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callsign-marlie · 2 years

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Acts of Service (18+)

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x wife!reader warning: 18+ (minors dni!!!), unedited, porn with plot, switching perspective, bradley's an ass man, massage, f-feet for a line?, oral (f receiving), reader gets the softest ride of her life, unprotected s3x (please wrap it before you tap it), face down ass up that's the way we like to fUCK, dog tag kink, creampie finish summary: a stressful day leaves rooster's hardworking wife in need of a massage. she's lucky rooster's got the "magic touch" to make all of her pain disappear. a/n: @mandoowhorian wanted Rooster the Ass Man™ giving back shots and i am a simple woman, who am i to deny? HAVE A WHOLE ASS (pun intended!) FIC, CONGRATULATIONS FOR GETTING MY BRAINWORM STIMULATED.

--- Rooster liked to think he's a kind man. He donated to charity, helped little old ladies cross the street and even volunteered some time at the local children's hospital to read stories to the kids there. He found joy in helping others feel better. Seeing a smile on someone else's face because of a simple gesture he did made him feel incredibly warm inside. Yes, it was fulfilling, yet no act of kindness compared to that of helping his incredibly hardworking wife unload after a hard day. The man was whipped, much to Hangman's devious delight, but Rooster couldn't care less. She stumbled into his life one drunken night at the Hard Deck and has been his other half ever since. He wasn't enough of a romantic sucker to believe in love at first sight; but then, he met her. To him, she hung the moon in his sky and had since only changed his life for the better. He learned how to keep their home clean, do the laundry, hell, even cook all thanks to his incredible wife.

He found that the bare minimum made her the happiest like a surprise bouquet of flowers or making her coffee in the morning. The bar was so low on the ground, every small token of affection gave her stars in her eyes. "No one I've been with has ever been this kind to me," she had said one night, crying over a basket of goodies he had made for her to help her through a particularly bad period that left her stuck on the couch for a week. On the day of their wedding, Bradley swore into the ring he placed on her finger to do everything in his power to keep that smile on her face.

So, when his wife came home with a scowl on her lips and her brows furrowed in pain, Rooster knew what he had to do.

"Honey? You good?"

He was sweatpants clad only and was folding their laundry into piles, having gotten home from base early thanks to the forecasted thunderstorm landing a few hours before it was supposed to. Grounded and drenched, he pulled rank and took the evening off to help his wife with the chores they've both been ignoring recently: dishes, dusting, vacuuming, and conquering the dreaded Laundry Chair in the corner of their room.

She gave him a weak smile, shrugging her jacket off and shaking her wet hair out of its slicked pony tail. "Yeah, yeah, I'm ok. Just really sore after today."

Bradley took his time folding down a pair of her scrubs and was careful not to crease them. "A patient gave you a fight huh?"

"Yeah, and the patient was in the form of a chunky, 140 pound Bernese Mountain Dog who didn't wanna be sedated for his teeth extraction."

She went down on the living room floor in all fours, spreading her arms out above her head to a modified child's pose. Her arms were long outstretched above her and a tiny expanse of her low back was revealed under her folding scrub top. His eyes travelled further up and Bradley just couldn't take his eyes off that ass.

Holy hell, was he a lucky man.

Rooster loved every ounce of his wife even before they got married, but he was so incredibly glad that she had been putting on some weight recently. Why? One, because he knew he was feeding her well and two, because it all somehow ended up going to that glorious, incredible ass. She would complain all the time that she was 'eating too good, her scrubs were getting tight', and had to do little jumping squats to try to squeeze into them. The image didn't stop Bradley imagining her riding on top of him with her cheeks smacking against the top of his thighs.

She let out a tiny, muffled groan. "God, that's the stuff."

"You want a massage? It might make you feel a little better," Bradley said, tossing one of her lacy thongs on top of the underwear pile.

"Mmhmmm, please baby, that'd be wonderful," his goddess muttered, rolling herself over onto her back. Her hair was damp down to her shoulders, her smile angelic and her arms were crossed over top of her head. What he wouldn't do to pin those hands above her and kiss his way down her body, feel her skin heat up under his lips and hear the most holy of moans fall from her lips...

Stop. This isn't about you, Rooster.

He helped her sit up and removed her tight scrub top. He caught a pretty pink blush crested her cheeks at her sudden nakedness left in only her bra. He ghosted a small kiss on the tip of her nose. "It gives me better access. Get on the couch."

He took each laundry pile and placed them precariously on the freshly vacuumed floor. She took her position on the couch, chest pressed provocatively into the velour. She crossed her ankles in the air to show Rooster the tops of her feet and perfect manicured toes. The brat tossed him a wicked little wink over her shoulder. He grinned just as fiendishly, forcing her feet down to sit on the back of her thighs and gave her a teasing spank on the bum. The flesh rippled beneath the fabric of the lycra and he could imagine the gentle pink blooming on her skin.

"Enough of that, you little minx! Here, put the pillow under your hips."

She let him guide the throw under her, her lower back letting out a satisfying pop at the induced flexion. "Ohhhh my god, I sound like a glow stick," she muttered, her face flopping to the sofa in defeat. "I'm all ready for you, baby. Just... just make the hurt go away"

Bradley rubbed his palms together to warm them before letting them dust across the surface of her skin. "You know I give good massages, right?"

She shivered at the touch, letting out a small chuckle. "Only if you consider good massages feeling like a train running over my spine!"

Bradley sat up straight on his knees, hands on his hips. "Now Mrs. Bradshaw, that wasn't very nice! You hurt my feelings!"

"Just telling it as is, Lieutenant Bradshaw. You can fly a plane well, but you didn't really luck out in the hand dexterity department." She turned around to put her face on her hand, elbow propped under the sofa cushion. "You have yet in our year of marriage to convince me of these rumored 'magic fingers' of yours."

He laughed out loud, "Oh really now? Just you wait then, Mrs. B. Be back in a flash."

He scooted off the couch to rush to the bathroom, grabbing the rose oil that she liked to use after her baths. It was a thicker liquid and the smell was quite intoxicating: definitely his favorite scent on her. Plus, the shine it gave her legs after using it was his absolute favorite.

He hopped back into his position on the couch and rubbed a bit of the sticky liquid between his palms. The oil conducted his body heat and he rubbed the soothing musk over the tops of her shoulders. Immediately, she relaxed into a mewl.

"Ohhh, the rose oil. Now show me the magic, baby."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, gently working the fluid into her skin. The shine that rose out gave her a sparkling hue under the standing lamp. He rubbed slowly and deeply under her shoulder blades, making sure to press out all of the small knots that crinkled under the bone. She was breathing deeply, definitely enjoying the pressure and the smells that surrounded her.

"Mmm, lower please," she moaned. Bradley spotted a small drool spot near the corner of her mouth. "How are the magic fingers treating you, baby?" His voice was soft, the tinking of the pouring rain outside louder than he was. He was leaned over her form, putting pressure on the apex of her shoulders to smooth the muscles outside to her arms.

"You have a little more to do before I can give a proper review," she grinned, moving her hair to the side away from the oil. "Keep it up and you may get a prize."

Bradley continued to work, reapplying the oil to his hands a few times before he escaped to her lower back. He pressed a particularly tender point and she seized up for a moment. He backed off quickly. "Oh jesus, I'm sorry, you ok?"

"Y-Yeah," she sputtered, lifting her head to look behind at him. Her eyes were still glazed over in bliss. "Just... go a little gentler. 'Makes my legs hurt when you push there."

"Your legs too?" Bradley questioned, raising an eyebrow. "I have no problems massaging them as well. But, you have to take these pants off if you want the luxury assessment."

His wife groaned, attempting to loop her fingers through the front of her elastic waist band, but gave up quickly. "You gotta do it. I feel like jelly."

Bradley chuckled and shook his head, fingers pulling back the material to reveal the prize he craved the most. Her skin was gorgeous and hugged dangerously to the curve of the pretty gemstone blue thong that graced the top of her hip bones. He pulled the pants down just to the top of her thighs, reapplying his oil before getting to work.

The soft flesh of her ass kneaded into his palm. Her little moans were just too cute; he wanted to hear more. He moved down to the crest of her ass and cupped it gently, giving it another pass with the oil. "How's that?" "Sooo goooooood," she drawled, wiggling her ass between his fingers so it slid off the oil. Holy fuck.

"You have no idea how tasty that ass looks right now," he blurted, taking his time to scoop his fingers along the sides of her hips. "And I'm starving, baby. I could eat you alive."

His love sucked in a breath from the bottom of the couch. He could feel her feet rubbing together behind him. She was trying not to let him see her squirm. "O-oh yeah? We haven't eaten dinner yet though," she whimpered, the tension at the sides of her hips melting with each pass of his calloused digits.

"Fuck dinner, we're going right to dessert."

Rooster slid down the back of her thighs, his teeth nipping at the supple skin of her ass. She let out a strangled moan, the pressure from his mouth sending shivers up her spine. His cool dog tags dangled precariously off of his neck, hitting the back of her thigh with every sudden movement forward. His wife made every attempt to slither forward away from his grasp, but he held her tightly in place. A hard slap ricocheted of her skin, leaving her gasping out loud.

"B-Bradley!"

"Don't move," he growled. He was a predator now. His pupils bled dark and zeroed in on the skimpy, dampened fabric between her legs. The beautiful blue had turned a deep navy in the matter of minutes. Rooster let his fingers run along the silken material, his wife attempting to hide another whimper from his ears.

"Let me hear it," he muttered, his other hand working the muscle of her thighs. "Let me hear you."

Bradley couldn't see her face, but he knew she was flushed and panting. "I-I want..." she started, completely fumbling through her words. His fingers were dragging lazy, slow circles around her clothed clit, the fingers of his other hand still working down, down, down towards the back of her knee. "Hmmm?"

"Your mouth!" she blurted. "Fuck, I need your tongue in my pussy, Bradley, please."

He parted the fabric to the side and without a word swiped a single lick up her pussy. The moan that came from her was a release in itself; he could hear her smile through the sound. His left hand worked to spread apart her ass to give him better access. He dove in deep, her taste salty and sweet all at the same time. Two fingers from his right came around to circle her bud again and her hips struggled against the pillow propped under her hips.

"Oh my god," she cried, her wobbling wrists doing their best to support her weight. She was arching back into him now, attempting to rock against his face at the sensation.

"Delicious," he muttered through her slick. "And all for me. What a treat."

His mouth returned to biting while he let two fingers take place of his tongue. She cried out in rapture, her walls rippling around him the moment he slid them home. The heat coming off of her was intense enough that sweat rippled down the side of her forehead. She mewled and bucked in spasm as he continued his slow languid movements to fuck her through her surprise release. In and out... In... and... out.

"How'd that feel?" He mused, kissing up her spine, from the top of her tail bone up to the side of her neck. She let out a groan at his weight pressing on her, her eyebrows still knitted together at the pleasure. "M-More, Roo. I need more."

"More?" he crooned, his dog tags raking themselves against the sweat of her shoulder blades. "What a greedy little thing you are. You want more, yet I've been the one doing all the work. You take and take and don't return the favor, huh?"

She keened as his fingers suddenly quickened inside her pussy, his fingers gently pulling apart her walls, preparing her for the main event. "But that's completely fine honey," he whispered to her. He left a gentle kiss on her temple, the salt of her sweat delightful on his tongue. "Tonight's all about you. I'll take care of you, baby. I'll take care of you, you deserve it."

But just like that, his fingers were gone.

The overwhelming sense of emptiness overtook her as his weight left her back. She whimpered out loud, readjusting her body so her arms were holding up her chest. The spittle that hung from the side of her mouth should have been embarrassing, but she couldn't do anything to stop it from continuing to pool in her mouth. The man made her come so hard, she saw stars just from his fingers going inside her.

Before she knew what had happened, his hips were up against the ridges of her ass. Rooster had returned in all of his glory, stark naked by the feeling of the velvet smoothness of his cock rubbing languidly against her ass cheeks. Her head sunk back lower on her hands, forcing the arch up in her back to bare herself whole to him. He groaned in appreciation at the sight, a finger scooping some of her essence from her entrance.

The rose oil lit over her skin to make her sweet sweat stand out even more. She was glowing; a rose herself. Bradley couldn't help but let his cock rest between her ass cheeks, rubbing slowly up and down, up and down. Her slick gave him the perfect lubricant to rub between her skin. The feeling was divine.

"Holy fuck," he drawled, his head leaning back. Both hands had come back to squeeze the sides of her ass together, encasing his already hard cock in the silky heat. He could hear her little mewls underneath him, obviously the grazing of his skin against her cunt causing its own reaction to her. "You feel amazing, baby. Just incredible."

Rooster paused for a just a moment, pulling back completely before teasing the tip into her pussy. She groaned at the feeling of the thick head making way, whimpered at the pause, and felt like crying as it left her. He was so close, she was about to beg for him to just fucking take her already. He ground himself in between her ass cheeks for a few strokes again before plunging back in, this time just a bit deeper.

Every pass he'd enter deeper and deeper, her moans getting louder and more egregious. Bradley preened at the effect he had on his wife. She was a stunning, incredible beauty and only reacted this way to him. A feeling like this could get to his head.

He let his cock in all the way finally, the warmth and squeezing of her walls caused him to double over on top of her. His dog tags jingled down off of his chest to rest in the valley of her spine. He placed gentle kisses on the back of her neck; a job well done for taking him in so well. She raised her head gently in thanks, smiling up at her husband. "Want you to move, Roo," she whimpered. "Want all of you right now."

Who was he to deny such a beautiful plea?

Rooster rocked his hips gently at first, nice and slow to savor each drag of his cock against her walls. He pulled out to the tip before plunging back into the comfort of her cunt. She had keened at every thrust, the pleasure boiling inside of her stomach to a rumble. He took his hands and gently wrapped them under her chin, leaving soft kisses in her hair. Her ass bounced off of his stomach, the sound of skin on skin echoing against the pitter patter of rain on their window pane.

His wife didn't need to be fucked tonight. No, she needed to be loved. She needed to be cared for softly, gently, as if she was a piece of glass. God, he would let her know how he felt for her just by making love her her on this one night. He felt like no word he ever said was good enough to express how much he adored her. Every thrust was a love note, ever kiss was a sonnet. It would solidify every word of love and passion he had ever said. He meant every. Damn. Word.

"Mmm gonna," she whined, her eyes opening to face him. She was wanton and lovely, the flush on her cheeks extending down to the front of her chest. So beautiful, like a Renaissance painting with warm hues and lace. "Gonna come again. Baby, baby," she babbled, the word the only thing left in her head. Baby. He embraced her around her chest, just under her breasts to hold her tight to his chest. She fluttered around him, her breath stalling for a moment before she took large gasps beneath him.

He shushed her and gently rocked his hips to work her slowly through her second orgasm of the night. "Oh sweetheart," he cooed, his hands drifting down her upper back to press a little on her shining muscles again. "You're so good for me honey. You're the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, I love you so much."

She nodded quietly, still unscrambling her brain through the spasms, her breathing ragged.

The sight of his cock, pulling in and out of her weeping pussy, made him move again. His eyes were dissecting each movement: each ridge of his cock disappearing inside of her, the pull of her labia against his skin, the subtle sponge of her inner walls. He picked up his pace, watching the way that she devoured him whole. Every drive forward was met by her still-greedy pussy with the same burning intention. Her perked asshole fluttered gently with every push and pull.

The whole image of the scenario was so erotic, Bradley felt his end drawing nearer the longer he kept his eyes open. The rope in his own stomach was about to snap and shred to pieces. "B-baby," he stuttered, hunching back over her. His hands rested to cover both of her own, their fingers interlocking. "I'm so close."

"Come inside, Bradley," she said gently. Her fingers tugged slightly at his, the cool metal of their wedding rings clashing. She truly sounded like an angel, almost far off in the distance in his haze. "Come inside of me."

Permission was all he needed for him to finish. He placed his hot forehead against her upper shoulders, his moans echoing against the hollow of her spine as he filled her to the brim. She was mewling on her own at the heat flooding her body. They stayed like that for a moment, attached, basking in the aftermath of their passionate fire. His dog tags were no longer cool to the touch, pressed deeply into the lines of her skin to leave the seal of his name in her body.

She was his and only his.

Rooster withdrew and grabbed his shirt, dirty by now and did a sparse clean up. He hobbled to the bathroom, legs still shaking, to grab a cool cloth to clean his girl. After rinsing himself clean, he went back to the couch to find her still bent in the same position her hips raised. A small stream of cum was dripping down the side of her thigh, but thankfully didn't drop on the couch.

"We should have put a towel down," Bradley laughed, cleaning her thoroughly. She patted away the pillow bolstering her hips up and let her body drop flat on the couch. Her hands went to press on her lower spine and she sighed, content. "I feel better," she grinned. There was his girl. Beautiful, bright and colorful again.

They slipped into some idle chatter, ordering dinner, deciding what movie to watch for the night and the likes. Bradley had slipped his sweatpants back on and his wife had favored one of his old naval shirts that hung lose on her body for pajamas. They were cuddled back up on the couch, paying more attention to each others eyes rather than the screen.

"Who would have thought all you needed was for someone to blow your back out a little," he chirped, ego inflating just enough to issue a playful smack across his chest.

"Or maybe it was your 'magic fingers' all along!" Her smile was just infectious as he couldn't help but return it. "I won't lie, adding the oil made it feel really good. Almost like a bike running me over instead of a train."

"Abracadabra!" Bradley wiggled his fingers in her direction. Her laughter rang through the apartment as he tickled her sides, the sound just music to him.

Bradley liked to think he was a kind man. He would do anything just to keep her smiling.

---

tagging: @cherrycola27

#top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fanfiction #top gun maverick ff

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imagine-this-doesnt-suck · 2 months

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Sleeping with Spiders

YellowJewl

Chapter 2

Notes:

!!!!!!SMUT AND GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AHEAD!!!!!

You were all packed and ready to catch your train hours before it would even arrive at the station. It was just about 2:40 AM and nerves alone had you up and walking the city streets. You quit quite a bit ago but you would have killed for a smoke right about now. Were you restless about such a big move? You don't know why but something in the pit of your stomach was telling you that something was wrong.

When you neared the gallery, that feeling grew stronger. Looking down at your phone, it was already three. The witching hour. You started to walk faster towards the gallery, you knew something was happening. And at closer inspection you were right. The front windows were shattered, someone had broken in.

Your work. All of your work is in there.

Without giving it a second thought, you climb through the broken window. It's dark inside and you can barely see a thing. You can't help but wonder what you are even doing here. Did you think you were going to fight off the intruders on your own? Fat chance. Why didn't you just call the police? The police! That's right! You sink to your knees and begin to fumble for your phone but freeze dead in your tracks as soon as you hear voices.

"Damn Feitan. You couldn't have picked a smaller picture to steal?"

"I like this one."

"Wish Shizuku was here with that vacuum. It would make this a whole hell of a lot easier."

"Stop complaining, crybaby."

That voice, it sounds familiar. Hesitantly you rise to your feet to grab a better look at the burglars.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" The words fall from your mouth as your jaw hangs slack. You immediately recognize the shorter of the two men. Though he has traded in his suit for long black robes, you easily recognize the pretty pale face peeking out of the large scarf he's using to conceal it.

At the sound of your voice the men freeze. The taller looks to his short friend, who at this point just looks exasperated. But now, you're angry. "Seriously dude? I offer to make you a piece and you turn around and steal my art? What the hell? Did you really not want to pay for it that badly?"

The man looks to his partner and says, "Phinks, take the painting. I'll take care of this." You must have blinked because before you know it he has you pinned against the wall and a knife to your throat. He's fast, real fast, and despite being so small, he's really strong. He has your hands pinned above your head and seems intent on not giving you an inch of leeway. His blade tickles your throat as he runs it across your skin. He's toying with you.

"What? Are you really going to kill me now?" You growl through gritted teeth.

"Yes." He says, not missing a beat. A devilish smile slithers onto his lips as he drags his knife down from your neck, across your body and finally stopping at your abdomen, "I want to have fun first." He plunges the knife into you. A gasp leaves your lungs as the stinging sensation rushes through you, you quickly clench your teeth to avoid giving him any satisfaction.

"Don't do that." He orders as he slaps the side of your face. "It's no fun if you don't scream for mercy."

He's a damn sadist, you should've guessed. He would have killed you by now if he wasn't. Stringing it out like this, its torture. He twists the knife still inside of you and you bite down on your bottom lip to stop a whimper from tumbling out of you. "Scream." He repeats.

You glare into those cold eyes of his, your face a crimson red, and you spit in his face, "Make m-"

He grabs your jaw pulling your face towards him so you are eye to eye, "Stupid girl, do you really want your last words to be 'make me'?" In one fail swoop he pulls the knife from your gut and slashes across your chest. The blade tears your shirt and you can see the red beginning to stain the tattered cloth from beneath. Your chest begins to rise and fall in fractic beats as your breathing becomes ragged. You were covered in blood from the chest down, though the cut on your chest was shallow, the wound in your stomach was deep but you could hardly feel it due to the adrenaline pulsing through your veins. If he didn't kill you first, you were sure that your heart exploding in your chest, surely would.

It's a bit odd. You weren't afraid. Or as afraid as you know you should be. You could die at any second and yet instead of fear, you feel…

The blade shoots across your vision like a falling star in the night sky. Swift and sharp. You have no time to even brace yourself for the imminent impact. When the knife plunges into your shoulder, you are no longer able to hold back the noise that rips through your throat.

He stares at you, wide eyed for a millisecond before his brows furrow and his eyes are narrowed and fixed on you.

"You moaned?"

If your face hadn't been beet red before, it is now. The utter embarrassment rushing through you somehow makes you completely forget about the knife sticking out of you at this very second. "No I did not!"

His look of speculation quickly turns smug. "Did too, slut."

"Shut the hell up!"

"I should have known a freak like you would get off on this."

"A freak like me!? You're the sadistic bastard using me like a pin cushion."

"And you're real mouthy for someone going to die." You watch as he takes a finger and pokes at your wound. With his finger painted red, he raises it to your lips, "Clean it."

"Fuck you." You hiss.

"You really want to, huh?" His grip on your hands has loosened a bit and he looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. You watch as he takes the bloody finger poised at your mouth and raises it to his own where he gives it a soft kitten lick. That thing that's been stirring inside you, that lack of fear, it's clawing to get out. Screaming to see the light of day. You're unsure of what to call it exactly, excitement, arousal, malice, insatiable greed? All you knew was that seeing your blood stain his lips like rouge made you crave all the things that everyone always told you to push down deep inside, to ignore.

You wanted him. You wanted his flesh, his blood, and his bone. You wanted him to want your's. You wanted him to mutilate your body with his blade and allow you to do so in turn. You wanted to paint the sky red with blood, yours and his, intertwining into the most vile shades of crimson. And you knew that to want all this, you must be sick. But that didn't matter, because all you really wanted was for him to rail you.

Your hands now free, you toss your arms around the man's neck and dive in towards his lips. Your mouth captures his in the most violent kiss. To describe it as passionate would be too simple, it was raw and hungry. You were two starved wolves fighting over the same scrap of meat.

When you finally break away for air, he still has your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it, so hard that he draws blood. When he does finally release you and take a step back, you find his usual narrowed glare has fallen into a lustful gaze as his eyes trail up and down your body.

Starving for more you are already pulling at the bottom hem of your shirt to pull it off and disrobe. You're stopped though as the fabric gets caught on the knife jutting out of your shoulder. "Shit!" You wine.

"Here. I'll get it." He says as he reaches for the weapon and quickly unsheathes it from you. You whimper with pleasure. A light chuckle escapes him as he mutters, "slut."

You groan in annoyance as well as impatience as you start to pull at his robes, trying to undress him as well, "could you just shut up and fuck me already." When you accomplish your task of leaving him exposed from the waist up you gawk at what you had just revealed. He's fucking hot. This guy not only looks good in a suit but also has abs and is a murderous psychopath!? All God gave you was the ability to draw, and mental illness. What the hell!?

You're running your hands up his chest taking in the view when his hands grip your ass and you're thrown back against the wall once more, this time with him holding you. He bunches up your skirt around your waist so you're properly exposed as he reaches towards his pants and pulls out his dick.

He doesn't bother taking off your underwear or even pushing them to the side instead he decides to approach the problem head on and ram his member into you. Your panties, already soaking wet from earlier, do their best to fend him off but ultimately fail and move themselves to the side as he pistons himself toward your entrance. While he sinks within you, your head drops to the crook of his neck, with a sharp inhale, you breathe in his aroma mixed with the stench of blood. It's an intoxicating smell. You test your luck and lick the side of his neck, not receiving any immediate criticism you decide to suck and bite on the flesh, leaving your mark on him. You resume your attack on his soft skin, leaving a menagerie of bruises and hickeys on him. Beneath you, a groan rattles from the man's throat, making you blush from the indirect praise.

He slides in and out of you with reckless abandonment with unprecedented speed. The moments he pauses and pulls out are the most agonizing. When he finally drives his shaft back inside of you, it slams against a spot that makes vision darken and your mind numb. You let out a howl of pleasure as he relentlessly pounds into you, over and over again. With every movement you're slammed into the wall again, the cheap gallery wall paper rubbing your back and ass raw.

"Fuck. Oh fuck yes! Please- Fuuuugh-"

"Do you ever shut up? You moan like a bitch in heat." He scoffs as you let out a string of curses with every movement of his hips.

"Thou- thought you wanted me to scream." You sneer as you dig your nails into back as you let out another moan.

"Yeah. My name."

"And what's your- oh Shit! Shit! Oh fuck yeah! What's your name? What's your name?"

"F-Feitan. F- you- you real tight." He mutters something between ragged breaths in a language you don't understand.

You let out a chuckle, "Who's the bitch now? Ow! Oh yes, Fei Feitan! Right there! Right-" you're in absolute bliss. You feel like you could die at any second and yet, you have never felt more alive. You wistfully reach for one of his hands and place it on your throat. He understands instantly as he holds your neck in a vice grip and begins to speed up his thrusts.

His beautiful raven locks now stick to his face, wet with sweat. His once ghostly pale face is tinted red, starkly contrasting your own which is quickly turning blue due to asphyxiation.

"Fei- tan." You choke out. You are so close. Your body begins shaking violently and you can feel your insides tighten as he hammers into you before his pace begins to kilter off. You let out a scream, then you go limp and you're left feeling fuller thsn you have felt in a long time.

The night is silent, the only sound to be heard is the heavy ragged breaths of the two of you coming down from your high. Feitan lets go of your limp body and you slink to the ground with a thud. He runs a hand through his inky mop and immediately begins looking for his robes.

You watch him go about his business and are hit with a sudden pang of pain. You crumple to the floor as you clutch the wound on your stomach. Your shoulder is pulsing with pain as well from its stab wound. It seems that since the adrenaline has worn off you are much more aware of the seering pain.

"You should apply pressure to that. Or you'll bleed to death." He says, looking down at you.

"So what? Decided not to kill me? Was the pussy that good?" You taunt from your place on the ground. He doesn't answer, istead he's back to giving you those silent, narrowed looks. You try to flash a smile but only suceed in coughing up blood.

When you look up again a hand is outstretched towards you. You gingerly take it as he helps you to your feet. "You still going to paint for me?"

"... Sure, but you owe me a movie."

#feitan #feitan hxh #feitan porter x reader #x reader #smut fic #hxh #hxh x reader #feitan x reader

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g-xix · 5 months

Text

Scrambled Egg. Deji x reader x JJ x Simon [platonic]

IDEA: coming home from school w them and the parents aren't there, so you all try cook something. Too bad Deji and JJ try help. Inspired by Deji and JJ'sscrambled eggs in thesidemenSunday.

---

"We okay to come 'round to yours, JJ?" Simon turned his head to meet JJ's as he carefully placed his pencil case in his bag. The fabric besides the zipper had a small hole in it and Simon had been treating his bag with the uptmost care recently. JJ didn't seem to care as much, however, as he shoved his chemistry folder into his bag which donned a grand rip in the side.

"Oh yeah, as long as you just don't mind Dej." JJ shrugged, making you and Simon laugh as you all shut your lockers, jamming your lock on the turner and fiddling the code around.

You slung your bag around your shoulder, helping Simon pack his sports kit to hurry him up so that you could get back to JJ's to rush through your homeworks together and then take it in turns to play on JJ's laptop.

Stepping outside, the Winter air was frosty and made you zip your jacket up with a shiver. Noticing your shiver, Simon offered his gloves whilst Deji (who had joined before you'd left the building) plopped his beanie on your head- JJ making the group stop before you walked any further, so that he could properly put the woolly hat on- pushing it down the back of your head and over your ears as well- delivering a good headpat before continuing onwards.

It was a great relief when you all arrived back at JJ's, all letting out contented sighs as JJ opened the front door with a click of the keys and a pushing of the handle- though those greatful expressions were wiped clear off of your faces almsot instantaneously as the bitterly cold air rushed upon you as you stepped in- almost colder than the Wintery air outside.

It had turned dark by the time you'd all walked home to JJ's, and thus it was a struggle for you to trace your fingers across the walls and try find a light switch, having been the first to take your shoes off at the door.

"Here we go," JJ muttered after a moment, flicking the wall before they were painted within the warm white light of an overhead bulb, illuminating the many framed photos of JJ and Deji as children with their parents who all smiled oh so lovingly at a camera.

No matter how many time you'd return to JJ's house, seeing that photo wall would never not bring a stupidly soppy smile to your face.

"He looks like he's just sneezed there," Simon snickered and pointed out one where JJ's eyes were barely open- nose scrunched and face unattractively wide, almost in a perfect o-shape.

"He looks like he's just sat on Dej there-"

"Oh wait-"

"He did." You and Simon chorused and pointed to the picture before which indeed displayed a very pleased JJ sat on a crying, barely-toddler Deji.

"Oh piss off you two," JJ rolled his eyes but couldn't resist the infection grin from growing on his lips also letting out a laugh alongside all of you.

"Oi, JJ, Mummy and Daddy have gone out!" Deji exclaimed from the kitchen, his face popping out from behind the living room door with a chocolate-yoghurt drink to hand, and white ring around his lips.

JJ sighed at the sight of his younger brother. "Bloody hell, I've told you Dej, those chocolate snacks are useless for you- just... Just let me make something... Bloody Hell, I don't know why Mum gets those snacks anyways- they're stupid overpriced!" JJ kept complaining to himself/Deji (it was unsure who he was lecturing) as he walked past Deji and into the kitchen, turning the lights on and opening the fridge which could be heard as the vacuum was broken.

"Dej, are you allowed to cook when your parents aren't at home?" You furrowed your brows and asked the younger of the two siblings. You weren't familiar with whether either of these boys were any talented with a pan and spatula but you had heard a certain whisper of Deji accidentally burning his hand within the first food tech lesson in senior school and him being withdrawn from that class. Permanently.

Deji shrugged in response. "We've never asked."

"Can either of you even cook?" Simon was next to ask, causing Deji to chortle as he shrugged again, smile passing on to Simon as he heard JJ let out a louder shout at himself in the kitchen. "Shall we help him?"

"Well, I don't fancy helping him but it'd be fun to see what's happening over there."

The three of you trooped through the living room and to the kitchen behind, finding JJ with his hands on his head, a look of great stress creased across his face as he shook his head gaze plastered to the floor.

An egg had been dropped over the faux wooden and was slowly trickling further and further out of its shell.

"Mum's gonna be PISSED, you've wasted an egg!" Deji cackled, breaking JJ's trance.

JJ groaned and put his head in his hands, his frustration only making Deji laugh even more raucously- triggering JJ to launch an attack- lurching forwards, hands out as if trying to grab Deji, and subsequently planting his foot straight into the gloopy mess before taking his other leg off the floor with such momentum that he whizzed backwards and landed flat on his back, thumping against the floor and flicking egg-gloop up and onto Deji (who let out a scream) whilst yourself and Simon dodged to avoid JJ who sprawled across the floor with a loud shout.

You couldn't help but bite down on your cheek, resisting the urge to smile whilst JJ's back arched off the floor with a loud cry, Deji shouting about the albumen that'd slung onto his nose.

"You reckon we should help yet?" You turned to ask Simon, the sight of the wide grin on his face tugging the corners of your mouth up also.

"Not yet, I wanna see just who's gonna win this..." Simon watched and you could only nod in agreement... Until you saw Deji reach for an egg of his own.

At that point, you knew that someone had to step in to prevent world war three from starting for another few years.

"DROP THE EGG, DEJI-" You held Deji back from JJ with a hand whilst JJ simply scowled from the floor.

You lived to regret your words however, as Deji took what you said far too literally and loosened his grip over the egg- letting it drop to the floor with a CRACK.

"DEJI" The other three of you exclaimed whilst Deji just looked from one to the other with a look of surprise in his face, as though he were unbelieving that he was the one being targeted.

"Look," Simon decided to step in, only seeing the situation worsening by the second. "We'll clean this mess up, Dej and JJ, you two clean yourselves up, and then we'll try make something."

JJ looked begrudging to the idea of admitting defeat to his idea of cooking something for Deji, but had to shake his head and shrug, saying a reluctant "Okay then", and letting yourself and Simon look at the mess.

It only took about 5 minutes to actually clean the two eggs up, and Deji and JJ had joined you after another minute.

"What can we make?" JJ asked eventually, looking to you for help along with Deji and Simon. After all, you were the only one who took food tech GCSE and was actually good at it.

"I suppose.... Brownies aren't too hard...?"

Well, turned out they were for the Olatunji brothers.

Deji had some strange obsession with cracking eggs, but he couldn't do it very well- and in the end you ended up with a mixture containing four too many eggs, and crunch texture (egg shells. Of course.)

"Deji, we physically cannot cook this. This just can't go into the oven."

"Can we just see what it makes?" Deji furrowed his brows and pleaded.

"Dej, you got banned from food tech and she's doin it for GCSE- if Y/n says that's not going into the oven then that's not going in." Bless JJ for reinforcing your words and plucking the tray from Deji's hands. You noted how the mixture had a strange goopy jiggle to it as JJ dropped it onto the opposite counter.

RING RING RING!

JJ jumped at the sound of the landline phone ringing, rushing to grab the phone and press it to his ear.

Deji, Simon and yourself all watched with interest as he spoke a few words before placing the phone back into the holder and turning around with a horrified expression.

"Mum's fifteen minutes away..." He near-whispered.

Deji's eyes widened as he let out a gasp, Simon and yourself wondering what was so perilous at the news.

"Oh she's gonna be pissed that we've wasted all the eggs and made absolutely fuckall..." JJ's hands found his head, sitting on either side of his face helplessly. You couldn't help but feel pity for the fact him and Deji were so inexplicably futile.

However, after a quiet moment of mourning, JJ picked himself up and clapped his hands, springing into action and a "RIGHT," picking up utensils and tidying the general area.

"We cannot let Mum see the mess we've created, so Deji- you wipe up all the mess on the counter, Simon, could you please wash up the utensils with me?" The two boys nodded in agreement before JJ turned to you with wide brown eyes. "Any other ideas, Y/n?"

"I'm gonna work on getting all the ingredient out of your stove- otherwise when Mrs Olatunji tries to cook she'll set off the fire alarm by burning all that flour."

"Good thinking- thank you- so much," JJ's words almost made you feel sorry for him, and you reached over to collect him in a small hug, squeezing his side and rubbing up and down his arm comfortingly before patting and letting him go. "Don't you worry, JJ, it's been fun enough seeing you mess up as is."

With an eye roll and smile from JJ, you all rushed to do your own bits- scrubbing the spoons, scraping the counters, wiping the stove with a mini-cloth... You were all working at top speeds until Deji looked out the window and yelled-

"MUM AND DAD ARE PULLING IN!"

Thank God you'd finished your cooking, just as JJ gasped and turned around, realising-

"What excuse do we use for the eggs?!"

Everyone went silent in thought including yourself.

JJ looked as though he could've pulled his hair out at that moment, until you had a brain-wave.

"DEJI, get me the last three eggs!"

Deji pulled the last three out and gave them to you so quickly you almost dropped them- meaning that JJ had to cup his hands under yours just to stabilise you and prevent (another) accident from happening. You could feel an almost dangerous warmth radiating from JJ's hands, his anxiety making his whole body heat up. Your hand found his arm, gently pressing in a comforting way your mum used to do to tell you it'll be fine, flashing a sweet smile before getting back to your cooking.

"JJ, Deji, watch-"

You cracked each of the three eggs into a bowl without getting the shell in, whipping it up with a fork whilst Deji and JJ watched over either shoulder. Simon seemed to know what you were doing as he grabbed some salt and pepper and began shaking it into the mixture as you whisked.

"Right, this is the quickest and easiest shit you can make with eggs-" You dashed some oil into a pan Simon had placed over the stove- igniting the gas and pouring the mixture from the bowl to the heating surface as Simon called "They're taking shopping out of the boot!"

"Stall them!" Run out and ask whether they need a hand with getting it all in!" JJ leaned away from your ear to yell at Simon, which Simon duly noted and scurried outside, as indicated by the door shutting and opening.

Meanwhile you kept the boys captivated as Deji handed you a spatula and let you scrape the mixture from the bottom of the pan, forming soft clumps of scrambled egg.

"Chilli peppers?" JJ asked, leaning past you to grab the seasoning from the top shelf.

"Be my guest." You allowed him to sprinkle a few on, still displacing the eggs with the rubbed spatula to keep the eggs forming.

"Hurry up!" Deji hissed nervously as he heard Simon's loud voice and the Dad's voice approaching closer and closer to the front door.

"I can't physically go any quicker! It's bloody cooking, Deji!"

"Yeah, shut up Dej!" JJ reinforced your slightly panicked words, though a bit harshly.

"Sorry Dej, you know we love you..."

"God, I feel like I'm with parents right now..." Deji grumbled, making you roll your eyes as you looked to the left and caught the embarrassed look on JJ's face as well as his darkened cheeks. Cutie.

The sound of the door opening at the front and Yinka's voice calling through the house:��"JJ? Deji? We're home!" Was enough to make all three of you jump, however.

"Plate!" You hissed at the two behind you as they panicked to help you.

Simon was no less scared than all three of you- all too knowing what the Olatunji parents looked like when they were angry- and did his best to stall them even in the hallway as they took their shoes off. Not only could Simon feel his arms shaking from the weight of the plastic shopping bags (he'd been given the bag with three heavy milk bottles in it) but also his fingers tremoring in fear of what Yinka and Olajide Snr would see when they walked into the kitchen.

Yet there was only so much which Simon could do as Yinka walked on past him and followed the corridor into the kitchen, Simon rushing his shoes off to trail nervously behind and look over her shoulder as when he walked into the living room, holding his breath as he saw...

JJ, Deji and yourself stood- hands all clasped behind your besides at the table...

On which sat a plate of scrambled egg.

"What's this?!" Yinka exclaimed in surprise.

A porcelain white plate was presented with a raw, untoasted slice of bread beneath yellow curds of egg. The scrambled egg itself looked wonderful: seasoned; sprinkled with paprika and chilli flakes and soft and steaming, clearly fresh from the pan... The sight of all three students stood behind it like army cadets with backs straight and arms behind their backs was a sight to behold though.

Simon wished he had a camera to take a picture of them with. He'd take a picture and frame it so it could be pinned up on the wall besides the stairs alongside all the other pictures of the Olatunji siblings.

"Scrambled eggs!" Deji happily introduced, a great happy smile on his face.

"You cooked without us home?" Their dad entered now, scanning the living room as if looking for a fire or some sort of kitchen disaster. Too bad you'd cleaned the latter before he could've seen it.

"Oh I'm so sorry, Mr Olatunji, Mrs Olatunji, that's my fault," You took credit. You knew Yinka had a slight soft spot for you, and hoped that she would be kinder to you if you took the blame. "We were just all quite hungry and afterwards, JJ and Deji really wanted to make something for yourselves also... I think they said they wanted to surprise you for when you came back..."

You internally fistpumped as Yinka's face broke out into a prideful smile at her sons.

"Did they really?" She was practically beaming with pride. "Oh that is too sweet- I'll tell you what- I'll just go put these into these bits I've bought into the cupboard then have it- thank you very much Y/n...

"What about us?!" Deji exclaimed. JJ elbowed him in the ribs for speaking out of turn.

"Yes, thank you to you and JJ as well," She pressed a kiss to either head as she walked past them and towards the cupboard.

Simon spotted a pan that was still out besides the counter, just behind Yinka. His eyes widened as he squinted his eyes and realised that pan was filled with gloopy, crunchy brownie mixture.

"Dej!" Simon hissed quietly enough for it to go unnoticed by Y/n and JJ (who were exchanging victorious little grins and fistbumps whenever Yinka and Olajide looked away, also helping to put the shopping away). As Simon caught Deji's attention, Simon jerked his head at the pan allowing Deji to spot the mixture and widen his own eyes- rushing towards the metal pan and hiding it as any reasonable person would, by...

Shoving it into the oven.

Simon could've facepalmed at the stupidity of Deji, yet he chose to just display a thumbs up. At least the pan was out of the way; he could take it out and throw it away later.

"Have you kids eaten, yet?" Yinka turned around and asked the cohort as she put the final pack of pretzels onto the bottom shelf before shutting the cabinet.

"Oh yeah, we made some eggs for ourselves, too." JJ reassured his Mum, and you internally smiled as you realised all complications were falling into place and smoothening out. Yes, you'd 'used' those eggs to make yourselves food... Not that you'd dropped two and wasted the other six on gloop-brownies-

Yinka and Olajide sat themselves down at the table with huffs, tucking their chairs in as Simon rushed to pick up a knife and fork for either and joined the line that Deji, JJ, and yourself had created opposite to the parents.

As the knife sliced through the egg and bread, you were all holding onto your breaths- squeezing your hands tightly behind your backs in absolute tension as you waited their response. You could feel JJ almost shaking from besides you, and unclasped your hands- reaching to the right to find his and placing your hand over his. He exchanged a quick glance before turning his palm over to interlink your hands, his fingers tightly squeezing yours whilst you tried to soothe him by rubbing his outer hand with your thumb.

You could practically feel the blush forming on your cheeks from your actions, and yet you were too nervous from the tension to care- everyone in the room was silent, awaiting as the parents raised their forks and knives laden with 5-minte-scrambled-eggs and bread...

The fork entered their mouths...

Five chews...

Hand slackens around fork...

Olajide's eyes go wide...

Yinka begins smiling...

Yinka swallows and gets up...

Yinka begins walking towards you...

"Oh wow, Y/n this is lovely! You said you made this? Wow, you've made it so nicely, thank you very much, kids!"

You could feel your heart swelling as Yinka wrapped her arms around you, one hand resting on the back of your head and pressing you into her body maternally, whilst the other squeezed comfortingly around your back.

JJ and Deji were chuffed as well as they received their own hugs and well-done's, and Simon got a little hug of his own, too.

The four of you raced upstairs after washing their plates and utensils, dancing around JJ's room ecstatically as you realised you'd gotten away with fucking up their kitchen, wasting eggs, and cooking whilst the parents weren't at home.

You may have gone to sleep with empty, cruelly rumbling stomachs, but you also went to sleep with hearts overflowing with pride and joy.

BONUS SCENE!

"Kids!" Your neck snapped back as you heard Yinka's voice calling from downstairs.

"Yes, Mum?" JJ called back down to the kitchen.

"Can you come downstairs please?" Her voice responded, making you all groan as you paused the game, putting the monitor on sleep mode and trooping down the stairs to the kitchen whereby you knew Yinka would be.

You were first to step through the kitchen door and regret it most as you saw that the previous humour and happiness within Yinka had been wiped clean, replaced with a confused and almost horrified look as she wielded a pan in her hand.

"What is this, can you explain to me?"

The mixture inside was burned and charred completely black and somehow still seemed to have a jiggle to it as the tremor in Yinka's hand had the horror wiggling slightly. And not only that, but the whole room smelled of farts because of that "brownie" monstrosity Deji had created, with four-too-many eggs.

You looked to the side to make eye contact with the other three boys who were all partially responsible also, and whilst JJ's eyes were wide in fear, Simon's jaw hanging loose in disbelief...

Deji had taken flight and sprinted out of the kitchen, running two-steps-at-a-time up the stairs whilst Yinka shouted for him to COME BACK DOWN, NOW, DEJI!!!

BONUS BONUS SCENE!!!

(Wow, timejump from secondary school AU all the way to current!Sidemen era!)

You took the camera off of it's tripod, slipping the SD card out and handing it to Kon, handling the camera with upmost care as you slipped it back into it's case and zipped it up post-shoot.

A warm smile remained on your face, only growing bigger as you felt a hand slip around your waist, pulling you into your muscular boyfriend's body.

"Nice scrambled eggs you made there, Jide," You grinned as you turned to see his own grin, dimples cutely pressed in at the corner of his mouth so sweetly you couldn't help but place a chaste little kiss there.

"Learnt it from the best," JJ chased after your lips, wanting a better kiss which you couldn't deny, sharing a quick kiss on the lips before pulling back and laughing.

"God, it's so ironic that after all this time the only thing you've learnt how to make is scrambled eggs..."

You cast a glance to the simple pile of egg amongst eight other well-crafted dishes. It was certainly the odd one out, and yet it also somehow looked like one of the most preferrable meals amongst the others.

"You could teach me how to make something else, you know?"

"Oh yeah?" You quirked a brow and turned back to face him. "And what do you wanna learn to cook?"

"I don't know, what's the easiest."

You cast your memory back to the things you'd make as a child- some of the easiest recipes- until your mind found the item you'd once deemed easiest to make, and yet had watched as JJ and Deji had messed it up to beyond repair.

"Well, I suppose brownies aren't too hard..."

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

Ayup everyone. Thought I'd write something kinda unconventional in terms of the fact i feel like i always write fluff/smut/x reader oneshots, but the recent sdmn vid kinda j made me wanna write some platonic fluff, ygm? Vid in question is:

youtube

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

To see more, here's my MASTERLIST

And here's my WATTPAD, with 50+ more oneshots to read

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poorlittleyaoyao · 1 year

Note

I actually laughed reading about how novel!wwx judges others but he is a little mean. Novel!wwx is actually an asshole! And I too am surprised that jl didn't even spare a thought for his auntie! There's a whole paragraph about how he wants to forgive jgy and wwx (very beautiful) but what about qs? I put in the 'wtf' box, where there's also lxc's treatment at the end of the novel where lwj 'leaves him be' because 'he can't do nothing to help him'. I know that lwj isn't the best at comforting people but his brother is in seclusion! In a similar situation he was 13 years ago!

I mean... at the end of the day, the reason Jin Ling never thinks about Qin Su is that this canon itself doesn't especially care about its handful of women. It's why Jin Ling thinks about his father but not his mother, it's why Wen Ning doesn't mention his sister outside of a story about how poor Wei Wuxian has suffered ever so much, and it's why Wei Wuxian doesn't think about either of the above people. And unfortunately, since every Doylist answer has Watsonian repercussions, it means that these guys come off as jerks who don't give a shit about their mothers and sisters and friends who cared so deeply for them. The drama makes an effort, but even it stumbles in the end, IMO.

(Having typed that all out, I wonder if that's a factor in my Jiggy brainworms: in a story full of guys who regularly forget their female family members, we've got this little guy whose driving motivation is honoring his mother. And yet, because we can't have nice things, he is simultaneously responsible for a good chunk of the chronicled violence against women in the series.)

LXC's treatment is part of the novel problem of it being Wangxian: The Book. Which honestly isn't even a problem, because that is exactly what the novel is supposed to be! It's not a gen fantasy epic that happens to contain romance; it is specifically a romance so people expect it to be Wangxian: The Book.

I was complaining awhile ago about Novelxian's blithe attitude towards his traumatic experiences (both those he experienced and those he inflicted), and one of the anons who messaged me posited that this was better for the story, because it meant Wangxian could have their romance unimpeded by baggage. I boggled for a bit because it was so diametrically opposed to my own preferences that it was completely alien to me. It was eye-opening, too, because once I thought about it, that anon's perspective is probably much closer to the average audience member's than mine is, and that's fine. Because this is, after all, the romance novel Wangxian: The Book!

Going to back to LXC, the problem is more that the surrounding plot and characters are actually really damn interesting in a way that doesn't always mesh with the desired romance tropes. Acknowledging the love interest's permanently traumatized elder brother or the ramifications of the power vacuum that just opened up following JGY's death and the adjacent scandals would REALLY bring down the vibe when it's time for Wangxian: The Book to send its couple off to their cottagecore happy-ever-after. So instead, our heroes just go "well, best not to mention it!" and look like assholes because, as with the deaths mentioned in the first paragraph, the story itself doesn't want to dwell on it.

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chaoticgeminate · 1 year

Text

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

#the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x f!reader #din x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #star wars fanfiction #A/B/O verse #A/B/O dynamics #cw smut #cw piv

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chumpovodir · 4 months

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Man I have so many Thoughts about Hector and Julia

Like. In a vacuum, they'd be cute together, right? Hector is kind and considerate to her. Julia is a little irriverent, but also cares about him and helps him through his journey. They can relate to each other, as outcasts, as people who knew Isaac, as people who have lost a dear one.

But man everything else around them ensures that a hypothetical relationship between them would be fucked up lmao. Hector just went on a rampage to avenge her recently dead lover - he's so dedicated and devoted, can he truly move on so easily? Julia just so happens to look like her - would Hector see her as her, or as a mockery of Rosaly? She's also Isaac's sister, with all that it entails. And then there's what Hector is for Julia...

The thing is, can he be considered Isaac's killer? That's ambiguous. What killed Isaac: being slashed by Hector's sword while his body was inhabited by Dracula's soul, or the ritual itself? I suspect Isaac died the moment Death put Dracula's soul inside him. If that's the case, Hector is not the direct cause of Isaac's death. But... Julia asked Hector to please save Isaac, and only kill him if there was no other choice. Hector didn't care. He did sympathize with her sadness, but then the cursed thoughts took hold of him again, and he kept insisting that Isaac had to die by his hand. He never tried to take a pacifist option, even after he realized that with his power he could nullify the Curse. By the time he put two and two together, Isaac's fate was already sealed.

So imagine from Julia's perspective. Hector reassures her that only he can "dispel the vile curse": this might make her hope that Isaac could be saved. An hour or so later, she sees his corpse abandoned on the floor, and Hector ready to die under the crumbling castle. He managed to save himself and Wallachia, but not her big brother.

I do believe part of her, in her grief, would blame Hector for not doing enough. But she would never express it, because if there's one thing that's certain about Julia, is that she represses a lot.

I think they'd stay friends. They'd be able to joke around and visit each other and maybe even open up to each other. But the ghosts of Rosaly and Isaac would always hang between them. Yes, it's complicated, and messy, and bittersweet.

(and hey, the ending of the game only shows Hector going to live with her. Nothing says they'd have to be together lol. Or that Hector won't be able to find himself a new arrangement later on.)

thoughts so Huge™ tumblr wouldn't dare show me this ask notification 'til i got back on desktop lmao

The thing is, can he be considered Isaac's killer? That's ambiguous

it's funny because even if Hector did spare Isaac, he really had no reason to after making that mistake the first time, in PtR, which arguably kicks off the whole chain of events in the first place

I do believe part of her, in her grief, would blame Hector for not doing enough. But she would never express it, because if there's one thing that's certain about Julia, is that she represses a lot.

oh, absolutely. she'd know it wouldn't be fair to begrudge Hector after putting his life on the line, doing Trevor's job for him, and basically saving the entirety of Wallachia by breaking the curse, all the while suffering from his own loss. what are her own personal desires to see her only living relative spared, compared to acting for the greater good, right? i see her as the kind of person that never complains about her lot in life, which is how she managed to survive living on the fringes of society without growing a misanthropic bone about it like Isaac did.

and yeah, honestly it's just such a disservice to relegate her to the new love interest. rosaly at least got fleshed out as her own person in both the mangas, but we don't get much insight to julia's character or how she feels about everything that went down. to make matters worse, it seems like the fanbase doesn't see much value in her so there's so little, if any, fanworks that feature her POV

#castlevaniaposting

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moreespressoformydepresso · 3 months

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Okay so @crazycriter pointed out Urban said out loud he believed Teslee was “his” and now I have a fix-it AU where all the mentors think like this and because they’re spoiled (aside from Snow who’s just a fuckhead with psychopathic tendencies) and not used to whatever’s “theirs” being taken from them they openly oppose the games. It’s a fucked up reason to wanna stop the games but hey whatever keeps the tributes alive is good so they don’t complain. They just seethe internally at being seen as possessions rather than people. Since this gives the mentors more time to interact with their tributes they start to slowly see them as people rather than property. Some, like Lysistrata, earlier than others, but they all get there (except maybe Snow unless they get him into therapy because there is a lot more than propaganda and trauma wrong with him to be honest). By the time the games actually end up being cancelled after a few weeks of postponing for deliberations, the mentors genuinely see their tributes as at least sort-of friends or possibly as younger siblings for tributes like Dill, Wovey, and Mizzen.

I think it’s important for people to remember that the mentors aren’t evil, even if they treat their tributes horribly/have disgusting opinions. They were taught their whole lives that the people in the districts are wild animals who are beneath basic respect. The Capitol is civilized and superior, the districts deserve to rot. Their children being murdered in a yearly death game isn’t morally abhorrent because the districts aren’t people, you see. And you saw what they did with the capitol siege! You lived through it! Clearly they’re savages that need to be taught a lesson to keep them in check!

That’s how things are, it’s what the mentors have grown up with. And they’ve never met anyone from the capitol aside from Sejanus, who they clearly don’t really like specifically because he’s district. These opinions don’t exist in a vacuum, they’re created by a lifetime of never being told or shown anything else. There will always be people who genuinely don’t have empathy (like Arachne and her stupid damn sandwich) but the people laughing at Lamina’s tears during the reaping? They probably don’t know any better. They’ve been taught since birth to hate the districts. They’ve been told the people of the districts are enemies who deserve to be punished, so they don’t see a scared child. They see an enemy getting what they deserve, so in their eyes there’s nothing wrong with their reaction. I think Livia Cardew, who reacted like an exited child getting fancy new toy to play with when she was assigned to mentor Facet, could have started to care for him if he hadn’t died so soon. I think Festus Creed could have befriended Coral if he’d seen how much she cared for Mizzen, proving the districts aren’t just wild animals, and realized she wasn’t a heartless killer.

That’s why I chose to go with the mentors getting more time for selfish reasons, which gives them a chance to see all the ways in which the capitol propaganda they grew up with was bullshit. And that ends up making them fight to not just postpone the games, but fully cancel them. Because they, after a few weeks of getting to know their tributes, genuinely just want them to be safe and happy.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tbosas #10th hunger games #hunger games #fix it au #start it off fucked and end it kinda cutely I guess #this honestly feels like the most natural fix it I’ve ever made for this book/movie

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vro0m · 7 months

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RBR's organisational make-up at the top is a mess tbh, but it's also why if Horner is making a move, he's making it now.

Currently Mark Mateschitz owns Red Bull Racing, but appears to be taking less of an active role than his father did. Mintzlaff oversees all of Red Bull's F1 teams, all their football teams, plus their ice hockey investments, as well as other stuff, plus the Red Bull Media House and its extreme sports properties.

Christian Horner is listed as both CEO and Team Principal of RBR. However, in May 2021, Max Verstappen's manager, Ray Vermeulen said of making deals with Red Bull: "There is only one man who decides - Dietrich Mateschitz. Helmut Marko is his right-hand man and has a blank cheque for Formula 1."

You've also got the incident in 2020, when Honda announced their 'departure' from F1, only a week after Christian Horner said about them needing to work more closely together. When Marko was asked about it, his response was: "Mr. Horner is a team principal, but not involved in strategic matters. Mr. Mateschitz and I have known for a long time."

It seems inconceivable that any other CEO in F1 wouldn't have the final decision on their drivers, so it certainly seems, at least until the death of Dietrich Mateschitz, that Horners role as CEO/Team Principal has been quite unconventional.

So then you have Helmut Marko. 'Special Advisor', 'Dietrich Mateschitz's right hand man'. But of course, Dietrich is dead. My opinion is what we see here is the delayed but inevitable struggle to fill the power vacuum. And I can't help but think that whoever can get Oliver Mintzlaff onside will take it.

Sorry it took me a minute getting to your ask I was stuck looking for drivers who left championship-winning teams.

Thank you for the rundown. From what I read, Marko doesn't get along with Mintzlaff so it seems he could really be in a tough spot. Also there was always the whole thing about the other teams questioning what his role is because he's not under the cost cap because he's just a consultant or whatever his official job description is.

The way I understand it, but tell me if I'm wrong, Mateschitz gave Marko the position because he was like "heyyy my friend let's make business and money together" or whatever and because the big boss gave him the position himself and they were friends Marko could do whatever he wanted however he wanted (and clearly say whatever he wanted) and nobody could say anything. You're not gonna complain about your big boss's bestie.

But now Mateschitz being dead, actual businessmen who are trying to do actual business are looking at him like "why are we paying you and why are we even listening to you exactly?" and of course Horner would be more than happy to be able to run the team the way he wants and is supposed to be able to as the TP.

It leaves the question of what does the son think/can do/would do about it as the owner? Does he care about his dad's friend or something? Can he veto a possible termination (and again : would he) even though he's not actively running the company? I guess we will see.

#f1 #2023 #helmut marko #lauda4theback #vro0m's asks

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yourtongzhihazel · 4 months

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Lysenkoism, eugenics, and the politicization of "science"

Lysenkoism, in short, was a disproven scientific theory pushed by Soviet biologist Trofim Lysenko which rejected the theory genetics in favor of a "class-based" model and inherited characteristics. The material effect of the USSR's endorsement of this theory played a small roll in the famines of 1933 and during the Great Leap Forward**. It's one of the biggest missteps in the soviet socialist experiment. The question is, then, why was this model adopted at all (even with Stalin's own doubts of the theory), especially considering later Soviet scientific successes and pioneering.

One of the gravest byproducts of codifying the theory of natural selection is the invention of, first, phrenology, then eugenics. This pseudoscience was the exact "scientific" backing needed to support a growing white supremacist liberal ideology. Eugenics stipulated that the "master race" (white people*) had superior genes compared to everyone else and that poverty, intelligence, mental illnesses were solely determined by your genetics and therefore, we must improve those genetics through forced sterilization, marriage licenses, or in the case of the nazis, genocide. The class nature of eugenics is clear. It is the racial "science" of the bourgeoisie and targeted the poor, POC, and disabled.

Lysenkoism, politically speaking, was diametrically opposed to the concept of eugenics. The rejection of mendelian genetics negated the idea that there is a master race or a poor gene (both things that western eugenics propagated and continue to). However, we know that both "scientific" models are incorrect. The USSR's implementation of Lysenkoism contributed to a larger snowball that culminated in the disastrous consequences of 1932 and, arguably, 1950**. But its important to see that both the USSR and China abandoned the theory after it proved incorrect. On the other hand, eugenics continues to play a role today, just cloaked under the thin veil of "IQ"; dig into many social austerity policies and ultimately, the root is "you poors must have the poor gene and cannot save" or some shit. Lysenkoism, on the other hand, is a stark reminder to stay vigilant for dogmatism.

Another aspect of this story is the "politicization of science". Now, I don't mean "politicization" as many liberals say (e.g., women in my vidya games??? POLITICAL!!!; trans people exist??? POLITICAL!!!; nor its more serious type of people complaining of scientists going into politics to enact societal change, i.e., with climate change (both types of complaints are highly idealistic and I will explain)), but rather the dogma of assigning political-economy to scientific models. Of course, many many MANY models CANNOT exist in a vacuum. Climate change science is one of these; the interconnections and intersectional aspects of the thousands of varying metrics contribute to this scientific model.

On a more metaphysical level, science itself is informed by the political-economy it takes place in. Who gets funding to research what is also highly political-economic. However, there are also more immutable aspects of science. Genetics have no political flavor. The conservation of energy cares not for class distinctions. Like statistics, science, as a collection of models of the observable universe, is a tool that can be used to inform material change. And like statistics, where the conclusions you draw from data are highly political-economic, the models constructed from poorly done science are also highly political-economic.

#*of course we must remember that whiteness was invented during the expansion of capitalism as an ideological justification #for the enslavement and genocide of native peoples and chattel slavery from Africa and elsewhere.#mmp #idrk if this has any political-economic water but it made sense to me #pls amend or append as you see fit #**A comrade pointed out that though lysenkoism did contribute to these historical famines #the major causes and contributors were many and interconnected including weather policy implementation and others #while the topic of these famines are nuanced and deserve a post in themselves they are not the main focus of this thesis

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marwhoa · 1 year

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request: N/A

🝮 “ cherrypie prequel: sugar n’spice ”

rise!raph x villain!female!reader

author’s note: how long’s it been since cherrypie was posted??? a month? Well, here we are with another part!! this one is the prequel ( one of them 👀 ) and my first series! well, first series being actively posted. be sure to check out @tmntxthings and give them lovin’ on their post too! we both wrote this together. literally. Challenge style again!!!

word count: 6.9k (hehe, nice)

Through one of the very few quiet streets of the city, a hand emerges from the wall. Around it glitters magenta sparks, twinkling as an entire body follows through it. As dazzling an entrance as that was, this particular stranger happened to be dressed simply. A plain, ruffled, scarlet dress with a billowing skirt, accented by the pair of matching sandals wrapping up her calves, and tied together by a red clutch-purse as its accentuating piece. “ Plain-jane “ blinked away a crackle of red magic that was quite literally drawn into a ring upon her finger. Small bits of arcane energy surged in, bouncing erratically beneath the clear film protecting ruby crystals inside—all until the last twinkle blipped into the vacuum.

With a few calming rotations of the ring around her digit and a tucking of stray hairs behind her ear, the silent street was filled by soft tmps of the mysterious newcomer’s light footsteps. Perpendicular to the alley she has appeared through, a sneaky peek was given before she stepped out the next pin-drop quiet street with sidewalks that likely experienced so little foot traffic that they just might be clean enough to eat on.

Luckily, this lass wasn’t here to dine on the sidewalk picnic style—no, no, she was here for a special café that was quite literally the hidden gem beaten off the path. Had it not been for her frequenting, it likely wouldn’t be able to stay open. THAT is just how out of the way it was. Alright, that may have been blown out of proportion, but Y/N couldn’t care less as she and her temporarily-inflated self-importance pushed through the doors. Immediately she was woken up by the soothing hold of coffee grinds and baked goods. They cradled her, placing energizing kisses upon both cheeks.

A barista greeted the door’s chiming bell with a cheerful good morning and “ Welcome to Sugar n’Spice! “.

Any sleepiness brave enough to stay in your system from a bright and early rise wouldn’t stand a chance in this quaint, domestic place and its enlivening, ambrosial scents as you approached the counter. A glance was passed to the occupants of the room—a man who looked like he just got out of the gym, two sickly looking old ladies by the window, a lady bouncing a kid on her hip, and a man in a suit who’s foot tapped in a “ watching the clock closely ” fashion.

Giving a curt “ excuse me ” as you navigated around the impatient man, you swallowed the bitterness upon your tongue for these humans who had the privilege to be here, topside, all day, any day. Hold back that discontent, for there is one important rule! A personally appointed exception, specially made for Sugar n’Spice: this place was divine enough to escape your witchy wrath. Show utmost respect by refraining from the usual “ Hidden City Dweller seething at the humans ”. You could do that anywhere but here. This place was the holy land. The heavenly pinnacle of coffee—the SACRED LAN—

“ Ma’am …? “

The barista tilted their head towards you playfully as that increasingly bizarre inner monologue settled abruptly. The distractions were waved off by a shaking of your noggin and an apologetic smile.

“ Sorry! Caught up with something—could I get the spiced Red Velvet latte? Please. “

Your lips shifted into a patient smile as the barista practically sighed in relief, hand on their chest as they muttered “ much more normal than that last customer “ under their breath. You quirked an eyebrow at this but quickly rested your features. Humans complained too much for folks that—no! No, no, Y/N, quit it. The rule, remember the rule!

“ Oh! Also, can I do the student discount? I’m an Eastlaird student. ��

There was a missed opportunity as three of the occupants in the room perked up upon hearing that name; alas, your attention was instead fixated on your red clutch. You unlatched it swiftly and dug out two cards: one to show to the barista, the ID, and the second to pay for the meal, the debit card. The animated worker leaned in, nodded at the little plastic, and took off some of the charge via the “ Sugar n’Spice’s Nice Discount “. With just one swipe of a debit card and a little wave after the machine’s little “ doot ! “, you were all ready to go and await your beloved order. Your seeking eyes gazed all around the room in search of a table to claim until landing fondly upon a small two-seater. There, in the corner opposite of the old ladies and other waiting humans, was a perfectly empty space. Morning sun rays seemed to illuminate a chair for you to sit in, whispering a “ come here to enjoy the one thing humans were able to do right, dear! “

After a moment to place your things upon the uninhabited table, you then went over and leaned against the counter near where orders came out and scrolled nonchalantly through your cellular. A scoff or two may have escaped at whatever human news headlines caught your eyes, at least up until your expression glimmered with a split-second of trepidation as an instinctual swipe did away with an unwanted notification.

NOTIFICATION

You have one new message.

———————————————————

➤ MOTHER sent now

Where are you?

———————————————————

Not here, please, agonized the disguised witch silently. This was your one true escape—the one and only getaway from home that you had. Away from the mystic training, away from her, and into a place where you could be a normal... A normal what, human? Don’t even think about finishing that thought.

But, Sugar n’Spice cafe… this was one of the only human-made delights you had…

Surely that granted you one little “ cross my heart “ secret kept, right?

Trapped in your chest was a deep sigh; you didn’t want to think about your mother. It felt like she had done nothing but push you to your limits as of lately. Constantly claiming that your magic “ wasn’t performing at its peak. ”, that you “ should train more, “—no, even MORE than that, that you should only be training. The ever-lingering pressure to perform and perform well, lest you don’t come up to par with your mother’s expectations, it was starting to get ridiculous. “ Seriously Y/N, are you even trying? If you don’t start taking training seriously—” You quickly shooed away that memory violently.

The little device was hastily shoved into your clutch, taking with it the unpleasant memory. Your eyes closed as the subconscious habit of twisting your ring came in full swing. You did it mostly when nervous, but every so often it would give off a calming effect—and per usual, it served to ground your racing heart in the here and now.

This place was your safe haven. You didn’t want to mar its charm by thinking of that hateful woman who did nothing but dampen your spirits. Just as you were opening your eyes after building up your resolve, one of the baristas called out, “ Spiced Red Velvet latte! ” Right on time, just the thing to completely nip these nerves in the bud as if clicking a “ do not disturb for at least an hour “ switch.

Or so you thought. You were so focused on your destination, hand reaching out for its prize. So focused in fact, your hand jolted and floated stiffly as your peripheral caught another hand closing in. Far closer than a stranger’s hand should be, and your eyes were blown wide, resting upon the intruder heading straight for the cup—your cup.

“ Oh—”

Both of you stilled. You followed the hand up until you met the gaze of a culprit who dared to try and steal the drink you ordered every. single. visit! Just as quickly as you made eye contact with a pair of emerald eyes, the barista’s worried voice snagged your attention once more.

“ —that’s right! Sorry, both of you ordered the spiced red velvet latte, ”

Clarified the worker behind the counter who had already began slowly, nervously, pulling their hand away from the fresh beverage.

“ The, uh, the next one will be out shortly! ”

They amended, turning back to concocting tasty drinks.

…

“ Sorry! You can go ahead, I’m in no rush. ”

Your gaze returned to those bright green irises surprisingly quick. His voice was deep and somehow soothing, offering a soft smile as he dipped his head towards your drink. Or rather, a drink whose fate laid in the hands of you both. A shared dilemma.

“ Wait—wait what? “

Cue the double-take. Look at the drink, now at those curious green eyes, and right on back to the drink. Was this… Selflessness? Displayed by one who belonged to a selfish society?

“ You’re just letting me have it? “

Now, by no means would you ever forfeit something of yours to a human. Not even a drink mishap like this! But, what stopped you in your tracks was the lack of a rude “ I’ll be taking this! You can wait for the next drink. “ from the stranger.

“ Well, yeah, a’course. Raph prides ‘imself on bein’ respectful— ‘s good manners, too. “

He was beaming with a proud grin, crossing his arms and standing with a stance that seemed all-too-heroic.

The “ amaze ” factor of his pose was severely detracted by the gym clothes he wore. Basketball shorts and a tank top, sneakers—was this dude on a morning jog? Not the most heroic get-up.

“ R.. Right.. “

Y/N’s eyes rested on the cup and its steam, lingering there for long enough that the drink’s twin had been completed and slid out on the counter, metaphorically framed by a different worker chirping, “ Another spiced red velvet latte, for here! “

The gears in your head were turning, still frozen by the smallest gesture, far too small for anyone else, but that meant so much more to you. This is a sign, echoed a thought. As he took his drink, you couldn’t have missed him doing a victorious fist to the air and muttering “ You still got it, big guy! The precious drink has been secured. ” The whimsical nature of the whole interaction had your hand moving before anything could be thought through enough, driven by a single fear. Pushing your hand, the fear begged you, as though letting this one leave here and now would become the biggest regret of your life.

“ Wait,”

You nearly whispered the word, feeling an uncharacteristic thump in your chest as those same green hues turned and locked with your own shaky eyes.

“ Someone who loves Sugar n’Spice’s spiced red velvet lattes as much as I do, th-that’s hard to find. ‘Cause, y’know what they say—“

“ It’s too much sugar n’spice. ”

“—it’s too much sugar and spice. ”

Laughter brought the two together within seconds as the realization that they said the same thing at the same time set in. Y/N’s nerves dissolved—and to be frank, so did this particular stranger’s, not that you would know that.

A shaky invitation was proposed, asking him if he’d like to sit together and share company. With a toothy smile and a nod, the two sat at her claimed table, humming at the clinks the cups made when their bottoms met the polished redwood of the café tables. Just before either could start conversation, one of the old ladies across the room gasped dramatically loud. Y/N would have looked over, had it not been for the man in front of her quickly covering up the scene with a cough and interjection.

“ So! “

His voice cracked, seeming to choke on a bit of unease as your eyes returned to him.

“ Ya gotta be a regular, too, then? “

“ Yes—what gave it away? “

Y/N inquired, taken aback by such a bizarre deduction. Seriously, what gave it away? She glanced at her drink, her seat, and then to the board. The evidence revealed itself before he continued.

“ These drinks ‘ave long since been taken off the menu, but they still serve ‘em for the few regulars who knew about it. “

The happy trill he gave upon sipping the hot drink further lowered your guard as you leaned into your hand. The little voice in your head placed its imaginary hands on your shoulders, leaning into your ear with an ecstatic “ maybe this one’s a good human? say, don’tcha think nice humans exist? there’s the owners of sugar n’spice, so can’t there be others !!? “

“ Quite the observant eye you have, sirrrr… Raph? “

Dragging out the last word until the name came back to you, the same one he said earlier. You were banking on that having been a third-person-speaking moment as opposed to him giving the name of an absentee.

“ Raph, “

He nodded in confirmation, to which you dipped your head with him, copying his nod.

“ And yours? “

“ Oh, it’s Y/N. “

Your voice spoke sheepishly, as a confused thought echoed “ why had it taken you this long to say so “ in your head.

“ Issa lovely name, and a pleasure to meet ‘cha! “

His smile was so warm and comforting that you let go of the embarrassment swirling around your head, heating your cheeks. Play it off as being from your drink’s steam, that’ll work! Go on, a little “ shoooo “ to the maroon-red liquid before taking the lightest sip.

Ah, it’s still too hot.

“ How long ‘ve you been a patron? “

The friendly human asked in order to continue the conversation. This had a tiny smile appearing on your face. You almost couldn’t remember the first time you stumbled into SnS. You blew out a winded raspberry.

“It’s been a good long while.. ”

Pondering hums reverberated from within as your finger tested the liquid once more, stirring contemplatively upon the drink being cool enough. This was your first year at Eastlaird, so that …plus a couple of years more, Ah!

“ Around 3 or 4 years, ”

The cup’s bottom tapped the tabletop with a light clink. Ever since you had found one of the more far-off gateways from the Hidden City to the topside, your nose had followed the sweet aroma of coffee. Now every time you snuck away from your mother, you made sure to squeeze a stop here into the schedule. Fortunately for you, sneaking away was one of your specialties, thus your regular status at said coffeehouse.

“ Well Raphs been grabbin’ a drink here for 5 or so years! “

The huma—Raph, added after you finished. You wondered internally how miraculous it was that neither of you had run into each other before.

…

…….

Silence filled up the space around you both. Though the conversation had reached a momentary halt, Raph caught himself lingering on a potential topic. Should he bring up Eastlaird? It was an overheard tidbit from the exchange between you and the employee at the register. But, how could he phrase it without sounding like a bit of a creep for eavesdropping in the first place? He glanced up from his glass to find you staring out of the window. Head angled slightly upwards as though captivated by something, and so his own gaze curiously followed yours to the bright blue sky.

Nothing particularly interesting nor impressive stuck out to him. It was just an ordinary sky—not exactly a clear sky, an occasional cloud would make it’s gradual trek across the expanse—, but as his eyes came back to you, it seemed your eyes saw something else in the overhead canvas. A soft smile graced your lips as your eyes affectionately soaked up the view. Maybe it was the strokes of light morning pinks and golden yellows streaking across the canvas. Or it might have been the dashes of clouds, like stretched-out cotton clouds, pinned to the board for depth. Something about this thing that Raph had seen every day yet never truly seen, the twinkle in your eyes had him taking another look. The atmosphere between the two of you opened up to him as he began to realize the position he was in.

Here, at a table for two, with a lady as pretty as you. Deceiving you, disguised and still daring to watch fondly at this vulnerable smile you gave. You were the perfect picture of someone who saw a world he didn’t, and that very thing was leaving a sour pit in his chest. Raph immediately looked down at his drink, taking another swig, but this time the sweet drink left a bitter aftertaste. Everything he did sounded louder to his ears—picking the cup up, swallowing the latte, placing it back down. He was suddenly all too aware of every action he made. How couldn’t he be? Look at you, so well put-together and serene, and here he was making a blunder of the whole conversation. You went out of your way to invite him, and his thanks to that was uninteresting small-talk.

Raph suddenly felt…

Boring.

…

The gap in the conversation only seemed to widen as the two of you both scavenged for the next topic. It was an understatement to say it was humiliating to you—inviting a stranger, who was a human also, don’t forget that very important bit, and then proceeding to give them the driest conversation in existence?

You took the pause as a chance to take in your delightful beverage, and it seemed he had the same idea. As the rays of sunlight filtered in through the bay window beside your table, framed by decorative brown curtains made of the silkiest fabric and lined with gauzy trim, you both had your spirits raised as you bask in warmth and contentment brought at the sweet and refreshing sting of the beloved lattes. As true to their name, the delicate blend of sugar and spice displayed a masterful dance upon your tongue. It was just the kind of drink to set you at ease and clear your head entirely, so much so that you found yourself needing to place the glass down gently and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

A splash or two met your face, dragging you out of the vulnerable trance that the latte left you in.

Think about it, you are sharing a table with someone you hate.

Well, not him personally, but his people! They treated your folks so poorly, shunning and belittling them. Don’t even think for a second that your community had forgotten the witch trials!

But, the little voice in your head interjected. This is someone showing us something different. Surely you see that, right? He is yet another example of a good human, and there has to be more, Y/N, you know it deep down!

And just like that, Y/N could feel herself slowly turning back to thoughts she once had as a child—all because of this, this!

…

This guy. Something about him was making her falter on the hatred her mother ingrained in her. Something about him was making this soldier fall out of line…

And back at the table, that someone was almost disturbing those around him with how his leg was bouncing. A ding from his phone made his knee instantly knock against the table, spilling some of the liquid in his drink-twin’s cup. Begin the panic! Napkin after wadded napkin built up on the table as Raph worked to clean up the spill as best as he could, almost going so far as to pour some of his in to make up for the bit lost. Alas, some restraint was exercised while checking the notification that started this whole debacle to begin with.

It was from a certain nosy brother, texting for “ the deets “ of what was going on.

Agitated, he turned to the old ladies at the window who instantly—DESPERATELY—looked everywhere else, pretending they weren’t just boring holes into the back of his head.

“ Knock it off, you two! I will not be giving you the ‘ deets! ‘ So stay out of it—you’re throwing me off “

Raph turned back after having whisper-shouted to the “ ladies ”. No, scratch that, to the not-so-dearest brothers clad in blue and purple who took to elderly human disguises. Why, you may ask? To keep an eye on their brother who was currently trying out a mystic cloaking prototype.

As he leaned into the palm of his hand, huffing and twiddling with the delicate chain around his neck, Raph thought back on what led up to him being here, his special café, with THEM, his meddling little brothers. His human thumb ran across the twinkling ruby as it gave off a magical glow.

So, roll back the cameras—back before you strolled through the door.

Raph had a rather awkward entrance. By no means had he fibbed about frequenting here for the past five years, but there was a crucial detail left out.

This was the first day that he came in with so little clothes.

Not like that, no, I mean that he usually only ventures into the human’s stores and public spaces in get-ups that had him sticking out like a sore thumb. Like seriously, who wears scarves, hats, masks, and coats in summer and spring? But today, clad with a magical item, he was just a normal human being. Normal humans had the privilege of not melting themselves under radiating suns from seasonally-inappropriate disguises. They also held the privilege of getting their drink “ for here “ instead of “ to-go “.

And boy was he grateful for that on this day specifically.

See, when he had his antsy, awkward encounter with the barista minutes before you came in, he had been all-too-prepared to grumpily seat himself with the odd old ladies. He had even encouraged himself, “ alright Raph, do it like a boss! “ before making a complete fool of himself.

“ Raph would like to buy one spiced red velvet latte, thank you…. “

He and the worker exchanged glances for a few moments. Nobody could miss the quirked eyebrow they gave at his approach. Recovering from the oddity, they typed away on their device then wordlessly stared up at him. Raph felt that there was something to be done now, as though their eyes were conveying a “ Well? Go on? “ message. Come on, Raphie, you’ve done this a million times over, why now do you blank out?

“ And uh… Where does he pay..? “

Raph added, giving an apologetic smile to the poor worker whose face almost read as “ this isn’t the normalest customer service experience I’ve had, but it definitely isn’t the worst “. They gestured to the card reader, adding a low, confused “ here, sir. “

After he then fumbled with his card, Raph finally paid and made his way to the pick-up counter. Not so bad.. definitely could do better. Nonetheless, he was brimming with pride in configuring how to order, as a human. He rocked back n’forth on his heels, only coming to a standstill when his attention gravitated towards the baristas working fluidly. Down he came from all the jittery nerves of talking to a human, especially while in a rather comfortable outfit, perfected with the stylish mutant-cloaking necklace! Raph almost started fiddling with the golden chain yet again, this time out of grateful thank yours to the inanimate jewelry piece.

But he held himself back, hands shifting down into his pockets. Donnie had swatted him plenty of times, hissing, “ refrain from touching it. “ Which, fair, it was a just a prototype, and Raph was sure he would need to permanently avoid this place if he shifted back in front of all these people! Or, well, all the workers. Not really a busy place when you’re quite literally a hidden gem. Needless to say, he was only halfway aware of his surroundings when the door chimed. A bell rang out and in walked a figure wearing his favorite color.

Now the color alone would always catch his eye, but the reason he lingered was solely because of her. First, he started at the sandals. Awfully pretty, especially with how they wrapped up and around her calves. Raph could never pull that off, he concluded mentally. Next, his gaze continued to climb, taking in the red dress. The way it—

He blinked and began chiding himself for staring so blatantly. It wasn’t polite! Raph’s eyes darted back to the front and center, aimlessly looking at the menu he may or may not have known well enough to not even look. Away his gaze went, searching for yet another sight to focus on. Ah, right, he noticed the baristas had yet to start on his drink, which he didn’t mind, he wasn’t in a rush for anything more than a normal thing to look at for as long as needed without being creepy. A sign, a table, even a chip in the floors! But all too quickly he found his eyes roaming back to her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail; although, a few pesky strands must have been bothering her because occasionally her swift hand moved to brush them right back behind her ear.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back from his staring trance once again. It was the perfect opportunity to distract himself, and so when he glanced at the notification, the last thing he wanted to see was a notification from Leo. Raph held in an eye roll as he read, ‘ Staring quite hard there, brother of mine ‘ He promptly let his phone slip back into the pockets of his basketball shorts, leaving the message on delivered.

Though he did lull his head towards the two elderly dressed women in one corner of the coffeehouse, giving the one clad in blue a hard stare that read his reply, Shut up. Raph knew full well he was guilty of the accused crime, staring. Didn’t mean he wanted or needed to be called out by his very annoying little brother, and it definitely didn’t help that Leo had a smug face despite the ridiculous amount of makeup he had on. “ Gotta look the part! “ Leo’s voice echoed in Raph’s head from earlier this morning, as Leo somehow forced Donnie to put on the makeup as well. They looked absurd, and Raph was thankful for the cloaking necklace now more than ever.

Still, Raph found his gaze trailing back to you so much that he dragged his hands down his face, stretching and groaning out, low and exhausted. It wasn’t till the call for a “ Spiced red velvet latte ! “ broke his trance enough that he sluggishly moved over. Like a crescendo, his energy came back with each step until he reached for his drink with a polite nod to the barista. Their shocked look and follow-up sentence was what brought his eyes elsewhere. Down to the cup.

The hand he recognized much-too-quickly stiffly hovered near, and her gaze was a mixture of an unknown emotion and pure confusion. He, too, stiffened up as though meeting the eyes of Medusa herself. Gosh, she’s even prettier up close, a side-tracked thought said, only for him to recoil his rude hand and gesture to the drink. He was apologizing before your gaze could shift into anything that may have ached his heart, following it up with insisting you take the drink. He could wait! Whatever you were saying next was muffled as he found himself entirely entranced, answering in automated sentences that may or may not have been prepared, had he found himself locked in small talk with a human.

So, to break the trance, he accepted the next identical latte handed to him and turned, quick to flee the scene.

That is, until the spell knocked up a notch with your hand on him, inviting him to sit.

And that is exactly how he got into this position: sipping his latte as he watched you come back over to your rightful seat, having left the lavatory. All while trying his best to look like a normal person who definitely did not make some of your drink rock out of its mug a second ago. No, not him. Totally. He’s innocent.

“ Sorry! I was, er… Splashing my face. To do away with some sleepiness… “

Raph nodded, taking another sip of his drink that had since cooled down. Did he look guilty? Was he playing it off? He choked up on the sweet liquid upon your next statement.

“ Whuh—it’s sticky, did you spill something? “

Curiosity and a bit of spice swirled in your eyes as they bore through him, begging for an answer. He was caught red-handed, entirely so. All he could do was admit his crime, a sigh slipping his lips as he gave an ashamed look to the left like a regretful puppy-dog.

“ I was hopin’ I’d cleaned up alla mess ‘fore ya got back. I had some nervous jitters and knocked the table.. Sorry, Y/N.. “

There was yet another one of those uncharacteristic thumps in your chest when his eyes met yours, pleading forgiveness. Rather than the usual bitterness settling in your chest, you found yourself a tad bit more patient towards this special boy. Your cheeks flushed, emitting a heat soothed by the cool side of your hand pressing against it with an even more uncharacteristic stammering.

“ Y-You’re fine.. Thank you, for the honesty and clearing the mess. “

The next bout of silence was less awkward and more-so dizzying—in a good way. It fluttered your heart and felt welcoming. As the last bit of your drink passed your lips and settled inside, filling you with blissful comfort, you held out a hand for his empty mug. Perhaps a change of heart would do you some good—a kind gesture returned for someone who truly deserved none of your hatred. His eyes met yours, quickly understanding as he stood and passed the cup to you. This moment was coming to an end, and somehow that made your eyes sting for a moment. It was almost as if a tear was threatening you to prolong it as the ceramics were placed upon their respective “ for-washing “ pedestals at the disposal corner.

“ Well, Raph.., it was nice meeting you. “

“ Likewise. “

His dopey smile had you considering an option you would never ever do. Your mind strayed to where your phone was, itching to ask this boy a certain question. Together, you both walked out of the café—and again, you missed how the two old ladies were practically becoming the window with how hard they pressed to the glass, nosily watching.

The morning sun was still bright in the sky, shining through clouds in a way that almost spotlighted you guys as you gathered the courage to ask! Turning to face him, you bit the bullet and opened your mouth!

“ Could we exch—IRK! “

Y/N lurched forwards when someone knocked into her in a fashion that just couldn’t have been played off as an accident. Thankfully she had bumped straight into Raph ( and tried desperately to ignore how nice his chest felt ), but the draining, nauseating feeling that began quickly washing over was enough to raise alarms.

And she knew the exact cause. It wasn’t the closeness to a human or the lack of an “ excuse me ” or “ sorry ” for shoving her. No, there was another, far more important cause to the sickness tightening. Y/N raised her dominant hand, holding her clutch and finding that a special ring was no longer wrapped around her finger. Of the things to have taken, had this one thing seemed much more important than a literal wallet?!

“ The nerve of some people! He totally meant th—Y/N, whoa, ya look pale! Are you okay? “

His hand instinctually made contact with you, brushing some stray hairs away from your face as you had done a few times earlier.

“ Th-That guy, he—thief, he took my-my! “

You held your hand, twirling air around where a ring once was. Raph blanked for a second, thinking you had meant something to do with your clutch, but as his eyes zeroed in on the light prints of an absent ring, it suddenly all made sense to Raph. A rushed “ What? Wait here. “ was muttered before he was quickly pursuing the thief. All while leaving you against the outside walls of the café.

You watched Raph’s figure leave. A heavy exhale clawed itself from your chest. How foolish! You had been so caught up in thought—about asking for Raph’s number, that you had allowed someone to get so close. Too close, right into your personal space, and completely able to swipe your ring.

That small piece of jewelry was dearer to you than anything else you owned. It was what contained your power, or rather, what kept it in control. Without it, you were a hazard who started leaking mystic energy immediately. Red sparks crackling around your eyes when you were pushed.

Just seconds from a potential disaster, but somehow it was Raph’s voice that snapped you out of it. You couldn’t lose control here in front of the one place you swore to protect from your evil. You wouldn’t lose control in front of him. So when you barely explained with a shaky voice and he quickly sprung into action, leaving you, there was relief swirling around. This was a good thing. You’d rather him not be around to witness if you couldn’t maintain a firm grip on your power. Not him. Okay, try to distract yourself. Control, think about anything else, anything but your magic right now.

Oh, right! He had held you!

The thought struck you so fiercely your cheeks heated to the same shade as your dress. The warmth of his arms holding you lingered. Even just remembering the feel of his broad chest had you utterly distracted. And it hadn’t stopped there! He had brushed your hair away from your face, his fingers so careful and gentle. That type of touch was quite foreign to you. It had you blushing even more furiously than before—if that was even possible. Your eyes never left Raph’s back until he dashed out of view into an alleyway.

…

As soon as Raph had seen your expression twist and realized you had been wronged, it was like his body moved before his brain could catch up. The thief had sped up into a jog, after hearing Y/N call out ‘ thief. ‘

Luckily there weren't that many people crowding the sidewalks this morning. Especially since this part of the city wasn't as advertised. Raph’s green eyes tracked the punk as he dodged into an alleyway. He pushed himself faster, shrinking any chances of this guy getting away right on down to 0. Maybe even into the negatives if he tried hard enough,

Fate was on Raph’s side, as is befitting of the hero, because he slowed to a stop to find the petty criminal glaring at the dead end before him. The universe was practically handing this criminal over to Raph in a cute little red bow right now.

“ Alright felon, hand back the stolen ring. “

His voice was rough and commanding. Above all else, he despised those who preyed on the weak. Criminal acts like these deserved a good beating, but Raph was willing to compromise on that if this perp coughed up the ring without making things difficult.

“ Back up, hero! “

The cornered thief sneered as he brandished a knife, waving it threateningly.

Raph couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. If only this guy knew! Raph and his brothers faced weapons tenfold more menacing on every patrol. He doubted such a dull thing could even pierce his shell. For a second, he toyed with the thought of taking off the cloaking necklace. Showing his true form. This punk looked like the type to wet himself, and the slight trembling in his hand that wielded such a crude weapon didn’t go unnoticed by Big Raphie.

“ They always wanna do it the hard way, “

Raph murmured in a chilling tone, shaking his head as he moved forward. This guy was sorely underestimating him. It was comical! Raph ended up wondering if his human form, despite its size, just wasn’t all that intimidating. That would be new to him. So Raph opted for using this to his advantage. After all, he may look big, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fast, and what was more rewarding than proving wrong the criminal foolish enough to underestimate the Raphael Hamato?

The crook hardly got a second to blink before he was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his gut as he dragged in wounded breaths. Securely in Raph’s palm rested a wooden ring, Y/N’s ring. It had a band of red jewels inside that glimmered brightly even though the alleyway was covered in shadows. He smiled to himself, it seemed as though you really liked this color. His color.

Yet another thing the two of you had in common, other than drinks. How much more did the two of you share interest in?. He wanted—no, needed—to find out.

Now Raph was sure he had held back on his punches, but it was painfully obvious this culprit was struggling to even stand.

…

I see no issue with him turning his back on a downed enemy, do you? Was that overkill? No? Maybe? Who’s here to judge him, honestly?

“ Next time, think twice before stealing from a pretty lady. “

He growled over his shoulder before starting up a run back to you. Raph hoped he hadn’t taken too long as he tried to move just a little faster to get back to your side.

Since having been left by Raph, you were finding each second to be harder and harder to restrain the burst of overflowing magic. Thoughts and distractions could only take you so far before fizzling out. Just as you were your mother’s vessel for revenge, that ring was your vessel for magic—a conduit, even. Others would even call it your arcane focus.

Bottomline was, without it, you could barely handle the destructive force pinballing around within. It seems the state you were in was so worrying that the two elderly ladies from the cafe came out, frantically bickering in harsh whispers that were all too muffled in your ears.

Was it getting hot in here, or was it just you? Anyone else? Just you? Alright. Your body pressed harder into the cafe’s brick walls, soothed by the coolness they held. Your head was spinning, with worry and desperation. Was this area hidden enough to attract more danger? Had you really been so foolish as to leave yourself open in prime human territory? Hell, what if this was all an elaborate trick and that thief was actually in cahoots with Raph, and vice versa?

But, what if these are all just your delirious, panicked thoughts? Remember the little voice, the one beckoning hope. She wants to believe humans are good. She wants to believe Raph is good.

You want to believe humans are good, don’t you? How did that one saying go, the one about how even the smallest things can cause the biggest changes? However it went, it seemed this Raph human might have been your smallest thing, creating this ripple of thoughts in your head.

Or, again, maybe that’s the delirium.

You had almost entirely given up on the last bits of hope for Raph being good when finally you saw his silhouette running back to you. He had the widest grin on his face, waving your focus in the air and calling out “ Y/N! I got it, ya don’t gotta worry! “

You weren’t sure when the ladies had left, but when he slowed down in front of you and took your hand, you couldn’t help but notice you were all alone.

Old humans were… strange.

Color returned to your skin, the plummeting left your chest, and your tremors ceased as the polished wooden ring slid back into its rightful place upon your hand.

“ Th-Thank you… “

You breathed out, allowing yourself to press into him once again with your senses returning faster than youwere capable of handling with a straight face. Your forehead rested against his chest as the overflowing energy was being vacuumed right on back to the ring, leaving you far more winded than any training session with Mother had done.

“ It’s no problem, Y/N… This ring must be really important to have you this… Upset… “

His voice was softer than it had been during your talks inside. There was obvious concern and worry laced in it. Such kindness was nearly unrecognizable to you, so forgive the temporary dependence on it.

“ More than you know, Raph.. “

You replied, rubbing the ring so that it twirled around your skin—a nervous habit that Raph took notice to almost immediately. Forgive him, as well, for the heightened attention he had on you right now. A fond smile settled upon his lips as something came back to him suddenly.

“ About your question a moment ago, before… well, this. Sure. “

“ What? “

You looked up, confused by what he meant. The smile he gave you was enough to put even more hope in your head, eroding the grime and muck that poisoned you, beckoning you deeper to the villainous pits.

“ T’exchange numbers, right? That was what ya almost asked? “

Oh! You had completely forgotten that part. Straightening up and taking a coy step back from him, you pulled your cellular from a pocket in your dress ( because, really, what villain wears a dress without pockets? never you, of course. ) and handed it to him with bashful joy.

After the exchange, you both waved your goodbyes, then turned your adoring gaze to the contact in your phone.

NEW CONTACT!

𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 (𝘚𝘙𝘝 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘸��𝘯)

↳（1）𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟𝘟

taggies !! thou hast requested a messenger pigeon to deliver the holy texts upon their fabrication.

💌 ;; ﹝ @saspas-corner , @thatonerandomsimpinthecorner , @brunnetteiwik ﹞

#rise raph x y/n #rise raphael x reader #rise raph x reader #Raph x reader #Raphael x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt raphael x reader #rise tmnt x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader

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soleminisanction · 1 year

Text

An earlier ask reminded me that there’s still one sequence of Batgirl (2009) that I’ve always wanted to break down because my frustration with it is palpable so…why not. This is as good a time as ever. Let’s talk about Issue 24 and extended fantasy sequence that makes up the very end of this series.

See, apparently—and I have not been able to find a first-hand record of the interview that confirms this, so take it with a grain of salt—Brian Q. Miller decided that, since the universe was getting reset in the wake of Flashpoint, his Batgirl was getting canceled and Stephanie was getting retconned out of existence for the New52, he would use a fantasy sequence in the final issue show off all the wonderful ideas he never got to do because of editorial meddling or whatever. Which is… fine. Y’know? I get it, it’s utterly self-indulgent but not an invalid way to deal with your book getting canceled before you can finish all you set out to do.

The thing is though, sequences like this don’t just exist in the vacuum of their Doylist explanation. The entire narrative point of fantasy sequences like this, whether they’re fear gas, or lotus eater machines, or especially the Black Mercy, isn’t just to have a cool spectacle for the audience to look at, it’s to take a part of the character’s inner life and put it on display for everyone to see.

So the question I’m asking here is: what does a Watsonian reading of finale sequence say about Our Heroine, Stephanie Brown?

Quick primer for those of you who may be unfamiliar: the Black Mercy is an Alan Moore creation, originally introduced in the story he wrote with Dave Gibbons for 1985’s Superman Annual #11 – “For the Man Who has Everything.”

If you’re my age, you may be more familiar with this story as a fantastic episode of Justice League Unlimited, which has the notable distinction of being the only Alan Moore adaptation that the old warlock actually likes. The basic story of both is the same: Batman and Wonder Woman (and, in the comic, the Jason Todd Robin) arrive at the Fortress of Solitude for Superman’s birthday, only to find that Mongul has trapped Supes under the influence of the Black Mercy, a magical alien parasite that digs its vines into its victim’s chest while trapping their minds in an illusion of their ideal perfect life.

“For the Man Who has Everything” is regarded as one of the best Superman stories ever written so it’s honestly kind of a surprise that the Black Mercy has only shown up a handful of times since then. But I’m not complaining, because it means the concept hasn’t been diluted much… with this appearance in Batgirl being a notable exception, in weird ways that make me really wonder what was intentional and what wasn’t.

See, this whole thing starts when Steph confronts her father, Arthur Brown, alias the Cluemaster, in his prison cell. And Arthur—a second-rate Riddler knock-off whose only experience outside of Gotham was an extremely brief Suicide Squad adventure to Iceland where everybody died—just, has a Black Mercy, an incredibly rare and dangerous magical alien super plant, sitting in his prison cell. As you do.

Arthur then puts Steph under the Mercy’s influence to cover his escape from the cell, but he doesn’t subject her to the Black Mercy for real, he crushes one of the blossoms and blows it in her face, which his dialogue implies is something he regularly does to himself as a recreational experience.

Which means that, despite the following pages making a big freaking deal about “spores in her system” and Barbara gushing about how special Stephanie is for being able to, quote, “fight the Mercy and win,” it’s all a load of shit. Arthur didn’t need to be rushed to the hospital every time he took this drug, so it would follow the Stephanie doesn’t either.

That would actually make a lot of sense for Arthur as a character—for all his faults, he’s usually written as caring for his family and not wanting Stephanie permanently hurt (a sentiment she generally doesn't return). Hell, his last appearance before this one was trying to get revenge for her death. If that was intentional, it would mean that in the above panel, Stephanie knows that Barbara’s conclusion about her “fighting the Mercy” is full of shit and just, isn’t telling her.

I have no confidence that it was intentional—given the rest of the series I think it’s far more likely that Miller & Co. just didn’t want the icky flower vines to mess up Steph’s boobies and thus came up with a convoluted alternative that they immediately forgot the rules for—but I wish it was because it would actually be an interesting character turn. Black Mercy stories usually hinge on the emotional climax of the enraptured hero choosing to give up the beautiful illusion of a life they can never have in order to return to the hard world where they have real friends and heroic responsibilities waiting for them. Just ask anyone who still cries over this scene:

Stephanie not getting that moment and only escaping because it’s a temporary drug would imply that she’s still very susceptible to her own desires. It’s a way that she’s fallen short compared to others who’ve been subjected to the full Black Mercy experience. And who knows, maybe she could’ve pulled herself out of it if the illusion had lasted longer… but maybe she wouldn’t have. She can’t know. And that doubt could sit with her.

It doesn't. But it could, in a better story.

And then there’s the illusion itself. Keep in mind as we go through this, this montage, in-universe, represents Stephanie’s idea of her ideally perfect life. Just for comparison, in “For the Man Who has Everything,” Superman’s ideal life has him living on Krypton as a normal man, married with children, happy and content in his normal life. Batman saw his parents’ murder foiled and the life that could have unfolded without that tragedy to define it. Green Lantern (Hal Jordan), in another story, saw a world where his parents never died, his family is happy together, and his mentor Sinestro never turned evil.

Stephanie? Stephanie sees herself as Batgirl, posing dramatically and beating up random street thugs in a metaphorical continuation of her current status quo. Then there’s a sequence where she’s fighting the Queen of Fables alongside the four female heroes, all of whom except for Supergirl literally appeared out of nowhere in the last issue with no explanation because we need to pretend that Stephanie is very popular and well-liked and not a stuck-up loner who rarely leaves Gotham City and almost never talks to anybody but her boyfriend when she does.

But y’know, this scene makes sense right? Steph dreams of being a successful superhero and fantasizes about going on grand superhero adventures with other superheroes, fine. That’s all well and good.

Then comes the Blackest Night page which is just... ugh.

I am so glad DC vetoed this idea because it’s genuinely embarrassing. I get (finally! it several painful re-reads) that what Miller has been trying to do with Stephanie this entire book is pretend that she can be Captain America or Superman: a character who doesn’t so much develop or change as they do lead by example and inspire others to have hope for the future just by being themselves. So of course when he hears that Blue Lanterns are powered by hope he neeeeeeds that for his precious Batgirl—an idea that he apparently carried over to the Smallville Season 11 comics, but we’ll come back to that in a moment.

The problem of course being that Stephanie had never been that kind of character before Brian Miller decided she should be, and he did absolutely nothing to work his way up to earning her that status. So shit like this comes across as, frankly, blatant attempts to turn her into a Mary Sue, especially with how badly he refused to deal with her actual history and established character.

But again, remember: in-universe, this illusion isn’t being imposed on Stephanie, it’s being created by her, by her mind. This is part of her greatest desire. So where other heroes long to be safe and happy, surrounded by their families, Stephanie, apparently, wants nothing less than to be a literal Messiah figure. And I’m not exaggerating there—Blue Lanterns are supposed to be the holiest beings in the universe.

Just… the ego that implies. Yeesh.

After that comes a black-and-white photograph implying a time travel adventure where the three Batgirls (presumably from different eras in their own timelines) go back to 1944 to fly with the (male) Blackhawks. I’m not going to post it because there’s not really anything to say about it and this is already a long post but Stephanie’s stupid utility garter belt is drawn so HUGE it takes up her ENTIRE THIGH almost up to the crotch and it’s super distracting.

Then comes this scene.

Which mostly just drives home how much Steph hates her boring average school life given that she’s fantasizing about being attacked by supervillains at her graduation so her secret identity can be exposed to her entire graduating class. Thing is though, you’d think this should be a nightmare. Her identity has been exposed! She’s being attacked out in the open by supervillains and she doesn’t have her gear or weapons! Her classmates and—explicitly up in the audience—her mother are in danger, because Stephanie is Batgirl!

But because this is a Black Mercy illusion, we know it’s not a nightmare. This is, explicitly, something that Stephanie wants to happen. It’s part of her fantasy life, her greatest desire. And yeah, if we’re being generous, she probably isn’t thinking that people are going to get hurt. In her fantasy, she probably just gets to show off and save the day and be venerated as Gotham University’s Great Hero, like Buffy getting crowned the Sunnyville Class Protector. But even that, the most generous of readings, implies that she has never internalized the lesson that she should have learned back in War Games re: the great power of being a superhero coming with great responsibility. It absolutely flies in the face of anybody’s attempts to insist that no really, she’s only doing this whole superhero thing because she cares about other people SO MUCH.

Following that is page of what’s clearly Neo-Gotham, flashing forward many years into the future, where Steph is wrangling some kid into bed (while wearing her wedding ring on the second knuckle because otherwise you wouldn’t be able to see it and that might imply she’s a single mom) with the Batsignal shining out the window.

Which leads us, at last, to the page I have the most to say about, and the one that is my biggest inspiration for make this post:

I. Hate. This page.

I hate it because it gets regularly reposted without context on Tumblr and Reddit so the Steph simps can gush over how much they wish it was real and how Stephanie should get to be every single member of the Batfamily because she’s just so awesome and not one of them ever stops to think about what any of it would or should actually mean in-universe or out.

This page exists because Brian Q. Miller was originally a writer on Smallville. He joined the team around Season 5, served as showrunner for Season 10, and used the connections he made there to get some comic book jobs, including Batgirl and the spin-off comic Smallville Season 11. In “Season 11,” they finally showed the Smallville version of Gotham City and Batman, who is accompanied by only a single sidekick: not Robin, but Barbara Gordon as an (adult) female Nightwing who eventually becomes a Blue Lantern (hence the Blackest Night page earlier).

Now again, I cannot find the original source for this so I’m going off fandom rumor and wiki trivia, but supposedly, Brian’s original pitch was that the Smallville character would also be Stephanie, making her the only Batfamily member to ever exist in that universe. DC’s editors supposedly made him switch to Barbara instead, which was smart of them, because it’s way more likely that the people picking up the Smallville comic would be excited to see her, one of the most famous pop-culture characters ever invented, and not a satellite character like Stephanie who’s only familiar to a niche market. (This for the record is the same reason Babs is the Batgirl in Gotham Knights.)

So that’s the out-of-universe explanation for why Brian would stick this idea here, but stop and think about this for half a second: why the fuck would Stephanie want to be Nightwing?

Nightwing is not like Batman, Batgirl, or even Robin, it’s not a larger symbol with a legacy behind it. If you say the word Nightwing in the DC Universe, you’re referring to only one of two things: either you’re Kryptonian and you’re referencing a legendary figure from your lost planet’s mythology (either a god or a culture hero depending on the continuity), or you’re talking about Dick Grayson. Every other character who has ever taken on the name in a non-Kryptonian context has done so because of their relationship to Dick: either to piss him off (Jason), because they were inspired by him (Cheyenne Freemont, the Nightwings, Nite-Wing in a negative capacity), or in memoriam/penance after his death (Damian in the first Injustice game).

But Stephanie doesn’t have that kind of relationship with Dick. At this point in her career, they’d barely spoken, and all of their meaningful interactions had been with him as Batman. Nightwing means nothing to her. She has no emotional connection to identity, not even the desire to be “part of the legend” that drove her to chase Robin and Batgirl. So then, why? Why is this part of her fantasy?

Well… because if Batgirl isn’t the second-most popular superhero in the franchise after the Big Bat himself, then Nightwing is. And all Stephanie has apparently ever wanted is to be everybody’s favorite superhero, loved and adored and told how she’s so very special and wonderful, forever.

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In Conclusion – As you might’ve noticed back in the panels where Steph was getting dosed, Brian Miller actually calls out his own bookending, having started the story with a climax where Steph got exposed to a fear-gas-based-anger drug and ended it with one where she encounters the Black Mercy. Like I’ve said before, the narrative purpose of hallucination sequences like this are to lay the characters’ psyches bare and show us who they really are on the inside.

In issue 3, Stephanie’s anger/fear gas exposure (and the resulting philosophically frustrating speech) presents Stephanie as someone whose primary motivation is her own self-interest, the sense of control and personal triumph she gets from being a superhero. All through the series, the way she handles her rare rescues (and, even more tellingly, the few people who don’t immediately recognize her greatness) only backs that up.

And now, the Black Mercy sequence, the very last thing to happen in the entire series, just solidifies it: after 24 issues, she hasn’t changed. Her only desire, the only thing she cares about, is that she gets to be a badass superhero who goes on adventure after adventure without worry or care for anyone around her, even after multiple people have literally died over the course of just this book. Who cares? They’re not Stephanie, so they don’t matter. It’s all about her.

I will never understand what anyone saw in this series.

#stephanie brown #batgirl #batgirl 2009 #meta #dc comics #dc comics meta #stephanie brown critical #batgirl 2009 critical #brian q miller #my writing #my meta #and with this I may finally have this series out of my system #at least until I decide to string all my various essays into a video or something lol

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