed the baby. As soon as you were done you took over for him and shooed Din away to finish his own meal, watching him slip out of sight into the bunk and poking the pollywog on his little nose when he tried to peer around you.

Din pressed a hand to your lower back after he emerged, his helmet resting against your cheek as he used his free hand to pat the baby gently on the head, and you watched him step away before starting to pull his armor on. You paid attention so you could get an idea of how to take it all off him later, if the need ever arose, and when he noticed your attention on him the Mandalorian slowed his hands and began explaining the steps. After he was armored up, the scent of you still so noticeable on him, you waited at the ramp as he armed himself and smiled when he slid his pulse rifle onto his back as a final touch. He paused beside you as the ramp lowered and you weren’t surprised when Din leaned his head down, forehead tapping yours gently, before leaving to get the last bounty. As soon as he was out of sight you closed the ship to activate ground security protocols, taking the baby up to the cockpit so that you could continue to try and work on talking with him.

He knew his mood was foul as he dragged the Devaronian back to the Crest, the bastard had put him on a chase for two days longer than Din had accounted for and all he wanted was to get back to you and the kid. The entire way back the bastard kept making remarks about you, calling you a shit Alpha for allowing your Omega to do the dangerous work, and it was taking all of his self-control not to put a bolt of plasma through the quarry’s head. Especially since you battled with insecurities about your temperament already, he didn’t want you being brought down by some bail jumper.

It appeared he was lucky, given the late hour, because he got the prey into the ship and slabbed without any sign of you or the baby; climbing up out of the hull and spotting you sleeping with the kid nestled against your chest in the co-pilot chair. He imagined you expected to wake up to the disturbance, and you should have since the bastard hadn’t been quiet, but it appeared the cockpit doors had muffled enough of the sound that you hadn’t noticed.

Din smiled, sitting down and getting the Crest prepped for take-off, and resisted the urge to chuckle when you inhaled deeply at the rapid button presses and switches being flipped; he heard you murmur his name and the baby didn’t even stir when you put him into his pod and closed the door. But Din couldn’t contain the croon he let out when you crawled your way into his lap, pressing your head right under the chin of his helmet, your legs folding over the arms of the seat so you could press yourself as close to him as possible.

He used one hand to hold your lower back, wishing that the plates of his armor weren’t so cold since he could feel your faint shiver, and you answered his croon with a warbly little noise before drifting back off to sleep. Once he had the auto-pilot engaged, the ship into hyperspace, he slipped his arms under your legs and stood up before setting you down and shaking you gently.

“Come on, Cyare, you should be in the bunk.”

“No way, ‘s uncomfortable. Dunno how you do it.”

As he steered you down the ladder, with the baby’s pod following you both, he sighed softly; more at himself, since he slept in his armor it was easier to ignore the pain from such a thin cushion. He made a mental note to get new padding for the bunk, his delight at having you share his sleeping space didn’t mean he could place his comfort above your own. Din joined you in the bunk after stripping down, the hull darkened enough that it was plenty safe, and he slipped his helmet off once you were settled mostly on his chest.

He could feel it now, without any of the armor plates in the way, just how thin and ragged the bed actually was and the way the bars were definitely digging into his back.

“I’ll make sure it’s more comfortable, promise.” He whispered that against the crown of your head as you got comfortable, the low hum you answered with fading into a light snore, and Din couldn’t help but think about the ship’s layout and how he might be able to make it easier for both of you if he just… got the work done. It would take time but Din wanted to be able to have you all to himself for a little while so it would be a win-win, he’d be able to take his time with you and the kid could spend time with other kids on Nevaro while the shipyard worked on his surprise.

With that rough idea mapped out Din closed his eyes to sleep and smiled, wondering what your reaction would be when you did get back to work after the Crest was finished, and he imagined you’d like it.

Once the mechanics gave him a rough time frame, a week and a half total, for the modifications Din gave them half the payment up front and let them get to work; he’d already handled lodging, Karga had given him shit for wearing your scent but seemed pretty pleased for the result. He’d been directed to the entrance that once led to his people’s home, Din hadn’t expected much to happen to the area once the covert was gone but Karga had surprised him, having it cleaned up and actually making something out of it.

You followed after him and looked around, he knew you’d seen the covert in shambles along with Karga and Dune, it was so different now. The walls had been carefully treated with a gloss so they could be tiled with a soft golden white mosaic of tiles, it looked almost upscale, and the nooks used for sleeping rooms had been turned into proper bedrooms with scent and sound blockers; some of the rooms were made to connect to the one beside it, though he had opted against that since Karga was going to keep an eye on the kid for the week.

The space was specifically to appease nesting Omega, being underground it offered somewhere quiet and insulated, the added scent and sound blockers guaranteed privacy. It didn’t really have a name yet, though Karga had mentioned Navaro’s Nests and The Nesting Grounds as choices, but it was functional. As he opened the door to the room Karga had given him Din looked around carefully, checking for any type of cameras or audio bugs, and when the room turned up clear he nodded at you.

The room size, and layout, were about the same except for a few key differences. The walls had also been treated with a gloss to stop falling dust and debris, the bathroom was through a door now rather than just an open walkway, and there didn’t appear to be a bed anywhere. The sleeping nook that had once been carved out of the stone wall had been turned into a seat with a table that folded out of the wall, the cold box and cooktop were across the way.

Din looked around the space and stumbled when the floor shifted under him, your hand on the button that opened the wooden cover on the floor to reveal that the mattress was set into the floor itself and he got down to inspect that area for possible problems like pests or technological bugs. You watched him as he tested the mattress itself, it felt pretty soft, and when he nodded you didn’t hesitate to grab the laundered sheets from the sealed bag the Beta at the entrance had provided you to put them on the bed.

As he stood up he watched you finish the task of making the bed, the octagonal shape was unique though and Din’s fingers flexed when he watched you get up again.

“Is there- I’d like some time to myself here for a little bit.”

“Of course, Din. Trust me, I’ve got some things I’d like to do as well.”

As you left he could only stare at the mattress before nodding to himself and locking the door behind him, steps fast as he headed right for the market, he’d need the spare blankets anyway by the time the work on the Crest was done so this was a win-win situation. A few people balked when he approached their stalls to inspect the things they had for sale, the satins and silks felt smooth under his fingers but he needed them to be perfect.

A new type of excitement sent him reeling on a hunt unlike any other he’d been on, testing the give of pillows and how smooth blankets were, and he ignored all the stares as he leaned heavily into his Omega instincts to nest. The thought of how your eyes would shine in delight when you saw what he made, the desire to see you laying on only the best materials after putting up his with ship for so long, it spurred him on through the market as he practically vibrated with excitement.

Din chose colors he knew you liked, the color scheme coming together by making a few things accents rather than full splashes, and he avoided anything with patterns; he wanted it to be soft and demure, he didn’t want some jagged chevron or whatever it was called drawing the eye among the solid shades. In his head he knew that some of the purchases were frivolous, like the two knit blankets that were an ombre of colors made of soft yarn, but Din couldn’t remember a time he’d ever indulged and if anyone was worth indulging for it was you.

As he got back to the room Din used the sonic cleaner to give everything a good sanitation first, including the sleep clothes he’d bought for himself, and as he waited he inspected the lights and tested just how dark the room could go. He didn’t want you in a blindfold if you didn’t have to be and he purred at the way the room went black when the lights were all off and the door was shut tight. The darkness and the small space made him croon before he began removing his armor and setting it aside for its own sanitation, his flight suit following, and the warrior gave himself a sonic shower before starting the task of making his nest once the cleaning cycle ended.

His helmet and armor went through the cleaner as he worked, a long and thick curtain of black fabric hung in front of the door just in case you returned while he was doing this or if someone tried to get in while you both were sleeping, and the mess of pillows were dropped onto the mattress before he started to place them where he wanted them. Din started by grouping them according to their color and arranging them around the edges to soften the corners, shaking his head at the outcome and mixing the colors up into a random hodgepodge before growling and sighing.

He wasn’t really an artist, not like you were, so it felt a little hopeless as he tried to come up with something that looked right.

Abandoning the pillow arrangement for now turned into layering the blankets, making the already soft mattress a dream, the thick and luxurious tauntaun pelt was unbelievably soft and would be a dream to lay on; the durasilk comforter over that was full of varacytl down, making it fluffy and warm with a soft surface to lay on or under. The knit blankets were folded and draped over two sides of the octagonal ledges just in case, that way if you didn’t want to sleep under the comforter you could choose something lighter, and Din went back to arranging the pillows.

He almost dropped his cloak onto the pile, since it was bathed in his scent, but the scratchy and worn material wasn’t what he wanted you to lay on or with. Instead he turned the lights lower and laid down on the bed, thinking about you coming back to the room, and for the first time in a long time he let himself flood the space with his scent. Din kept his helmet in reach, to be safe, but he laid there bare and thought about your reaction to his nest.

It was almost nightfall and you made your way back to the nest with a skip in your step, you’d gone through and purchased a handful of new things you needed to replace -mostly just socks and compression leggings- as well as a few things you’d just wanted. Tisai had greeted you warmly when you went into her boutique and, after a lot of catching up, she’d begun fitting you few a few specialty lingerie pieces that she ran through the sonic for you so that you could put them on right away.

The tailor was a very dear friend of yours, allowing you to work at her shop to supplement your income when you’d first started out bounty hunting, who also knew that you’d always had eyes for Din ever since you first caught his scent. On top of leggings, socks, and lingerie she’d also given you a flight suit made to your measurements with durasteel plating between the thick layers that were fit to add some extra protection but allow for movement.

You thought about dropping your purchases off at the Crest but decided against it, whatever work was being done to it was definitely big since you’d watched Din change the lock on the weapons locker and key it to his helmet if someone even tried to jimmy the thing open. You hadn’t even seen him do that when Peli was doing work on the ship, which spoke volumes for how in depth the repairs were going to be.

With each step closer to where Din was waiting for you it was like your stomach began to fill with glow flies, you had no real reason to be nervous about what was going to happen but you kind of were, and when you waved at the Beta you earned a soft giggle of a response and a ‘you two are so cute’ called down the hall.

You clicked the comm device on your wrist twice to warn Din that you were outside, not sure of what he could be doing, and yours clicked once to indicate it was safe before you opened the door. The black sheet of fabric in the way made you pause but Din’s voice, modulated, was warm with affection behind it even with the helmet muting his tone.

“Welcome back, that’s an added precaution, it’s safe.”

You stepped around the fabric and closed the door, locking it before turning and staring at the sight of Din on the bed; he was naked except for the helmet, the multitudes of pillows and the plush looking blankets were all in colors you loved and looked so inviting with the fluffy looking comforter hiding his legs from view. The fact that he’d tailored this nest to you made your whole body explode with a soft noise escaping you, the bags you’d been carrying thumping on the floor as you tried not to cry.

“Din this is- it looks so comfortable. You picked all my favorite colors? You really made this for me?” When an Omega tailored their nest to an Alpha’s preferences it was -supposedly- the trust sign of affection on an instinctual level, a way to show that they weren’t just nesting to satisfy their own instincts but doing so to ensure their chosen Alpha felt as invited and wanted as possible.

The reality of how well Din knew you came when he, instead of making fun of you, sat up and reached for you instead.

“I did, Cyare. Will you come here, please?”

“Hang on I- I need to, hold on.”

He tilted his head as you scampered toward the bathroom and you could have kissed Tisai for thinking to pre-wash your purchases and put them in boxes meant to retain that sanitary state. A quick sonic shower had to be done, you were covered in the volcanic dust from Nevaro’s market after all, and you felt your body begin to buzz with desire knowing he was there waiting for you.

The leather corset was designed to rest just under your bust with a ring that looped into the top closure with three straps were attached, the center strap had a leather band that buckled closed to circle your throat while the two straps on the side looped over your shoulders to the rings on the back.

Technically it was designed to be worn over an undershirt because the straps were meant to be used as a place to fasten additional ammunition cannisters, but without the added frills you’d seen the potential for this and asked for Tisai to include the band with the collar as a customization option. You wore it over the teal strapless bra and underwear set that you’d gotten, the fabric contrasting the brown leather and adding the color you’d so desperately wanted to find, the lacy fabric hiding everything and nothing all at once.

Feminine yet as flirty for a Mandalorian as any lingerie would ever get.

You grabbed the blindfold you’d bought and tied it in place, making sure it was nice and tight, before stepping out into the main space. You wanted him to see it without his helmet in the way, the matching teal blindfold was one of many you’d bought -all matching different lingerie sets- and meant to be a way to show him you were never going to disrespect his creed in any way.

“I might have bought some things too, Din.”

The sharp intake of breath followed by the low rumbling whine made your lips tip up, glad that he liked what he was seeing, and you heard the pneumatic hiss of air as he slipped his helmet off before you felt his hands take yours gently. Din guided you into the nest and you let yourself fall onto the pile of fabrics and pillows, moaning at how soft it was and how good it felt on your back compared to the bunk in the Crest.

“This is perfect, can we take this to the Crest? That bunk is a nightmare, I would like to sleep in something this soft forever.” While you were teasing him, he knew you hated the Crest’s bunk because you weren’t going to let him forget it, you also were admiring how good this felt from how soft and fluffy the blankets were to how warm they felt under you. Din’s fingers skirted across your skin, touching the feeling the sturdy leather first.

“Cyare, is this what you occupied yourself with while I made you this nest? Buying things for me to enjoy?”

“So, what if I did, you going to argue with your Alpha?”

“Maker no.”

Din’s reply was more of words mingled with an exhale as he continued to trail his fingers over your body, taking in the sight of you without his helmet on most likely, and you felt him playing with the soft lace fabric at your hips before he cupped your breasts and moaned when he felt your nipples start to stiffen because of his attention to them with his thumbs. His mouth met yours and you smiled into the kiss, luxuriating at the soft fabric below you and the firm weight of him as Din braced himself over you carefully, the long line of bare skin textured from scars as you ran your hands over his bare sides.

It was unhurried, the way he licked into your mouth as you rubbed one of your legs along the bare skin of his hip and thigh, and you scratched at his scalp with one hand while you used your free hand to cup his cheek and angle him the way you wanted his face to go so that you could deepen the already intense kiss.

“Since you bought these for me-” you grinned as he pulled himself from your mouth, he sounded wrecked and you loved it. “-may I ruin them?” His fingers tugged at the lace and you nodded only to whimper when you felt him drag the leaking head of his cock against the fabric. Purposefully smearing precum onto the fabric as he rocked against you.

“You want to cum on my pretty lingerie? Want to paint it with your scent and stain it with your mark?” Din groaned as his forehead dropped to your collar, the hand in his hair tightened to a firm grip that made him throb, and you hooked your leg over his hip to rock up against him as his hips bore down against yours.

“Cyare, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Good, cum for your Alpha, Din; be a good Omega and let me feel you.”

Din practically ripped himself off you to grab his cock, you felt where his cum hit your inner thighs and where it warmed the crotch of your underwear, and his harsh breathing made you wiggle your hips before you nearly jumped when he pressed against your clit through the fabric with firm pressure as he watched you. Your hips rocked against his hand and you gripped the blanket tightly now that you didn’t have anything to hold on to, a moan of his name when Din pressed against your opening and pressed the fabric of your underwear into you as he panted over you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, you smell so fucking good.” His voice was more growl than actual tone and you felt where he pressed his forehead against the skin just above your underwear, his deep inhale making your pheromones flood the room and his tongue pressed into the skin on your inner thigh where your scent glad was before he sank his teeth into it with a firm bite. It wouldn’t break skin but the idea of him marking you there and claiming you, where only he knew it existed, pushed you over the edge as your slick soaked into the fabric on his fingers.

Din pulled the fabric away and moaned at the sight of your wet lips, his teeth sinking into the fabric of the lace as he used his now free hand to spread you open to look, and your chest heaved when he pressed his nose and face against you to inhale greedily. His pheromones spiked and you caught the hand reaching for yours, rocking your hips against the curve of his nose, and Din pulled the underwear off of you before shoving the wadded up fabric into your mouth and kissing the tip of your nose.

“Hold that for me, Alpha.”

His purr was soft and affectionate, as if he hadn’t just used your cum soaked underwear as a gag, and you practically melted when his tongue licked a flat stripe through your folds. Your strangled -wordless- moan, muffled by the wad of fabric, made him rumble a growl into your cunt that had more of your slick begin to gather at your opening as Din wedged his shoulders between your legs and used his thumbs to hold you open after letting go of your hand.

The feeling of added wetness made you shiver as he let his saliva drip onto your clit, watching it drip down your folds as you trembled for him, and then he sealed his mouth over you to lick up all up before it could fall onto the blankets.

“Di-“ The muffled attempt at his name had your Omega purring, no doubt satisfied as he swirled the tip of his tongue in a way that had your thighs shaking from the attention to your clit, and you felt his hands grip tighter as one of your hands found his hair and grabbed the strands for leverage as you lifted your hips to change where his tongue focused its attention.

“That’s right, Alpha, use me. Teach your Omega where you need him.” Din’s command sent liquid heat through you, he was both taking control and giving it to you, with each place you shifted your hips you knew he was paying attention. Learning where you preferred the flat long strokes of his tongue and where you liked the more focused, intense, tip of his tongue to circle; his messy slurping as your body leaked for him, coating his chin and mouth, was so loud that you almost couldn’t hear your own muffled cries of his name when your toed curled and your muscles locked down as you came hard.

He lapped at you until you were pulling his hair to get him away, when you were so sensitive and trembling and trying to uncurl your muscles, and the lace was pulled out of your mouth before Din kissed you again. His nose, his lips, his chin were all wet with you and he preened when you rolled him onto his back and loomed over him. You knew that he’d prove how much he’d paid attention to eating you out later, the man was one hell of a determined student when he liked the subject, but right now you needed him to fill you.

Din’s strangled attempt at your name as you sunk down on his cock, welcoming the burning stretch from his size, made you preen knowing that you were the one he’d feel from now on; that pride at bringing him pleasure so intense he couldn’t even say your name spurred you on, rocking your hips carefully at first, and the second you had a solid rhythm you planted your hands on his pectorals and lifted yourself off just enough before sinking back down while keeping that rhythm of your hips.

His hands held your wrists tight and even though you couldn’t see him beneath you there was no mistaking the tension in his chest and ab muscles, the way his thighs felt so damn sturdy each time you sank down against him, and his breathing was harsh as he squirmed beneath your body. Like this he hit deep, his cock dragging through your cunt and hitting areas of you that you were sure none of your past lovers had ever touched, and you were leaking a mess of wetness down his shaft and balls.

The slick sounds and harsh breathing, the way he whimpered for you, it made you move your hands to tug the cups of your bra down.

“Going to just ignore my breasts after I dressed up so pretty for you, Din?”

His needy whine as he sat up, using one of his hands to brace himself while the other held your side, it made you dizzy with delight that you did that; his mouth closed around your nipple before letting it fall out of his mouth with a pop, circling it with the tip of his nose, and then bringing it back into his mouth as you adjusted to the new angle of his body. He must have noticed the way you fluttered around him and Din nipped at the stiff tip before the hand on your side moved to take over where his mouth had just been as he moved to give your other breast the same attention.

“My Alpha likes it when I play with her nipples? Yeah, you do.”

Din crooned when his words made you clench down on him and you could feel another orgasm right there, the way his teeth set into your skin and the way he pinched your other nipple and tugged was like a line right to your cunt and your orgasm was a frantic and powerful thing as you felt where you were smearing every bit of your release along his shaft where the swell of his knot was growing.

“Knot me, Din, lemme- lemme feel it.”

Your plea made him snarl as he planted his feet and bounced you on him, the hand on your breast moving to pull you down after each thrust as he fucked into you with the sheer purpose of filling your body with his knot. A sharp whine escaped you when he thrust up once, the bulge of it making you breathe heavily against the size of it, but your Omega wasn’t going to be deterred now that you asked for it and Din pressed his mouth to yours as his knot caught and swelled with his orgasm. You rocked down against his hips, against his knot, as Din licked into your mouth and trembled while he trembled and panted at the feeling of you clamped around him.

“So good to me, feel so good, Din.”

“Wanna- wanna fuck you so full Cyare.”

“Yeah?” His syrupy, soft, answer made you smile and Din clicked the lights off before pulling you down and laying so that most of his weight was on top of you; he couldn’t exactly pull out without it possibly hurting anyway and you didn’t mind the arrangement at all.

He was sweltering, the room felt unbearable, and Din blinked awake through the darkness before getting up to go to the bathroom; he turned the fresher light on after closing the door and stared at his reflection, washing his face and marveling a little at how his back didn’t hurt for once. He kind of understood now why you complained a lot, the fact that there’d be a proper bed in the Crest was starting to look like a bigger plus than before. He cleaned up and stared at your sleeping form in the doorway, the warmth returning the second he smelled your pheromones, and Din felt a little like an idiot.

Suppressing heats wasn’t unusual but the longer you went without one often led to more intense heats, he usually timed his heats with times he came back to Nevaro for extended periods like basic repairs so he could shut himself away and the others of the covert could make sure he was safe. After the covert was exposed though he’d been forced to suppress it for when you kept the baby with you on hunts and he could shut himself away in the Crest, you’d offered after he explained it when he asked for the extended alone time and Din had appreciated your respect for him by just doing what he asked.

Most other Alphas would insist to stay and help.

Din knew he’d fallen in love with you before then but that moment, when you’d accepted his right to privacy, had been what finally pushed him to accept that truth. Din felt the stirring of his heat and smiled knowing that this time you’d be here, and willing, and he sank back into the blankets to nose at your cheek after making sure the room was darkened again.

“Cyare.”

You murmured a reply, adorable in your sleepy state, and he nipped at the shell of your ear. He could tell the moment you realized what was happening, your body shifting, and you captured his face in your hands to kiss him deeply.

“Mmm, your heat is here, you want me to roll over?”

“Please?”

He felt your lips curl up before you were pulling away to shift to your stomach, sliding your knees under you, and Din couldn’t help but bury his face into your wet folds first where the taste of you and him was mixed together. He grabbed you and held you in place, his thumbs pressing into the skin of your thighs as he pulled to hold you open for him, and you were trembling as he not only cleaned up the remains of before but worked to get you nice and wet. It was always intense in the beginning, during his heats, and he’d spent so long handling them alone that he didn’t know how to let an Alpha take care of him just yet.

But you? You were willing to let him use you, to submit to him, and that was what he didn’t understand but also fucking adored about you. It was easy with you and as your release smeared along his tongue after your orgasm Din couldn’t give you recovery time, he just couldn’t, his cock was so hard it hurt and you were fluttering around him from your orgasm as he sank into your wet heat.

The feeling of you clamping down on him was so intense and he draped himself over your back, forcing you to drop your face into the mattress as he pressed his hands over the back of yours and making you arch your spine as he drew back and fucked into you. It was the high pitched, sharp, sound of his name on your lips that ripped through all conscious thought; the scent of your pheromones dizzying as they changed in response to his, and he couldn’t stay still any longer if he tried.

The wet sounds where he slid into you again and again weren’t nearly as loud as his breathing, as the mewling of your voice each time his hips met yours, it was so much but it wasn’t enough and he nearly lost his mind when your back arched just a little more. His mind blanked at the way your mouth stayed open, the way he could see where you were drooling because he was fucking you so good, and Din’s blood roared as he felt his knot starting to swell.

“Fuck- fuck Din, gonna cum-“ The sharp whine and the way you clamped around him ripped his own orgasm out of him, his knot catching and locking into place, but he couldn’t stop from thrusting harder into you; from grabbing the front of your thighs and pulling you as he imagined fucking his seed right into your womb. The idea of you swollen with his children, bringing new life to the covert, made Din see stars as a second orgasm followed almost immediately after the first.

One of his hands moved to run his thumb along your lips, wet with drool, and he groaned when your tongue darted out to lick his finger before he let you suck it into your mouth.

“Fucking perfect, Cyare, my Alpha.”

He felt the way you fluttered at his praise and even though it was a little bit of maneuvering, without pulling out, he managed to help you get on top of him. What he hadn’t expected was that you truly meant you’d take care of him, the second his knot was small enough that he could slide out of you and his blood started to heat up again your hips rocked and you shifted to face him before grinning.

“Don’t worry, my Omega, I’ll take care of you.”

He almost wheezed when you began to ride him like he hadn’t reduced you to a trembling, drooling, mess and Din was lost to the rush of his heat as you leaned down to lick his ear. “Maybe, when we’re ready to retire, I can take out my implant.”

If Karga suspected what happened he didn’t say anything, just handing you the baby and letting you be on your way as Din finished up paying the mechanics at the shipyard, and you knew the little one had missed you by the way he was clinging to you instead of riding in his pod. You thought about the way Din had promised that the moment he got in touch with his covert again, wherever they were, he would make sure they knew he had chosen an Alpha -and been chosen in return- so that you’d be allowed to see him.

For now you just had a surplus of blindfolds, all of which Din had eagerly asked you to wear throughout the course of his heat, and you couldn’t remember a time you’d felt this pleasantly relaxed as you spotted the Crest come into view. There was an ache between your legs that wasn’t at all unpleasant, it was in fact a very pleasant reminder, and when you spotted one of the human mechanics leaning your eyes narrowed as you approached.

“You sure I can’t do anything else for you?”

“We’re sure.”

Your voice was sharp, a snarl of warning, and the guy turned to look at you before losing all the color in his face at the sight of the kid in your arms and the scowl on your face. No doubt realizing that it was your scent that was clinging so heavily to Din’s body.

“Right, uh- I think I hear my name being called.”

He wisely ran, moving faster when he watched you hand the baby to Din, and when he was back in the safety of the city walls Din chuckled as he pressed the forehead of his helmet to the side of your face.

“I like that you’re possessive.”

“Damn right I am, you’re mine.”

Din purred at your declaration and followed you into the Crest, you pressed the button to open the bunk before staring at the space that had been turned into a tiny room with a little bed specifically for the baby. When you looked at Din he simply hummed and began heading up to the cockpit, the ramp closing, so you left your belongings that you’d packed on the hull floor and followed him up to strap in.

But he stopped and pointed to the space that had once been storage for live captures before he slabbed them, or if they had to be returned outside carbonite, and when you opened the door your eyes widened as you took in the bed that was now there. The plating was different and when Din closed the door you realized he’d gotten plating the dampened exterior sound, specifically for to the reactor room right behind the wall, but it was an actual room and a bed.

“What-?”

“This is our room, figured I couldn’t let my Alpha be miserable with our sleeping arrangements.” He even had a space for his armor, a nook for his helmet to sit in right by the bed, and clothes storage space; you turned to look at him and hummed softly, tugging his helmet so you could tap your forehead to it gently.

“Thank you, Din.”

“You’re welcome, Cyare.”

As he went to the cockpit to take off, since he had a possible lead on the Jedi after a comm from Peli came through, you went down and collected your clothes to put them away. You went to sit in the co-pilot seat as Din finished prep for take-off but he tugged you into his lap and you went willingly, taking over some of the work for him, and Din held you close as the Crest began to lift off.

“Ready to find the Jedi?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, let’s hunt down a space sorcerer.”

“You’re adorable, Cyare.”

“Damn right I am!”

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here @xoxabs88xox

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80 @emiemiemiii @harriedandharassed

[pawborough]

Happy July! We’ve been chugging along and working our tails off. Here’s some progress!

New Assets - Fauna

First off, backer sponsored creatures!

Tundrake

Sponsored and concepted by Syber, designed and illustrated by Hydde

Lunasagi

Sponsored and concepted by Kuro, designed and illustrated by Remmie

Raptaroo

Sponsored and concepted by Skeevertut, designed and illustrated by Hydde

And a new regular guy... 

Frillasnap

Designed and illustrated by Hydde

New Assets - Icons

It isn’t a productive month without an icon batch. Let’s see ‘em!

Ginger, Deer Mouse, Vanilla Bean, Grub, Ladybug, Mealworm, Sesame Pod, Soybean, Sugarcane, Bee, and Sweet Root all illustrated by Remmie

New Assets - Site Header

Over the past several months, we have been tooling and going with a site layout which accommodates a differently shaped header.

Designed and illustrated by Runeowl

Take a look at the beautiful night and day more header art for the “default” site theme!

This layout is proving much cleaner with a more intuitive and dynamic user experience. We currently have several staging deployments to get a feel for it and workshop the experience.

However, it is under wraps for the time being until we have the text, tab, color, and box sizing decisions fully locked in! 

Thank you for the patience with our layout iterations! I’m really relieved by the direction things have gone, and feel Pawborough will be much fresher out the gate.

New Pattern - Butterfly

Designed and illustrated by Fulemy

We are playing with the face design further to make sure it best accommodates a variety of colors, but this pattern itself has turned out just stunning!

And we've been steadily working on producing and updating white coverage, going to great lengths to keep an aesthetic consistency between coverage shapes and cat patterns. Here are a few white shape tests on Butterfly!

Shapes designed by Hydde, illustrated by Remmie

New Pattern - Solid

We’ve decided to forego a universal “basic” pattern, and instead introduce a handful of very simple patterns which any G1 cat can generate with. Among them is Solid–one of the few patterns which does not show the undercoat!

This pattern will have varying levels of values per color! Some may have a dark back, while others may look like a totally solid cat! Here are a few auto-generated previews from our generation tool to get a feel for the variety:

We will be adjusting colors to make sure they are near fully solid, while others may look more dynamic. 

The decision to not include an undercoat may feel like we’re breaking our own rules here, but there’s been a great deal of workshopping for our initially lackluster system. In order to make all patterns and colors look consistently good with one another while maintaining a varied user experience, we took a new approach. This includes a slightly new set of rules and philosophy for our patterns to follow!

Patterns like Solid will be few and far between, but they’ll exist. Expect us to push the boundaries for patterns and genes in the future, including experimenting with line breaking accents... some really fun stuff in the works!

Speaking of changing up the philosophy, let’s talk about colors…

 Mechanic Update - Teaser... 

Due to time constraints with creating the supplemental preview images, and not wanting to present a concept without the appropriate visuals to back it up, nor delay the update another few days, I have decided to push an announcement meant for this update to next week. I wear a lot of hats on this team and am always working on something, so sometimes I fall behind on creating update images of our progress for you all, and for that I apologize! 

However, you may be delighted to hear that we have progressively refactored the color and breeding system and have a brand spanking new system which has proved incredibly exciting! The whole team is enthused by this development, and I will return in just a few days to share it! 

Backend / Functionality Progress

Development is steady. So far we've completed the following:

User Accounts, log in, sign up, and validation/confirmation. 

A users online count which tracks user activity. 

Logic for cat generation, all we need is to plug in the assets!

Backend for breeding. We can see generative results in code. 

Backend for the Camp and Den functionality, both this and breeding are next for front-end building. 

Current in-progress for front-end development is User Onboarding, where a user creates their two founding cats, designing their appearance, attributes, and statistics. 

Frontend UX/UI designs for the above plus cat profiles, a user dashboard, user profile, account settings, breeding, and inventory have been created. 

Below is a video which displays the prototype testing for onboarding! 

As you can see, we have a system being workshopped for "favorite flavor" "disliked flavor" and "nature." More word on that soon... :)

Backers may also feel concerned at the amount of attention involved in this onboarding process so far. We know backers will want to get in as fast as possible in order to obtain low IDs for their cats, and could get frustrated at the attention this takes. Please do not worry! In an effort to preserve early user legacy while allowing for users to take time on their founders, IDs of starting cats will be reserved the moment an account is authenticated, so no matter how much time you take, your starting cats' IDs will not change! 

To Summarize: We shared new Fauna, new icons, the new site header for the Default theme, the Butterfly and Solid patterns, and a first look at the onboarding prototype. 

What to expect next month: Further asset and functionality updates. We will begin populating and testing at least user dens, camps, and cat profiles, if not more. Expect a breakdown of a completely new and improved breeding and color system next week. 

[themarginalthinker]

Dear Fellow Traveler

There are other vampires in the world, and the world itself is a big, big place. David takes a little trip.

-

Sooo......this is an odd one. Basically so far outside of Lost Boys canon it almost isn't anymore, but it's also a small look into some vampire worldbuilding Berd and I have done. David knows people outside of his pack, and they know him. (They certainly know Max, and that's not a good thing.)

Anyway, here you go. Enjoy?

-

It's not hard to find what you're looking for if you know what to look for.

David meanders down the streets of a late-night San Jose. The place hadn't changed too much since his last visit, a couple years ago. Marko and Paul hadn't been wrong - it was a city of many people, from all over. Most of California seemed like that.

San Jose was not Santa Carla, however. Few places were, David would give it that. Further inland, the air didn't hold salt and brine anymore, wasn't thick with humidity that gripped the scent of whatever organic life passed through it.

The blood here was of a different kind. Smeared on concrete thick with grit and dust. In the ash of smoke from things rolled into cigarettes that even Paul likely hadn't had the time to try all of.

David follows it. It makes no attempts to hide itself.

Humans couldn't smell it, after all.

It takes him past downtown - predictably. Hunting grounds for those with the charm, the grace to stalk the nightclub and bar, and for those without, plenty of pickings in the back alleys and unfortunates sleeping on park benches and bus routes. But one never mixed supper with sleep, and David veered off that path, following the one laid out. He glances up, to the side of a bricked up building. There were less businesses here, tucked away in second-story lofts and between condemned flats. He finds what he expects to see:

A tag, small enough to not draw the eye, in faded brown, sealed below disguising black paint. A calaveras, its grinning teeth showing points at the canines, and the moon in pretty, decorated swirls at its bone forehead.

He'd been following the trail for the last hour. The blood was getting fresher.

The streets are darker out here. Less cars, and those that do pass him are beaters at best. Spaces between buildings are trash heaps, massive junk piles. Sometimes, he thinks he sees something darting out of view when he looks up to the glassless windows of a building. Senses a shift in the air as he passes along a certain way, avoiding the scattered streetlights.

Finally, he comes to a stop.

A warehouse, utterly dilapidated, stretching along before a huge chunk of abandoned manufacturing factory property. Surrounded on all sides by the rusting, decaying waste of metal, the exoskeleton of a once-great beast twisted and scattered to and fro. The back end of it even caving in - but.

If one looked, one could see details in the dark. If one could see in the dark.

Certain places in the roof, patched over with welded bits of sheet metal. Open spaces in the sides, to same. Holes stoppered up. David himself stood before a door to an entryway that used to lead to offices inside, or at least a coatroom of sorts - but the door wasn't just barred with lock and key, no. The hinges had been welded shut to match the patched holes in the roof. To the side, little windows, and behind them nothing but a wall of cinderblocks. One couldn't force their way inside if they tried.

Etched into the glass of one of those windows, another little sugar skull design. Sharp teeth. Moon at its forehead.

"It hasn't been that long, Williams. Can't have forgotten where the front door is."

David smiles, and it's sharp.

"No, it hasn't, and no, I haven't. I was just waiting for a proper welcome, is all."

-

David doesn't know their real name.

Vampires who headed clan hubs rarely needed them, or kept them for long after they took the position.

The vampire who greeted him outside was shorter than David, thinner shoulders, smaller over all, but their face hard set. Copper skin warm even in the darkness, their crow black hair cut short up the back, held in a wolftail with a leather cord.

The leather wasn't animal.

Their clothing was a little more familiar style - not quite the wild fancies of the Boardwalks and the coast with its warm winds and wiles, but something that seemed to fade into the mechanical park above them. Faded denim jacket, bleached into curling, skeletal markings. Lines of fine beadwork amid the torn jeans and hole-riddled long sleeve shirt. Thick boots that had seen more wear and repairs than any sane person would think to use to keep them in working order.

Some of that leather wasn't animal either.

They had brought David down in a new way. A way David, in truth, didn't know. He'd been correct in saying that he'd known the literal doors to the building weren't the way inside, but apparently the real entrance had moved since last he'd come to San Jose. Just before the entrance to the warehouse wasteland, there was a small, unassuming grate laid into the foundations of what would have been a runnoff channel. It came out with only a small application of superhuman strength, and the pair had slipped down - guests first.

The crawl space of a concrete pipe had turned into a constructed tunnel, leading to a basement room where they came up through the floor. Into the clan grounds proper.

David had asked about that, as they climbed the stairs up to the main level, the floor of the half-collapsed warehouse - an aesthetic choice, or a necessity?

"Just young idiots, making noise," the Clan Vamp said.

"Bad enough to warrant a doorman?" David had asked with a raised eyebrow.

The Clan Vamp's smile is thin. "Enough to know you were here when you crossed city limits.

Well, shit.

"This place really has gone to the dogs," David tuts.

"Was it ever anywhere else?"

They exchange smiles - with teeth. Not full teeth, for David's words were not said with malice, and the reply not given in offense. But a flash of fangs to let the other know a boundary had been met. Eye to eye.

They finish climbing the steps from the basement level, and step out into the clan grounds.

In the center of the huge, open space, three fires in low bins flickered. Enough to cast long, dark shadows on the tall walls stretching high above. All around, curtains hung from rafters, some still in their original place, and others torn down and twisted about to form more private quarters. Strings of fairy lights wound through it all, here and there, in mismatched areas of pillows and mattresses, true nests. Further back, in the darker corners, hung bodies, close together or further apart. Those who preferred to roost rather than sleep flat.

Around the fires, similarly were a few groups of couches and chairs and lounges, scattered messes of more places to lay and sit.

And people were sitting. Voices filtered through the air now, shifting like the firelight. Low tones, among groups of twos and threes, occasionally someone taking off to roost in the rafters, or return to the privacy of a nest. Snatches of music came and went, as someone somewhere in the mess tuned a radio.

David takes it all in.

"Is the party over?" He asks the Clan Vamp, nodding at the...somewhat quiet night. He remembers what it was like the last time he came.

They glance at him, a long look full of many emotions, before walking forward, David in tow.

"Sure. Since el caballo de caza decided to come around."

David braces himself.

"How many lost?" He asks quietly.

The Clan Vamp didn't answer right away. They come to a couch, low slung in the age of its use, and they sit themselves down, sinking into a corner of it with familiar ease. They gesture for David to take the opposite end, and he does. Above their heads, in the rafters, the radio is finally tuned, and something slow, melodic and heavy in the bass guitar plays.

The firelight dances across the Clan Vamp's features as they reach into their pockets, pulling out a paper carton. They take two hand-rolled cigarettes, and light one in the flame of the bin fire. They use that to light the other. They hand one to David, who takes it, and draws.

It's not fully tobacco, and David recognizes the taste of familiar drugs, and something unique he's not likely to find anywhere else.

It's a few long minutes of silence, between them. Enjoying the smoke, the amiable air.

Finally, with a flick of a finger to rid the tip of the fag of ash where it puddles on the concrete floor, the Clan Vamp speaks.

"Three packs gone, all come here from Reno. One because they both wanted the same hunting ground, wouldn't listen to negotiation. Other two because the fighting drew line of fire from Hunters."

Loud, young idiots indeed.

The Clan Vamp's unoccupied fingers drum a steady beat on their own thigh. They lick their teeth.

"Lost a childe."

David blinks.

He looks to them. Their dark eyes weren't on him, or the rest of the clan grounds. Rather, they'd focused on the fire, almost transfixed. Their mind elsewhere. Distant.

"Shit," he says flatly.

"No one you knew," they say with a shrug.

David takes another draw of smoke, holding it, letting it curl through him. Watching his own long exhale billow upwards into the dark ceiling. A pair of bodies flitted through the space, unnaturally fast, unnaturally quiet. The pair of vampires above giggling to themselves as they moved about. David's eyes came back down.

As if the knowing mattered.

David thinks about Paul, staying back with Marko, despite the two of them knowing he was going tonight. Wanting to come. Knowing they couldn't.

He thinks about them being here, if...something happened.

"You gonna stay long?" They ask him at length.

David's mouth twists into a grimace he can't quite pass off as a smile.

"Daddy would get worried," he answers.

The Clan Vamp barks a laugh, low and humorless. "Damn. Thought you might'a come out here to tell me some good news, Williams."

"Nope," David drawls, popping the 'p'. "Same as it always was. He's opened a fucking business."

"No kidding."

"Mm. Actual, legitimate thing. Videos and TVs and all that junk. Makes a killing, apparently."

Another laugh between them, only a little bit lighter.

"How long you think he's got?" The Clan Vamp asks, sucking down the last of their cigarette.

David huffs, leaning further back into the couch.

"For as long as the Devil's got patience."

"La bendición."

David grins. It's only a little dulled.

[nordleuchten]

24 Days of La Fayette - Day 4

This portrait is again one of my favourite pieces of La Fayette (I must be careful to save at least one more favourite of mine for the 24th …) although it employs a stylistic device that I do not necessarily like when it comes to La Fayette. But more on that later.

Portraits in Revolution, Works by Thomas Sully, Marquis de La Fayette, 1825-1826 (12/04/2023).

This is a portrait of La Fayette by American artist Thomas Sully. He first painted an oil study as a preparation for the full length portrait seen above. As you can see, the study does not look particularly like the painting from Scheffer (Day 2). That is because La Fayette actually sat for Sully – sort of. La Fayette was received on September 8, 1824, just two days after his 67th birthday, in the Independence Hall in Philadelphia. It apparently was quite the evening. The city officials later approached La Fayette and asked for his consent to commission a painting of him by Thomas Sully. La Fayette agreed, but his busy schedule demanded that Sully followed him to Washington where the study was painted. The actual painting was finished in 1826 in Philadelphia – La Fayette left America in 1825, never to return and so he never saw this painting with his own eyes.

A short compositional overview of the work:

In the study, Lafayette stands on the north apron of Independence Square before a pillar of an arch, designed by architect William Strickland after the triumphal arch of Septimus Severus in the Roman Forum. The prop was covered with allegorical figures and statues which Sully recorded in a pen and wash sketch, but which he eliminated from the study and final portrait, calling attention instead to his subject. Through the arch, the viewer sees Lafayette’s admirers crowding the windows and roof of Independence Hall. Flags billow from poles along the balustrade while mounted and standing members of one of his escort troops, the Washington Grays, are in the mid ground. Wearing a black suit with white shirt and collar and a black cape lined in red satin held loosely in place by red and gold tassels, Lafayette gazes into the distance, not at the viewer. Sully has given the Marquis a neo-classical oval face and his toupee of close-cropped hair a reddish cast. His proper left arm beneath the cape is akimbo adding mass and strength to his body and his gloved hand holds his right glove that he removed to hold a top hat and cane. The Marquis’ face is unlined, belying the effects of time and gravity.

Lafayette College, Lafayette College Art Galleries, Thomas Sully, Lafayette, study for 1824-1826 (12/04/2023).

As you can see, there is a lot of symbolism and Sully clearly had a very clear picture in mind that he want to paint of La Fayette. The portrait is extremely flattering – La Fayette does not look like a 67 year old that had been in prison for many years, that had seen war and revolution, that had been in exile, lost his wife and a child. He looks fresher, younger and more energetic. Perhaps the artistic liberty taken here is best explained like this:

Sully portrays Lafayette not as he appeared on that September day, but as he might appear in Elysium with his fellow warriors.

Lafayette College, Lafayette College Art Galleries, Thomas Sully, Lafayette, study for 1824-1826 (12/04/2023).

I normally have objection to putting people on pedestals. La Fayette was not young anymore, he was ageing, and I think he earned himself the right to look old. He lived through a great many monumental changes and events; he survived what many others had not survived – there is no shame in being or looking old! But I also have to say that I do mind so much with Sully’s portrait as I normally do.

There is one other thing that always makes me smile when looking at this painting – I can name three paintings from the top of my head where La Fayette wears the same or a very similar outfit.