#like a quarter of my filtered tags are ship tags

[flecks-of-stardust]

actually, a gentle request: for ship content makers in the rain world tumblr community, could you start tagging your posts with stuff like #ship and #ship content? or at least tag your posts with the ship you’re making content of. i would deeply appreciate it.

[zoloteh-volossya]

BG3 Fanfiction Statistics, Part 2

Welcome to part 2 of my BG3 AO3 fanfic statistical analysis! In part 1, which can be found here, I discussed general fanfic data for the fandom and took a look at pairing trends for the player character, Shadowheart, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Minthara. In this section, I will discuss pairing trends on AO3 for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin, then compare all 8 main characters and talk about pairings more broadly.

Please note that the data for this analysis was gathered between July 21, 2024 and July 24, 2024. I gathered data for the top 300 ship tags in the BG3 fandom, and due to time constraints did not look at pairings with fewer than 5 fics.

I will try and be as transparent as possible when discussing how I obtained and processed this data. A copy of my spreadsheet can be found here and contains all of the tables I will be discussing for anyone who wishes to take a closer look at the data. If you don’t care about the numbers and/or my thoughts about them, feel free to skim through this post and just look at the charts!

I will be referencing the “PC” a lot in this section. See part 1 for an explanation of my methodology, but basically I combined Tav, Dark Urge, Original Character, Reader, and You into one Player Character (PC) supercategory while filtering to prevent double counting. This makes it clearer who each character is typically paired with. It also drops the number of ships from 300 to 162. Throughout this essay, I will use “ship tags” to refer to the original 300 ships that I gathered the data for and “pairings” to refer to the 162 ships that remain when I condense the player character down.

CHARACTER PAIRING STATISTICS, CONT.

In part 1, I went through Tav, the Dark Urge, Shadowheart, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Minthara and took a look at who they are shipped with and their fic category (F/M, M/M, F/F, Other, Multi) breakdown. In this continuation, I will look at Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin.

ASTARION

Astarion was included in 50.2% of all fic pairings (the number of fics tagged Astarion/PC + the number of fics tagged Astarion/Gale + the number of fics tagged Astarion/Halsin and so on, divided by the total sum of all fic pairings). This percentage increased to 53.9% when otp:true was applied. This means that over half of all shipping content for BG3 on AO3 involves Astarion!

Astarion is in 7 of the top 10 ship tags and 64 of the top 300 ship tags. When I condense the pairings with the PC down, he is in 7 of the top 30 ships and 40 of the 162 total pairings. The loss of 24 ship tags comes from me having to condense down not only all his ship tags with the PC but also all his threesomes and foursomes and moresomes with the PC.

Notably, Astarion was the only BG3 character to have race specific ship tags – Astarion/Tiefling!OC (68 fics), Astarion/Half-Elf!OC (27 fics), and Astarion/Drow!OC (9 fics). These all got condensed down into the Astarion/PC supercategory as well.

Astarion/Gale is #4 and his next pairings with a non-player character are #8 Halsin and #9 Wyll. Pairings #1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 10, and 16 are all just him with different tags for the player character. Condensing down all the player character tags yields us his top 20 pairings.

As expected, the player character dominates his pairings with 11,756 fics. His biggest non-PC ships are with Gale with 2,431 fics (of which an unusually high proportion are otp:true – 1,752 – almost three quarters of all his fics with Gale), Halsin with 848 fics, and Wyll with 582 fics. Ignoring the PC, he mostly seems to be shipped with men – the first canon woman to show up is Karlach at #8 with 157 fics (an order of magnitude less than Gale). He has four threesomes (Halsin/PC/Astarion, Gale/PC/Astarion, Karlach/Wyll/Astarion, Wyll/PC/Astarion) in his top 20 ships. I was surprised at how high Cazador (#6, 387 fics) was at first, but a lot of that is likely from Astarion’s backstory.

#20 was Astarion/Astarion with 15 fics, which means that Astarion is following in the proud tradition of tumblr sexymen like the Onceler before him.

As expected from looking at Astarion’s pairings in general, he has slightly more M/M (8,923 fics) shipping than M/F (7,996 fics) shipping. M/M pairings have an unusually high rate of otp:true fics – that’s mostly from Astarion/Gale. Oddly, there’s a small number (51) of F/F otp:true fics – these are either genderbends or mistags.

Looking at the pattern of pairings with the PC only, a different pattern emerges.

This time, there’s significantly more M/F fics (6,910, 58.8% of Astarion’s fics with the PC) than M/M fics (4,182, 35.6%), though the numbers are closer when you look at otp:true (46.7% M/F vs 37.6% M/M). We can infer then that it is more common to ship female player characters with Astarion than men. The Other category is significant (1,601 fics, 13.6%) and likely was used for a tag for nonbinary player characters. There’s still a bizarre 38 otp:true F/F fics.

GALE

Gale is in 19.7% of all pairings and 26.5% of otp:true pairings. He has 33 ship tags in the top 300, which drops to 23 when I condense all the player characters into “PC.”

Unlike Astarion, whose chart was completely dominated by his pairing with the PC, Gale has almost as many fics with Astarion as he does with Tav. The top pairings for Gale are primarily with the player character – #1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8 are all just different tags for the player character (Gale/You and Gale/Reader are synonymous and so have pretty much the same number of fics). Condensing all that down yields the following chart.

There’s a stark drop off after the player character and Astarion – an order of magnitude decrease in fics (#4 Shadowheart/Gale has 111 fics, a massive drop off from 2,431 Astarion/Gale fics). And #3 is just a threesome with both the PC and Astarion. I’ve commented on it before, but Gale/Astarion has a truly unusual proportion of otp:true fics – something that indicates that there are no background pairings in most of that ship’s activity. I would not be surprised if many of those fics are modern AUs or post game fics that don’t feature the other BG3 characters much if at all.

The quartet of Astarion-Gale-Halsin-PC is prominent in Gale’s top 20 ships. All permutations of that multiship are present: #1 Gale/PC, #2 Astarion/Gale, #5 Halsin/Gale, #3 Astarion/PC/Gale, #6 Astarion/Halsin/Gale, #11 Gale/Halsin/PC, and #15 Astarion/Gale/Halsin/PC. Towards the bottom of his top 20 we start getting into his multiships with most or all of the main protagonists. This’ll be more common with the other companions – there are only 11 Astarion / Gale / Wyll / Shadowheart / Lae’zel / Karlach fics, so when these show up the list is descending into very low fic count pairings.

Looking at Gale’s fic category breakdown, M/M predominates with 3,859 fics to M/F’s 2,938 fics. Given the very high proportion of otp:true fics, we can assume that most of that is Astarion/Gale. Indeed, when we look at Gale’s ship with the player character (his only other substantial ship), we see a very different picture.

Gale’s ship with the player character has much more M/F content than his general ship content and also than Astarion. M/M content drops from 57.1% of all his fics to 30.5% of his ships with the player character, while M/F content rises from 43.5% of all his fic content to 68.1% of his fic content with the player character. ‘Other’ shipping is about 9.6% of ship content with the player character. Looking at otp:true content, a little more than half as many male player characters are shipped with Gale as female player characters.

There are, for some reason, 16 F/F otp:true fics for all of Gale’s ships and 7 otp:true F/F fics for his ship with the player character.

WYLL

Wyll is featured in 5.2% of all pairings and 5.7% of otp:true pairings, a truly stunning drop from the ~50% of Astarion and 20-26% of Gale. He is in 24 of the top 300 BG3 ships, a number that drops to 18 when I condense all the player characters into one category.

Interestingly, Astarion/Wyll outpaces Wyll/Tav as Wyll’s most popular ship. Like with Gale/Astarion, the proportion of otp:true fics for that pairing is unusually high.

When we condense all of Wyll’s player character pairings into one category, it (barely) edges out Astarion/Wyll, with 588 and 582 fics respectively (also note that no Wyll pairing has thousands of fics, unlike Gale and Astarion before him). What also happens when we condense the player characters is that Wyll does not reach a full 20 ships – he drops to 18 pairings. He has more than this, of course, but my methodology ignores all pairings with fewer than 5 fics. Therefore, Wyll’s 19th and 20th most popular pairings have 4 fics or fewer. I have represented these missing pairings with little :( emojis, because this is a sad state of affairs.

Karlach is by far Wyll’s most popular ship after Astarion and the PC, with 327 fics. The otp:true proportion is low, so it is likely often a background ship or has background ships. The next highest pairing is #4, Gale, with 54 fics. The numbers rapidly drop from there – by #6 Wyll/Lae’zel we are at 26 fics and by #14 Wyll/Karlach/Shadowheart we are down to only 10 fics.

Wyll’s pairings, like all of the male characters, tend towards M/M, with 1,010 total fics. F/M follows up with 794 and Other with 162. Much of his M/M fics come from Astarion/Wyll, as we can see when we look at Wyll’s ships with the PC.

Like Astarion and Gale before him, the proportion of M/F rises when we look at Wyll’s pairings with the player character specifically. Unlike Astarion and Gale, though, no category even comes close to breaking 1,000 fics. M/F has 357 fics (or about 60.7% of his fics total) and M/M has 224 (38.1%). With otp:true applied, M/F is 56.3%, M/M is 40.7%, and Other has 13.3%. These numbers add to more than 100%, so even on otp:true fics people are evidently tagging multiple categories. This is likely due to “Reader” fics with a generic reader.

HALSIN

Halsin is featured in 9.7% of all pairings, almost twice Wyll’s proportion. This drops to 7.9% though when you apply otp:true – a much larger drop than pretty much anyone else other than the PC. It’s likely because Halsin has a disproportionately high number of fics with threesomes, which eliminate a fic from otp:true if the threesome subrelationships are also tagged.

He is in 31 of the top 300 ship tags and 21 of the top 162 pairings.

Like every other man in this essay, Halsin’s ship with Astarion is very prominent. The first canon woman to show up is Shadowheart at #15.

As expected, Halsin/PC is easily his most popular pairing, with 1,637 fics. Astarion and a threesome with Astarion and the PC follow with quite decent fic counts of 848 and 456 respectively. The otp:true proportion for Halsin/Astarion is abnormally high. Gale and Shadowheart seem to be his other major ships. Gale/Halsin is #4 with 106 fics and Gale/PC/Halsin is #8 with 19. Shadowheart/Halsin is #6 with 36 fics and Shadowheart/Halsin/PC is #10 with 17.

The Astarion-Halsin-Gale-PC quartet shows up prominently in Halsin’s top pairings. In addition to the ships previously mentioned, Halsin/Astarion/Gale is #5 with 92 fics.

What’s notable about Halsin’s fic categories is the abnormally large number of fics tagged Multi – 1,257 fics, or 37.4% of the total. Given that he’s the poly companion, this makes sense.

Looking at Halsin with the PC specifically, the typical pattern appears. The percentage of M/M drops and M/F rises. Unlike the other characters and like his general shipping situation, the percentage of Multi fic is quite high – 32.7%.

CHARACTER COMPARISON

Now that I’ve looked at all the main characters individually, let’s take a look at how they compare to each other across a variety of metrics.

FIC RATINGS

In my individual character discussions, I didn’t talk about their relative rating proportions much, even though I was carefully tracking it. This is because all rating plots look just about the same until you compare people against each other directly.

Taking a look at all fics, I noticed a couple of things. First of all, Wyll is the companion with the least amount of horny fic written about him, with 33.4% of fics that include him in a pairing being rated Explicit. Halsin is the horniest, no surprise, with 52.8% of fics that include him in a pairing being rated Explicit – over half! Astarion has 41.2% Explicit fics while Gale has 43.6%. Amongst the women, Minthara has the highest percentage of Explicit fics (47.8%) while all three other women are within 38% – 40%.

Interestingly, the percentage of fics rated Mature remains within 22% – 26% for all companions except Minthara, who has 27.8%. The proportion of General fic is between 9% and 11% for Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart, and Karlach. Wyll has more than that, with 11.4%, while Lae’zel and Minthara have less than that with 8.4% and 5.6% respectively.

The situation does not change appreciably when I only look at fics with the otp:true condition.

FIC CATEGORIES

I have been talking about the percentage of M/F, M/M, F/F, Other, and Multi fics for each of the main characters. It’s interesting to compare them with each other. Please note, though, that in the individual character sections the percentages given were the percent of all fics for that character, and so the percentages added up to more than 100% because many fics tag several categories. In this section, the percentages given are a percent of all pairings. They therefore all add up to 100%, but it also means that fics that tag multiple categories are counted multiple times in that 100%.

The men all have more M/F than the women do (Astarion and Gale have the most while Lae’zel and Minthara have the least). Halsin, unsurprisingly, has the most Multi fic while Minthara has the least. Karlach has a surprisingly low proportion of F/F fic.

An interesting note is that the men all have less F/F fic than the women do M/M fic. This means that women are in background pairings to M/M ships or have background M/M ships in their focus fics proportionally more often than the men have background F/F ships or are in the background of F/F fics. The exception is Wyll, who has a F/F percentage close to the percentage of M/M fics in the womens’ fics.

Looking at ships with the PC specifically, some interesting patterns emerge.

Astarion, Gale, Wyll and Halsin have significantly (by more than 10%) more M/F content and less M/M content in their ships with the PC than their ships in general. Lae’zel and Minthara see a slight (less than 5%) increases in M/F and decreases in F/F as well. Shadowheart mostly stays the same. Karlach, on the other hand, sees a moderate (between 5% and 10%) decrease in M/F and increase in F/F in her ship with the PC specifically.

But remember, all these values include background pairings, and we have no way of knowing what proportion of each category actually contains the character we are interested in. So, what happens when we strip background pairings out of the equation by applying otp:true?

Wow! What a difference! Now, these values aren’t necessarily representative of all their pairings – just the ones that authors like to focus on without any background ships. Recall from the individual character analyses that often the second most popular ship after the pairing with the PC had an unusually high otp:true ratio. So we can assume, for example, that a large proportion of the M/M fics for Astarion and for Gale are from Gale/Astarion.

Every woman except Karlach is gayer than all of the men. Surprisingly, Karlach is the straightest companion by this particular metric.

Applying otp:true to ships with the PC specifically yields very different results.

Like what we saw with all ships, ships between the PC and men have significantly more M/F content than the mens’ ships generally. In this case, every man except Astarion jumps to around 50% M/F, and Astarion still jumps from 24.3% to 42.9%. The consistent pattern is that when looking at otp:true fics, M/M is preferred unless the pairing is with the player character, in which case M/F is more popular.

The conclusions for the women are not as clear cut. Karlach has more F/F and less M/F when looking specifically at ships with the PC, while Lae’zel has almost twice as much M/F when you look at her ship with the PC than her general otp:true fics – almost certainly due to the loss of Shadowheart/Lae’zel. Shadowheart experiences a significant (>10%) decline in the proportion of F/F fics, while Minthara sees a smaller one (~5%). What remains true, though, is that the majority of the player character shipping for the women is F/F.

The green bars in the chart are for the Other category, an expansive category that includes a lot of nonbinary PC shipping. You can therefore estimate how popular it is to ship each main character with a nonbinary Tav. Karlach has the most (18.6%) while Lae’zel has the least (5.2%). Everyone else is between 10% (well, 9.8% for Gale) and 12% except for Astarion who has 13.6%.

PAIRINGS

Most of both parts of this essay has been spent looking at each main character in relative isolation. But if you plot all pairings next to each other it paints a very interesting picture about each character’s relative popularity.

Astarion shows up 7 times in the top 10 ship tags and 12 times in the top 30 ship tags. The first non-Astarion ship is #4, Tav/Gale. There are no canon women in the top 10 ship tags – the first to show up is Shadowheart, at #14. Wyll does not appear until #18, in a pairing with Astarion. His pairing with Tav is #25. Lae’zel’s ship with Tav does not even make it onto this plot, at #38. Minthara is in an even worse situation – she first shows up at #60.

The results when I condense all the player character tags into “PC” are... stark.

Astarion dominates the BG3 fanfiction sphere in a way that is very surprising for a piece of media with six strong main characters. In fact, in order to actually be able to see the teeny tiny bars representing everybody else, here's a second graph with Astarion/PC excluded.

Astarion/PC is far and away the most popular ship, with 11,756 fics. Gale/PC is the second, with 3,500 – less than a third as many. Next is Astarion/Gale (2,431 fics) with an unusually high “otp:true” ratio, which indicates that it is frequently being written without any background ships. Surprisingly, Gortash/PC is fourth with 1,891 fics, followed by Halsin/PC with 1,637. Shadowheart/PC is the first woman to show up, at #6 with 980 fics. This is still 657 fics less than Halsin/PC and 911 fics less than Gortash/PC, which means that Gortash/PC is almost twice as popular as Shadowheart/PC. Astarion/PC has 12 times as many fics as Shadowheart/PC.

Karlach follows Shadowheart at #7 with 890 fics. Of the main cast, Lae’zel is next at #10 with 694 fics, and unlike every other Origin character her most popular ship is not with the PC but with Shadowheart. Wyll/PC does not make it into the top 10 ships, coming in at #11 with 588 ships. Notably, Raphael has more fics with the PC than either Lae’zel or Wyll, coming in at #9 with 745. Astarion/PC has a whopping 20 times as many fics as Wyll does and Gortash has over three times as many fics with the PC as Wyll does.

Lae’zel/PC finally shows up at #16 with 348 fics. Rolan/PC has more fics (#13, 477), and Astarion/PC has 33 times as many fics. Minthara/PC, meanwhile, is all the way down at #23 with 234 fics. Raphael, Rolan, Zevlor, the Emperor, and Haarlep all have more fics with the PC than she does. Halsin/PC has 7 times as many fics as Minthara/PC.

If you add up all the pairings each main character is tagged in, you get the following chart.

Astarion is far and away the most written about character in the BG3 fandom, followed by Gale and Halsin. If you divide these numbers by the total number of pairings, Astarion is in 50% of pairings, Gale is in 20%, and Halsin is in 10%. No other character breaks 10% - Shadowheart is in 7% of pairings, Karlach in 6%, Wyll in 5%, Lae’zel in 4%, and Minthara is in 1%.

Out of curiosity, I tallied up the numbers for Gortash as well. He appears in 6% of all pairings and 7% of otp:true pairings. This means that Gortash breaks even with Karlach and appears in more pairings than Wyll, Lae’zel, or Minthara, and if you look at otp:true he beats all the women and Wyll. This is despite Gortash having very few ships with characters outside of the PC, unlike most of the main cast who have notable secondary ships like Shadowheart/Lae’zel.

PAIRING ANALYSIS

Why am I focusing so much on pairings? Mostly because BG3 is an ensemble game – many fics will tag characters who show up for any significant length of time, even if just in the background. Therefore, if a character is tagged that is indicative that they are being included but not necessarily a sign that they are being focused on.

AO3 is a largely romance focused site (only 12% of all BG fics are categorized as General) and so characters in a pairing are more likely to be a focus of a fic. Of course this is not a hard rule, as in-depth character studies may have no pairings tagged at all or may tag a pairing that shows up in the background – but I have no way to distinguish these fics from a fic that tags a character because they show up for one paragraph. There is also the problem that many pairings are background pairings that are tagged but show up only briefly. To try and avoid that, in the following conversation, I will often be focusing on ships with the PC specifically. Fics pairing a character with the PC are especially likely to be focusing on that character and their romance and are much less likely to be a background ship than other pairings.

Looking at the data, the four most popular characters to ship with the PC – Astarion, Gale, Halsin, and Gortash – constitute the majority of fan works. Astarion, Gale, and Halsin in particular are shipped in all the possible configurations and these pairings are comparatively popular. Astarion/Gale is #3, Astarion/Halsin is #8 (above any Wyll or Lae’zel ships), Astarion/Halsin/PC is #14 (above Lae’zel/PC and all Minthara ships), Astarion/Gale/PC is #26, Gale/Halsin is #33, and Astarion/Gale/Halsin is #34.

So I did a little experiment. I went through my data and counted all the pairings that contained ONLY Astarion, Gale, Halsin, Gortash, and/or the PC. Then, I went through and counted all the pairings that weren’t in that group but did contain at least one of Astarion, Gale, Halsin, or Gortash.

Pairings containing ONLY a combination of the PC, Astarion, Gale, Halsin, or Gortash constituted 66.9% of all fic pairings in the BG3 fandom and (in a neat coincidence) also 66.9% of otp:true fic pairings. Adding in fics that involve at least one of these men with someone else ups the numbers to 73.3% of all fics and 75.0% of otp:true fics. Which means that only about a quarter of pairings do NOT include one of these four white men.

Now, it isn’t unusual for a couple of people to dominate a fandom like this. Many fandoms’ creative output primarily consist of only a couple of popular characters and their associated pairings. What is notable, though, is that BG3 is an ensemble game with 6 strong and nuanced main characters, three of whom are women, and two additional strong side characters, one of whom is a woman. But the four primary objects of fandom’s focus are 2 of the main characters, one of the side characters, and a villain.

This discrepancy is especially notable for Shadowheart and Lae’zel. For ages, when I’ve seen people bring up the relative scarcity of women in fanfic, the rejoinder is that the true culprit is the source media. Stories just don’t feature complex, interesting women with fully realized arcs, people say. There’s no narrative meat to for fandom to sink their teeth into.

This is not the case in BG3.

Both Shadowheart and Lae’zel have excellent narrative arcs that are well embedded into the game – Lae’zel has two game areas dedicated to her plotline (the creche and the astral plane) and you literally cannot progress the game past act 2 without interacting with Shadowheart’s dedicated area. The characters grapple with crisises of faith, culture clashes, and important decisions throughout the game – and who they end up becoming changes depending on the player character’s actions. This is great stuff! But it does not translate into fanfic popularity.

Lae’zel in particular is underrepresented. It’s notable that she is main character who is integrally tied into the plot and yet she is only tagged in 16% of fics – even including all the fics that merely tag her as a background character. She only appears in 4% of pairings. Her pairing with the PC comes in at #16, with 355 fics. But hey, her largest ship is with Shadowheart, so let’s look at the total number of pairings she shows up in – 1,319. Gortash/Dark Urge has 1,594 fics – that single pairing has 275 more fics than all of Lae’zel’s pairings added together. Gortash’s total pairing count is 2,052 and exceeds Lae’zel’s by almost 700 fics. Halsin’s total pairing count is over 2.5 times as large as Lae’zel’s at 3,346 fics total. Gale’s total pairing count is over five times as large, at 6,760 fics total. Oof.

Shadowheart is a bit better off – her pairing with the PC is the most popular woman at #6 with 980 fics. But this is still 657 fics less than Halsin/PC and 911 fics less than Gortash/PC, which means that Gortash/PC is almost twice as popular as Shadowheart/PC. When you take Shadowheart’s other pairings into consideration, things improve a little bit. She has 2,418 pairings total, which is about 400 more than Gortash’s total, though still over 900 fics less than Halsin’s total. But any Shadowheart/Lae’zel fan can tell you about sifting through their fics and finding that many only feature them as a background pairing for Astarion/Tav or some other more popular pairing. So let’s take a look at the otp:true numbers. Looking at otp:true fics only, Shadowheart has 765 fics and Lae’zel has 495 fics. Meanwhile, Halsin has 858 and Gortash has 800 – more than Shadowheart and much more than Lae’zel.

Neither Gortash nor Halsin really have arcs in game, though both of them do have implied arcs that happened before it. They’re interesting characters, sure, but undoubtedly Shadowheart and Lae’zel have more going on, more narrative meat to chew on. And yet, they’re completely overshadowed in fandom.

Speaking of being overshadowed, let’s talk about Wyll. Wyll is the only man in the main cast who is not particularly popular. He does not even make it into the top 10 pairings! He has fewer fics than Shadowheart or Karlach. Notably he has far far fewer fics with the PC than any other major male character and even several male villains. Gortash/PC has over three times as many fics as he does, Halsin/PC has 2.78 times as many fics as he does, and Astarion/PC has a whopping 20 times as many fics as he does. Even Raphael/PC has more fanfic! Even taking total pairings into account, Gortash still has more pairings than Wyll’s 1,770 total, while Halsin has almost twice as many.

A counterpoint that is commonly raised in this fandom is that Wyll is a boring character with less content than other Origin companions. Now, I disagree with this assessment of Wyll’s comparative boringness (I find him more interesting than Gale and much more interesting than Halsin, personally) but for the sake of this argument let’s not dispute this. The fact of the matter is that even if Wyll’s arc is half baked, Halsin has no arc at all and much less content in game. Gortash has even less content, with any potential past entanglement with Dark Urge being merely implied. Raphael doesn’t even have the implications of a past relationship with the PC, is never in a position to be in a relationship with the PC, and is canonically bad in bed to boot. And yet these men have far more fanfic with the PC than Wyll does.

I cannot help but notice that Astarion, Gale, Halsin, and Gortash are white men and Raphael presents himself as a white man.

What’s also notable is who doesn’t show up. Many minor non-player characters have quite sizable followings with a significant number of ships. Rolan, for instance, has 586 fics across 9 pairings. Zevlor has 393 ships, Dammon has 257, Kar’niss has 131, and Abdirak has 112. Other male characters that showed up on my list include Ansur (110, all with Balduran/the Emperor), Blurg (69, all with Omeluum), Vellioth (55, all with Cazador), Rugan (54), Kith’rak Voss (49), Sebastian (47, all with Astarion), Orpheus (40), Geraldus (29), Nere (22), He Who Was (21), Yurgir (18), Loroakkan (15, all with Rolan), Aradin (12), Danis (11 with Bex), Barcus (9 with the PC, not Wulbren), Petras (8 with Astarion), Guex and Ikaron (8 with each other), Franc Peartree (7 with Gortash), Lump the Enlightened (6), and Cal (6).

Meanwhile, if I eliminate Aylin and Isobel (not really “minor” NPCs), the first female minor NPC to show up in my list is Alfira with 58 fics. Nocturne follows with 57, Lakrissa with 34, Bex with 11 (all with Danis), Councillor Florrick with 8 (all with Minthara), Duke Stelmane with 8 (all with the Emperor), Kagha with 6, and Cerys with 6 (all with Rolan).

Councillor Florrick is notable because she has as much of a role in acts 1, 2, and 3 as Rolan, Zevlor, and Dammon yet she has no fics with the PC that showed up in my dataset; her only appearance is as part of a ship with Minthara. Ulder Ravenguard – a notable NPC from act 3 – never shows up at all, while Geraldus – a very minor NPC from act 3 – does. Rugan shows up but his boss Zarys never does. Neither does Roah Moonglow, who has a role in acts 1, 2, and 3 while Rugan only shows up in act 1. Araj Oblodra does not show up, but Sebastian does. Cal and Rolan show up in my dataset, but their sister Lia does not. Petras is the only vampire spawn to have over 5 of a pairing – Dalyria, who is present in all scenes where he is, does not. Alfira has the same presence in the story as Rolan (if anything, she has more), yet she shows up in less than a tenth as many fics. Vellioth, who never shows up at all, has 5 times as many fics as Viconia, who does.

The fandom has a definite trend for who gets written about, and it’s not women or Black people.

I’m not writing this to try and shame or guilt anyone. I have a dear friend who absolutely adores Astarion, and fandom acquaintances who I respect that are deeply invested in Gale, Halsin, and Gortash. And I don’t blame anyone for seeing a minor character and being intrigued enough by him to write fic. It makes sense that people are drawn to these characters – they’re really well written characters with engaging storylines. But all of the main characters in BG3 are well written, and who fandom chooses to focus on and prioritize says things about whose stories, whose lives, we pay attention to and care about.

I don’t expect this essay to change anything. Honestly, it’s mostly a primal scream of annoyance, broadcast to tumblr in hopes that other people who are annoyed by this phenomenon can find it. But it’s also a cold hard repudiation of any claim that the reason that women or Black people are underrepresented in fandom is solely due to the source material being lacking. BG3 proves that false.

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Twentytwo

Washing hair - Oberyn Martell/F!Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Oberyn begin to try conceiving and days before he leaves for Kings Landing, he finds you cooling down in the baths during a hot day.

Relationships: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

WC: 1700

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mild Smut, Bathing/Washing, Hair Washing, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kissing, Female Reader, Oberyn Martell Lives, this turned into a fix it fic along the way

AO3 LINK

notes: this is a direct continuation of kinktober day eight - breeding. highly recommend reading that one first! :)

_________________________________________

It had been a few weeks since that night, since she had first tasted the red tea leaves that were supposedly going to help her conceive, that Oberyn had had shipped to Dorne for that sole reason. It hadn't been until the next day that he had admitted to her that he had ordered a large quantity of them and that, if she chose to, there would be enough for several months.

So, every night, next to her dinner, a steaming mug sat waiting for her.

Most nights, it was followed by Oberyn waiting for her in their chambers afterwards. Though there had been several occasions where he hadn't waited on their bed or balcony or even the baths. He had waited at the table in the dining quarters, sitting next to her, his hand on her thigh and his gaze fixed on her movements. He watched, ready to pounce, just like a viper. And he did.

As soon as she would get up, he would be there, by her side, leading her out of the dining room. She felt his gaze on him in those moments and they were both thinking the same way, causing them, more than once, to not even make it back to their chambers before giving it another try.

He had taken their conversation to heart, the way she had mentioned that it was a lot of pressure to “ be his ” and so he had made a point to not bring it up too much, never asking if it had taken or if she felt any different.

Still, the man had noticed that she hadn't mentioned bleeding in a while and maybe, just maybe, he hoped it could mean something had shifted.

Oberyn found himself wandering the palace on a hot summer midday. The sun had been shining relentlessly on Dorne for days now and despite the Southerners being used to heat, even they had started hiding from the sun in the afternoon, not wanting to get burned. While nothing compared to the water gardens with its many chances for one to cool down and wade through the shallow pools, there was a small, closed-in pool at the palace in Sunspear as well. The outer wall was missing, replaced by thick columns and a beautifully crafted balustrade. One could bathe while overlooking the sea but without being burned by the sun. Over the years, plants had grown up the walls and columns and spread over the once open beams of the ceiling. Now, the greenery served as protection from the heat, only occasionally letting one or two rays of direct sunshine filter into the small pool.

Oberyn could smell the spices that hung in the air, the scent mixing with that of the salty sea as he stepped into the shade around the pool. And there she was.

He smiled as he watched her. Her back towards him, her hair tied up on her head, her naked body glistening under the water that was completely still around her. He stood for a moment, simply admiring the scene before he approached, silently letting his shawl and pants fall to the floor. The prince let himself glide into the water and reached out to touch her. Just then, feeling the ripple from him moving behind her, she turned her head towards him. A small smile formed on her face, matching his own.

“Greetings.” She mumbled as he closed the distance between them, ”What is my little sun doing out here, all by herself?”

“Hiding from the big sun.” That earned her a small laughter from Oberyn, ”I see.” His arms came to lay around her waist, his lips quickly finding that spot on her neck that made her whimper softly.

“Tell me, are you teasing your prince?” It was her turn to smirk, ”I would not dream of it, your highness. I am quite sure that would be a rather … unhonorary offense in Dorne.”

“That is right.” Teeth scratched over her neck lightly and she let out a surprised gasp as Oberyn continued, ”I should have them lock you up for such an offense. Or at the very least, I should tie you up.”

She smiled again but this time, it didn't quite reach her eyes. Oberyn sighed at that, stopping the assault on her neck and he let her head fall back against his broad chest. She watched the sea they were facing, the waves far below them building and crashing in a never ending circle. How powerless the water must feel, she thought.

Oberyn's gaze was trained on her, watching the slight crease between her eyebrows that told him something was off.

“What is it, my love?” He asked quietly. He did not care for small talk or for sneakily trying to get something out of her. He wanted her trust. And if something was wrong, he expected to know.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, ”I would rather not speak about it.” Her voice was quiet and soft and Oberyn felt like there was a small tremor in it.

One of his hands came up to her face, caressing her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, ”And I would rather you did. Please tell me, my love.”

She opened her eyes again at that, slowly turning so that she was facing Oberyn. Almost automatically, he brought one strong arm under her to support her in the water, her legs wrapping around his hips. Their sexes were touching and at any other moment, the red viper would have made his move, slipped a hand onto her bundle of nerves or squeezed her round behind- but not now. He could feel that this was important to her and therefore, by extension, to him.

The woman took a deep breath, working up the nerve to say what she had not wanted to yet reveal, ”You're leaving for Kings Landing tomorrow.”

He gave a small nod, ”I am. It will be a rather boring trip, truly. A few council meetings, a wedding. Two events where every minute spent with the Lannisters will feel like one minute too much.”

Her gaze shifted slightly at that and he fell silent, sensing that this was not what she was referring to. She opened her mouth to speak but he was faster, ”You do not wish for me to leave.”

Oberyn's gaze softened slightly, ”Do you?”

Her mouth closed again as her gaze fell and she gave a small shake of her head, confirming his guess, ”No. I wish you would stay here.”

The viper took her face in for a moment, his free hand still gently caressing her cheek, ”I asked you a while back. You said it was alright with you if I left for a few weeks.”

He had had doubts too, never having been separated from her for so long. Even knowing that he left her in a safe place like Sunspear could not cancel out all the doubts he carried about leaving her alone.

“I thought-” He started once more but she cut him off.

“I think I'm pregnant.”

Oberyn stared at her, his eyes softening as a smile played around his lips, ”My sun, you-”

The legends that would speak of the Red Viper, of the prince of Dorne, of Oberyn Martell years and years later, would claim that he had never been speechless. They were wrong.

He was speechless now.

It took him a few moments to gather the words, his own voice now shaking slightly as he spoke, ”Are you certain?”

“I think so. I mean, I have never been before but- I have not bled in two moons,” she said quietly. His expression changed slightly, his smile faltering, ”Why do you not sound happy about it?”

“I am,” she quickly reassured him, ”I am, it is just-” Finally, she let the strong facade fall and as her shoulders slumped, tears sprang into her eyes, ”I am just so scared, Oberyn.”

His heart broke at the sight in front of him, her round eyes looking up at him with so much uncertainty in them, “Is that why you did not tell me before?”

Her look was confirmation enough and he quickly pulled her closer, hugging her naked body. “Oh, my sun,” he whispered, ”You do not have to be afraid. I will take care of you. Of both of you. You are not alone in this nor will you ever be.”

She hiccuped softly, ”But you said-”

Oberyn shook his head softly, ”I will not go. I will stay here. With you.” His hand left her cheek and wandered to her stomach, gently caressing the curve of it, ” And with our little Martell. ”

She looked at him, her lip quivering slightly, ”Oberyn, you said it was important that you go to King's Landing. You said that because of Elia-”

“Shhhh,” he mumbled, his hand rubbing small circles into her skin, ”That was before. Besides, Elia would want me to stay. To take care of you.”

It became clear to her then, that Oberyn had lost a child before- two, in fact. Despite them not having been his own, they had been his sisters and that had meant they had been as good as his. He was never going to let the same thing happen to his little sun.

She nodded softly, raising her head to get a better look at him and Oberyn kissed her gently, using his hand to push a strand of dark hair behind her ears as he smiled at her, “Come here. Let me take care of you.”

He reached for the soap bar that was resting on a small plate at the side of the pool, rubbing it over her hair for a moment before he placed it back in its spot and brought both hands to her head, massaging it gently.

Oberyn washed her hair and told her about his plans for the future. The things he would buy for the baby before it even saw the light of day, the things he had already ordered to hopefully lessen her discomfort during the pregnancy, the things he wanted to teach their child, the books he wanted to read to them to put them to sleep.

She smiled, listening to his plans for their future as he rinsed her hair.

It didn't seem so scary anymore.

[inexplicablymine]

A wild Beas emerges from her hibernation bleary eyed and blinking as the winter turns to early spring the trees whisper, “where you been loca,” and all is well.

TIS BEEN A MONTH BUT I AM BACK ~ in the world of Beas, did a big thing at work, learned to ski, celebrated another year around the sun, hit a big ao3 milestone, had the worst writers block the first quarter of the year, got stressy and depressy with the winter, and now … and now SPRING HAS ARRIVED AND I AM LIKE A PLANT EMERGING FROM THE SOIL, here and hopefully ready to be perceived again.

Sharing not one snippet but TWO to come back in style ;)))

Little Drummerboy

The language is crude, but his filter is decimated by the truth universally acknowledged that he is a man in want of being wanted one fucking time in his life without everyone leaving him. He doesn’t think that is too much to ask, but the universe has never been so kind as to give him human connection that wasn’t fraught with disaster every step of the way. To be known by the masses but to never be known wholly. To have those screaming his praises in the hundreds of thousands, but nobody to hold him at night when the shivers wrack his body and the demons come out to play.

The Kiss List

It is an undisputed fact of life on the Georgetown campus that Alex Claremont Diaz has a pair of lips and he knows exactly how to use them. Henry Fox, the ex-facto roommate extraordinaire of the “most kissable lips on campus” is entirely aware of just how good of a kisser Alex is. Not through any experience of his own as much as he hates to say it. No. Alex, his dear, sweet, delusional roommate of three years, has a kiss list. A color coded rank and file excel sheet with coding more complex than what it took to get the first mission to mars up and running. Henry can’t pretend to understand it when Alex comes back into the room giddy as all get out and pulls up the file. He has had a shotgun seat to the rollercoaster that has been Alex’s kissing conundrum over the last few semesters on campus.

Thank you to all of the insanely talented people who have tagged me this past month while I’ve not been around … your tags and enthusiasm for writing has fueled me through my hibernation, I will be catching up and back-reading just you wait ;)))

in no particular order: @alasse9 @indestructibleheart @rmd-writes @suseagull04 @read-and-write- @onthewaytosomewhere @firenati0n @zwiazdziarka @cha-melodius @wordsofhoneydew @three-drink-amy @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @kiwiana-writes @getmehighonmagic @sparklepocalypse @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @leaves-of-laurelin @itsmaybitheway @futureseaempress @welcometololaland @adreamareads @songliili @14carrotghoul @magicandarchery @anincompletelist @happiness-of-the-pursuit @sherryvalli @daisymae-12 @littlemisskittentoes @affectionatelyrs @gayrootvegetable @historicallysam @nocoastposts @gayrootvegetable @lizzie-bennetdarcy @porcelainmortal @ships-to-sail @agame-writes @iboatedhere @cultofsappho @myheartalivewrites @rockyroadkylers @bigassbowlingballhead @leojfitz @anchoredarchangel @dumbpeachjuice @smc-27 @dustratcentral @lem0nademouth

[billdenbrough]

TAG GAME

Rules: Go to your (current/main) AO3 account and find the following:

thank you @merceyca for the tag!! time to see the vibes 😎

What ratings do you write most of your fics under?

t! i'm not super surprised. i reckon most of my bktd stuff is t-rated lmao and they make up like a quarter of my entire ao3. m is my least used rating lmao (also not a surprise)

What are your top three fandoms?

haikyuu (56), bnha (30) & aftg has now overtaken fe3h to come third with 13

What is the top character you write about?

sakusa kiyoomi (haikyuu, 33) which catches me off guard literally every time lmfao. bakugou katsuki & todoroki shouto (bnha) are tied second with 30 & then it's haikyuu and bnha the whole way down the rest of the list until #10, which is kevin day (aftg) with 12.

What are your top three pairings?

this one is really making me laugh bc they're all different fandoms LMAO and really speaks to my tendency to like... even when i write a bunch of different ships (see: haikyuu) to still have one ship per fandom that breaks away from the pack in terms of me writing it

bakugou katsuki/todoroki shouto (bnha, 30)

miya osamu/sakusa kiyoomi (haikyuu, 27)

kevin day/aaron minyard (aftg, 10)

What are the top three additional tags?

introspection (22)

canon compliant (14)

developing relationship (13)

this makes me laugh bc i can't decide whether or not i'm surprised by this HKJFDHKJSGAJKH 22 fics tagged introspection seems like a lot, especially when i do often write ensemble antics for haikyuu and bnha, but it's less than a fifth of this particular ao3 acc, so like... square the diff? idk! it's just interesting for me. this is fun ty for the tag clarence

Does any of this surprise you?

i knew the haikyuu and bnha stats generally speaking, like the characters and ships, and i'd had a sense kevaaron had taken the third spot in the ships (tbt may when i was staying with lex and wasn't sure kevaaron even SHOWED UP on my relationships sidebar until mari checked and confirmed for me... and now look at 'em), but i didn't know the ratings or the additional tags, and the additional tags surprised me! so did kevin's appearance in the character list, mostly because it meant i had to hunt through my aftg fics to figure out which fics certain characters appeared in. i'd have had to do that for haikyuu too normally, but i'd looked into that myself recently anyway lmao. it does always make me laugh to see the relationships tag stats on my ao3 bc it doesn't make it easy to guess all the things i like (e.g. my favourite hq ship is not represented anywhere on my ao3) but it does at the least indicate some things i really like lol

Tagging: not sure who's been tagged yet, so @seasy33 @decaflondonfog @mostlymaudlin @naturecalls111 @zukkacore @emdashingly @cubistemoji @jadehqknb & anyone who wants to take a little dive into their filters for some lil stats analysis lmao. and ofc no pressure to play <3

[allyriadayne]

Wait a minutes Jacegon has over 800 fics on ao3?? How are there only 3 good ones 😭 it has more fics than Helaemond and Rhaegon and the only ships above it in terms of fic count are the big hitters Daemyra, Lucemond, Rhaenicent and Rhaewin. I would definitely say it's among the most popular ships in the fandom.

well it's actually less than that. these are in the filters for the jacegon tag

you've got half of it being just lucemond and a quarter being daemyra. jacegon is mostly set as a secondary pairing with these. so you actually got what? 300 or something where they are the main ship?

and as for there being only like 3 good ones, i jest of course, it's only that i'm pretty selective bc i have a pretty defined jace in my head and most of the fic really don't hit it for me. and i also don't really like abo so there's that

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Wishing it Wasn't" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 5/18: Oldies on the Radio Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: Teen (for violence in later chapters) Word Count: (1K/19.5K) Summary: Season 2 Canon Divergence: When Neal tells Emma he has a fiancée, she claims to have a new boyfriend of her own, and blurts out the first fairytale name she can think of: Captain Hook. Killian agrees to this ruse, but when feelings grow between the two, will the con be more than they can handle? Chapter Summary: Emma picks Killian up for their date. Tags: season 2, canon divergence, gun violence in later chapters, angst with a happy ending, fake dating, mild character death, mildly anti neal Author's notes: DISCLAIMER: I apologize in advance to anyone and everyone who is offended by the two songs I've used as "oldies" in this fic. Thematically, they fit well with the story. I googled the definition of "oldie" and found it to be very much in flux, but at least one source said that music from the eighties count as oldies, and the song from the eighties I've included… works, it works, trust me. I'm not trying to make anyone feel old. Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 The women Killian usually courted appreciated a man in captain's attire- his best vest, long black jacket, extra flask of rum tucked away in his back pocket, just in case. But since that woman, Tamara, would be there tonight, he'd have to settle for something a little more "modern" as Emma put it, and he settled for a dark blue button down with a black vest.

 He smiled at the dashing rapscallion he saw in the mirror in his quarters.

 "Yes, I'm even devilishly handsome by this realm's standards." He winked at his reflection. "Swan doesn't stand a chance." 

 Killian was used to the women he met falling all over him, but Emma held her ground every time she saw him- she was well guarded, walls built up high- but something about that pursuit allured him.

 It wasn't just the chase he loved though- there was something about Emma that was different from the women he'd met over the last few hundred years. She'd bested him on the beanstalk, she'd beaten him at lake Nostos- and yet, at the town line when he'd been hit by one of those mechanical moving contraptions, she'd made sure he made it to the hospital. He could even remember, despite the chaos and rush as they'd brought him into their infirmary, how she'd insisted their medical staff keep him hidden from the Crocodile's fury, and how she'd come to check on him there.

 He grabbed his jacket and threw it on before leaving his cabin and stepping out onto the deck.

 "It's just a pretend date." Killian thought. "Someone like her wouldn't take interest in someone like me otherwise. Those hero types don't tend to go for us villains."

 Killian looked across the portside of the Jolly Roger's stern and saw Emma's yellow car, and Emma coming down the docks where he'd said he'd meet her.

 He was thankful for the cloaking spell Cora'd put on his ship, because it meant Emma couldn't see him as she approached, couldn't see how his jaw dropped when he saw her.

 There was a lot that he had to complain about in this realm, but the acceptable length of a woman's dress- or lack of length thereof- was not one of those things. The pink dress Emma wore fell just below her knees, and her shoulders were bare, and the neckline low.

 "It's just a fake date, just a fake date." He reminded himself. "I could almost say she dressed more for him than for me."

 He bit his lip as he watched her look around the dock for his hidden vessel, then decided he'd kept her waiting long enough.

 "Why, Swan," he smiled as he walked down the gangplank, through the cloaking spell.

 She looked up at him, startled at first, but then almost seeming pleased to see him.

 "You look…"

 "I know." She rolled her eyes. "Let's just get a move on, or we'll be late."

 "As you wish." He said, watching her turn to leave, then following after her.

 "I would've gotten you flowers," Killian said as they walked along, "but your local florist seems to have a vendetta against me."

 "Probably because you shot his daughter."

 Killian nodded. "Yeah, that would do it."

  When they got to the car, he ran ahead to her side to open the door for her, and she seemed a bit surprised by his act of chivalry. He then ran around to his own side and climbed into his seat. He fumbled about with the seatbelt, not very used to using a seatbelt, but not wanting to participate in another dangerous accident. He was also having difficulty manipulating the fake hand, and missed having his hook.

 Emma sighed and took the buckle from him and buckled it.

 "Thank you." He said, his response coming out more sheepish than he'd hoped for.

 "Least I can do." Emma said as she started up the car. "I appreciate you helping me with this."

 "My pleasure." He smiled, trying not to stare at her as she drove them to the restaurant, but finding his eyes fixed on her. When it looked like she was about to turn to look at him, he quickly turned and looked out the window- though he was sure she knew he'd been watching her, that his gaze was almost palpable.

 Killian watched out of the corner of his eye as Emma turned a knob next to the clock, and her car started singing. He looked down at where the music was coming from, fascinated by the beat that felt like sailing with the wind in your favor, with words he'd never heard in a shanty before.

 "Yes, I saw her face, and now I'm a believer."

 "It's called a radio." Emma said. "It plays recorded music."

 "Not a trace of doubt in my mind."

 "Amazing." Killian said.

 "I hope you like oldies." Emma said. "Old music- though probably not too old to you."

 "Yes, I'm a believer, yeah yeah yeah. Yeaaaahhhhh."

 The song faded out, and another song started, one with a beat like electricity, like a ball being thrown back and forth quickly.

 "Looking through the window above, like a story of love-"

 Emma turned the knob and switched stations.

 "Don't like that 'oldie,' love?" Killian asked.

 "Long live the walls we crashed through"

 Emma bit her lip. "Not anymore."

 Killian nodded, pretending to understand.

 "How the kingdom lights shined just for me and for you."

 "This one's not an old one; it's pop, but it's tolerable."

 "I was screaming long live all the magic we made. And bring on all the pretenders- one day we will be remembered."

 Killian smiled toward the end of that line- because he heard Emma singing along.

 "I didn't know you sing." Killian said.

 Emma turned down the radio. "I don't."

 Killian raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

 "Okay, maybe I sing along to the radio sometimes." Emma said. "Is that a problem?"

 "Absolutely not." Killian said. "And if this magic box was set to 'shanties,' I'd be right there singing along with you."

 "Well that's the beauty of pop." Emma said. "You'll pick up on it by the last chorus."

 Sure enough, Swan was right, and by the end of the song they were both singing along.

[captastra]

Thanks for the tag @eclecticwildflowers 💗Super excited to share what I’ve been working on! So far I’ve written a scene for my new OC Lily and Tangerine when she sees what happen to him (spoilers) in the movie and a scene for Kiara and Kandros where Kiara is hit hard with feelings! I’ll share a snippet from both :)

Bullet Train:

Next compartment was empty as well, though sunlight started to filter in through the windows. A quick glance showed hues of oranges, blues, and greens all blurring together from the speed of the train. She paid it no mind, eyes trained on the  door in front of her. The world was silent around her save for the whirr of the bullet train engine and her footsteps filling the quiet compartment.

Getting closer, Lily saw movement in the next compartment. Neon lights lit up two men fighting over something while a girl watched. It wasn’t looking good…and then she caught who one of the men fighting was.

No!

She raced through the compartment only stopped by the door, taking way too long to slide open. Then the next. Time slowed as she watched the two men struggled, each holding onto a gun. Trying to stop the other, she didn’t know.

The girl turned to see who had walked through…and so did Tangerine. He looked like he had been through death, hair that had been slicked back at the start of the trip was now a curly mess hanging around his head, blood trickling down his face from multiple cuts, a sheen to his skin from the exertion. He looked the most handsome she had ever seen him.

Tangerine kept up with the struggle but for a single moment, their eyes met, recognition clear as day forming in his face. She watched as his lips moved, easily seeing her name cross them, but he focused back to the man he was struggling with. Lily moved forward, a sudden urge to help as the two men moved, Tangerine flipping over the other.

Until the gun went off.

Mass Effect Andromeda:

“Pathfinder, you have unread emails.”

SAM’s voice rang out, interrupting Kiara. Liam snorted and shook his head.

“Duty calls,” he joked, disappearing further into the ship.

“Thanks,” Kiara muttered. The last thing she needed to do was answer work emails, unless…

“I’ve seen that look before.” Cora stepped up next to her, arms crossed while she raised an eyebrow. “Expecting something?”

Kiara shook her head quickly. “Not to my knowledge. But I should, you know, go. Check it out.” She walked backwards, still facing Cora.  

“Uh hu.” Cora shrugged and turned back to the lockers. “Go. But make sure to take a break.” Kiara was already moving as Cora yelled after her, “Otherwise you know Lexi will have something to say about it.”

She was right but Kiara would deal with that later.

The doors to the Captain’s quarters opened, revealing an expansive room all lined by one big window while music played softly from the radio next to her bed. Kiara paid no attention to the view, instead making a beeline for her computer on the other side of the room. It only took a few seconds for her to get her emails open. The number 12 was at the top of the screen, making her grimace. She could only imagine what people wanted to tell her, but that could wait till tomorrow. The email she was hoping to see sat right there, lit up as unread.

No pressure tags: @poetikat @poisonedtruth @eclecticwildflowers @galaxycunt @aceghosts @sstewyhosseini @incognito-insomniac @confidentandgood @kourumi @clonesupport @awhellstothejoe @kyber-infinitygems @bearcina @detectivelokis @somethingclich8 @weasleyprodigy and anyone else who has something they want to share!

[kattahj]

I posted 4,881 times in 2022

135 posts created (3%)

4,746 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@animate-mush

@firlalaith

@cianmars

@mordecai72

@ryuutchi

I tagged 3,234 of my posts in 2022

Only 34% of my posts had no tags

#the sandman - 288 posts

#sandman - 242 posts

#animals - 183 posts

#our flag means death - 175 posts

#cute - 138 posts

#star trek deep space nine - 127 posts

#dream of the endless - 125 posts

#dracula daily - 110 posts

#dracula - 105 posts

#cats - 94 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#you have big dreams which will likely become reality one day due to your hard work and determination. bottom line is: you’re only going to

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Oh, wow, I actually teared up at I am hope.

203 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#4

Still curious about the possibility of Sandman meeting shipping culture with the coming TV show, I went to check AO3 to see if there were ships in the comic book tag, and dude, this is hilarious.

There are currently 1165 fics written for the Sandman comics. The ten most popular ships are:

Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) (14)

Sherlock Holmes/John Watson (9)

No Romantic Relationship(s) (9)

Death of the Endless & Dream of the Endless (8)

Desire of the Endless/Dream of the Endless (7)

Dream of the Endless | Daniel/Eames (Inception) (7)

Dick Grayson/Koriand'r (6)

Arthur/Eames (Inception) (6)

Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling (6)

Dream of the Endless & Hob Gadling (6)                  

Not only are the figures tiny, half of those ships involve characters who aren’t even in the comics! “No romantic relationship(s)” is the third most popular ship! Two more are ampersand relationships, meaning that there are only two actual comic-based ships in the list: Dream/Desire and Dream/Hob, with less than ten fics each.

Still, only 639 fics are marked “gen”, so there does seem to be ship fic out there, scattered as it is. I filtered out crossovers to see what would happen:

330 fics total, 179 of those are marked “gen”. The most popular ship list is:

Death of the Endless & Dream of the Endless (9)

Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Lucifer Morningstar (7)

Desire of the Endless/Dream of the Endless (6)

Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling (6)

Dream of the Endless/Thessaly (5)

Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Reader (5)

Death of the Endless/Dream of the Endless (4)

No Romantic Relationship(s) (3)

Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Nada (3)

 Dream of the Endless/Nuala (3)                    

Okay, so here we have eight actual ships, with 3-7 fics each. Even with the massive drop in numbers (almost three quarters of the fics were crossovers!) that’s not much. All of them involve Dream. (I did go looking for Hazel/Foxglove, since I mentioned it in the previous post. They have two fics.) In addition to Desire and Hob, we now have Lucifer, Thessaly, Death, Nada, Nuala, and – of course – Reader.

It’ll be fun to see if those names pop up in fics for the TV show as well, or if there will be completely other contestants. (Maybe even some ships without Dream in them?) What are your guesses?

208 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

#3

It just occurred to me that when Hob points out that he can't be killed, and Dream says "You can still be hurt," he's probably thinking of Orpheus. Like, do you want to know how badly an immortal person can be hurt and still live, Hob? Do you?

410 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

#2

I love that despite the running joke of how practically everyone except Isaac knew that he was gay, when he did come out, it was to Hetty, who didn’t know. Because to him, it was a serious moment, and a serious revelation about himself, and it deserved to be met with genuine sympathy and respect, not flippancy or fake surprise.

546 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

When Diana Wynne Jones revealed that Howl was from modern-day Wales, she meant for this to be a contrast to the fairy tale land of Ingary. This did not work whatsoever with little child me, since I had only heard of Wales from other fantasy stories like The Dark is Rising and The Chronicles of Prydain. As far as I was concerned, Wales was just another fairy tale land, albeit sometimes more technologically advanced than the regular ones.

595 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[the-darkdragonfly]

Tempest: A Captain Duckling Tale, Chapter One (again)

Hello friends!

As some of you know, I started this re-write earlier this year. I love this tale, but it wasn’t going the way I wanted it to and I wasn’t happy with how it was turning out. So! Instead of turfing it - which I did consider - I am decided to re-write this whole thing to line up with where I was actually planning on having it go in the first place. It’s a little darker and a whole lot better (in my humble opinion).

Some of chapter one is different, but the changes will really start rolling in for chapter two (and onwards). 

I really hope you all like this and thank you for sticking around (please note - rating had been updated) and I truly hope you all like this new direction as much as I do. 

Also - so many hugs to @elizabeethan & @donteattheappleshook for beta'ing this feral creature and helping me tame her into something much better ♥️

And now, on with the new Chapter One! 

♥️♥️♥️

In the end, there wasn’t much on board worth salvaging, a few trunks and several bags of coin; standard fare. The crew made fast work of it, and it hadn’t taken more than a quarter hour to transfer the goods from the Revenge to the lower hold on the Jolly. 

“Captain!” Smee’s voice rang clear in the now quiet night, cannons having stopped their unrelenting assault, the soft crack-hissing of the still smouldering fire from the Revenge’s forecastle popping in the background. 

Killian turned, giving the first mate his undivided attention. “We’re missing Scarlet, sir.” 

Of bloody course they were.

He barely contained his eye roll, as undignified as it was, and pushed away from the helm. 

“Get her ready to set sail, I’ll find him.” He moved across the wide gangplank connecting the two ships, the Revenge now resting heavily on her port side. He took the stairs two at a time, the creaking of the hull ominous in the dark hallway. 

“Scarlet!” He called, irritation colouring his voice, ears straining against the crackling of wood. He had been pulling the lad out from where he had no business being since he was the height of Killian’s hip, sallow faced and serious. You’re a pirate- Killian remembered his voice, sharp despite his size, ears too large for his head while the bruise on his face had bloomed into a dark shade of purple. 

Killian had nodded solemnly before lowering down, his knee in the pool of blood which ran through the street- aye, I am that. 

He had always had a soft place for children, the wide-eyed stares which reminded him so much of himself as he and Liam scrapped and survived despite the cruelness of men, had been unable to protect so many of them while under the service of Pan, he had done what he could for the ones he encountered along the way.

But this boy was different, and when he held out his hook, the lad took the curve of the metal, wiped quickly clean of the blood and gore which had clung to it from the skirmish on the street only moments before. Killian produced the small knife, having pulled it free from where the lad had lodged in the kidney of the man who had pulled a pistol on Smee.   

The boy had followed him, knife tucked carefully into the leather pouch, trotting dutifully at his heels into the tavern and hovered safely behind the swirl of his long coat. A sharp exchange of words and a slash across the barman's face, rivers of blood on the polished wood, and the child was free. 

The walk back to the Jolly has been a short one, but the boy's small stride had slowed them considerably- what’s your name, lad?- and as the sails of the Jolly came into view, crisp and white and pulling tightly on her lines like a beast ready for battle, he felt a small hand tug once on his jacket before curling itself around his hook. 

They call me Scarlet, ‘cause of me mum. 

♥️♥️♥️

Read the new & improved Chapter One here on A03

Tag List (let me know if you would like to be added!):

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @sailtoafarawayland @teamhook @wefoundloveunderthelight @caught-in-the-filter @batana54 @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgood @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @jrob64 @kmomof4 @artistic-writer @gingerpolyglot @xarandomdreamx @xhookswenchx @justanother-unluckysoul @itsfabianadocarmo @zaharadessert @jadehowlettthewolf @xsjax @karlyfr13s @tiganasummertree @wyntereyez @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @rkrbirdgirl @ouatdaily @blowmiakisscolin @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @pirateprincessofpizza @superchocovian @deckerstarblanche @jlsadphoenix @alexa-fangirl-forever @stahlop @undercaffinatednightmare @lostintheskyfaraway @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @last-tsarina @lfh1226-linda @hookedmom @yikes-00 @midnightsuki 

[fett-djarin]

Hand to Hand Practice

helo its another Paz Vizsla x f!reader!

MINORS DNI

Crossposted to AO3

Rating: 18+

Length: 2.2k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, sparring, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, PiV, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), slight spanking, somewhat of a size kink? Please let me know if I missed anything!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

Thump.

Your back hit the floor. The breath was knocked from your lungs from the impact. That bastard--he threw me!

“Come on girl, that’s the best you’ve got?” Paz taunted you from a few feet away. You huffed, swiping a hand across your forehead to wipe away the sweat that dripped from your temples.

“You know I can’t throw you around, Paz,” you snapped back at him, glaring venom at the ceiling. His amused chuckle crackled through the vocoder. The dark T-visor of his helm appeared above you, looking down at your prone form. Paz held a hand out for you to take. His palm dwarfed yours, and he pulled you to your feet with seemingly no effort.

You groaned, feeling your spine pop as you stretched. Paz moved back to his spot. He bent his knees, crouching slightly and distributing his weight in a defensive stance. He beckoned you forward with a curl of his fingers. “Again.”

There wasn’t much room to spar in his ship, so Paz had shoved everything not bolted down to the sides and tossed a few heavy blankets on the floor in place of a mat to spare you from being thrown straight onto metal. Because you were thrown. Quite often. Paz let you get a few hits in before bodily lifting you and ending your assault. You were a good shot with a blaster, one of the best--you were hardly ever in close-quarters combat. You knew the basics, but hardly ever used them or practiced. One bounty got too close for comfort, and you sported a new scar on your arm because of it. After it healed, you asked Paz to practice with you, maybe teach you some new maneuvers.

And to teach you, the big Mandalorian challenged you to take him down. You couldn’t knock him off his feet, he easily weighed over 300 pounds with his armor on. Trying to get him to move was like barreling into a tree. The best you could hope for was to outmatch him in speed, and not let him pick you up.

You shook out your arms, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Paz had taken his beskar off--save for the helmet--so he was only in his padded armor and you wouldn’t break your knuckles throwing punches. He cocked his head, and you knew he had a smug smirk on his face, waiting for you to launch yourself at him again. You moved.

You dodged the swipe he took at you, instead landing a hit of your own on his side. Paz was unfazed. He laughed, making another grab at you, which you danced back to avoid. The two of you circled each other--you, waiting for an opening; him, countering every movement.  The next time you darted in for a swing, Paz grabbed your arm. He easily twisted you and had you pinned. You struggled against him knowing it would do you no good.

His hand settled at the base of your throat--not squeezing, just lightly resting there. You froze like a spooked tooka as a bright spark of pure arousal settled in your core. Oh, Maker…. He knew exactly what to do to have such an effect on you. Paz was so big--his hand was so big, dwarfing the delicate line of your neck. If he applied the slightest bit of pressure you would probably melt into the floor and then wither away from embarrassment. You wouldn’t be able to bear looking him in the face--visor? ever again. His thumb traced a light line over your collarbone. Heat flooded your face and you swallowed thickly.

“I win,” his rumbling voice murmured right by your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You steeled yourself, shaking off your feelings and stomping them out of your mind. “Again.” Then his arms tightened, drawing you back against his chest. Something thick and hard pressed against your lower back and you squirmed, pulling a groan from him.

Of course, sparring got him hard. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t work you up too.

“One more round,” you insisted. You ‘accidentally’ pushed your hips back against his erection as you squirmed out of his arms. Paz grunted, letting you go. You didn’t expect to win this round, even with his new distraction, but you didn’t want to. If you worked him up enough, maybe he’d snap. The thought of what he would do sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You readied your stance. Paz did not pull his punches, not that you expected him to anyway. This was a game to him. He did manage to surprise you, though. For as big as he was, he could be fast. You had just ducked out of his reach when you felt him grasp your hips, and then you found yourself on your stomach, fall cushioned by the blankets. His weight settled on the back of your thighs. You couldn’t even twist to try and throw him off balance--he had you pinned.

He slowly leaned down, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, caging you in. “Did you even try that time?” His fingers traced down your spine, then the warmth of his hand slid up under your shirt, teasing your skin. “Or did you just want this?” and he rolled his hips for emphasis, grinding himself against your ass and making you gasp.

When you didn’t answer, he chuckled. “Yeah. I thought so.”

His hands continued to skim up your sides, each touch building warmth in you. When you wriggled and whined, he paused. “D’you want this off, baby?” he asked with a light tug on your shirt.

“Please,” you breathed. Paz chuckled, then guided your shirt up and over your head. Your bindings followed shortly thereafter. He traced a finger down your spine, making you shudder. You tried to subtly press your thighs together to take the edge off, but from his seat on your legs, Paz felt your muscles tense. He tutted, rubbing his fingers over your clothed pussy, the barest hint of pressure making you all the more desperate.

His fingers hooked in the band of your pants and tugged lightly. His weight shifted off you and you lifted your hips to help him pull your pants and panties down, leaving you bare beneath him.

“Look at you,” he rumbled, palming your ass. “Pretty girl.” The gentle smack against your flesh made you gasp. You shifted your hips back against him, trying to entice him to move his touch to where you were wet and warm and dripping for him. Paz was a tease, but he was also not the most patient man. His fingers dipped down to your heat, rubbing light circles over your clit before pulling back to tease your entrance. Then he pulled away.

Your confused noise cut off as the warm glide of his tongue swiped through your folds from behind. A wanton moan left your mouth as your hips arched up, off the blankets piled on the floor, trying to grind back against his face. Paz’s big hands spread you apart, holding you open for him as he explored you with his tongue. Each lick, suck, and kiss was a warm wave of pleasure suffusing through you, building until you were squirming against his hold.

“Paz, Paz, please--” you choked out, teetering on the edge. He wouldn’t give you that last little push you needed to reach your high. You moaned, hips bucking against his hold, desperate for the final bit of stimulation your body craved. Paz held you steady, giving you pleasure as he saw fit.

“Cum on my mouth, pretty,” his voice, deep and gravelly and not filtered by the modulator, sent an extra spike of pleasure through you. His lips wrapped around your clit and he hummed, the little vibrations doing enough to coax you into orgasm. You weren’t bowled over by sensation as you sometimes were; instead, this orgasm was a slow, thick, rolling wave of heat spilling through you, spreading through your limbs and leaving you loose and boneless.

You just knew Paz had a self-satisfied smirk on his face seeing you blissed out and jelly-limbed on the floor of his ship. You hummed as his weight settled over the back of your thighs once more, the rough canvas of his pants dragging against your sensitive skin. He didn’t strip, instead opting to pull his cock from the confines of his clothing.

The thick length of Paz’s cock rested on the cleft of your ass. He groaned at the sight, your plush rear and the peek of your dripping pussy from between your thighs, his cock nestled between your cheeks, showing just how deep he would reach sheathed inside you. You tried wiggling your hips, enticing him to fuck you, but the steady weight of him on your thighs and his hands on your waist held you in place.

“This what you wanted? You didn’t wanna train--y’wanted to get fucked,” he punctuated his words with a thrust, grinding his cock against you.

“Yes, yes, fuck me--please, Paz, want you--” you babbled, hands fisting in the blankets beneath you. You rocked your hips against him. Paz’s breathing stuttered, and then he was spreading you open to watch as he sank his thick cock into your wet heat.

The press of the head of his cock had you gasping into the blankets, and then as he buried himself inch-by-inch, you couldn’t stop the little moans and whines that left you. You tried to relax your muscles, taking as much of him as you could, but your cunt spasmed around the intrusion. He grunted behind you, feeling your walls flutter around him as they stretched to accommodate his length. When his hips touched your ass, you shuddered, stuffed to your limit, the ache turning into a pleasant warmth licking at your core.

Paz rocked his hips slowly, only sliding an inch or so out before thrusting back in, and you clawed at the floor. You lifted your hips to the best of your ability, pushing yourself back against each thrust. He started slow--every time was like the first time, you were so tight around him, especially in this position. He didn’t want to hurt you--not in a way you didn’t ask for.

He squeezed your ass, massaging your hips and tugging you flush against him. He stopped moving, holding himself still while encouraging you to roll your hips against him. "That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my cock,” his voice was rough and dark, sending shivers through you. You whined, driving yourself back harder, desperate for more stimulation. You squeaked, trailing off into a moan as his hand cracked against the plump flesh of your ass. “You want more? Needy thing.”

He fucked you, and when Paz fucks, you’re gonna feel it for days. His hips pounded down into yours, each thrust sheathing his cock deep in your core and driving against that spot inside you that made you clench around him. Raw pleasure shot through you like unrefined electricity, burning bright along every nerve. Your toes curled in the blankets beneath you. The muffled sound of his clothed pelvis meeting your bare skin, mixed with the wet noise of your arousal, filled the ship. Each brutal snap of his thrusts drove you closer and closer to the edge, breathless moans torn from deep in your chest. The walls of your cunt fluttered around him, strangling his cock.

“Gonna cum for me, pretty baby?” When you didn’t answer, one of his hands wrapped around your jaw, tilting your head back and forcing your back into an arch. The angle made him spear even deeper into you and you nearly squealed. “I asked you a question.”

“F-fuck, yes, please, please, please--”

He shoved his hand between your hip and the floor, wrapping around your front so his big fingers could rub circles over your clit while he continued to fuck into you. He pressed demandingly at your clit and your legs trembled while you grasped desperately at anything within your reach to ground yourself, unaware of how loud your moans had grown. The dam of your orgasm finally broke, and you soaked his cock and the blanket beneath you as you came. Devastating waves of pleasure rocked through you and you clenched helplessly around his cock as he fucked you through it, his fingers continuing to tease your clit and making you jerk in his hold.

The tight, hot clamp of your cunt around his length had Paz following shortly behind you. Half a dozen shallow but firm thrusts, and he came with a rumbling groan as he sheathed himself inside you.

You trembled beneath him, flushed and sweaty and so, so deliciously boneless from the intensity of your orgasm. Paz gently pulled out, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back. You whimpered at the loss of his warmth, the comforting weight of him on your body.

“Easy,” he murmured. “‘M right here.” He would have laid down beside you, except the floor wasn’t the most comfortable, even with the blankets he had thrown on it--so instead he maneuvered you into his arms and lifted you with ease before placing you in his bunk. He quickly stripped off his heavier clothes before crawling in next to you and wrapping you in his arms. You curled into his chest, legs resting on either side of his.

Tentatively, you rocked your hips, the slickness of your combined releases dripping from you easing your motion. Paz squeezed your thigh in question and in warning. You grinned devilishly up at him.

“One more round?”

[backslashdelta]

Follower Survey Results!

I put out a fun little follower survey about a week and a half ago, and the results are in!

46 of you lovely folks filled out my survey! So thank you very much for that!!

Over half of you are 20 or less, which doesn't really surprise me. The rest are mostly 21-29, with very few older than that.

A solid half of you live in the US! And at least one of you would like a word with Men at Work.

Honestly the fact that over half of you have been here for more than 6 months is very sweet so thank you <3

Most of you found me through someone you follow who was following me, which is cool. Special shoutout to the people who found me because of my fic, art, gifs, or the soundtrack project though - I love all of you especially and that makes my heart very happy.

Obsessed with this tbh

A lot of you made up your own answers for this one, which I loved. But I also loved that nearly 30% of you love it when I just have a whole ass conversation with myself in the tags. I love that too. I'm glad we're on the same page.

This is a bit confusing to look at! But essentially, S2 was picked as the favourite season most often, and S6 was picked as the favourite season least often. S6 was also picked as least favourite season most often, but S4 was picked as the least favourite season least often. I hope that makes sense. If not feel free to keep scrolling and disregard me lol

I'm not going to post the other season charts, but S2 was the clear favourite for plot while S6 was the clear least favourite. Music was a bit more mixed, with a first place tie between S2 and S4, but S6 was still voted least favourite most often. Apparently you really like season 2, and really don't like season 6.

Unsurprised at the Kurt love and absolutely thrilled at the Mercedes love!! Second place yes babe you go girl! And sorry to the characters I left out, you're appreciated too I just wanted to limit the length of the question.

Nothing here surprises me but I am absolutely obsessed with "I put Finn for both... sorry..." lmao

(the full answer was "I put Finn on both… sorry. 🤪 That’s just the nature of our relationship. Sometimes up… sometimes down." but I love where it gets cut off in the chart label)

The only thing you need to know about this chart is that of the 3 people who said they don't even sometimes multiship, 2 claim to ship Klaine, Seblaine, and Blam (among others). I'm afraid I have some news for you about what multishipping is, friends.

Klaine was the most popular ship (70%) followed by Brittana (61%) and Samcedes (59%). Sorry to the people who were unimpressed that I left out Samchel and St. Hummel. And @ the person who put "Wes/Kurt but only for the meme feel free to disregard" I will NOT be disregarding that is a god tier ship

Kurtofsky (64%), Blainofsky (50%), and Seblaine (43%) were the most disliked ships. Interestingly, over a quarter of you actively dislike my favourite ship, which does make me question how you manage to tolerate me enough to stick around, but I'm grateful for your presence even if we do have different opinions!

Other fun bits:

38 of you actually left your urls! So that's cool thanks! That being said: whoever follower me for Glee but got hyped when I also posted Fringe. You didn't leave your url but I need to know who you are.

Five of you have Kurtbastian filtered (though not necessarily because of me), two of you filter Puckurt, and one of you filters Kelliott because of me which lowkey blows my mind ngl I feel like that's such a tame ship, but I respect you nonetheless. You do you babe, curate your online space.

To the person who rambled and said they hope I don't publish it anywhere; I will not publish it lol, but I hope you're happy with how liked Blaine seems to be in these results!

So many of you just said such nice things, and I'm not going to post them all but I do want to say thank you, you are all so sweet and I really appreciate you taking the time to fill this out!!

[elen-aranel]

Ok. Don’t worry. I just want to see if you could do one where Christopher Pike is taking care of his wife after she gets side effects from a shot she had to get.

As long as it’s not pushing you out of your comfort zone.

The weather is grey and cold and writing this has made me feel warm. Thank you so much for my first ever request @sitkafay I really hope you like it 💖

Side Effects May Include

Pairing: Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: fluff, reader is sick WC: 1660 Tag list: @jusvibbbin (to be added to my Pike X Reader taglist let me know)

“It’s bad. Ensign Parsons almost died. Some humans are particularly susceptible, according to Phil.” Chris takes a bite of the pasta carbonara you synthesised for dinner. You thought your husband might need some comfort food – today had been tough.

The transporter’s bio filters hadn’t picked up the infection when the away team beamed back from the planet the Enterprise had been surveying a couple of days ago. So by the time the first person got sick, it had already infected almost all of exobiology and the beta-shift security team.

“They developed an antiviral and a vaccine, though, right?” You say, concerned, taking a sip of your synthesised white wine.

“Yes. Phil came up and administered the vaccine to the bridge crew already, and engineering are going to sickbay to get their doses overnight. Everyone else gets theirs tomorrow.” Chris sighs a little and you see the worry in his blue eyes. “It could have been a lot worse – it’s only as infectious as Earth’s flu, so locking down the ship has worked. Phil said it if had been as infectious as measles we could have been looking at multiple fatalities, even with the antiviral.” He sighs a little and you put your fork down and reach out for your husband’s hand.

“Too close for comfort,” you say, and he nods. You both take a moment, then he brightens up.

“You all right to work from ’home’ tomorrow?”

“I expect I’ll cope.” You grin, happy to see his dimpled smile in return.

*

It’s odd having to synthesise a mask to wear to go to sickbay. Environmental control has been set to filter the virus in the air, but the ship is a closed system and Chris – Captain Pike, you remind yourself; he may be your husband but you are on duty – has let Boyce take the lead. The CMO is not taking any chances.

You sit on a bio bed as a Nurse T’Hara scans you.

“I have confirmed you do not have any of the virus in your system. With your permission I will now administer the vaccine. You should have full immunity within eighteen hours, but prior to that you may experience some side effects as your immune system adjusts. We estimate the probability of this to be less than five percent based on the crew who have received this treatment so far.”

You nod, understanding. Chris didn’t have any side effects, so hopefully you won’t either.

She presses a hypo spray to your neck.

*

Back in your quarters you sit at Chris’s desk, PADD in hand. You look out at the stars going by at warp. In three days the ship is due to scan a nebula with some interesting subspace properties, and you are working on a proposal for the best way to scan it – routes round the nebula and sensor optimisation, as well as probes, possibly to collect more data and to take samples. You love when Enterprise has a spatial phenomenon to investigate – stars drew you to Starfleet in the first place, and you love being on the cutting edge of astrophysics. The proposal is almost done, and you’re due to send it to Spock by 12:00 after you reread it and cross check your supporting data.

But somehow it’s difficult to concentrate. Maybe it’s the way you can see the stars going by? Your office doesn’t have a window, and you don’t usually use this desk. Chris has so much paperwork to handle you understand that he can’t do it all in his ready room; you like that you get to spend time with him as he works. But you don’t often bring work back to your quarters, and if you do you usually sit on the sofa.

You get up and stretch, and walk across to the sofa. You feel like you do the day after you’ve had a particularly rough workout. But the ship went into lockdown before you and Maryam – Lieutenant Ahmed, your friend in security – could have your weekly sparring session yesterday. Weird.

You sit down, tucking your legs under you, and get back to your proposal. You manage to read and edit a couple more sections. There’s only double checking the referenced data to do now. You shake your head a little; you feel a bit spaced out. Not quite connected with your body.

“Computer, what time is it?”

“The current time is 09:55.”

You have time to take a little break. You put your PADD aside, and rub your eyes. You could just shut them for a few minutes – your head is aching a bit, but it’ll probably be fine in five minutes or so.

*

“Sweetheart?”

Someone wants something. But your head is aching and you’re so drowsy. If you ignore them they’ll go away.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

You blink, opening your eyes, squinting. Chris’s face is right in front of you, his blue eyes staring into yours, worried.

“’m fine,” you say. But your voice sounds a little rough. “What’re you doing here?”

“Spock was expecting you to send that proposal. When you didn’t we commed you but you didn’t reply.”

He reaches out a hand and holds the back of it against your forehead. It’s pleasantly cool and you lean into the touch, sighing a little as he flips his hand round and strokes your cheek.

“Sorry. I had a bit of a headache. Thought I’d just close my eyes for a few minutes. Don’t know what happened. What time is it now?”

“13:00. You’re a bit warm. how do you feel?”

“Not great. My head’s pounding, and if I’d known I’d fall asleep I’d have gone to bed.” You groan as you shift. “My muscles are all ache-y, and the sofa hasn’t helped.”

Chris presses a kiss to your forehead. “Sounds like you’re having a reaction to the vaccine. Sickbay reported that a few people had. Come on, let’s get you a little more comfortable.” He puts an arm round you and helps you stretch your legs out along the sofa. He grabs a couple of throw cushions and props them behind your back.

“Don’t you need to get back to the bridge?” As sick as you feel you know that Chris has to prioritise the ship; one of the things you love about him is his commitment to the people under his care.

“Number One has the conn. Actually I’d planned to get caught up on crew evals in the ready room while everything was quiet, but...” you see the love in his eyes as he stands. “You need me. Can’t neglect you when you feel like this.”

“If you’re sure,” you say, glad that he’s staying, but still feeling the need to check. You close your eyes again, now feeling a bit cold.

Next thing you know Chris’s strong arm is around you, and there’s a delicious smell in front of your nose. You open your eyes – Chris must have dimmed the lights because you don’t need to squint anymore.

“Chicken soup. It’ll make you feel better.”

You take a small sip from the cup he’s holding in front of you. It’s the perfect temperature, hot but not too hot, and the savoury flavour bursts across your tongue, familiar somehow, and soothing. You hum in pleasure, and take another sip, bringing your hands up to hold the cup.

“Mom made the program after you said you liked it last time we visited. It’s the soup she put in a flask for us when we went for a ride on the last evening we were there. She said it won’t be as good as homemade, but she hoped you’d like it anyway. I’ve been keeping it to surprise you... now seemed like a good time.”

“Thank you,” you say, leaning back into him. You remember that ride – he had taken you to his favourite place for stargazing as a kid, and you had sat there looking at the Milky Way, the horses nearby, you and Chris snuggled under blankets, warm together in the cool desert night. You need to thank her, you think, when you feel better.

“Thought this was the best to get some food into you, get you hydrated.” He squeezes you and kisses your temple. “Would you like to go to bed?”

“You have reports to go through, right? Maybe I can sit with you, while you read them here?”

“We can do that,” he says, voice warm, and he helps you move up so he can sit next to you. He flips the throw from the back of the sofa down over you, then he pulls you against him, and you lean back. He puts an arm round you again, and holds his PADD in his other hand. You doze, feeling comforted.

*

“...should resolve by themselves? Thanks. Yeah. I’ll make sure. Let me know if you— All right. Pike out.”

“Hmm?”

“Phil. He wants me to keep you hydrated, but thinks you’ll feel better by the morning.”

You stretch against him. You’re already feeling a bit more yourself – your headache is easing, even though your muscles are still a bit sore.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Chris. You—you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. In sickness and in health, right?”

“Right.”

“I’m going to get you some water, then something to eat if you can manage it, then hot shower to soothe those muscles, then bed. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect. But—”

“Your proposal? Spock has it. He’s pleased, says your idea to use the probes is a good one.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?” You swing your legs round, pulling away from him a little as you sit up, keeping the throw over your bottom half. You turn toward him, reaching out to touch his face. His mouth quirks into a smile.

“I’m not Captain for nothing, sweetheart.” He leans toward you and gives you a gentle kiss.

[kingofkingdom-archive]

Recovery [Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first Pedro Pascal work and the first to be posted here to this blog. If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to send them my way! As always, please read the tags/warnings, you are responsible for the media you choose to consume. Also posted to AO3 under the same username (kingofkingdom). I did not use “y/n” or anything similar in this story.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You were taken from your younger sister, Cee, ten years ago. When you answered a distress call from the Green, you didn’t expect to be reunited with her, and you certainly didn’t expect to meet a man like Ezra. 

Warnings: mention of past violence/death, discussion of medical procedure, discussion of disability (amputation/loss of limb), family dynamics, abstract discussion of philosophy, small SW universe cameo :)

Tags: considerable amounts of fluff, size kink, daddy kink, hint of dd/lg, copious use of various pet names, p-in-v sex, some breast play/worship, some dom!ezra & sub!reader

Word count: 9552

You hadn't seen Cee since your mother died. 

Her father had taken her and left you in the care of your aunt, a woman you didn't know, a woman who jumped at the chance to send you off to boarding school on the Ephrate the moment you were old enough. Most of your memories consisted of your host family there, with a younger "sister" who reminded you all too much of the one you had lost. In your mind, Cee was still a toddler, all wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Cee's father had never liked you. You were the evidence of his wife's life before him, and you looked too much like your own deceased father for him to have any affection toward you. It didn't surprise you that he left you behind after your mother died, but at ten that didn't make it hurt any less. 

Since then, ten years had passed. Now, your aunt was gone, and your studies on the Ephrate completed. You'd taken to a rather nomadic lifestyle, catching rides from planet to station to planet and picking up odd jobs here and there. It wasn't much, but you'd become a strong woman in your time on your own, and thoughts of your half-sister plagued you only some nights now.

Jobs you took ranged from helping the lone-wolf prospector on an excavation to ship repairs at major stations across the system. In one of your darker moments, you'd even carried out a hit against some low-level merc who'd pissed off the wrong people. Those people paid well, enough to fill your stomach for a few days and cover a ride far away from that moon. The right circles knew you could hold your own, and that's what mattered.

This particular station was on the outskirts of the system, a rough-and-tumble place frequented only by prospectors and the people that paid them. You'd taken a shift at the bar here a few weeks ago, and knew the locals pretty well. In a spot like this, people could often get more information at your humble establishment than they could from the officials. You were lying low, and you itched to get moving again, like the nomad you were.

Hence why you kept the radio channels on all the time during your shifts, quiet and unobtrusive where you stood at the bar.

You were thankful, looking back, that it had been a quiet afternoon, and that you'd been so vigilant in keeping track of job openings.

"This is Kilo-Romeo 12, calling from Green sector 608. In need of assistance pronto, rapid extraction A.S.A.P."

The voice is faint, but frantic - a masculine growl laced with an edge of panic. Your radio isn't the best, and you don't recognize the prospector's callsign, but you know he must be in deep shit. A call like this from the Green is a death sentence if someone doesn't act quickly.

As with most of your decisions, you act entirely on impulse. As you hit the button to close up the bar's doors, the radio is already in your hands.

"This is Juno B-390, responding to Kilo-Romeo 12. Do you copy?"

You're down the hall by now, rushing to your quarters to collect your meager belongings. Everything fits in a single pack, and you're just pulling your helmet onto your head when the radio crackles to life again.

"I copy, Juno B-390," the relief is evident in his voice, even through the static. "We need extraction and medical care."

Well, that wasn't in the initial signal. "We? How many are with you? And what kind of medical care are we talkin' here?"

"Just me and one other. Deep trauma to the abdomen, I'm afraid."

You swear under your breath. Nothing you can't handle, but this guy's timer's really running out. You grab the necessary supplies and dash to your small pod racer, which is just big enough with its three seats.

"Hang on, Kilo-Romeo. I'll be there as soon as I'm able. You'll need to direct me to your exact location, is that clear?"

There's a moment of silence before his voice echoes through your racer one last time.

"Clear."

-

You descend upon the Green as fast as the forces of physics and gravity allow you to. Sector 608, as it says on your map, is a stretch of deep woods and rolling terrain, nearly unexplored save for the last rush. You slow up as you approach, and call out to the prospector over the radio once again.

"Kilo-Romeo 12, this is Juno B-390. I am approaching your location. Do you copy?"

It's quiet. Much too quiet. You slow the racer even more, as your heart begins to race. Just as you begin to worry that you're too late, the radio awakens.

It's not the man, however, whose voice you hear.

"This is Ez-- I mean, this is Kilo-Romeo's... uh... companion. He's gotten worse."

It's a girl. A young teen, from the sound of it. Your heart clenches, thinking of how scared she must be out there.

"Okay, hey there. It's gonna be okay. Can you tell me what landmarks you see? Help me find you."

"Um, yeah. We're in a clearing, there's another ship right nearby. It's not operational, which is wh-- uh, yeah. Clearing, big ship. Also sort of a gulley nearby."

You're about to respond when she speaks again.

"Please, hurry."

"I will, kid. Just keep him alive."

It takes you longer than you would've liked to find this clearing, but once you do you see a scene that brings more questions than answers. Dead bodies litter the field and a half-blown excavation site sits in ruins. Discretion's always been a virtue of yours, though, so you file the information away in your brain and swiftly land your craft. As soon as you exit, you hear the girl's voice not too far away.

"Here! We're over here!"

You grab the field kit and run over to where she stands over a slumped figure. The man you'd spoken to is now unconscious, and not only does he have a nasty looking wound in his chest, he's missing an arm. You look up at the girl. Her brows are furrowed, eyes like steel. You like her already.

"Go to the racer and grab the stretcher that's behind the passenger seat. We'll have to move him onto that and carry him over."

She nods and runs off. Immediately, you turn to the man and take stock of his injuries. The arm has been gone for at least a little while, so that's not of immediate concern. You set to treating the chest wound, making sure to purge it and his suit of dust. Nasty stuff, that which floats around this planet. His filter is as good as gone, so you quickly connect your own.

You drain the wound with the juice the locals here produce, which is generally in stock in the station's field kits. It smells rank, but it works, and the man below you groans. Good, he's still vocal, at least. It doesn't sound like a lung's been punctured. You set up a highly temporary pocket over his wound and torn suit through which you can patch the injury. You take some foaming antiseptic and apply it to the wound before adhering a sticky bio-bandage over the top of it. 

It'll do for now. He'll need further treatment at the station, but this should keep him alive, at least. 

The girl returns with the stretcher then, and places it next to the man. You glance up at her, and see momentarily a young version of yourself. Eager to help. Eager to make things right. 

You shake your head, collecting your thoughts. "Okay, so I'm going to tilt his body towards me, and you slide the stretcher as far as you can under him. Then we'll let him down on top of it and secure him for travel. Can you do that?"

She nods, and you give her a small smile. You hook one arm around the man's waist, the other supporting his neck and shoulder. 

"On three, okay? One... two... three!"

Quickly, you roll him up onto his remaining arm as she slides the stretcher under him. As gently as possible, you let him back down, and just like that he's mostly on the stretcher. You set to arranging him properly and tying straps down. 

The girl fidgets, and you look up to her.

"Do you know how to stow the back seat in a racer like that?" you ask, and she nods.

"Good, go do it."

She runs off, and is back by the time you've gotten the man secured to the stretcher.

"You take the handles at his feet and I'll take his head. We have to be careful not to tilt him too much, to keep the weight on the stretcher even. Did he suffer any head trauma?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

You probably should have asked that before moving him onto the stretcher, but then again no one's ever known you for your excellence in trauma care. Your knowledge of first aid comes only from what you've picked up in the field, so sometimes the order of operations gets a bit jumbled. 

Whatever. He'll be okay. You can't let yourself think otherwise.

The girl stoops to grab hold of the handles at his feet. You do the same at his head, and again you count backwards from three.

"Up!"

Together you stand, and twin groans echo from both of you. The girl huffs, clearly struggling a bit under the weight.

"Okay, let's go. Slowly, remember."

You walk backwards, feet taking cautious steps so as to keep the same pace as the young girl. Her face is screwed up in focus and concentration, hands in a vice grip on the handles. 

"You're doing good, kid. Just a bit further."

Before you know it, you've reached the ship. Carefully, you set the stretcher in the racer, and then the two of you slide it in. There's just barely enough room for it. You quickly secure it, and then close the hatch.

The girl is looking at you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You reach out a gloved hand and set it on her shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. 

"He'll be okay. I promise. Now go get in the passenger seat and I'll get us back up to the station."

She nods, and seems to relax a bit at that. You can't help but wonder what she's been through, out here in this rough, unforgiving environment. "Thank you."

You smile, and sincerely hope that this young girl finds a way to leave this life of prospecting behind. You don't know how she got here, but it's no place for someone so young. You know that all too well.

"Let's go, kid."

-

The trip was pretty quiet save for a single groan from the man in back. The girl glanced back to him when she heard that, and then looked at you, concerned.

"It's okay. He'll be in and out of consciousness until we get to the station. I'll pull up to the emergency med-bay so the doctors can start treating him properly right away."

You look over to her, and she nods.

"Does he have anyone they can contact? Any family?" you ask. "The doctors will need to know."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

You sigh. "Okay. Well, we'll deal with that when we get there."

It's not long after that you arrive at the med-bay. It's a whirlwind of nurses and questions and forms, most of which you have to leave blank, since you don't know the guy and the girl seems not to know much more. She does, however, give you a name.

"His name's Ezra," she offers, when she sees you pause at the line on the top of the screen.

You look over at her. "Ezra? Spelled E-Z-R-A?"

She nods. "Never told me a last name though."

"That's alright. A first name's enough."

She sits next to you and helps where she can as you fill out the form. Once you're done, you go up to hand the tablet back to the receptionist. You then sit back down next to her, crossing your arms over your flight suit. The girl's fiddling with her fingers, bag tucked between her feet.

"Do you think we'll be able to see him when they're done?" she asks, clearly trying not to sound as worried as she is.

You shrug. "Probably. It might be a while, though. Do you want something to eat while we wait?"

She nods, and when you look over at her, she's smiling. 

As it turns out, it does take a pretty long time for them to complete the operation. It feels like hours that you two are sitting there. You watch the people come and go from the waiting room while the girl writes in some notebook, headphones secure over her ears, absently eating a chocolate bar.

She can't be more than 13 or 14. You think back to when you were that age - in the middle of your time at the Ephrate, moody and angsty like all young teens. It makes you think of Cee. She'd be about that age by now. You look over to the girl sitting next to you, wondering what ever became of your sister. Maybe she's at the Ephrate by now, or perhaps her father has taken her to some peaceful planet with beaches and a nice home, a few pets running around. 

Hopefully a better life than the one you've led. Somewhere far from thrower blasts and gemstones.

This girl seems nice enough, and you're sure she's seen her fair share of shit. It's clear this guy's not only not her father, but that they haven't known each other long at all. You can't help but wonder how they ended up traveling together. 

Images of the clearing littered with bodies flashes in your mind. Something went down there, and it clearly got ugly fast. It's amazing that the girl emerged relatively unscathed. You've seen a fair share of shootouts and fights, and never did you escape completely uninjured. It takes cleverness and a strong sense of self-preservation, the latter of which you don't often have.

You're ruminating on the mystery sitting next to you when the doors to the operating rooms swing open. A nurse steps out and looks at both of you. You stand, and she follows suit.

"He's awake, and asking for you," the nurse says. You nudge the girl slightly with your elbow.

"Go on, go see hi--"

The nurse cuts in. "He's asking for both of you."

Oh. You're surprised. He doesn't even know you, so there's no reason he should be asking to see you. Despite your confusion, you follow behind the girl as she follows the nurse to his room.

The hallways are sterile and white, cleaner than anything you've seen in months. The doorway is the last on the right, and inside is a single bed, with a small window looking out to the stars.

The young girl enters first as the nurse stands to the side, and you hover in the doorway to watch, still not quite feeling entirely welcome. You can just see the man's - Ezra's - hair behind the girl, with an unusual shock of blonde in otherwise dark brown curls.

"I was wondering where you went, birdie. One minute I was on the ground and next thing I know I'm sitting here like a babe in a bassinet, right as rain," he says, voice melodic with an accent you can't quite place.

"Do you feel better, Ezra?" the girl asks, voice wavering just slightly.

"I do. Are you faring alright yourself?"

She nods, and crosses her arms. Silence fills the room for a moment, then Ezra speaks again.

"Who was so kind as to bring us here, birdie?" he asks. The girl turns to you and steps aside so Ezra can see you.

"She did," she replies, a soft look on her face.

You step forward and look at Ezra properly for the first time. You hadn't really paid much attention to his facial features back on the Green, so concerned as you were with getting him out of there.

His dark brown eyes are kind, and his lips tease at a smile. He's got stubble growing on his chin and a mustache on his lip. There's a thin white line in the shape of a crescent underneath his left eye, the silvery remnant of a deep cut sustained long ago. He's older than you, maybe 40 or so. For some reason, you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, but you're quick to snuff those out best you can. Mirroring the girl, you cross your arms, and flip your braid over your shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be me," you say, as nonchalantly as you can manage.

"I recognize that voice from the radio," he notes, looking at you intently. "I can't hardly give you enough thanks for getting the two of us out of that... sticky situation. You really are somethin' else, sugar."

You shrug, unused to such praise, such immediate kindness. You feel your face heat up with a blush, and you clear your throat.

"Well, it sure sounded like you were in need of some help. I'm happy to see you're doing better."

Your voice is softer than you intend. Spending even three minutes with this guy seems to have thrown you off balance. You haven't met anyone that talks like him since you were in school, and it's like a breath of fresh air.

His face turns serious at your words. Ezra's gaze is as intense as it is gentle, burning into your own.

"Oh, much better," he assures you, giving you a look you can't quite decipher. A smile quickly returns to his features. "It's a shame they couldn't get my arm to grow back."

You laugh a little at that, happy to see that he's in good spirits. The nurse steps forward then, tablet in hand. The three of you turn to her.

"Ezra will likely be discharged tomorrow morning, given how much progress he's made just today. He will need somewhere to rest, however, for the next week or so. We can help to make boarding arrangeme--"

"No," you interrupt, surprising even yourself. "No, he can stay with me. I have quarters in the 4th wing." You turn to the girl. "You can stay with me too, if you'd like." You don't know what's come over yourself, but you find yourself drawn to this unlikely pair.

The girl nods once, just as Ezra speaks up. "You're too kind, sugar. Your hospitality and generosity are appreciated beyond measure. Do let us know if there's any way at all we can show our gratitude."

You shake your head immediately, waving a hand as if to wave away the notion.

"No need for that. Consider it a celebratory gift for parting with the Green."

Everyone laughs at that - even the nurse, who hides her grin behind her tablet.

-

The next morning, you and the girl - whose name you still don't know, and who still does not know yours - visit the med-bay first thing after breakfast. Your quarters are small, enough to fit two comfortably and three at most. The girl has decided to take the sofa, since Ezra will need to rest, and a bed is most ideal for that. It seems you both tend to rise early, so you gave her some oatmeal and a cup of coffee. She took both without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to see her eat after however long she and Ezra had been out there.

When you two arrive, Ezra is waiting in his room, dressed in clean loungewear with a bag on his lap. He is seated in a wheelchair. You and the girl greet him, happy to see that he is rested and ready to leave.

"I told the kind folks that I am more than able to walk unaided," he comments when you begin to push the chair from behind. "They insisted, however, and I am not one to ignore the advice and orders of my physicians."

You see the girl try to hide a smile. It seems as though he's grown on her, and she struggles to admit that to herself. Before you can think better of it, you give Ezra a pat on the right shoulder, a small attempt at reassurance.

"You'll be walking in no time, I'm sure," you reply.

You feel his left hand cover your own, and you nearly stumble as you push him along through the hallway. His palm is rough and callused, a signature trait of most prospectors. It's large, too, covering your own entirely. Its warmth soaks through the back of your hand and into your stomach.

"With kindness as bright as yours to guide me, that will certainly be the case."

You don't know what to say to that, so you give his shoulder a squeeze and retract your hand.

The 4th wing is not too far from the med-bay; the station itself is smaller than most, so the distance is blessedly short. Ezra does most of the talking while the three of you walk.

"It would suit me just perfectly to never see that god-forsaken moon again so long as I live," he comments just as you reach the door to your quarters. You scan your ID card and the panel slides open, revealing a small but comfortable dwelling. "Forget the gems, forget the money. Prospecting is surely the most foolish endeavor of them all."

"The lust for wealth is stronger than the fear of death," you reply, almost without thinking.

Ezra looks up at you, smiling, a curious look on his face. "Asmolea. Ruminations, chapter seven. Color me impressed, sugar."

You look back, equally surprised. "You recognize that quote?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I do," he responds, and you notice the girl watching the two of you out of the corner of your eye. "I was an admirer of the great thinkers, long ago. When I was younger, and more -- well, more curious about such things, I suppose."

You wheel him into the small sitting area, arranged around a holo-screen. The walls are bare, lack of personality belying a short-lived residence here. You engage the wheelchair's brakes and take a seat yourself, across from him on an armchair. The girl sits on the sofa, where she slept last night.

"Philosophy is the sustenance of the mind," he continues, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. He winces slightly at the motion, but keeps speaking nevertheless. "Without it, we decay. We risk succumbing to trivial errors of man. It is the sharpening stone to the blade of our intellect."

"What about literature?" the girl asks, her eyes firey and brow set. "I think that's much more valuable than what some ancient guy thought about a world we don't even know anymore."

You smile, pleased at this contribution. "I think great literature can convey philosophical ideas in the form of a modern narrative. You just have to keep an eye out for it, and understand its relevance to the story."

Ezra nods along. "I agree. Where did you read Asmolea, sugar?"

"At the Ephrate," you reply, and you see the girl perk up. You smile at her, hoping the two of you will have a chance to discuss that later. She seems entirely intrigued by you now. "I studied there for seven years, until I was eighteen."

"Why did you leave?" the girl asks.

You sigh, and bring your foot up to rest on the chair, so your thigh is pressed against your front. "Life there didn't suit me. I'm much happier on my own, not surrounded by stuffy academics and pretentious businessmen. The only ones I could stand there were the monks."

Ezra laughs at that. "The Neo-Carthusians?"

You nod, grinning. "Yeah. Considered joining, for about a month or so. I admire their lives of solitude and contemplation, but I couldn't imagine staying in one place for so long."

The conversation flows between the three of you so naturally you hardly notice the time flying by. They ask questions about you, and you return the favor by inquiring about their lives. The girl is quiet when it comes to her past, but you find out her father died on the Green. Both she and Ezra are hesitant to talk about it, which tells you all that you need to know.

Night falls quickly, or at least night according to standard time - on the station, there is no night or day, just a constant darkness visible out the windows interrupted by pinpricks of light. Everyone follows the standard clock, which runs according to time on the Ephrate. 

You show Ezra to his room after the three of you have eaten dinner. It's a small space, just enough for a bed and a dresser. Carefully, he stands from the wheelchair, tosses his bag on the bed, and turns to look at you.

He's much taller than you are. The butterflies return as you look up at him, and a warm feeling radiates through the area below your stomach.

"Thank you again for the hospitality, sugar," he murmurs, voice low and deep. He moves the wheelchair out from between you, so there's nothing but air separating the two of you. "As I said, don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to repay you. Anything at all."

You nod, at a loss for words. His hand comes up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You positively melt. This man is going to be the death of you.

"I'm just glad to see you safe, Ezra," you reply, and your eyes flutter at the way his fingers linger over the apple of your cheek. His lips look so soft, his eyes full of promises he intends to keep. You can feel yourself falling, as if in a dream.

You blink and lean back, away from him. This is a bad idea. For what reason, you can't say, but you dart to your room as soon as you begin to doubt yourself.

You shut the door and lean against it. There's no way, your mind whispers to you. He feels indebted. That's the only reason. You're too young, he just sees you as a kid.

In your haste, you didn't see the look in his eyes as you left so suddenly, or the way he stared at the door long after you shut it.

-

In the night, you dream of him. Dark eyes above you, heavenly, filthy moans filling the air around you, something thick and perfect filling the empty space inside you. His musical voice murmurs sweet words in your ear, and you hear the sound of your passion just as much as you feel it. Your hands grip his hair as he thrusts, your body trembling underneath him.

Your peak startles you awake, and you find your bedsheets soaked with the evidence of your fantasy.

Your bedside clock tells you it is the early hours of the morning. With a sigh, you toss back the blankets and emerge from your room quietly. 

After a quick shower in the refresher, you step out and wrap a towel around yourself. You stare into the mirror, thinking about him.

You've never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before in your life. Sure, his looks contribute quite a bit, but it's much more than that. You and he seem to have a similar intellect, his passion and aptitude for prose matching your own knowledge and understanding of philosophy and the humanities. The girl is also equally respected by him as she is by you, and you both share a common want to see her thrive. You've known them both barely a day and a half, but they already feel more like family than anyone you've ever known.

You wonder if you're imagining his affections toward you. That could just be him, his way of communicating. You desperately hope it's more than that, but you also can't get your hopes up because of a silly dream.

A silly, beautiful dream.

Water drips from your hair, down your chest, and into the towel. As you begin to shiver, you decide to return to bed and try again for some uninterrupted sleep. You'll have to change the sheets, unfortunately, but that shouldn't take more than a few minutes.

You open the door and tiptoe back out into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Just as you're about to sneak back into your room, towel clutched tightly in your fingers, you're startled by the door opposite your own sliding open.

And there he is. Dressed in little more than a pair of grey shorts, hair tousled and eyes weary with sleep.

He blinks a few times, and then his eyes widen, suddenly much more awake. You see him glance down, and his mouth parts ever so slightly before his gaze returns to your face.

You are frozen in place. Somewhere in your mind, you will your feet to dart away again, but the remnants of your dream still echo in your muscles, preventing you from leaving. Your hands tighten on your towel and despite yourself, you make note of his chest, his abdomen - the wound, which is an angry red line, held together with clear stitching, and which makes your heart clench at the thought of what would've happened had you not arrived - and finally, a rapid glance at his shorts, his thighs, before you find your sense and look back up at his face.

There's that intensity again, with considerably less gentleness. You inhale sharply, and spare a glance towards the sitting area, where the girl sleeps.

"She's quite the light sleeper, I'm afraid. I'd be mightily surprised if she didn't already hear --"

His voice is low, nearly inaudible to your ears as you look back at him. The tone of it causes the insides of your thighs to tremble, and your chest to heave with silent breaths. Ezra cuts himself off, clearly not having meant to say as much as he did.

Maybe it's the early hour that makes the words escape your lips with ease. Maybe it's the dream, the visions of which you can still see in your mind's eye as you look at him. Perhaps there's just something about Ezra that makes you bold, standing there with nothing more than thin terrycloth protecting your modesty.

"Hear what, Ezra?" you whisper, and set your jaw when his eyes widen ever so slightly.

Ezra reaches out, and his hand comes up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your jawline, behind your ear, and he steps forward. He's so close that you can feel the heat from his body on your own.

His lips press softly against your forehead, a surprisingly intimate gesture that makes you shiver. The hand that isn't clutching your towel moves to rest on his waist, golden skin warm under your cold fingers.

"Hear this, sweet thing," he murmurs against your skin, lips still pressed against you. "How strongly I feel for you. How deeply I know that it was divine providence that brought you to me. The ways I want to repay you for saving my life.”

His words are like molten gold, shimmering and hot as they slip over your skin and into your heart. You shiver, and your fingers curl gently into his side.

”I don’t - I don’t want you to feel obligated to... to do anything. With me. For me,” you whisper back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of this quiet moment. 

Ezra hums in dissent against your worries. “No... no...” he says, as his fingers slowly thread their way into your hair. “It isn't like that —“

He’s interrupted by a shuffling sound from the sitting room. You both freeze, wide-eyed, and look toward the room where the girl sleeps.

A moment passes, and then two. Enough that you know she is still asleep and there isn’t any risk of her finding you two like this.

It‘s like ice water thrown over you, the reminder of where and who you are. You look back up to Ezra, whose eyes are soft and knowing as they stare at you. His hand gently caresses the back of your neck, and then he brings it back to rest at his side.

"Go to bed, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then steps around you. He enters the refresher without another word.

You do as he says, but you find yourself struggling to fall back asleep once you return to clean, cool sheets. You watch the stars inch past outside your window as your mind races at the memory of his lips.

-

The next morning, you wake to sounds of movement coming from outside your door. For a moment you panic, before you remember your two visitors. And then you remember your encounter with one of those visitors last night, and the hushed words exchanged between you and him.

Beside you, the clock reads barely past 06:00, which is usually the time you wake up anyway. Today you have another shift at the bar, assuming you still have a job there after you ditched it the other day. With a groan, you pull yourself out from under the warm, soft covers and dress yourself. 

The noise becomes more decipherable as you make your way down the hallway. Ezra and the girl are making small talk while something sizzles. You turn the corner and see Ezra standing at the stove with the girl sitting at the counter, the pleasing aromatic smell of pork bacon wafting through the air. You lean against the wall and watch the pair with a small smile, happy to see someone making use of a space normally reserved for microwave rations and alcohol snuck from the bar.

No one's ever accused you of being a particularly good bartender, that's for sure.

Ezra turns to look at you when he hears your footsteps, a bright smile lighting up his face. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teases, and pushes the bacon around with a spatula. "I cannot emphasize enough how divine it was to wake up with a soft cushion beneath me rather than dirt. I could much too easily let myself get used to this, and I think Cee here agrees with me on that account. Don't you, birdie?"

The girl nods, but you don't notice it. The color has drained from your face and you feel a frantic, sinking feeling in your chest.

"What did you say?" you ask, pushing yourself off the wall and looking at Ezra with wide eyes.

He looks back, brow furrowed, confused. "I believe I said that I could get used to this...?"

You turn away from him and look at the girl. She's looking at you too, now, concern evident in her eyes.

"What did he say your name is?"

She blinks. "My name's Cee."

Your hand flies up to your mouth, and you feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. It can't be. But she's the right age, and her hair's the same, and...

"What was your father's name?"

She looks even more confused now. "Um, it was Damon."

Oh my god. "Oh my god. You're Cee."

The two of them stare at you like you've grown a second head. You laugh, realizing how foolish you look.

And then you give her your name.

Cee's eyes light up like nothing you've ever seen before, and she nearly launches herself off of the counter stool to wrap you in the tightest hug you've ever been given. You laugh again, a loud and boisterous thing, as happy tears spring unbidden and flow onto your cheeks. Her hands grip the back of your shirt as you hold her head to your chest with both hands.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you mutter through the tears, pressing your nose against her hair. It's her. It's really her. Suddenly you think Ezra was right about divine providence, that the three of you were meant to find each other, the event arranged by some mighty cosmic force.

"Dad told me you were dead," she cries, as the two of you collapse to the floor. Propriety suddenly no longer concerns you, not now that you're cradling your long-lost little sister.

"I'm so sorry, Cee. I'm so sorry."

You can't say much more than that. There are simultaneously too many and not enough things to say to the last family you have left in the universe, to this girl who was so much like you even in the first moments of knowing one another. 

Above you, Ezra clears his throat.

"While this is clearly an unexpected but happy reunion that I hate to interrupt, I do have to ask how you girls know one another, so that I might not be kept in the dark about your relation?"

You look up at him as you move backwards to rest your shoulders against the wall. His dark eyes look down at you from above, and though you've never felt so small, you've also never felt happier in your life.

"She's my sister," you answer with a smile. "Same mother, different father. We were separated when our mother died. She was hardly more than a baby."

Ezra's eyes grow soft at that, and he nods. You begin to think that maybe now you both have something to thank the other for. You may have saved his life, but his radio transmission brought you Cee.

You tighten your arms around her, and place a kiss on the crown of her head. You aren't sure how long you sit there - long enough to have surely lost your job when you don't show up for your shift, but you can't find it within yourself to care. This is all that matters to you right now.

-

The day passes with you and Cee doing most of the talking, for once. Ezra seems content to just sit and listen, though you catch him a few times looking at you like he did in the darkened hallway last night.

After lunch, he makes a point to sit next to you on the couch, arm draped across the cushions behind you.

If Cee notices, she doesn't say anything. You still aren't sure where your relationship with Ezra stands, but in the midst of sharing stories with Cee and learning about her life, you don't find time to sort that out.

Dinner comes and goes again, and the topic of the future comes up.

"When do you think you'll be healed enough to travel again, Ezra?" you ask, as the three of you work on cleaning the dishes.

He shrugs. "I'm fit to travel right now," he answers, and you give him a look. No, he isn't. He chuckles. "Alright, sugar. Maybe another day or so. The serum they gave me to apply daily has been working wonders, I must admit."

You nod, and look over at Cee. "Where do you want to go? The Ephrate? I have no doubt you could get into the school there."

She perks up at that. "You think so? Would you bring me?"

"Why not? I'm a traveler anyway, and I think it's high time I got out of this station. Ezra?" You look over to him, but he's already looking at you.

You feel his hand ghost over the small of your back. "I would be most honored to accompany you both to the Ephrate, if you'll have me."

"Yes, of course," you reply, leaning into his touch, and you turn back to the task at hand.

Later on, when Cee is in bed listening to her music, and Ezra's in his room, you sit on your bed thinking about what's to come. In order to apply to the school, Cee will need a guardian contact, and a record of education. You hope she can pass the entrance exam and submit a writing sample, and that that will be enough. Maybe you can talk some of your former professors into considering her.

It’s a pretty long trip from the station to the Ephrate, even with a ship that can travel at hyper speed. You can’t help but wonder what will become of Ezra after you get Cee set up in school. 

The man captivates you, to put it plainly. His poetic manner of speaking and the gentle fire of his passion, when directed at you, gives you a feeling unlike any other you’ve experienced before. You’ve met plenty of men in your life. None have ever made you feel such a way. 

Before you can think better of it, while the desire to see his sleep-ruffled hair still sits at the forefront of your mind, you get out of bed and leave your room. Quietly, so as to not disturb Cee, you knock on his door.

”Come in!” he calls out from somewhere within.

You slide the door open, slip inside, and close the door behind you. Ezra is sitting up in bed, looking at you.

”To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman enter my chamber in the night?” The question is teasing, good-natured, but the compliment still makes your stomach swoop.

You smile, and walk to where he lies in bed, leaning against the dresses. “I wanted to thank you, Ezra. You brought my sister back to me, which is something I’ll never be able to repay you for. Can we call it even?” 

He laughs at that. “Sure we can, sweet thing. You know, when I first saw you in that recovery room, I thought I recognized you from somewhere, and that my brain had done me the disservice of erasing all memory of you. I now realize it was because you and Cee are so much alike. I haven’t known her for much longer than I’ve known you, and it remains a miracle that she has given me even a modicum of trust, but I see the relation between you clear as a bell now.”

You have to smile at that. It warms your heart to know you didn’t imagine it, that someone else noticed it too.

Ezra reaches out then, in the dim light, and you step forward. Thinking he's reaching for your hand, you extend yours - but he bypasses it completely and wraps his hand around the back of your upper thigh, thumb brushing against your sleep shorts. A giggle escapes your lips as he pulls you in even closer to him. Ezra leans forward and presses his face against your midsection, nose just next to your belly button.

Confused, but certainly pleasantly surprised, you place your hands on his head and thread your fingers through his dark curls. Gently you massage his scalp, not quite understanding this sudden show of affection. It's different than last night, though you can't exactly express how. 

You decide you're really enjoying seeing these different sides of Ezra when the two of you are alone.

When you happen to massage a certain spot right behind his ear, Ezra groans, a low sound that ripples through your bones. His grip tightens, and you feel his next words more than you hear them.

"Come here, little one," he murmurs into your stomach, nosing at the hem of your shirt. The pet name makes you clench, desire flooding through your center. 

He pulls you closer, shifting his face away so he can guide you down onto the bed. You swing one leg over his waist just as he slides his hand up to grip your ass, turning you further so you're on your back next to him. He's on his side, propped up by his elbow, leaning over you.

You're breathless, staring up into those infinite brown eyes.

"You have consumed my every waking thought since the moment I first saw you" he says softly, his voice a low purr that awakens some unknown part of yourself. You turn into him, resting a hand on his side, and he presses his nose against your cheek.

"I must have been a saint in a previous life to have earned this sweet embrace," he continues, breath warm against your face. "I want to learn you, to study you with the same vigor the ancients studied and examined the mind. I want to know you, sweet girl, in every way possible.

"But I must be truthful with you, because I could no longer live with myself if I were not. I am not a good man. I have lived a long life of violence and amorality, and death and deceit seem to follow me hand-in-hand. You are so young, little one, full of life and vitality, future bright ahead of you. I do not deserve you, and you certainly deserve better than me."

His words are like needles piercing your heart. You slide your hand up his chest to cup his face, tenderly stroking his cheekbone. You draw him away ever so slightly so you can look him in the eye.

"You and I are not so different, Ezra," you hum, making sure that he keeps the eye contact. "I have been on that same path, of death and violence, for years. I've lived for none but myself."

You slide your thumb across his lower lip, soft and pink and tempting.

"Let me live for you." 

You punctuate your whispered plea by drawing him back down and pressing your lips to his. He gasps into the kiss before returning it with passion amplified twofold. His leg slides over your midsection to stabilize himself, knees pushing in between your own so your thighs stretch open around his.

Ezra deepens the kiss almost immediately. You surrender to his lips, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other tangles again in his hair. His mouth is hot, tasting faintly of mint but mostly a sweet flavor you attribute only to him. You let out a soft moan at the feeling building in your cunt, wet and warm and yearning for him, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Ezra licks at your teeth, seemingly in an attempt to map out every part of you that he can.

All you're able to do is moan, melting into him like a candle to a flame.

You feel Ezra shift a little, followed by profanity muttered softly against your lips. He draws away, and you open your eyes to see him clenching his jaw.

"'M still not fully adjusted to not having a kriffing arm," he grumbles, frustration evident in his eyes. You hum, hurting for him, wanting to take his pain away.

"What do you need, Ezra?" you ask. "What can I do?"

He presses his forehead against yours and sighs. "I want to see you, sweet thing. I want to touch you."

You flush, understanding the meaning of his words and feeling your panties grow wetter at the implication. 

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes." You push at his shoulders, urging him to sit back. He does so, sitting back. You rearrange your legs so that yours rest outside of his, and sit up. Your thighs are tucked against his hips in a position that feels much closer than before - you can just barely feel the heat of his groin against your own. A breath stumbles its way out of your lungs, chest heaving.

Before you can think any further on your insecurities, you grasp the hem of your shirt and draw it up and over your head. Ezra's eyes light up, glance at your face, darken considerably as he looks down again, and then he's on you once more.

His arm wraps around you tightly, hand pressing firmly into your ribs, and it's then that you really take in the size difference between you and him. As his head dips to press his lips against your breasts and nipples, you can't help but shudder at the way his body curls over your own. You feel distinctly small, in a way that would usually frighten you but instead makes you shiver.

This position is clearly more comfortable for Ezra, because he becomes more vocal as he lavishes your tits with attention.

"Gods, little one," he murmurs against the top of one of your breasts, tongue darting out to taste your peaked bud, "your body is divine, the sweetest fruit in the universe." He pauses to suck at your nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and the sight of it forces a whine from your throat. Something about it is so perfect, so perverse, for a man who's always been so sweet, that you can't help but press your clothed cunt down on his cock, the shape of which you can feel burning and hard like an iron through your clothes.

Ezra lets out a choked growl at that, a deep rumbling sound that you immediately commit to memory, in case of the unfortunate event that you're not blessed to ever hear it again. He releases your teat, now spit-soaked and throbbing, and looks at you with eyes so dark you hardly recognize them. His brows are drawn together, teeth bared like a feral animal.

"That's what you do to me," he growls, moving his hand down to cup your ass, squeezing harshly. You gasp, and press into him, bare chest to bare chest. "Feel my dick against your little pussy, baby? Think it can fit?"

You nod frantically, knowing your shorts are soaked through, as his filthy words send your mind reeling. You're not capable of thoughts beyond him and this any longer.

Ezra uses his grip on your ass to press your cunt against him once more, and he rolls his hips up into you in a mimicry of what he'd like to do you. You moan, completely unashamed, and drop your head to tuck your face against his shoulder.

"Please," you whine, nearly unaware of the words coming out of your mouth. It's quiet, hushed, this next utterance, and it's passed through your lips before you can think twice about it.

"Please fuck me, daddy."

Ezra freezes. It takes you a moment too long to realize what you've said.

"What did you say?" Ezra asks, the words rumbling from somewhere in his chest.

You get a frantic feeling in your limbs, panic crawling up your throat. Great, you think, I've messed it all up. He probably thinks I'm some freak, screwed up in the head.

You're broken from your spiraling thoughts by the feeling of his lips on your neck, teeth digging into the space beneath your jawline.

"I asked you a question, sweet girl."

You tremble in his grasp. He's not going to let it go. "Daddy..." you whimper, and he groans.

"You really are a perfect little girl for me," he mutters as his hand slides around from your ass to the front of your shorts. You tighten your grip on the back of his neck and lean forward, thinking he intends to pull your remaining clothes down your legs.

Instead, he clenches his fist and tears them, both your shorts and your panties, from your pussy. You yelp as he does so, and watch as the fabric goes flying somewhere off to the side.

"There you are, sweet thing," he murmurs, leaning back to look at you, hand back in position on your bare ass. "Look at you. Filthy and perfect for daddy, aren't you? A fantasy come to life, placed in my lap by the gods themselves."

You moan once more, pressing your bare cunt against the outline of his cock in his thin sleep pants. He reaches down to pull it free, and as you keep your balance against him, you look down and see perhaps the biggest dick you've ever laid eyes on. Ezra chuckles, watching your reaction.

"You ready, baby? Want me to fill you up, fuck you like you need?"

You nod, and lean in to press your face against the crook of his neck again. "Please," you whine. "I need your big cock in my pussy."

The words are completely unlike you - something about Ezra has awoken a completely submissive, unfiltered side of yourself you didn't know existed before. Sure, you knew you wanted him, and weren't a stranger to sex, but this is an entirely new personality, focused entirely on being his. It's almost like a dream, and for a moment you feel as though you're floating, with how relaxed you are in anticipation for --

Oh.

He's guided the head of his cock to your entrance, and is using his leverage on your ass to guide you slowly, slowly down. You gasp - he's certainly the biggest you've ever had, and the stretch is delicious. Ezra's restraining himself, going slow so he doesn't hurt you, but you have no such qualms.

You drop down in one fell swoop, and the way he fills you makes your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moves from your ass to around your waist, nearly encircling it entirely. He groans, loudly and deeply.

"You'll kill me like this, little one. You're just wrapped around my cock, aren't you? Desperate for it?"

You nod frantically. "Yes, daddy. Yes!"

Ezra moans at that. His hand grips your waist, teeth biting and sucking at your neck, as you push up on your thighs to lift off of him. The drag of his dick against the walls of your cunt is incredible, the head of it catching and pushing on hidden, sensitive ridges within you.

You drop down again, and begin to fuck yourself on Ezra's cock.

His hips piston up as you do so, finding and matching your rhythm with ease. His melodic voice mutters the dirtiest things you've ever heard as he slams his hips up into you.

"...That's it, sweet thing. You were made to fit on my cock, weren't you?..."

"...Wanted to do this that night in the hallway, take you right up against the wall..."

"...My strong, sweet girl, bouncing like a whore on daddy’s cock -- gods, look at your tits..."

You feel your climax building, rising like a fire about to consume you from the inside out. Ezra is close, too, from the way his hips stutter and his breathing becomes ragged.

"Sweet thing..." he groans, slowing his thrusts. "I can't... inside you..."

You shake your head. You know he's clean, since he was tested at the med-bay when he went in for the operation. And besides...

"I've got the implant, daddy. Come in me, please."

Ezra finishes with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard, and you come nearly at the same moment. It's an ethereal, heavenly experience, like the two of you have ascended and joined the gods who so graciously brought you together.

You fall asleep tucked into his chest, warm under his blanket, with the smell of him and you and both of you lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in your life.

-

A month later, you and Ezra and Cee sit at a mahogany wood table, filling out a holo-tablet with the form for Cee's entrance into your alma mater on the Ephrate. Your sister is already taken with the place, and you couldn't be happier for her. 

"Now it wants me to put in a parent or guardian's name," she says, stylus hovering over that section. The cursor blinks as it waits.

You're about to tell her to skip it, but Ezra speaks up before you can.

"Put my name down," he offers, and she looks over at him. "Is that okay with you?"

Cee nods, a genuine smile brightening her features. She turns back to the screen with haste.

"Ezra Stallard," he adds simply.

You look over to him, pleased with this revelation. 

As you watch Cee enter Ezra's full name into the blank and select Guardian, you get a chill up your spine. Despite yourself, you think back to that night, and you know Ezra's thinking the same when his hand moves over to rest on your thigh.

You can't wait to have your ship to yourselves; the joy of seeing your sister thrive in a new setting is followed only by the anticipation of what is to come. You and Ezra have made no plans for the future yet - all you know is that he will be with you, and that's the only guarantee you need.

For the first time in a very long time, your heart sings.

[yoditorian]

a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist 

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer. 

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?” 

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks. 

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition. 

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack. 

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off. 

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently. 

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?” 

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

 Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are. 

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it. 

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears. 

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair,  face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take. 

“It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room. 

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close. 

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are. 

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless. 

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it. 

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing. 

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure. 

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that. 

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him. 

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this. 

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks. 

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough. 

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that. 

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away. 

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers. 

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.” 

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do. 

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal. 

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them. 

“What do you want, Sunspot?” 

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth. 

“As you wish.” 

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory. 

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years. 

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe. 

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands. 

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows. 

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying. 

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry. 

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner. 

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it. 

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit. 

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you. 

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends. 

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you. 

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship. 

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere. 

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist. 

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince. 

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra. 

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him. 

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?” 

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.” He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left. 

“No.” 

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @gotta-have-faye​ @freeshavocadoooo​ @darnitdraco​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @fire-is-catching-always

[something-tofightfor]

Magnetic: Chapter 1  - Home

Pairing: None, yet. (female reader insert; no ‘Y/N’)

Word count: 7,097

Rating: I think you swear a couple times. There’s some blood mentioned. Grogu recalls some past trauma.

Summary: A disappearance. A revelation. An offer. A decision. A discovery. They’re all connected - and everything’s moving quickly. 

Author’s note:

Hello, friends! Second part for the week. I’m trying to figure out what the best posting schedule will be moving forward, and I’m thinking once a week, maybe Thursday or Friday night (EST)? We’ll see. 

Please make sure you read the previous 2 pieces of this story before this one (top of my Masterlist), or it won’t make much sense.  Nothing much ese to say here except that if you want to be tagged, please let me know and I can add you before the next chapter. Enjoy. 

(banner created by @malionnes)

Grogu! You called out for him, not taking the time to consider what to call him, his name your only thought. Come on, this isn’t funny anymore. It was the third time you couldn’t find the kid - but only the first that had been your fault to begin with - and this time, he’d been gone for hours. You’d noticed that he seemed off after your trip away from the Academy and into the market, but over the course of the following week, the kid had disappeared three separate times, striking fear deep into your heart each of them. 

 You’d found him the first time he left, sensing him by accident as you searched the lower level of the building, getting just a glimpse of his view, rocking back and forth in the hanging canopy of one of the freighter ships’ sleeping quarters. He’d been surprised to see you, but excited, too, babbling as he reached for you to lift him up and cradle him to your chest. The second time, one of the Masters found him based on a memory you recalled, urging him to check near a small pond at the edge of one of the fields nearby. 

 This time? You were determined to be the one to find him again, needing to be the one that got to Grogu first and bringing him back into the warmth and security of the Academy. Why? Why does it need to be me?

 You knew the planet was safe. You were sure that the area surrounding the Academy was even safer. You believed that the kid was more than capable of fending for himself if it really came down to it. But you also knew that he was still young, still got overwhelmed - and still overestimated his own capabilities. So you’d left the walls of the Academy and ventured outside, the hood on your cloak lifted to ward off as much of the rain as possible, and taken a seat in the center of the main courtyard, legs folded beneath you. Grogu. Kid, come on. Your eyes were closed as you searched for him, letting your mind wander and covering as much ground as possible. 

 All of the Masters were looking for him, but they - as well as you - also knew that after spending so many years closing himself off from the Force and the Jedi, he was adept at concealing himself when he wanted to. He has to want to come back. You’d said it to Master Skywalker, the man’s eyes wide and anxious as you told him that you’d only turned away from him for a few seconds to adjust his bedding, meaning to help the kid tidy his room before the two of you spent the night playing in one of the covered outdoor areas, using the time off from his lessons to practice focusing and just relax together. He wouldn’t go far. He wanted to be here in the first place, but he … You’d frowned, the same thought dawning on you and Skywalker at the same time. What if he doesn’t want to anymore? Meeting his clear, blue eyes, you both felt and saw the worry in them, knowing that it was a real possibility.

 The man had sent you off to search for the kid, and you just hoped that something - anything was enough to get through to him. Even a single thought - a split second of connection - would help you locate him, but you didn’t know where to begin. The minutes passed and nothing happened aside from your cloak getting damper by the second, a chill settling into your body, fear creeping in along with the cold. You’d called on all of your training to focus on the kid, finding that while most Jedi looked at intense emotions being detrimental, they helped you, enabling you to isolate specific individuals based on what you knew that they felt. But there was nothing - no thoughts of frogs or hyperspace, no thoughts of speeders or a tiny hammock. No thoughts of - “Oh, kid.” You gritted your teeth, using one hand to swipe at your face and push your dripping hair away from your eyes. “I’m sorry, but I have to.” 

 You closed your eyes again and sighed, settling onto the ground and placing your palms against the earth, swallowing hard. This has to work. Concentrating with all your energy, you thought of the Mandalorian; pictured his stance, allowing yourself to get lost in the memories you’d seen through Grogu’s eyes. A man standing at the foot of his carriage, one gloved finger extended, almost in disbelief. You saw him fearlessly facing off against a giant beast - a Mudhorn, your memory supplied for you. The Mandalorian watching from a short distance away as you - as Grogu - ran through the tall grass, chasing something. Countless memories were in your mind and you flipped through them, trying to isolate one thing from each; the thing that was clearest and most memorable - the most important pieces of the Mandalorian Grogu carried with him. The armor. The way it felt to be held against his broad chest, one arm tucked beneath you, the other stretched across your body, keeping you from bouncing too much as he strode across the ground. The way he handled the pulse rifle and the blaster as if they were weightless, extensions of himself. A vague read on his thoughts time and time again - keep him safe the repeated mantra - something that Grogu had gotten used to. His posture in the pilot’s seat. His stubborn nature. 

 You felt like you knew the man even though you’d never met him, and by the time you got to the last thing in your arsenal - arguably the most important one - you were exhausted, letting the emotion wash over you along with the rain. Grogu. Grogu. A quiet, surprised laugh. Grogu. It was as if the man was speaking directly into your ear - the sound of his voice was clear - but filtered -  in your head, and not a moment later, you felt a quiet coo and a slight rocking sensation as the kid revealed himself to you. Thank the Maker. 

 You were on your feet as soon as you felt it, body turned toward the small stand of trees off in the distance. I’m coming, kid. Please don’t run. I’m coming. Tell me more about your dad. Every step you took was punctuated with another memory fragment, but these weren’t your doing - they were the child’s. 

 Some of them you’d seen before, others were entirely new - looking up at the man from between a pair of boots planted firmly on the ground of some desert, the man’s quiet breathing reaching your ears even though you couldn’t see anything in the dark as he slept next to you. You reached the trees as you saw the Mandalorian’s excitement at Grogu using the Force on command for the first time - the small metallic sphere slowly gliding through the air and out of the man’s hands. The trees. That’s why he…

 The memories kept coming, and by the time you laid eyes on the kid, standing atop a fallen log, his too-big hood pulled up and over his ears and most of his face, eyes closed, you were nearly overwhelmed by the emotion you felt for the beskar-clad man. They’re not my feelings though. This is how much he … They’re never going to … Luke’s never going to get him to … “Hey, kid.” You croaked out the words, pushing your own hood back and away from your face to cross the small clearing. “You scared me.” Reaching him, you dropped down to one knee, the damp from the ground immediately soaking through the material of your pants. “Scared all of us.” But instead of opening his eyes or replying, you were hit with another memory, and you couldn’t keep from clasping a hand over your mouth, tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as the kid’s emotions flipped to anguish. 

 You were looking down at the man as he stood next to a woman, distance between you growing by the second, and you realized that it had been the moment Grogu was abducted. He was right there. So close. You had the thought before you could stop it, a gasp leaving your lips as the memory replayed, and you focused on the Mandalorian’s posture, everything about it screaming defeat. “He didn’t give up on you kiddo. He was just a few seconds too late. He came and got you as soon as he could.” 

 You spoke the words out loud, too tired to think them. I know. Despite your fatigue, you felt relief as the kid replied, your eyes opening. Grogu’s eyes were open, too, and even though it could have been the rain that caused the dampness at the corners of them, you knew it wasn’t. Grogu blinked at you twice, and then his mouth opened in a quiet cry. You finally reached for him, pulling him tightly to your chest and resting your cheek against the top of his head as his fingers clutched the soaked edges of your cloak. 

 “You miss him so much, kid. I know. I can feel it. You’re like me, hmm? Can’t turn it off, can’t be …” Can’t be what they expect you to be to rise in the ranks and become … “It’s gonna be alright, little guy. But we have to get back. We have to get out of this rain or we’re both going to get really sick.” You carefully stood, relaxing your hold on him slightly, and after a few seconds, Grogu looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “Gotta get you into some dry robes, right? Find something warm to -” Home. The force that the thought erupted with was enough to make you stumble, and you inhaled sharply, biting down on the inside of your lip. Home. 

 Even though Grogu didn’t fight you as you made your way back to the Academy, you knew that that wasn’t what he meant - nor was it his preferred final destination. 

 --- 

 A few days later, you were called into one of the conference chambers, the room well-lit, even though there was only one other person inside of it. “Master Sk-” The young man shook his head, closing his eyes. 

 “For right now, call me Luke. No need for any formality.” It was strange to you; you’d gotten accustomed to addressing him as Master during your training, and again when your paths crossed in the halls or open spaces. You knew he wasn’t as strict about his title as some of the others, but after everything he’d done, he deserved respect. “Are you feeling better?” What? “Our friend told me that you got sick while finding him the other day.” 

 “Oh.” You smiled, shrugging as you stopped a few feet away from the man, a small table between you. “Yeah, I feel better. Just the flu. I told the kid we’d both -”

 “He’s fine. I’m not sure he can get sick.” You stopped, pressing your lips together. “Sit, please.” You did, noticing the tightness in Luke’s tone and finally looking closely at the man’s face. He’s worried. But what … “You’ve gotten close to Grogu since I brought him back.” It wasn’t a question and you just nodded, still eyeing Luke. “He’s very powerful. I’ve only seen anything like it once before, and that …” Luke looked down, taking a deep breath. “He’s made so much progress, and I think he …” The man trailed off, and you waited silently, hands folded on the table in front of you. Where is this going? “We were all very disappointed when you stopped your training.” 

 He met your eyes again, the bright blue full of honesty. “It was the best option. I can’t… No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t control the way I …” Luke’s lips twitched as you faltered, but it wasn’t unkind. “I’ll be much more helpful here, or in another city, on another planet as an instructor, it -”

 “You were skilled with weapons. Quick on your feet.” Luke leaned back in his chair, and you nodded, unsure of where he was going. I must look like an idiot, just nodding. “But your true talent is seeing, right?”

 “Yes.” You considered his words carefully. “I’m more comfortable with that. It’s hard, sometimes, because I can’t block it out, but it’s useful. And I know -”

 “I watched you with your training blade.” He narrowed his eyes. “You held your own. Even in the beginning.” What is … 

 “I was older than …” You stumbled over your words. “I didn’t even come here until I … it’s easy to block attacks if I know that -” 

 “I know.” Luke glanced up. “You stopped your training right before you would have gone through the Gathering ceremony.” I did. I don’t need… didn’t need… “Why then?” He waited for your answer, and even though you took some time to think through it, you were honest when you spoke next. “There was no point in me going through with it if I wasn’t sure. I don’t need a lightsaber if I’m not going to …” You gestured at him with one hand. “I wasn’t going to go through the Trials. I stopped before it even got to that point.” You reached up, touching your temple. “I know I was on a different timeline than everyone because I was older when I found this place, but …” 

 “You would have passed them.” That’s also not a question. “And you know it, too. Emotions are part of what makes us who we are. It wasn’t always that way, and if they’re not carefully managed, things … get difficult.” He paused, closing his eyes. “But your lack of focus, the inability to tune things out?  Your fear of what you can do? Those don’t have to be limitations.” He smiled again. “I’m training my sister, and there’s no way she’d be able to stop herself from feeling everything for the people she loves, too.” That wasn’t news to you, but you were surprised that he was speaking so openly with you about what he did on his own time. “Grogu is thriving here, at least when it comes to his abilities. He’s skilled. He’s capable. He’s grown a ton in the short time he’s been with us.” Luke paused, inhaling. “But he isn’t happy.” 

 “No, he isn’t.” Afraid that you’d spoken out of turn, you widened your eyes, ready to apologize. 

 “The other Masters and I have …” Luke’s shoulders slumped. “We’ve decided that it might be a good idea to return him to the Mandalorian for some time.” His words shocked you, but Luke didn’t give you time to think too deeply about them. “Bringing him here was the only option before. But now … things have settled with the Mandalorians somewhat, there’s very little in the galaxy that poses a threat to Grogu. Now that we know that he’s alive, and what he’s capable of, everything’s different.” 

 “I think he wants to go.” You whispered the words, staring at your hands on the table. “When I found him the other day, he was so sad, and he kept saying home, but it wasn’t the Academy he was talking about, he -” 

 “He wants his father. He wants his home.” Luke’s voice hitched. “I expected it, but not this soon.” I… oh. But what does that mean for me? “We’re not holding people here against their will, and that extends to everyone.” You looked back up, meeting his eyes again. “We’ve sent a message out. A transmission to Mandalore, which is the last known location of the bounty hunter Grogu was with.” So it’s happening then. “We don’t want to get his hopes up, because we don’t know how long it will take to get an answer, but…” Luke wet his lips. “There’s a good chance he’ll be on his way soon.” 

 You felt a multitude of emotions at the revelation, but the most overwhelming was relief. He’s going to be so happy. “Why are you telling me this?” You spoke quietly, still unsure. “I’m no one, I have no standing with you, I’m not even -” 

 “He likes you. Grogu … you’ve connected with him in a way that no one else here has been able to.” There was another pause. “If … when he goes, he’ll need someone to go with him.” What? “We can’t spare a Master, and none of the Knights would be suitable for the trip.” Are you saying … “He listens to you. He speaks to you. He shares things with you, much more than he does with anyone else.” Luke waited, but you didn’t say anything, still trying to process what you were hearing. “And to put it in very simple terms, Grogu is one of the most talented Force users I’ve ever met, and I’d feel better if he -” 

 “But I’m not a Jedi. I’m not ...I just … I was going to be a Consular, not a Guardian or a Sentinel … how can I …” Luke’s smile grew, and he leaned in, hands flat on the table. “I’d do anything to protect the kid, but reading thoughts is -” 

 “You know, I was almost 20 the first time I used a real lightsaber.” He shrugged. “And it wasn’t even one that I built.” What? “You’ve had experience with the practice blades. How long has it been since -”

 “Over a year. Just before Grogu came here, I -” Your heart was pounding. “I haven’t even thought about …” There’s no way he’s suggesting that I head off with the little guy with a lightsaber in my hand to… 

 “Ilum is no longer safe to travel to for… us.” He stood, pushing away from the table, and circling around to your side, stopping next to you. “But we’ve been searching the galaxy, and … we’ve found kyber crystals in other locations. Many more of them.” More? “It’s too dangerous to take a group of younglings to search for their crystals as was done in the past, so we’ve brought them here, for when they’re ready to choose them.” There’s no kriffing way he’s going to …  “I’d feel a lot better about you leaving with Grogu for a while if you had a lightsaber.” 

 “But I …” You shook your head back and forth. “Master Skyw - Luke, I’m not trained. I wouldn’t be trained later on, after we left. Grogu doesn’t use a… I wouldn’t be able to practice with anyone -” 

 “No, that’s not true.” Luke cocked his head to the side, and you caught one of his thoughts. She hasn’t said no. “The Mandalorian has a lightsaber, too.” What? A Mandalorian with a ... “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, but…” Luke leaned in, only a foot or so away from you, his expression serious, but excitement in his eyes. “You’d get your practice in, if he agreed to it.” You thought for a few seconds, picturing the Mandalorian in your mind, and feeling yourself shiver at the thought of sparring with the massive man and his armor. At least I wouldn’t hurt him. “Think about it. It shouldn’t take long to build, you’ll just need the parts and the crystals.” Luke straightened up. “This is an offer not many get. I trust you. Grogu trusts you. Your use of the Force is unconventional but it’s… true. And? You care about him.” Luke sighed. “He’s special.” There was a long pause, and Luke met your gaze again, unblinking as he said your name. “You don’t have to hide it from me. Your time here isn’t … you’ve been thinking of what comes next for you.” 

 “I have.” You swallowed hard. “To be honest, if Grogu wasn’t here? I probably would have …” Already tried to find another job, at the very least. 

 “I know.” Luke watched you for a few seconds. “And speaking of him, can you keep this from him? Keep the kid from -” 

 “Yes.” You were certain of it, and keeping the secret for the few days it would likely take to hear back from the Mandalorian would easily be the most important thing you’d ever been tasked with. “I can. I will.” Especially if I’m building a… “Luke? Master Skywalker?” He hummed a reply, still watching you. “Can I let you know tonight? I want to think about …”

 “Of course.” He gave you a nod, and you understood that the conversation was over. “Remember, Grogu can’t know about this. If the Mandalorian doesn’t return the message? If he can’t take some time to -” It was your turn to stand, shaking your head slowly back and forth as you faced the Jedi. 

 “He will. If what that man feels is anything like what the kid does?” You rolled your eyes, chewing on your lower lip. “He’s probably already answering your call.” --- 

 But as far as you knew, the Mandalorian didn’t respond that day. And by the time you sought Luke out again that night, your body coursing with adrenaline, it was a good thing that you hadn’t seen the kid, because you wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking about the man’s offer. My own lightsaber. I gave this up, I shouldn’t … But you knew Luke’s reputation, knew that the suggestion wasn’t a hasty one, and that his offer had likely come after discussing it with others of his rank. And that means that other people … they think I … 

 The doors slid open, and with a swish of robes, Luke gestured for you to come in. Am I really doing this? Am I … “You’ve made a decision?” He stood with his arms held behind his back, head cocked slightly to the side. “I can tell that -” 

 “I’m perfectly fine with …” You closed your eyes and took a breath. “I understood that when I chose to stop training, I wouldn’t ever be … I wouldn’t ever become like you. Like Master Ordo or Master Sirrah or any of the others. I’d stay right where I am. Attuned to the Force and able to help in some ways, but never … never have the rank or the reputation. Never be able to say that I was a Jedi. And that’s fine. I know now that my limitations are…” You trailed off. Stop rambling. “You took me in when no one else would and helped me understand what was happening with and to me, and I won’t ever forget that. I can’t ever repay you, and that’s why I wanted to stay here. To be… useful.” Luke nodded, but stayed quiet. “But I’d do anything to keep Grogu safe. And if me… not continuing my training, but moving forward with the -” 

 “You’re not making a lightsaber because you’re a Jedi, you’re making one because you need it to protect yourself and help to protect Grogu if necessary.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it was forceful. “You won’t have rank. You won’t be a Knight. It’s rare, for non-Jedi to use them, but there are trillions of people in this galaxy, and it’s impossible that all of the blades of old are accounted for.” He shrugged. “It’s no different than using a vibroblade or a blaster. It’s just a weapon. A powerful, intimidating weapon, but ... “ He stepped closer to you, moving his gloved hand from behind his back and laying it on your shoulder. “One that you know how to wield. There are many people that won’t have ever seen them before, and that gives you another advantage.” 

 “And I’ll need all the advantages that I …” For the first time, you considered what you’d be agreeing to - traveling far from the Academy with Grogu, to a place that was likely inhospitable, deep in the throes of a power struggle, just to reunite him with a man that had his own concerns and responsibilities. “I’m ready. If you … I’ll do it. I’ll pick my crystals and try my best to build a … and I’ll take Grogu. If the Mandalorian returns your message, I’ll make sure he gets back to where he …” Oh, stars, what am I agreeing to?

 “Let’s go.” Luke squeezed once, a smile overtaking his face before he pulled his hand away and stepped around you, heading back for the door. “I already knew you’d agree, but I had to hear you say it. We’ll go tonight, you and I, and start the process.” What? I wasn’t … “It doesn’t take long to complete your build, but the sooner you have it done, the sooner we can restart your training.” 

 “Who will I be -” He stopped as you turned toward him, his head angled to the right and the smile still on his face. “Me.” 

--- 

 The next few hours were a whirlwind. You’d had to travel away from the Academy with Luke in the darkness, side by side on speeders to get to the location of the kyber stash. After dismounting, you had no idea where on the planet you were, and you were almost convinced that Luke had complicated the journey, ensuring that you couldn’t ever reveal the location to anyone, even on accident. Smart. Dismounting, Luke led you toward the mouth of a cave set deep within a rocky outcrop, the moonlight helping to provide the only glimpses of your surroundings. “It doesn’t even feel like we’re still -” 

 “This place was chosen because it’s where we feel the Force the most strongly on this planet.” Luke was a few steps ahead of you, ducking slightly to enter the cave. “It’s isolated, but it’s safe. It’s nothing like the crystal caves on Ilum are, but it’s …” He sighed, reaching for the lamp that was attached to his belt. “There, they grow straight from the floors and walls. They call to you long before you even enter the main caverns. But there’s so much power in those caves that it’s overwhelming.” You saw the outline of his body as he lit the lamp, bathing the walls around you in a soft glow. “Someone like you there? Someone that already sees and feels more than the average being?” He laughed quietly, picking his way carefully through the dark. We’re going down. The path, we’re underground. “I would have liked to see that.” 

 The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, Luke leading you through the twists and turns easily, though you stumbled a few times. “I’d get lost down here by myself.” You spoke quietly, doing your best to keep up. “I’m terrible with directions. Always have been.” But there’s something here, you realized, feeling your body relax the deeper into the cave you went. It’s like I should be here. “Are there caves on Mandalore? I -” 

 “I’m not sure.” Luke kept walking. “I’ve never been there, and there’s not much known about it. You’ll be one of the first people to see it after … everything that’s happened to it.” All of the fighting. The occupation. The destruction of … “Everything.” He stopped, and you did too, eyes focused on what was ahead. “We’re here.” Here?  Where’s … “I won’t be going in with you. This isn’t my journey.” 

 “Where am -” But as your eyes adjusted, you saw a slightly darker area in the wall, and realized it was an opening. “What do I …” 

 “This isn’t a trial, remember that.” Luke took a deep breath. “But you’ll still need to … search for your crystal. I don’t know what you’ll see in there, if you’ll see anything. I don’t know how it’ll go. But I do know that you’ll know what to do when it’s time.” What is he even … “Here.” He handed you the lamp, passing the smooth metal handle into your hand without pause. “Take your time. Think it through.” You saw one of Luke’s eyebrows rise. “You’ll have this thing for the rest of your life.” Oh, fantastic. No pressure, right? 

 But you only nodded, thanking him quietly and stepping past the man, between the shadows and through the open space. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. You could feel the power of the place - a low, thrumming sensation that almost felt alive. He wasn’t kidding about this being a concentrated … damn. The deeper into the darkness you walked, the calmer you felt, and that worried you - slightly. “I’m walking into a damn cave in the middle of nowhere at midnight, I should be …” But your words trailed off as the pathway opened up ahead of you, a slight glow adding to the light of the lamp you held. What the … 

 Glancing up, you saw that you were in a large room, the ceiling high above your head. It wasn’t massive by any means, but it wasn’t small, and after only a few seconds, you set the lamp down, continuing to walk through the space. “This is beautiful,” you whispered, eyes moving over the walls. “I’ve never …” You knew from what Luke told you that most of the glittering spaces in the walls weren’t what you were looking for, but nonetheless you were drawn to them, fingers glancing over the rough and pointed edges, lips curving into a small smile. Closing your eyes, you tried to calm your mind, letting yourself relax, and again felt the pulse in the air, focusing on it. It’s stronger back there, in the… the corner. 

 Making your way toward the back wall of the room, you heard a crunch beneath your boots, looking down to see that there were more small crystals on the floor, shattering into glittering piles of glass that crumbled into the dirt floor as you stepped on them. Minerals, you realized. They wouldn’t store something so valuable on the ground, not … not when people are just wandering through here. It calmed you further, and by the time you reached the back wall, your mind was blank. Alright. Let’s do this. Taking a deep breath, you pressed both palms to the wall, unsure of what else you needed to do - or where to begin looking. The wall felt alive beneath your hands and you gasped, knees buckling slightly as you began to see images in your mind - men and women, glowing bursts of light, the darkness of space, littered with millions of glowing pinpricks of starlight, the same deep brown eyes from your dreams. 

 At that, you gasped, lowering yourself to the ground and dropping your chin to your chest, hands moving from the wall to the floor, fingers curling in the pebbled soil. I don’t know who you are. Why am I … The harder you tried to focus on the image of the man, the hazier it got, but the feelings that came with it became much more pronounced. Sadness. Despair. Regret. With a cry of frustration, you forced yourself to think of something else, letting out your held breath and then pressing your lips together to the point of pain. It’s not real. I’ve never seen … that’s not why I’m… 

 More time passed, your breathing evening out, mind returning to its blank state, and for the first time in more than a year, you didn’t try to keep from tapping into the Force, instead letting it in. This must be what Grogu felt when he went to Tython. You had the thought before you could stop it, and the kid’s face then filled your mind, your chest tightening as you thought of everything he’d been through - everything he’d likely still have to experience in his long, long life. I need to do this so he can go back to … You thought of the Mandalorian then, seeing the man from Grogu’s point of view; the sharp edges of the bottom of his helmet, one tiny, clawed hand resting against the smooth Beskar of his breastplate. “Alright, kid.” You let out another breath, nodding your head. “It’s time.” 

 Pushing the thoughts of the man and the child out of your head, you focused on what you were feeling, pushing out with your mind to see if anything pushed back. This is stupid, it’s a piece of … But instead of feeling nothing, you felt a slight spot of warmth; a pinprick of light shining in the darkness. Before you could completely focus on it, it was gone, replaced with another feeling - that of fear. Instead of the light from the cave or your lamp, when you opened your eyes in surprise, your mother was standing in front of you, one hand held over her mouth in shock as your younger sister clutched her hip, eyes wide in fear. It’s not … not possible. 

 You hadn’t seen your mother and sister in years, and at the sight you yelped, scrambling to your feet and holding your hands out in front of you. They haven’t aged. “M-mom?” Blinking, you looked down, head moving back and forth. “It’s ok, I’m not -” 

 “Dangerous.” You heard her voice clearly, the hiss at he end of it. “You are dangerous. To yourself, to us, to everyone here.” The words stung, and you shied away, never looking up from your sister. “Too dangerous.” 

 “No. I’m not. I wasn’t, I …” But you trailed off, focused on the little girl and the way she was looking at everything but you. “I didn’t mean to …” Your mother’s laugh cut through the air, sharper than any blade that existed, and you immediately went quiet, tears springing into your eyes. 

 “Hide it, girl. Hide it or get out.” She pointed, gesturing over your shoulder. “I didn’t raise a witch.” You were crying, the tears tracing lines down your dusty cheeks, but you couldn’t speak, instead staying on your feet, head whipping back and forth. No no no no, you just didn’t know, we didn’t understand, I’m not … “They’re all talking about you.” She spat the words, eyes narrowed. “Talking about my daughter, about me, about your father, asking if your sister can use magic too, asking if -”

 “No!” The word erupted from your lips, stopping your mother’s speech. “I am not a witch. I am not dangerous.” You were still crying, but your voice was strong. “It’s not magic. It’s the Force, and it’s useful, it’s good.” You said her name, reaching out with one hand but the woman recoiled, pulling your sister with her. “I was barely an adult and you were more worried about …” Sniffling, you continued. “You made me think that I had to hide what I am, what I can do just to survive. But I didn’t. I don’t.” You straightened up, staring at the woman head on. “You were wrong. You didn’t know it, but you were… there was no reason to…” She’s already said this to me.

 You widened your eyes as you remembered the day your mother had given you an ultimatum: hide your ability or get out. But it hadn’t really been an option, since you’d blown your cover - accidentally reading a boy’s mind and reacting, warning one of your town’s lawmen that he’d committed a crime and then honestly telling him how you’d known. Unsure of how to explain the way you’d come to know the information, you revealed more - other people’s thoughts, things they’d kept hidden, the lawman’s childhood best friend’s name - in an attempt to make them understand that it was real. But from that day, the entire town had avoided you, in turn, shunning the rest of your family as well. But it wasn’t my fault. You’d wished every day that you’d kept your mouth shut instead of trying to make them see, but the true end of your time at home had come just months later. 

 “I’m sorry.” You dropped to your knees, saying your sister’s name. “I was trying to help you, and I didn’t…” The two of you had been playing near the forest behind your home, the little girl skipping over the ground when she’d tripped, a short scream the only noise you’d heard. Without thought, you’d turned your attention to the girl, fear filling your heart as you saw her falling toward a large boulder, half buried in the ground. You didn’t know how you’d done it, but in the blink of an eye, she was frozen in midair, hands outstretched and the sound of her wail still carrying through the air. Stunned, you’d realized that you were holding her in place, one hand reaching out for her to keep her from hitting her head. “I couldn’t control it because I didn’t know what it was and I …” At the sound of your mother’s yell, your concentration had broken, your sister falling through the air, her temple glancing off the rock. Though it wasn’t as direct a hit as it would have been, there was still blood, and by the time the woman had made it to the two of you - your sister crying as she laid next to the rock, holding her bloodied head and you, exhausted and crumpled on the ground - the little girl could only say your name in response to being asked what happened. And that was it. They never … they didn’t want me because they … “We didn’t understand. But I wasn’t dangerous. I’d never hurt you. I’d never hurt anyone. I just needed to … needed to know what …” 

 You were crying again, eyes closed and your shoulders shaking. You hadn’t thought of the confrontation in years; it felt more and more unreal with each passing month away from the small town you’d grown up in, traveling off-planet and to a larger city as soon as you’d earned passage on a ship, finding ways to get information in each new place you went. You’d picked up a lot of skills in the months you’d traveled before you found anything close to information about people that could do what you did. 

 I wanted to go back. Wanted to tell you … Sniffling, you looked back up, the woman and child standing in front of you silently. “I can’t hide this. I shouldn’t hide this. People like me are the ones that protect … the Force is …” You took a deep breath, straightening your shoulders and meeting your mother’s eyes. “This is who I am, and it’s what I want.” 

 In the blink of an eye, the cave went dark again, the figures disappearing as fast as they’d shown up. Breaths quick, your jaw dropped, eyes darting around the darkened space until they found that same pinpoint of light - this time brighter. Silently, you got to your feet, still breathing heavily. What is … You reached the wall, kneeling down again and stretching your hand out until it touched stone. It’s in the wall, but it … Frowning, you moved your hand down, feeling the slight protrusion as your skin touched the point of light, the prismatic shape contrasting with the rest of the mostly smooth lower wall. This is it. You knew it as soon as your hand touched the crystal, heart rate increasing again as your thumb and first finger pinched it between them, tugging toward you. It didn’t move right away, but after a few moments you felt it wiggle, and then, after another pull it came free, dropping into the waiting palm of your other hand. “Oh.” 

 It was a pale golden orange, and although the light that guided you to it faded to a dull twinkle as soon as it was pulled free from the wall, it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. It’s mine. You stared at it for a few seconds, trying to control your breathing, and then shut your eyes, fingers curling around the tiny thing. It chose me. Giving yourself a few seconds to collect your thoughts, you stood, walking back over to the lamp and leaning over to pick it up, the crystal still held loosely in your free hand. 

 You made your way back to the mouth of the cave, carefully walking through the narrow space, and were surprised to see Luke sitting on the ground with his eyes closed, back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. “Mast - Luke?” You spoke softly but the man sprung to life, eyes flying open and his hand going to his waist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, but I -” You held out your hand, uncurling your fingers. “I think I found it.” 

 “I… you…” He shook his head, blowing a breath through his lips. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but it took so long, I couldn’t…” Took so long? I was only in there for … But even in the low light, you could see the shadow at his jaw. His beard is … that means… “Yeah. It’s been about twelve hours, you …” 

 “What?!” Shocked, you shook your head. “No way, I -” But Luke had never lied to you, and you knew that he wouldn’t have fallen asleep unless what he was saying was true. “I didn’t mean to take so long, I … I saw my -”

 “No.” He shook his head quickly, eyes on your outstretched hand. “What you saw? What you said? That’s yours. I don’t need to know about it. The only thing that matters is that  you …” He leaned closer, smiling. “You found the heart of your lightsaber.” Luke glanced up at you, his sandy hair falling over one eyebrow. “Let’s get back, if you can manage on the speeder, otherwise we’ll camp here today. Then you can begin building.” 

 “I’m good. We should get back, I wonder if Grogu’s….” You winced at the thought that he might have found an empty bed the previous night, wondering what he’d think - where he would think you were - and gestured past Luke. “Plus it’s got to be light out, if it’s been so long, so that will keep me awake. We should get back.” You closed your eyes. “Maybe the Mandalorian returned your message while we were gone. And if that’s the case then -”

 “Then we need to hurry.” Luke smiled at you, giving you a single nod of his head. “I agree with you.” He didn’t say anything else; instead the man turned away from you and began heading back the way you’d come from the previous night, quickly disappearing into the darkness. 

---

Tag list is OPEN. Please feel free to ask to be added!

Magnetic/Din Djarin Tag List:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @pheedraws @alraedesigns @malionnes @deceiverofgodss @thisisparadisemylove @siegfriedkingsglaive @valkblue @hehe-oof @jynrumbly​