#just imagine he's holding them tight behind his back to keep from touching Stowaway

[eruden-writes]

Stowaway got a new dress and is testing Captain Cranky's reaction to it. lol

Drew this as an example of a body type for my characters for roleplaying. :P That way there was no ambivalence.

[caught-in-the-filter]

WIP word... Grip

Girl, with this word, you’ve even tapped into the impractical motorcycle pwp fic i barely started and will probably never finish lol.

Smutty bits below 😘

It’s there three times so far. Here’s one:

She watched him straddle the motorcycle, his hands firmly gripping the handles as he revved the engine, and gods, what she wouldn’t give to be under him instead.

His foot swiftly set back the kickstand and planted itself on the peg to stabilize the bike. Emma imagined him sweeping her leg aside and tucking under her ankle to keep her still as she trembled in anticipation much like the rumbling machine as it waited to be ridden.

Was she trembling now?

———

Chasing a Shadow (Chasing a High) Ch3 has it three times. Here’s one:

“Yes, Princess,” he mumbled, wasting no time as he plunged his tongue inside her. He hissed as her nails left marks in his skin, but the feel of him doing so only strengthened her grip. Between patterns of aggressive licks, he sucked mercilessly at her clit, his nose tending to it each time his mouth lowered again. The more she writhed above him, the more it egged him on.

———

CaS(CaH) Ch4 has it twice. Here’s one:

Tightening his grip, he tugged her golden locks and turned with her toward the table in the center of the room, a wave of his hook swiping away the items on its surface with a quick burst of air. As paper floated away and metal clattered to the floor, the Dark One harshly bent her over the edge, Emma’s hands the only thing stopping her face from hitting the hard wood as she reached out in front of herself. Nonetheless, he pressed her cheek against it before releasing his hold on her hair with a shove.

———

And CaS(CaH) Ch5 has it once so far:

The Dark One gripped her ass, watching with a feral hum as he let his cock slip from her core, and smacked her soft flesh just hard enough that it began to sting before he spun her and guided her to sit on the floor in front of him with her legs stretched out between his.

———

1.21 Killiwatts, courtesy of @sotangledupinit’s prompting, has it once so far. I have very little written for this one but hopefully I’ll get the spark for it again at some point lol:

“Younger,” Killian hissed, focused on the screen as the plastic device in his hand creaked in his tightening grip. “And Emma is well aware of how energetic I can be, and that I’ve found much better outlets in which to use it.”

(It’s just a videogame controller, guys. I’ve yet to brave trying to attempt SJT. Lol)

———

The stowaway fic has it three times so far:

“Swan,” she answered finally. “Emma Swan.”

“Emma Swan,” the captain echoed. A smirk returned to his face as he said, “Now see, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” His grip on her throat tightened as he angled her chin with the curve of his hook pressing beneath it. His hot breath seared the soft skin of her lips as their mouths practically touched while he threatened, “Well, Miss Swan, I don’t take kindly to stowaways aboard my ship, so why don’t you tell me how it is you came to be here?” Emma gasped again as he nudged her legs apart and nestled himself against her. “And you best do so quickly. I’m not a very patient man.”

———

My fic inspired by @itsfabianadocarmo’s Naughty November Part Five art has it twice, and close enough to each other that I’ll give you both:

Emma’s hand slid toward his as she rocked and whimpered, holding it tightly, her other hand grasping at the curve of his hook. Killian curled his fingers around hers, bucking his hips into her as he took advantage of her grip and rolled them both, swapping their positions and holding himself above her once more.

“As gorgeous a sight as it is, you riding my cock like that, I think I’d like to take you from behind,” Killian growled against her lips, pulling out of her and stepping back. He caught her ankle with his hook as he reached for her wrist with his hand and flipped her onto her stomach. “Show me that tight little arse of yours, wench.” He gripped it tightly, spreading it as she arched into the mattress and jutted it up at him. Killian pressed his hook against Emma’s back, guiding her lower as her knees slid outward beneath her.

———

Omg it’s in the poolside fic that I haven’t touched since we started it on discord and @kmomof4 might have forgotten about it lol. There was a photo of a guy standing by a pool using a skimmer while completely naked, and someone prompted CS as neighbors and Emma watching Killian doing this. I wrote a little sexy daydreaming bit, Krystal was supposed to write the actual relationship building and then I’d write more sexy stuff lol. 😂 Anyway, here’s that:

As Killian gently skims the surface of the water, Emma finds herself longing for his hand to skim over her skin in a similar fashion, his tight grip on the handle mirrored on his stiff cock as he guides it inside her. The longer she watches him, the more she feels like she’s already in the pool with him, the dampness between her legs growing, along with an ache she wants him to soothe.

———

The non-con roleplay fic has it twice so far:

Emma trembled as his hand slid down to her throat, his rings biting into her neck as he gripped her firmly and nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth. Killian hummed in triumph as her mouth opened for his, and his tongue seized the opportunity to taste.

“Or perhaps you know what’s good for you is a right hard fucking. Is that it?”

[didyouseemyjams561]

Sail Away With Me (Part 1) (Jimin X Reader Pirate AU)

Pairings: Jimin X Reader

Triggers: Violence • Swearing

Genre: Fantasy • Romance • Adventure

Rustling waves crashing against the shore and a strong, flowing breeze were nothing new to Jimin. They were present every single night he came down to these docks. The combination of the warm evening temperatures and consistent wind came together to form what he considered a perfect summer night. As he turned back to look at the palace that sat atop the cliffs and turned back to look at the ocean, he reveled in the tranquility of the water. Every time he gave that castle focus, his body shivered. He came down so often, this had become his therapy. The smell of the ocean, the view of the endless horizon, and the quiet night time offered the perfect escape from the mundane palace, something he could get at no other time.

His admiration for the vast openness of the sea was magnificent yet so taunting. How could something so breathtaking exist right outside and in full view of his jail cell? Time and time again he cursed the architects of the kingdom for their placement. Why on this island anyway? He could have lived in a forest or desert, but of course he was right by a landscape that drew him down to the shoreline right out of his room. Perhaps he would have done the same with anything else. It would not have changed the inside at all really. The palace walls serve only as a cage for him, and his family legacy the warden, but he accepted his fate long ago. His destiny was decided from birth. Nothing he said or did could change it.

Still every night he found himself at the same spot on the docks gazing into the blue void hoping that one day his chains would break, a day when nothing would hold him back from venturing into the unknown of the watery desert.

“Boo!” Jimin jerked forward stumbling on the wooden planks landing on his hands and knees while giggles erupted behind him.

“Okay, okay, not funny, (Y/N),” he stood up and turned around to face the smaller figure.

“You’re too easy to scare. How can I resist?” she struggled to hold her laughter back but burst as she looked at Jimin.

“You’ll wake the whole village if you don’t quiet down.” Jimin covered his mouth trying to withhold his own laughter.

“Oh please, I could fire a cannon, and they would barely stir.”

“Yeah, let’s not try it.”

“Just saying. Now are you ready?” She grasped his hand in hers, body nearly ready to dart off.

Jimin locked his gaze deep into her eyes reflecting the full moon’s crystal aura. No matter how many times he saw her, he could never grow weary of staring at her seemingly flawless complexion. Others in the palace would instantly criticize her minor flaws. His mother would never cease to gossip about her unkempt hair and nails all while mocking her for her raggedy clothing. It was unlike her to show remorse for those who cannot afford the luxuries she can, but the approval of his parents bothered him little. These are all features he found effortless to look beyond. He gave her hand a firm squeeze before nodding to her question. “Always.”

Needing no further confirmation, she dragged him with her as she darted down the dock to cross the plank, boarding the ship anchored in place. At the bow read, “Dawnbreaker”. “I can’t believe they leave these ships unguarded.”

“Oh no, they do guard them.” (Y/N) climbed onto the safety rowboat hanging on the side loosening the ropes and harnesses, “But tonight there seemed to be a...bit of a mixup in the schedules. Guard A thinks Guard B is posted here and vise versa. So fortunately for us, we’re alone.”

Jimin smirked at her enthusiasm. How she got away with this stuff he would never know. (Y/N) held tight to the rope and stared back at him and asked, “Well you coming or what?”

“So impatient,” he remarked, stepping onto the small boat.

Once he was seated, she began lowering the boat letting the rope slowly shift between her hands.

“With all this experience, you should captain your own ship. In fact, you should just run the ship yourself.”

“Don’t be naive,” she joked, “No matter how good of a sailor one is, no one can sail a ship on their own. What happens when a storm brews, a sail rips, and now you’ve got a leak?”

“If anyone could do it, you could.”

“I’m no miracle worker. I’m only sixteen.”

“Still older than me.”

“By two months, and I’ll never let you forget it.” (Y/N) laughed, poking Jimin on his shoulder.

As the boat lowered all the way and touched the water, she grabbed the oars and began rowing out into the open water. “Do you ever do this by yourself?” Jimin asked.

“Not very often. Sneaking past the guards would be easy. If I got caught, I could just play as the poor child wanting a place to sleep for the night, but they would simply recognize me as that child on board the ship all the time apprenticing under the boatswain. That’s why I like it when there are new guards who don’t know me. It gets them every time.” She proudly smirked.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t know. You’ve always been so smart and resourceful. Enough so to outsmart the royal guard.”

“Well that’s simply what happens when you grow up on the streets. If you want to survive, you adapt. Now I dragged you all the way out here for this little boat ride didn’t I? Take a look behind you.”

Jimin twisted his body and leaned as close as he could to the edge. He continued to stare mesmerized by the magnificence of the moon, witnessing its luminosity bouncing off the calm water. The aura of the moon drastically shifted as he peered at it from the water and not on land. Being closer to the moon gave Jimin’s muscles a moment of relief giving his breath the opportunity to flow evenly. The sea enchanted his senses. His smell heightened to inhale the salty water. The only sounds flowing through his ears were that of the boat rocking above the fluent waves. He could keep going and going all the way to the ends of the earth if he wanted to, never looking back. “Beautiful isn’t it?” (Y/N) smiled up at the curious boy in front of her.

“I wish we could go even farther.” Jimin turned back around to face (Y/N), noticing her face to be much brighter in the moonlight.

“Me too, but you’ve got a kingdom to look after.”

“Not yet I don’t. I still got a few years.” Jimin’s grin drastically turned into a frown, “They might as well make the rest of the palace look like the dungeons. That’s what it is after all. My family only wants me to take over the throne and continue the bloodline. My parents are anything but.”

“At least you have parents.”

Jimin tilts his head down. The last thing he wanted to do is constantly bring up the topic around her knowing it would only result in silence and discomfort. She never wanted to talk about them, but she never knew them. What was there for her to talk about?

“Hey-” (Y/N) lightly placed her fingers against Jimin’s chin tilting his head up to face her, “-I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you feel like I’m trying to one up you. I know things at the palace are rough for you. I can’t imagine what it must be like living under the pressure.”

Her reassuring words caused Jimin to beam a smile at her as they both gazed deep into each others’ eyes, losing themselves in their stares.

“Jimin,” she broke eye contact, fidgeting with her hands and her voice shaking, “The reason I brought you out here was because I wanted to ask you something.”

“Well, I’m all ears.”

“The day after tomorrow at morning, I’m going with the Dawnbreaker crew to Tralvon for a trading trip. Come with me. We can run away there. We can go wherever we want. We can leave Anemont and never come back.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped, rendering him speechless. He stuttered with his words trying to find something to come by, but everything fell short until he finally mustered, “(Y/N), are you crazy? We wouldn’t last a week. I’m still the prince. My father would expend every resource to find me. Wouldn’t the crew immediately recognize me?”

“Jimin the only portrait most of the town has seen of you is when you were a baby. Nobody outside of the palace, especially the crew, even knows what you look like. Take on an alias, change your clothes, your attitude, and boom you’re a peasant, and once we get to Tralvon, nobody will have even heard of you. You just have to play the stowaway role until we get there.”

“(Y/N), I don’t know about this,” Jimin scratched the back of his head, “I feel like this won’t turn out the way you plan.”

“Would you rather be stuck in the palace for the rest of your life to marry some rich, spoiled noble your parents picked for you just so she can have your children doomed to relive the same fate?”

“Well when you put it like that…”

“Exactly!” (Y/N) snatched Jimin’s hands and held onto them tight, “Jimin as long as you live in that prison, we can never be together. It might not be the most ideal situation to live in, but it’s better than not having you at all.”

(Y/N) choked up as she finished her last sentence. Jimin held onto her hands tighter knowing the risks, but he also knew he would not be able to tolerate his current life much longer. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly trying to calm himself down and let his worries falter.

“(Y/N),” Jimin softly muttered, “I’ll go with you.”

She shot her head back up at him after not entirely expecting him to say yes. “Really? You’re sure?” She raised her eyebrow.

“I am sure.”

She breathed out and laughed under her breath.. The idea she held onto for so long was about to become a reality. Her eyes began watering as she could barely withhold the emotions she was experiencing.

“Hey now, don’t cry.” Jimin brought his thumb to her cheek to wipe away the single escaped teardrop. His hand shifts to her cheeks cupping it. He leans in and brings her closer to deliver a soft kiss. He continues holding her hands with his other refusing to let it go. This kiss feels different. It feels more loving, but it feels more like he is sealing a promise. Finally, he rested his forehead against hers still not so much as loosening his grip on her hand.

“This is the start of a new beginning for us.”

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

Sneaking back into the palace undetected was no easy task. At least it was for just anyone. Jimin was not just anyone. Guards would likely see their prince entering at the crack of dawn and say nothing of it. The real worry was sneaking past his father, who would be nothing short of furious to discover Jimin had been out all night. Jimin knew he needed to not give any more reason to upset him, but soon, it would matter no more. The next day Jimin would simply be gone. All he had to do was his best not to be ominous so that his father had no reason for suspicions.

As Jimin walked through the corridors hoping and praying he did not run into his father or mother for that matter, it dawned on him that the sun had already risen. The family should be at breakfast by now. Jimin could not decide if he should run to the dining room or his bedroom and pretend he overslept. Either one would guarantee trouble. Going straight to the dining room in his casual attire might appear iffy and likely cause his mother to scold him for the improper dress code. Deciding it would be better and less questionable to pretend he overslept, Jimin took a sharp turn around the corner of the hallways only to freeze in his tracks.

“Father…”

[experimentalmadness]

Cin Vhetin Ch. 8: Judgement

Chapter Summary: Din and Zethu are out on assignment and things get tense. 

In which absolutely no one talks about their feelings and everyone is still firmly in the enemies to lover slowest of burns moods. 

Pairing: Din x OC/Reader (however you prefer to read it)

Masterlist: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Ao3 Link

It’s a long one, folks just an fyi. Feel free to swap over to the Ao3 link if it’s easiest. And please lemme know if you are liking this story. :) 

***

Zethu was still expecting a trap.

She had raised all kinds of hell when the Mandalorian had stated point blank they’d be taking his ship and leaving her’s behind. But in the end she relented. It made a kind of sense she didn’t much feel like arguing over. Two ships were always more noticeable than the one. Besides if the Mandalorian didn’t intend to take her back to Nevarro to claim what’s hers, she could always kill him. 

Zethu shifted herself awkwardly into the seat behind the pilot’s chair. Her ribs hurt. Her face hurt. Her bones hurt, but she kept her mouth shut tight. Maybe the bounty hunter was just waiting until they were in deep space before blasting her out the airlock. Maybe he was waiting for her to let her guard down just long enough to slip a vibroblade between her cracked ribs. She fidgeted, hating everything about this entire situation. 

The Mandalorian seemed oblivious to Zethu’s distrustful stares boring into the back of his helmet. He took them up and out of Nevarro’s atmosphere and Zethu gave one last mournful look through the viewport at her lovely Lancer. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when they reached the relative quiet of space. 

The Mandalorian began punching in the coordinates in the nav computer to make the jump to lightspeed. Zethu braced herself as space warped around them. Normally she enjoyed that initial rush, the flow of energy as light and time distended and contracted. Now all she noticed was how it aggravated her injuries. 

She’d be trapped on this ship for at least a day. 

No way out. 

Something moved against her leg. Zethu jolted and immediately regretted the action, holding her side. She tried to lean forward to see what had brushed against her, seeing one tiny green claw batting at her calf. With one eyebrow raised she reached down and was rewarded with a childish giggle as she held the kid up by the collar of its little brown robe. “Don’t look now, Mando,” Zethu snickered, “but we have ourselves a stowaway.”

Zethu laughed at the double take the Mandalorian immediately performed. “What the—you’re supposed to be with Cara!”

The child offered up what Zethu was certain was an articulate excuse, but alas, it was in baby nonsense. She set the child down on her lap. “Sneaky little bug, aren’t ya?” 

“Get down from there.” It was extremely satisfying watching him gesture for the kid to leave Zethu’s lap. 

“Aw, I’m not about to hurt the kid.”

“Now,” the Mandalorian clarified. 

Balancing itself precariously the kid hopped down from Zethu’s lap, trundling over to the Mandalorian and hopping up onto the console instead. Still chuckling to herself, Zethu cautiously stood up from her chair, stretching out bruised muscles. The Mandalorian was mumbling quietly to the kid, huffing something about “what am I going to do with you?” and “Cara is gonna lose it.”

So she was surprised when he suddenly snapped his attention back to her as she made her way out of the cockpit. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh? Clearly not out into space?” With that she dropped down the ladder into the ship proper. 

It wasn’t much. Neither was her ship either if she was being honest. She tapped a few slats and prodded obviously sealed closet and storage spaces. Punching a few buttons revealed a veritable armory. She whistled as she surveyed the blasters before the doors were suddenly shut in her face. 

The Manadalorian was at her side, kid swaddled in one arm, the other jabbing accusingly at her. “Don’t touch anything.”

Zethu backed off innocently enough, slumping down and sitting up against the opposite paneling. The kid squirmed out of the Mandalorian’s arms and went toddling back over to her. It seemed to be interested in examining the buckles on her boots. “You know I have no idea why the imps want this little bug. Gonna be honest though, they also failed to tell me I’d be going up against a full blown Mandalorian when I took the job,” she grinned. “After Raydonia I upped my price. They were...not happy.”

“Who do they say you’d be after, then?” he leaned against a crate and even through the helmet Zethu could tell he was watching the kid closely. 

Zethu shrugged. “Just some hunter who reneged on a deal. Think they were afraid standard mercs would back out if they knew. You guys do have a bit of a reputation, you know.”

“Still gonna collect?” 

“Yup,” Zethu said without a moment’s hesitation. “I also have a bit of a reputation, Mando,” she winked. 

“So,” the man crossed his arms, “what’s the plan for Coruscant? I wouldn’t advise going in blasters hot.”

“Hah! Not unless we wanted to get arrested by the Republic. No, I got a little germ of an idea. If your friend’s info was correct and you can get me into the tech center I might be able to draw out Gedos without firing a shot. At least until we get him somewhere more secure.”

She ran a gloved finger down the kids’ long ear. It giggled, wiggling its head and playfully batting at her hand. She didn’t much want to think about Gedos Sal, or what was going to happen on Coruscant. 

“The other Offshoots who saw you wanted you dead,” The Mandalorian pointed out. His modulator gave him a similar flat affect to his voice as Zethu’s own once did, but he hadn’t put in any of the regulators she had done to tune the emotion out. She heard his curiosity...tinged with a bit of disgust. Honestly, his judgement of her life was getting tiresome. 

“Gedos won’t.”

Your parents would be proud of you. She was eight years old again, dirt-faced and bloodied as she kneeled, bent over in electro-stocks, hands and neck shackled by the sparking blue electricity. Remember you’re the best of them.

“His mistake,” Zethu snapped. “It’s to our advantage. We get him secure, we get him back to Numidian—”

“And then we settle this.”

Zethu stared hard at the tinted visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “Yeah. Once and for all.”

***

Din couldn’t remember the last time he had been near Coruscant’s orbit. Flying into the heart of the former Galactic—now Republic—space was not the norm. Sure, hunters made the trip all the time in search of marks and the galaxy’s biggest city had a fairly lucrative underworld, but it was no place for a Mandalorian. He glanced over his shoulder at his reluctant companion and saw Zethu Desh looked equally concerned as she stared hard out the viewport. She probably wouldn’t want to come this close to the Republic either. 

The Crimson Dawn operative had called her a terrorist in Arkanian space. It didn’t take a particularly good imagination to wonder what she could have done to be slapped with that crime. Sedition against her own people and murder were the other charges leveled against her. She clearly had little love for her kind. But whatever her flaws at least she fought like a hell of a warrior. He could respect that.

Din brought the Razor Crest in for a landing and his dislike for Coruscant rose tenfold. There were no good hiding places to land out of sight. The massive city rose up before them complete with traffic, skyscraping spires, and neon sign postings. He swore under his breath.

“Head out to the Works,” Zethu mumbled into her hand. Her face was pressed into her palm as she rested facing the viewport. 

“The what?”

“Abandoned factory district. ‘S quiet there. We’ll have a bit of a walk towards the city proper but it’s better than paying Coruscant landing prices. Less noticable too. You wanna go east from here.”

Staring at her would not determine if she had an ulterior motive for the landing site, and Din didn’t have another viable solution to refute her. Shrugging, he took her advice and headed east, keeping his altitude as high as he could to avoid possible sensors or trackers. Who knew what the New Republic had installed in the atmo to count incoming ships. He traveled at Zethu’s directions until the skyline leveled and a trail of black smoke entered the sky. 

Fire and ash gushed from pipes across the surface and rusted over factories dotted the landscape. Din took the Razor Crest in lower, doing a quick scan and sensing no living heat signatures. In the end, he decided on landing the ship in the shadow of one of the larger factory shells. There was plenty of flat available surface nestled between the abandoned structure and the massive pipes. 

“Alright,” Din swiveled in his seat. “You are going to stay here in this time!” He pointed at the child who had once again, despite his insistence, found its way onto Zethu’s lap. 

“Sure, keep the kid in the ship on one of the biggest cities ever. It’s not like its known to wander off, right? That sounds like a great idea,” Zethu mocked. 

She had a point. He hated that. “I’m not taking the kid into a fight.”

“If we do things right there won’t be much of a fight,” Zethu stood up, gently placing the kid back on the ground. “The little bug’ll be fine. More than I can say for leaving it here on the hope it doesn’t disappear without a trace.”

“Didn’t seem to care for the kid’s well-being when you were trying to blast us out of the sky months ago.”

Zethu only shrugged, a sharp-toothed half grin appearing on her face. “Not trying to do that today, though am I? Honestly, Mando could we try and stay in the moment?” She dropped out of sight down the ladder. 

There wasn’t much for it. He gathered his weapons and the child and disembarked. Instantly, Din was glad he hadn’t left the kid behind. The Works were a vast, ashen-covered district with trap after trap for a small womp rat like the kid to get lost in. And it had a terrible habit of trying to sneak out. They’d have to work on that. 

Zethu hadn’t been kidding about that walk back to the city. Without a speeder or an air taxi it took the three of them well into the early evening to bridge into the underbelly of the city proper. “How long do you think a work day is here?” Din asked. “Any chance of Gedos still being at the tech centers by the time we could reach them.”

“Fair point,” Zethu shrugged. “Luckily we got plenty of options for a stake out.”

“What? No. I’m getting us a speeder and we’re heading back to the ship.”

“Like hell we are!” Zethu laughed. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather sleep in a bed.”

“Zethu!” but she was already walking away, hands in pockets. “Zethu!” with another curse he chased after her. “Maybe this will come as a shock to you, but I need to keep a low profile.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “You’re on Coruscant, Mando. No one cares who you are or what you do, or where you came from. Here, you just let me do the talking. And give me the kid.”

“No.”

“Look, I’m not gonna—”

Din drew his blaster and pressed it none-to-gently into ribs he knew were still heavily bandaged. “I said no.”

Zethu batted the blaster away, but backed off, glaring at him and rubbing her chest. “Fine,” she growled and Din heard her curse in Arkanian. 

They picked up an airtaxi without an issue, heading in no particular direction, but Zethu seemed to have a vague idea of direction. Din wanted to ask her when the last time she had been on Coruscant had been, but Zethu didn’t seem to be in the sharing mood anymore. And she had been right about one thing, no one seemed to be paying them any serious attention. 

His armor caught a few curious glances, but for the most part the city was teeming with folk just trying to reach their destination. Most never even bothered looking up from where they were driving or walking. Zethu continued to steer them on. They rose a few levels in the planetary city, but not too high. Judging from the decor they were still in the seedier underbelly, and that was fine by him. 

Din was in danger of getting completely lost but Zethu brought them to a dimly lit hotel where a female Rodian greeted them in her language. As Zethu promised she did the majority of the talking. 

“A room for me and my partner, please,” she said. 

The Rodian said something that made Zethu laughed. Admittedly his Rodese was a little rusty, but he was positive they were talking about him. “What? No, you think he’s a real Mandalorian? Trust me, friend, you don’t want to know what he had to do to get that armor.”

At the Rodian’s response Zethu reached into her pockets for a handful of credits, sliding an appropriate amount over to the receptionist and, with two fingers, sliding a few extra back. “A tip,” she winked. “We were never here.”

The Rodian responded with a little bow, taking her extra credits. “Hah! Exactly, city’s so big all types of people come this way,” Zethu said with another big smile as she gestured for Din to follow her to the lift. 

The minute the doors sealed she let out a breath and the jovial expression on her face melted away. “Rodians are so easy,” she said without malice or much of anything at all. Those colorless eyes held no visible animosity, but there was a hard line around her mouth. All business again. 

The lift let them out in a suitably comfortable space. The child, as if sensing they were in a relatively safe area, wriggled free of his grip and wandered into the room, climbing up on one of the two beds. “This’ll do,” Zethu shrugged out of her crimson jacket. “I’d say make yourself comfortable, but I doubt you will.” 

Neither was she. She wouldn’t stay still for a moment, checking cabinets, drawers, and thoroughly shaking out the bedsheets. Looking for possible surveillance? Hidden weapons? Probably both given their shady location. “You know I’ve always wondered, do Mandalorians actually sleep with their helmets on?” she sniggered as she finished her sweep.

“While you’re here? Yes.”

“You’re funny, Mando,” Zethu winked as she unlatched the transparisteel screen, leaning out onto the miniscule balcony. The sounds of the city filtered into the room, speeders and hawkers, droid whistles and a steady thrum of music playing in one of the many clubs of the Undercity. “Never really had an excuse to get to know most of my marks before.” 

“You seem to know your way around. When was the last time you were planetside?” Din ignored her attempts to rile him up. He meticulously laid out his arsenal on the edge of his own bed, shifting the kid away from the rifle and vibroblades each time it waddled too close. 

“Eh...long time. Works good on Coruscant if you can get it and not upset the local mercs, but I prefer living in the Mid to Outer Rim,” Zethu wasn’t looking at him, content to sit herself by the balcony ledge and stare out towards the city. 

“Away from the Dominion.”

At that her gaze did snap back to him. She glared hard for a moment, before a little of that anger seemed to slough off as she gave a large sigh and roll of her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the screen. “Yeah. Away from them.”

“A terrorisim charge must make getting bounty work hard,” he counted the rounds of ammunition he still had, hearing Zethu’s hateful laugh. 

“You know for some crime syndicates it makes them give me a higher starting offer. When most people hear of you evading the Arkanian Dominion for two whole decades word gets around.”

“When people hear you kill your own without hesitation I imagine that gets around, too.”

“Oh fuck you, Mando.” Din had never heard such malice from the merc before not even prior to their marathon fight. He turned around half expecting to see her ready to fling herself at him, weapons out, but she was still sitting patiently by the balcony, only her face showed the real wrath. Her body was poised and still. 

“I got the terrorism charge slapped on when I blew a couple of Adascorp facilities sky-high. Didn’t even know about it until I saw my name show up on someone’s datapad. House Adasca never leaves loose ends, but screw ‘em. Screw the damn Adascacorp, the Dominion, and every. Single. Arkanian, left on that iceball wreck of a planet. You don’t get to judge me, Mando. I was born in a dark, abysmal mineshaft with Arkanian overseers so harsh they wouldn’t even let my own mother off her shift long enough to give birth to me. That’s how much an Offshoot miner’s life is worth where I come from. We were genetically invented to obey and scrap and bow to our Arkanian masters. My parents tried to incite the miners to rebellion. Some great uprising of my Offshoot brethren that would “unite us all” or some absolute spacejunk. All it got was them shot by a firing squad while the rest of “my” people went on like nothing changed. I stole a freighter first chance I got. Should never have let anyone else on it. But some people in my mining crew found out. Said sure, why not. Better than going into the galaxy alone, right? Serves me right. Second we get spotted by Dominion ships half of them are blubbering about maybe we should just head back and ask for forgiveness. I wasn’t going back. So I shot the three who begged. That’s my big crime against my people, Mando. And I’d do it again. Survival is everything. What sins have your Mandalorians committed to stay alive that you get to judge me for mine?”

Din had nothing he could say to that. Zethu’s eyes never shifted from him, never flinched. The wind tousled her silver hair across her face as she shook her head at him, turning to stare back out the window. She took a deep, controlled breath in and it was only then Din saw how tight she had been clenching her fists against her lap. 

“I hate this damn planet,” she said quietly, the anger leaving her voice bit by bit so that she sounded smaller...sadder even than Din would have guessed possible. “You can’t see the stars here.”

[mentalmimosa]

between the waves (part II)

First installment here: [https://mentalmimosa.tumblr.com/post/183934987955/between-the-waves]

In the real world, theirs, Bruce couldn’t imagine Clark saying such a thing; nor could he imagine how the words stirred him, the stubborn little ember they kicked up deep in his heart. Sleeping in his own bed, turning fitful into a few hours of sleep, he’d never thought of Clark’s hands, the long length of his body, of that dark head tucked dreamily against the back of his neck. Aboard the Lightoller, though, there came a time when no night passed without those thoughts curling around him like sweet smoke and ushering his sore and sunburned body towards the still, warm waters of dreams.

When the daylight came and with it the hundred tasks that had to be attended to from the crow’s nest to the cargo hold, it was easy enough to shake free of them, these strange night time delusions; to climb out of his bed and into his boots and climb up to meet the sea and the quartermaster’s bitter, black tea. He would take the report of the watch and settle the past night’s quarrels--over money, most times; sometimes women, sometimes drink--and make sure all was as it should be before Captain Kent bounded up the ladder to greet the new day with a smile and a firm slap on the back.

“Master Bruce!” he would say, his eyes fairly glowing under the first hints of the sun. “How sails the Lightoller?”

“Straight and true, sir. Once again, we find the wind at our backs.”

"All is as it should be, then.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Very good.” A smile here, sometimes, the wind catching the length of his hair despite the blue ribbon tied at the base of his neck. “Bring the next watch ahead, please. I want to discuss the day ahead.”

Bruce would snap his fingers and the crew would come but it was Clark who they stared at, Clark who they stood straight for, Clark who they revered and sometimes, as was the way of a tight life aboard shift, adored. By the time they’d been aboard ship a year, a half-a-dozen crushes on the Captain (that he knew about, anyway) had flared up and broken out and it spoke volumes about Clark that those whose advances he gently rejected--those few he’d had to firmly eject from their presumptive place in his bed--seemed disappointed, yes, but not hurt or angry. One or two had stepped off at their next port of call in search of another ship, but most who Clark declined had stayed at their posts and, aside from a few lingering glances, had gone with their lives as before.

“It isn’t good for morale,” Clark said when Bruce asked. “A team can’t work effectively when there’s the perception that things aren’t fair, that people aren’t being treated equally.”

Bruce couldn’t help himself. “You read that in some management book?”

Clark turned away from the water. They were standing at the bow, watching a pod of dolphins race joyfully head. “No. It’s something my high school basketball coach used to say; kind of his basic philosophy. Always made sense to me.”

“You played basketball in high school?”

“Played?” Clark laughed. “Um, no. But I was a heck of an equipment manager. Nobody could wrangle those water bottles and dirty jerseys like me.”

“Huh.” Bruce had an image of a long-legged kid with dark-rimmed glasses and the best kind of smile, one that hid a hell of a secret. “I can see that. You always struck me as kind of a neat freak.”

That got him a snort. “Says the man who had a particular place for everything in his batcave. And as I recall, you label everything in there too, don’t you?”

“Shut up.”

Clark laughed. “I think you meant: shut up, Captain,” he said.

Bruce grinned. It was ok; there was no one to see it except the flat white lace of the clouds, anyway. “Shut up, Captain, sir.”

“Better,” Clark said. “Much. Perhaps we’ll make a proper seaman out of you yet.”

Yes, they could tease each other here; relax into a comfortable sort of camaraderie. Before, when the fate of the world had rested on their shoulders day after day, there had been a sense of tension between them, a wariness, a kind of unease--or so it had always seemed to Bruce. Now, when the only dangers were a rogue wave or a bad storm, a rival ship or an ambitious captain with eyes for their cargo, it was easier to be around Clark, to talk to him, to think of him as a friend. Because they were friends, weren’t they, at the far edge of the known world? At first, he’d been able to tell himself it was by necessity, but now, twelve months in, when the light of the future, his past, had begun to fade like tired tea leaves, when there were days when he forgot everything except the pull of the water, the sway of the ship, what it felt like to look across the galley and catch Clark’s eye in the middle of the crew’s revelry, mugs in hand and rum running free and the whole of life narrowed down to this moment, this place, the heat of drink and close quarters in his face, the pleasure of good company making him feel heavy and content. For all the strangeness of their circumstances, nothing in his life before had ever felt so real as all this.

“Master Bruce?”

It was Kenison, the captain’s steward. He was 15, skinny as a rail, and smart as a tack: a former stowaway who’d long since earned his keep. How the boy’s father--a zealot Liverpudlian preacher--had ever seen fit to boot him from the fold, Bruce could not rightly fathom.

“Hmm?” Bruce looked up from his tankard.

“Captain says you look tired, sir. Captain says you’ve, ah, had enough and should be getting along ‘ere now to bed.”

There weren’t many aboard ship who’d have been brave enough to deliver that particular message with a straight face and squared shoulders. He had to give the kid credit for that.

“Kenison, tell the captain to mind his own business, please.”

“Ah.” The boy bobbed his head a little, a sudden tinge of pink on his cheeks. “Er, Captain says he knows better than you, Master Bruce, and that you’d better go up now and get some air before’n he drags you up above decks himself.”

Bruce squinted over to where Clark had been standing, biting back the hint of a scowl. He couldn’t see him. “Did he now.”

“Um, yes. Sir.”

Truth be told, now that he’d had to set his mug down, Bruce was tired. They were a day off from Antigua after four weeks straight at sea, and the crew’s delight at the prospect of a few good days on land making the most of their time and their pay had given Bruce fits all day. There’d been more talk of obliging women and strong drink than there had been attention paid to all the work that still needed to be done. When Clark had announced this little celebration, the lights of land close at hand, Bruce had been nearly as grateful as the crew; his throat damn well hurt from all the growling.

Now, though, the rum had spread through his limbs and thickened his blood and each sip was more and more soporific and now that he’d stopped drinking, he could feel his exhaustion at last.

He peered up into Kenison’s face and let out a long-suffering sigh. “Very well. Tell the captain that I’ll take his advice. Just this once, though. Tell him not to get used to it.”

The kid looked horrified. “Uh, Master Bruce, I don’t think I--I can’t--”

Bruce planted a hand on the worn table before him and pushed up unsteadily from his seat. “Never mind, Kension, I’ll tell him. Next time I see him, that is.”

Technically, he didn’t need to go above decks to get to his cabin, but as soon as the warm night breeze touched his face, he was grateful that he had. The air was calm, the sea as settled as he’d seen it in days. He looked west, down the bow; it seemed that if he stretched out his hand, the land would be right there, rippling under his touch. High above, the sky turned, her hands so full of stars he wondered how they didn’t fall, how the velvet black wasn’t filled with streaks of brilliant, faraway light. He was alone on deck, the anchor thrown, and when he stumbled on his way to the rail, he laughed, a full-throated sound that shook the planks beneath his feet because there was no one, was there, in the whole great wide world who could see. When he reached the side of the ship, he laid his hands over worn wood and closed his eyes and breathed in the sweetness, the rightness, and he knew for the first time in a lifetime that which he could only name as contentment. How odd it was, he thought, how very fucking strange, that it should take a mistake for him to find it; no wonder that, in his old life, searching for happiness had seemed such a waste of time and mental energy. How much more important it felt now to embrace what he’d been given.

He moved not so much at a thought, but a feeling, a tug like an irresistible draw. It was only when he was nearly there that he realized where he was headed, where his feet were taking him, the reason for the flutter in his heart.

“Clark,” he said when the captain opened his cabin door. “Can I come in?”

It was only when he was inside, the latch locked behind him, that he realized that Clark was half-naked, stripped from the loose white shirt sleeves he’d been wearing all evening down to the stretch of bare skin. His hair was loose, too, jet black curls that fell just below his big shoulders, and his eyes, jesus god, his eyes ; Bruce had never seen them so wide, nor so blue.

“Have you come to scold me?” Clark asked. His voice was playful. “Kenison told me you were none too pleased with my suggestion.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion. It was basically an order.”

“Yeah, well. You did it anyway, didn’t you?”

Something writhed in him, then, a great dark wave of wonder, and how they’d come so far without this happening before, in that moment, Bruce could not fucking understand.

“Clark,” he said again, deeper now. An unmistakable meaning.

“Bruce.” The captain touched his face, a quick slide of two fingertips that turned the world upside down, that set everything at last in its place. “Is this the rum talking, or is this you?”

“Both, probably.” Bruce caught his wrist and squeezed hard, left no room to run away. “But I know what I’m doing. I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

Bruce looked up. Watched his fingers brush the hungry curve of Clark’s mouth, watched Clark’s lips part for him, hot and wet. “Oh, captain. That’s you.”