#soft!baze

[absolutefilthimsosorry]

Spoilers for DnP Incohearent!!!!

I’m having so much fun trying to solve these that I made a list to keep track! Message if you can help me fill in any I’m missing or if I’ve got any wrong!!!

Also lmk if you see any I’ve missed!! I’m going to keep updating this and have it unrebloggable but you can reblog this post to have a link to it!

These are all gathered from this post and this post so check the notes on those first to try to solve them then look here if you need answers!

Sow march cheer ray = so much cherry

Wee nay urn for uke oye yer tub = we’ve never fucked on youtube?

Ta fold in fig = the golden pig

Feed hay hid eho = vday video

Tat he won ape hit morse him he = daddy want a bit more simmy

Watt ken ice hay = what can I say

North key bus teabag king = naughty busty baking

Fool tie enter nit hobo / fall tie mint her nepo moe / fault aye mint earn are ohm owe/ foul thyme inch hermit hole mold = full time internet homo

Cumin mile aid deed or = come in my ladydoor

Hum hay zinc tan = amazingdan

Elven ower fug sedge own = eleven hour fuck session

An berry moth ribeye adam stir = and every month we buy a hamster

March rest array = Manchester eye

Cyst herding yell = sister daniel

Add a ding teps = editing tips

Cop dubai khaki luna = topped by kakuna

Late eat tore = ladydoor

Half tugger etch two eggs cyst = have the courage to exist

Perish she end wink = Parisian twink

Coal ten big/ goal then pick = golden pig

Cyst ordain yell = sister daniel

Train youth inks = try new things

Gay mean moss/ gain ink mass = gamingmas

Soften need = soft and neat

A wools lied = owl slide

Topper bought them hill = top or bottom Phil

Coat fit firenze = golf with friends???

Few ours pig meow fits = viewers pick my outfits

Read less tar = red lester

Eye eight soup igloo = I ate super glue

Insight youth era too walls = inside you there are two wolves

Mine amy stan = my name is Dan

Clap hella = glabella

Hiss teeth rent = hits different

Eel eyes apron kay kiss = Eliza pancakes

See pram haze ink bra jet = super amazing project

Feels lie yawn = phils lion

Fuel ease snot dawn fair = Phil is not on fire

Jaw shush ear son = josh hutcherson

Ball bull him tour food = bauble in your foot?

Sure eck = shrek

High ate dust = hiatus

Add a dink deps = editing tips

Ga hay shoom air age = gay shoe marriage

Pope eat plate aim = poppy playtime

Eat aches stu = it takes two

Goo gal few ed = google feud

Baze ick lee eye meg ay = basically I’m gay

Ko min yout ti ew = coming out to you

Ender knit subvert grew oop = internet support group

Phylis turn yar a sheen yes = PHIL LESTER YOU’RE A GENIUS

With Audi intern yet wean ed brr wood halve mat = without the internet we never would have met

Gum ban yins drool I’ve = companions through life

Reed sons wide answer flail = reasons why dans a fail

Ewan dam ah some are reed = you and Dan are so married

Denver sis fill/ Denver cis full = Dan vs Phil

Or lawn huffing = all or nothing

Dunk rye core raft = don’t cry craft

Mortal jester roam and thick/ Morph adjust row antic = more than just romantic

So wall how debris poll light = swallow to be polite???

Oar hinge art = orange heart

Foray virgo em = forever home

Chai reel loop/ share real oob = cherry lube

Cad boyd anne = cat boy dan

Far turf ill lip = father philip

Tess lit hen ink = the slittening

Forth house indie rolled or touches = four thousand year old tortoises

Hey moth swish roundup floating = a month without uploading

Jam march let pet tea an farms = Je mange les petit enfants

Day lion howl tour = Dalien Howlter

Ima let all kit = I’m a little kit

Feel pearl lays shell ter = Phil plays shelter

Fewer blue key app ending = viewer spooky happenings

Hell low iam tour reel = hello I am Toriel

Laugh tuh gey mile kuh = left to get milk

Villas eek wreck why vuh = Phil’s secret wife

Footy strain gin said dent = ___ strange incident????

Snow core play sum = snokoplasm

Nope puts cereal sleeping mage innit = no but seriously imagine it

Tear rip pulling flu hence = terrible influence

Jeff why eye aisle hike vague liner = fyi I like vagina

Eggs intense all cry cis = existential crisis

List of contributors

@fletthewreck @dandp @deadandphilgames @manchesterau @thephouseplants @awrfhi @jonsaremembers @rachosaurusrex @dapgolf @dan-whoell @dnphobe @dreamingalto @steveandscraggy @phanbeats @danandfuckingjonlmao @pepper-pastry @yonpote @un-interactive-introvert @spaniel-trowel @sisterdanieldyke @queerdnp @morganadelacour @amid-fandoms @spectral-kitkat @goingpheral @angelzonearth @wdapteo @2009phan @dansevilpianotea

[triplexdoublex]

Good Enough To Eat

Pairing: Colson, Rook, Slim, Baze, Modsun, Travis Barker X Reader

Warnings/Tags: Gangbang, implied consent, all holes filled, Sacrelige, mentions of a foot fetish

a/n: This was much harder to write than I anticipated -- 6 dicks, 6 tongues, 12 hands (and dont even make me do the math on fingers) is a lot to keep track of , especially when they’re all on/in one body at once. Reader is written as not really being familiar with who they all out so you’ll see then more often referred to by description or known references to help you figure out who’s who. Names are only really mentioned when another character is saying them. Also please note Justin and Sophie weren’t around when I started this fic over a year ago , so that’s why they’re not included . Enjoy!

“…Happy birthday, Dear Rookie, happy birthday to you!” Six male voices clamor in celebration, as you lay on the table before them ; your nude body a flesh platter, serving up the freshest array of strategically placed sashimi and rolled sushi.

“Damn, that looks good enough to eat!” The shaggy blonde announces; his words dripping with inuendo.

“KELLS!” The man to his left warns.

“Oh, for Fucks sake Slim you know you were thinking it too.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t say it, cuz I’m polite like that.” Slim responds suppressing a laugh.

It’s not the first time you had a customer say something like that; and in your line of work, it certainly won’t be the last. This time it felt a bit different though— Usually it’s a group of middle aged business men with grey hair and overpriced suits making lewd remarks and trying to get handsy in lieu of using their chopsticks as they feasted off your body, but this time the suggestive nature of the gorgeous, young, heavily tattooed men’s words have you imagining them feasting on your body in other ways.

“Yo, Rook! Listen man I don’t give a shit if it’s your birthday, you ain’t sitting at the end of the table near her feet— g’ the fuck outta my seat!”

“All yours, Kells,” Rook laughs with an eyeroll getting up to switch seats with the tall blonde, knowing his friend's affinity for a pedicured pair.

“Perfect,” he smirks, taking his new seat as he admires your toes.

********

“Aye, yo if none a y’all are gonna be brave enough to go for the last piece above her pussy—I’m calling dibs,” the blonde announces rising from seat, his lanky body towering over you before bending at the waist. He firmly plants his hands on the table; one on each side of your hips and dips his head. “It seems I’ve forgot my chopsticks,” he states, looking up at you through his pale blonde lashes. “and it’s rude to eat with your hands,” he dips his head lower, his mouth just centimeters away from where you were picturing it earlier.

Using his tongue as a scoop, he lifts a small chunk of raw Salmon into his mouth; the decorative leaf placed under it for hygienic purposes is the only barrier between his tongue and where you want it most. He barely has to chew the soft raw fish — it’s so fresh—before swallowing it down.

“Best bite yet,” he licks his lips seductively. “Say, sweet girl— you wouldn’t happen to have any dessert for us tonight, would you? He glides a finger along the seam of where your two bare thighs meet.

His crew and friends shift awkwardly in their seats, beginning to worry the self-proclaimed ‘wild boy’ is taking things too far when,suddenly they take notice of how the blondes touch has your legs spreading easier than butter on warm toast.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing these anymore,” he smirks before removing the three strategically placed leaves and last of your modesty.

He takes your breasts in his hands, groping them as his mouth descends a trail of open mouth kisses down your naked torso. His friends watch in awe as Kells hands and mouth travel lower, his blonde head settling between your thighs. He licks one long languid stripe up your soaked slit before pausing.

“Silly me, where are my manners?” He wipes at his mouth . “Birthday boy always gets the first piece of cake.” He motions to Rook with a smirk.

Rook stands, his pants already tented as he makes his way over to between your thighs. He plucks an elastic from his wrist and quickly secures his braids back— and fuck, he’s even more gorgeous now without the braids obstructing the view of his ever changing hazel/green eyes and sexy dimples. He wraps his arms around your legs and grips your thighs with calloused hands swiftly pulling you to the edge of the table. You let out a surprised squeak at his actions, causing him to smirk as he places a series of kisses descending down your inner thighs before pausing to marvel at your wetness. Using his middle and ring finger he gathers your arousal and brings it to his lips, sucking the sweet elixir from his fingertips. He hums to himself enjoying the way you taste before diving in fully; those same two fingers plunging into you, and his mouth engulfing your clit. It feels like heaven as he slurps and sucks at it and you can tell he’s a man with a lot of experience under his belt — typical rockstar. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the gang shows off their experience as well, swarming your naked body like ants at a picnic.

A expedition of hungry hands roam over the swell of your breasts and descend down your body to the valley between your thighs. In a state of arousal you allow them to use you as they want; touch, grab, taste and take turns with you as they please— everything a blur of euphoria.

Last you knew the birthday boy was working his magic between your thighs, your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure , but now as they briefly flicker open a vision of the Virgin Mary begins to come into focus and for a moment you think perhaps you died and went to heaven—- it certainly feels that way. It’s not until your eyes fully focus you realize the image is inked upon the bald head of the man devouring you now. The absolute irony of the religious imagery being present during such an unholy act just turns you on even more— just another layer of taboo. The next thing you know it’s as if Jesus himself is hovering over you, long light brown hair dusting across your bare breasts as his cock moves insides you. Your words seem to match your thoughts and you cry out “Jesus Christ!” in a fit of pleasure as the long-haired man repeatedly slams into your G-spot.

“Someone give her something to shut her mouth up” the biblical-looking figure orders.

In an instant you felt a slippery tongue push in past your lips, the sweet taste of Shirley Temples still lingering on the green haired man’s taste buds. For a brief moment as his tongue fights against your own you find yourself wondering about his story— about how long he’s been sober. You noticed he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol all night despite it being paraded in front of him, the boys downing shot after shot. Your thoughts are interrupted by the man still inside of you.

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, Mod” he jokes “Slim, show him how it’s done!”

The salty flesh of a hard cock quickly replaces the sweet tongue that occupied your mouth. Standing above you he reaches down pinching both your nipples between his thumb and forefingers, giving them a series of tugs as he forces his cock down your throat. You notice his hands are much softer and less calloused than the other hands that are roaming and fondling your body, and you figure he must play a much more delicate instrument than the others, which is ironic given he’s being anything but with you.

It’s not long before there’s so much going on and you're completely drunk off pleasure that you can no longer even keep track of who’s mouth, who’s hands, who’s fingers and who’s cock, is where. All you know is you’ve came at least three times, you’ve been folded into every position possible , and every orifice is deliciously sore and well used. But your ass might just be the sorest of all, having been the blonde ring leader's favorite most of the evening; his huge cock stretching it and filling it so well. You wonder how much more your body can take and how much longer the men can possibly last, but truth be told, this is by far the best night you’ve ever had on the job and you never want it to end .

[incognitajones]

@glorious-spoon tagged me to share something I'm working on!

The WIP I just started is way too rough, so here's a bit that may or may not end up in the "Baze returns to Jedha" story:

There was more than one, of course. Baze could hear the scuffle of feet in soft leather gathering around him, hear the overlapping susurrus of different breathing patterns, sense the movement of air currents blocked by more than one body leaning over him.

“Now then,” someone whispered. The accent was familiar, but although Baze strained his memory he couldn’t call to mind a specific face. “Let’s see who they sent to ferret us out.”

“You think any of those idiots could find this door?” Baze mumbled against the pavement.

The grip on his arms tightened.

A slow step forward, matched with the tapping of a staff, confident in the lightless space. 

“Baze Malbus.” This voice was intimately familiar, as familiar to Baze as the speaker’s lips. “After so many years. Why are you here? And why are there troopers chasing you?”

No-pressure tagging: @rain-sleet-snow @unstable-reality @luciechat and @woahpip!

[quarantineddreamer]

As a Shadow | Chapter 2 - (Not) alone

Here goes nothing ahhhh -Chapter 2! (Click title for AO3, or read below)

Chirrut is in a wheelchair that Baze pushes and leans on in equal terms. Both have cuts and bruises littered across their bodies and Jyn can tell they are in no small amount of pain, but they still give gentle smiles when they arrive at Cassian’s bedside.

Even though she doesn’t need to, Jyn gets up from her chair so that Baze can use it. As he collapses into his seat their arms brush, but it is clear he does not register her touch–and just another thing she cannot feel.

Cassian’s injured back will not allow him to roll onto his side, but Jyn can tell he’s desperate to turn away from their friends from the moment they arrive. He does everything he can to avoid their eyes, his mask back in place, an extra sullen quality added to it.

“She saved your life, you know,” Baze says quietly.

Cassian’s lips press into a fine line. He’s glaring daggers at the ceiling and it’s clear he doesn’t want to hear any of this.  

“You think you’re unhappy to be here? Try being invisible to everyone,” Jyn grumbles.

Baze gives a heavy sigh. “Melshi said you might be like this.”

“She shouldn’t have done it,” Cassian replies by way of explanation.

Jyn wants to shake him. “Stop that. What I did was not a mistake. I was the reason you were there in the first place– you really thought I’d let you die because of me? Is that the kind of person you think I am?”  

Chirrut makes a disappointed, humming sound. “I don’t think she would agree with that.”

“Thank you!”

Cassian gives a bitter laugh. “Of course not, she never agreed with anything I said.”

“You liked that about her,” Baze comments.

“I did,” Cassian admits quietly and for a moment there is silence between them. “She had a way of getting under your skin, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Baze agrees.

“She should be here,” Cassian says, soft and fierce, with eyes that Jyn fears are close to shedding tears.    

“She is one with the Force, and the Force is with all of us, so she is here,” Chirrut says matter of factly.

“Sure. Something like that,” Jyn mutters. And it’s not that he’s wrong, but she does wonder what Chirrut would think of her current situation, if he would be so keen to trust in the mysteries of the Force if he knew the kind of anguish it was putting her through.

She tries to read Cassian’s face, to determine if he is finding any comfort in the monk’s word, and though his expression remains impassive, she senses that he is about as satisfied with the notion as she is.

Chirrut tries a new approach, “Baze tells me they emptied your pockets before bringing you into surgery and that they found something of hers?”

Cassian tenses and Jyn gets the feeling he’d by flying out of bed right now if his body would only let him. “Scarif… she shoved something into my pocket on the beach. Where is it? Where’d they put it?” he asks, uncharacteristically frantic.

“Don’t worry,” Baze grunts as he reaches for the drawer of the table at Cassian’s bedside. His hand emerges holding a worn cord, a familiar translucent stone dangling from the end of it. “I made sure they put it in a safe place.”

Baze places the kyber in Cassian’s outstretched palm and something in Jyn seems to anchor there alongside it. My necklace…

He stares at it for a moment, runs gentle fingers over its edges with a tenderness that seems to echo on Jyn’s cheek. When he ties the cord around his neck, the kyber falls into place against his chest.

And Jyn’s body begins to pulse with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, as though it were her own.

For the next several days, Cassian mostly sleeps, still heavily medicated and his body still very much in need of the extra rest.

Jyn, on the other hand, quickly learns that the phrase ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead’ is a fallacy. The first few times the lights of the infirmary dim, she goes through the motions of settling in a comfortable position, shutting her eyes, but she can’t even bring herself to pretend she’s tired. Her supply of energy is seemingly endless.

She spends the quiet, lonely hours trying to figure out why she is here; even–for one brief, self-conscious moment–tries talking to the Force, ‘So, uh, my mother said you called?’ But it’s useless. If there’s a message to be found it’s an incredibly cryptic one, either that, or the Force is answering much too quietly.

Occasionally she gets up and wanders, never straying farther than the corners of the room, always gravitating back to Cassian’s side. Normally, she would grow bored of this inside of an hour, but death seems to have granted her more patience, and there are plenty of things to occupy her thoughts, to distract her.

The Captain has a steady stream of visitors that she is eager to see. Bodhi, Melshi, Baze and Chirrut cycle through regularly to check on him. Even Mon Mothma and Draven come to speak with him and provide him with updates on the rebellion’s activities since Scarif.

Jyn is thrilled to hear the Death Star plans made it off Scarif, distraught to learn that they go missing when a Princess Leia is captured. Her heart breaks anew when the news of Alderaan reaches the medical wing–she and Cassian spend the day in still and quiet, and she can’t help but ponder the futility of their mission on Scarif. Had their sacrifice been for nothing after all?

But there is overwhelming relief when the plans find their way back to the Rebellion courtesy of the Alliance’s newest recruits, Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. The day they hear about the attack planned on the Death Star, Cassian fights with the medical staff and all of his friends, cursing in frustration and insisting that he is well enough to fly a ship. ‘It’s not like I need to walk –just wheel me onto Rogue One!’ (Nevermind that he’s still recovering the strength to sit upright unsupported for more than a few minutes at a time.)

It’s a bittersweet sight to witness. Bitter, because he is upset about being bedridden and unable to finish what they started on Scarif. Sweet, because Jyn takes his fierce arguing as an encouraging sign.

It’s the liveliest he’s been in weeks.

He’s not eating much. Whether from all the meds they have him on or because he’s depressed Jyn isn’t sure. There’s a good chance it’s both. He picks at his food with little interest, consuming just enough for the infirmary staff to leave him alone. When Bodhi comes by, it’s mostly Bodhi who does the talking, and it’s the same with the others–though maybe he offers Melshi a few more words than the rest.

Sometimes they try to talk about her. Cassian always shuts it down, finds an excuse, steers the conversation towards anything else–even the loss of Kay is a more tolerable topic . Maybe it would lead anyone else to think he doesn’t care that she’s gone. But she knows better. He avoids any mention of her because he cares too much, and he blames himself.

Alone, he spends time staring at the kyber crystal. There’s a desperation to his gaze that she grows to resent. She wants to tell him to let go; she’s not worth all this pain–he shouldn’t feel responsible, it was her choice what she did, and she’d do it again…

And sometimes she does tell him .

But he never hears.

No matter how badly she wants to, she can’t help him now.

Members of the med-core team begin introducing physical therapy exercises to him as soon as possible, hoping for him to regain more of his mobility with time and practice. This, Cassian seems to pour every ounce of his energy into.

She sees the fire in his eyes as he pushes himself to his limits–and then some.

She doesn’t like this either. It worries her. He’s not doing it out of some eagerness to get better, he is punishing himself–she knows it. And if he is cleared to go back in the field, it won’t be the end of it, only the beginning.

Cassian will turn his guilt into a life-long sentence of pain.

What he doesn’t realize, can’t realize, is that she will suffer the same, serving right beside him in misery.  

During the evacuation of Yavin 4, Cassian is amongst the first rebels to leave–along with the others under medical care.

He is wheeled out of the infirmary and onto a waiting ship, and Jyn follows, her body alight with the new energy she finds herself a part of.

Compared to the sleepy calm of the room Cassian has been residing in, it feels like she has made the jump into hyperspace. So many people, and the open space all around them, and the breeze drifting into the hangar from across the jungle. So much life. She tracks Cassian’s movements more automatically than anything else, because she can barely focus, her attention pulled in a thousand different directions at once.

The feeling diminishes once they board the ship and are contained within its walls, only to transform again when they break atmo and enter the cold expanse of the galaxy.

There, she feels like she is living up to the affectionate name her father once bestowed upon her.

She is stardust, swirling, brilliant, multitudes.

On Hoth, Cassian finally gets permission to leave the full-time care of the med-core team and retire to his own room. He’s still tied to base, performing desk duties until he is cleared for action, but Jyn can tell it is a relief for him to know he will be able to have some solitude–there are days she has caught him pretending to be asleep so that no one will approach him.

Melshi has been holding onto his friend’s few belongings and brings them to Cassian. An entire room’s worth of personal effects are packed neatly into a small duffle. It’s a sight Jyn understands well. Her life had always been one easily moved from place to place. The bag is probably full of clothes, maybe a blaster or two. But she wonders if—hidden amongst the folds of the bag–there might also be a token of the past that he keeps with him, as she once did her mother’s necklace.

She never did get to see Cassian’s room on Yavin 4–if he even had one of his own–and so she finds herself curious to see the type of quarters the man keeps. She pictures something spotless with neatly folded clothes, but her imagination doesn’t stretch much further than that, perhaps because she can’t see Cassian settling in one place for too long any more than she could imagine herself doing so.

They enter the room and he throws his bag onto the floor of the small, poorly lit space as the door hisses shut behind them. Against one wall is a narrow bed, against another there is a simple desk. Cassian stands in the middle, expression as inscrutable as ever.

“It’s not so bad,” Jyn says, leaning her hip against the desk. At least, she’s certainly seen worse. “But you have to promise you won’t spend all your time in the dark moping or I’m going to tell med-core they let you go too soon.” An empty threat, of course, but it feels good to say anyways.

Cassian gingerly sits on the bed–she’s noticed his back still has trouble with movements like that–and sighs heavily, his breath fogging the air in front of him in a way that fascinates her, a startling symbol of just how alive he is .

Fingers tangle in hair that has grown longer during his time in med-core care, as he places his head in his hands, hiding his face from view.

“Is this you moping?” Jyn asks teasingly, the same way she would if he could hear her. “Isn’t that exactly what I just said not to do?”

When a moment later he still hasn’t moved, she lets out a sigh of her own–a habit she cannot seem to let go of despite it being entirely unproductive in her current state. “Cass, why don’t you go for a walk or something? Throw a snowball at Melshi or Bodhi for me.”

In the silence of the empty room his jagged breaths echo against the frigid walls. His shoulders start to tremble.

She realizes it is the first time since the news of her death that he hasn’t been under the concerned stare of a friend or medical staff. And because it’s Cassian, it means he’s waited all this time to grant himself permission to feel.

Even now she can sense he does it reluctantly, fights it, like somehow he doesn’t deserve a moment to be vulnerable, to be human.

He looks so lost…so alone, and Jyn thinks she’s never wanted anything more in the world than to be able to tell him he’s not.

She takes a tentative step closer to him. But it’s not enough to simply be close, and she knows it’s never going to be. Not when what she truly wants is to be with him.

Aware of the impossibility of this desire, she settles for lowering herself to the bed to sit beside him. “I’m sorry, Cassian… I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.” She didn’t think she could hurt anyone like this.

She tries to imagine herself in his position. The guilt she would feel would choke her. And she would miss him. Force, she would miss him–it’s a shock to realize just how much.  

There was no logical explanation for it, but from the moment Cassian Andor had walked into her life she’d felt pulled to him, felt seen by him. (The bitter irony of that notion is not lost on her now). He’d understood her like no one else ever had, and she him. Sometimes that knowing was a pain, like when they’d clashed on Eadu. But there had also been a sense it could become something wonderful if there had been the time. There had been the briefest of glimpses of it, in the elevator on Scarif, a question in his eyes that she’d never gotten the chance to answer before…

It had all been stolen from them. All the endless possibilities that might have been, snuffed out before they could even truly begin to unfold. She supposes she should just be grateful for the time they did have; for the incredible fortune they had in getting to know each other at all, no matter how briefly.

Jyn tentatively moves to rest her head on Cassian’s shoulder, gradually settling her weight against him. His hair tickles her cheek. He smells good, like he has been sitting somewhere green and sunlit, and he is warm, and…

Realization dawns, sharp and sudden–a spark catching on kindling.

He is warm.

Her body thrums with the dizzy rhythm of a racing heart as she slowly reaches up to lightly run one of her fingers along the side of his face, a heady sensation rushing through her–the heart stuttering.

His beard is scratchy. She knows it is.

I can feel him!

Cassian springs to his feet–moving with a speed she has not seen from him since before his injuries on Scarif–and turns to look back at the bed.

“Cassian?” Jyn asks hopefully, fighting to temper her foolish desire to pull him back–though admittedly she’s not even sure she could if she tried.

He’s staring at the bed intently, not fearfully, and she wants to take that as a good sign, but he won’t meet her eyes.

“Still can’t see me, can you?”

He shakes his head roughly and lets loose a long, somewhat unsteady breath. This time the mist that curls from his mouth is not something to wonder at. It is a slap to the face, a stark reminder of the divide between her world and his.

She watches as he begins to unpack his few belongings.

She’s fed up with watching.

For one brief, incredible moment she had done more, been more, and now all she feels is the bitter ache of disappointment threatening to overwhelm her.

She tries her best to fight it, to hold onto the memory of his touch against her skin, to hold onto the way he had looked at her on Scarif even as the world crumbled around them…

[kimageddon]

Sins of the Father 4:4

-|- Page header by space-b33 -|- Masterlist -|- Prince of Dathomir Masterlist -|- Sins of the Father Masterlist -|- Art Masterlist -|- Check out my : Ko-fi / AO3 -|- Commissions Open -|- My Patreon -|- My Linktree -|- Join/Leave my tag list -|-

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Modern/Crime AU

Word count: Approx 5000

Contains/Warnings: Blood, injuries, wounds, NSFW at the end - full chapter available on AO3

Chapter Summary: Maul visits his father and then… doesn't know where else to go.

Notes: See the end of the chapter for notes!

Bad Father, Good Son

He was suspicious immediately. Not only had he been able to enter the gates of the mansion, but only one of the security guards had tried to stop him, only to give up halfway through the sentence. That could only mean one thing.

His father knew he was here.

He had wanted to head right away once Zaiya had accused him, but he’d had to do a little digging of his own first, quietly asking questions and receiving answers on his own, without involving his brothers, and especially not Vizsla. This was something he couldn’t share. It had taken several days to gather all the intel… and a further day to gather the spine enough to come back to this wretched place.

He had lived in this house for much of his life, though many of the rooms he still had not seen. Maul had been pushed away from the main rooms, hidden from guests, forbidden to come out when others were present. So there were still places he found himself lost in.

It was luxurious; antiques and ridiculous items decorated the walls and floors. It was made to look like a family-owned mansion, as though he and his Father had lived there for years, along with the ancestors of his family.

Another lie to add to an already numerous pile.

How much of his life was even true? He had almost been driven mad with all the things he’d been supposed to remember. All the falsehoods and half-truths. For so long, he had thought he had escaped it. He lived with his brothers for years, walking his own path.

Or so he thought.

Perhaps that was the biggest lie of all. He’d had nightmares like this, dreaming he was free and clear, only to realise he wasn’t free at all and he felt the claws of his Father’s control on his back. Thinking that he had escaped when in reality his hands and feet were still bound to strings that his Father pulled and manipulated like a master puppeteer. Usually he would wake with a start in a cold sweat. This time he was not waking up.

The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he did not exist.

He’d heard that somewhere. He didn’t remember where, but God damn it if it didn’t fit the man that lived in this ostentatious but ultimately hollow house.

As much as the house was a maze and he didn’t know all the rooms, he definitely remembered the way to the study. He’d walked this path a thousand times. Usually with a sense of dread only a child can feel. On his way to be punished for whatever slight the old man had decided Maul was guilty of.

This time, rage overwhelmed the sense of dread and fear. He refused to be afraid of this man any longer. The door to the study was closed and Maul didn’t even knock. With a rough jerk of the handle and a shove, the door opened with a loud bang. The crimson Zabrak strode into the office, his golden eyes bazing, as though if he glared hard enough, the old man might just catch fire.

“What a surprise this is,” the soft but clear voice spoke and Maul’s blood ran cold. That voice. How long had it been since he’d heard it? It still prickled the back of his neck. Made his breath catch in his chest. Maul forced himself to swallow his apprehension. He turned to face the man. “I had wondered when you might come to see me, son,” he said with one of those vindictive smiles Maul remembered so well.

Sheev Palpatine sat in a high wingback chair behind a large mahogany desk. He wore a charcoal grey sweater, a glass of some amber liquid sat on his desk next to a few papers and a tablet in his wrinkled. Clearly he was relaxing for the evening, but for some reason he had allowed Maul to enter.

“Are you spying on me?” Maul growled. Palpatine stared him down, those watery blue eyes impassive, maybe slightly amused.

“And why would I do that?” the old man asked, calmly.

“I have never understood why you do half the things you have done,” Maul replied with a barely concealed snarl.

“Therein lies the problem, my son. You do not think, you do not understand.” Maul’s lip curled as his Father’s gaze grew cold.

In truth Maul did understand. His father did this for power. For control. For cruelty, and for fun. He seemed to enjoy seeing Maul suffer. That part Maul didn’t understand. Why did he seem to enjoy tormenting him so? Just another power grab? Why did he seem to hate his own son?

“All I need to understand is you’ve been having people follow me — and this?!” he withdrew a small yellow envelope from within his jacket, still full of cash and flung it, flicking his wrist and the package slapped onto the desk, ruffling the papers for a second. It was only after about three seconds did his eyes finally flick downward to the envelope.

“What about it?”

“You pass this to my people, to give to me — why?!” His teeth grit and he glared down at the old man. A slow and sinister smile began to creep across his wrinkled face.

“Do you really think I would abandon you?” he chuckled, as though it were obvious. The bottom of Maul’s stomach dropped out and he felt sick. It was as though he could feel a layer of dirt on his skin and he wanted nothing more than to tear it from his bones. The look on Palpatine’s face was a mixture of smug and sardonic.

Abandon him?

Maul remembered the frightened little child he once was, the way he cowered and hid from his Father’s punishments at first. Then the way he had shut himself down. The way he made himself stop feeling. He had hardened his heart to it. He had used the pain to make him stronger. Better.

Yet no matter what he did, how he filled his father’s requests to the letter… It was never enough. Nothing was ever good enough. Maul realised with a wrenching feeling in his gut, that his nightmare had indeed come true.

Palpatine had far more than kept tabs on him. If Zaiya could find the trail, then it was likely others could too. If his people found out, there’d be mutiny. If there was some crime committed… Was Maul the patsy? Is that all he had ever been? Palpatine couldn’t afford Maul to start talking, so this was what, insurance.

How stupid could he be?! He knew this man better than anyone and for five ignorant years he thought he was living his own life for once. But it was a lie.

He wasn’t free. He never would be.

“So if anyone ever comes for you, you have a scapegoat to throw at their feet, is that it?” Maul asked in a dark tone. Palpatine just smiled, his arms shifting to lay in his lap as he sat back in his seat.

“Now, now, would I do that to my first born son?” he laughed softly. Maul’s rage swelled in his chest.

“You call me that after what you’ve done?!” he spat, bitterly. “You think I will take anything more from you?!”

“Well, I daresay your own little club might begin to wonder why your profit margins so drastically changed,” Palpatine said calmly. “I would hate for them to… well, misunderstand.” So that was it. His father was trying to ensure Maul didn’t act out against him.

Suddenly the door opened and two large burly fellows in black suits stood in the doorway, another two close behind.

“Escort him out,” Palpatine said tersely. Maul cursed under his breath, his father must have called them when he shifted in his chair. Large hands gripped his shoulders as he attempted to shove them off, telling them he could walk. He did not miss the call from over his shoulder as he left however.

“It was good to see you, son! I shall hope you visit again very soon.”

══════════════════

Knock knock.

Zaiya’s eyes slowly creaked open. What time was it? She groaned softly as she rolled over. 6 AM? No wonder she was so tired. She definitely needed to—

Knock knock.

So she hadn’t imagined it. Dragging herself from her bed, luckily she’d not been working late the night before. In truth, since her last encounter, after Gunray, Grievous, then of course Maul, she’d kept her head down, not wanting to encounter anyone while she quietly collated the information.

If she saw that crimson-skinned bastard again, she thought grimly, it would be too soon. She sighed to herself and glimpse through the peephole. And froze.

“…the fuck?” she hissed under her breath, and without thinking, opened the door. Her mouth opened to spit venom at her visitor when again she was shocked into silence.

It was Maul.

More than that, he stood in the doorway, eyes averted and seeming unfocused. His shirt was torn, his jacket gone, knuckles and face covered in blood and swollen. His shoes were scuffed and he was dirty all over.

“I—I didn’t… I didn’t know where else to go…” he said hoarsely. Zaiya stared at him.

She should tell him no. She should tell him to leave. Tell him she didn’t want to see him. That whatever this was, wasn’t her problem.

She opened the door wider and stepped back to allow entrance.

Damn it. What was she doing?!

He entered and without a word, she cleared a space for him on the little two seater couch in the living room section. He sort of slumped in the chair, looking exhausted, and didn’t move again until she returned with a cup of tea. She handed him the cup, and he took a sip immediately, wincing slightly, and she saw the cut on his lip.

“What happened?” she asked softly, sitting beside him, she laid the little first aid kit on the table, opening it carefully. There was a long silence as he placed his cup down beside it.

“I went to see my father.”

Zaiya felt her stomach tighten and she resisted the urge to say something spiteful. She would let him talk. She reached out to take his hand, and he offered no resistance.

“I looked into what you said,” Maul continued, he looked like he was in pain from far more than his injuries. She began to tend to the cuts on his knuckles carefully. He didn’t seem to need stitches for any of these, thankfully. Not that she cared of course.

“You were right, he was having me followed. For all these years I thought I’d finally escaped him and— it was just a joke to him.” He heaved out a breath and Zaiya’s gaze flicked up to his face. He really looked like hell. From the look of it, he definitely needed a shower, but she didn’t want to interrupt him. So she decided to just ensure his wounds weren’t infected at least.

“He admitted it… like he was concerned about me—!” Maul spat, looking disgusted. Even Zaiya made a face. “All these years, I thought I was finally free of him. I thought he was out of my life… I was in the same city, yes, but I was living my own life— far from everything he represented.” Maul looked away, “I was wrong,” he said sourly. “After he gave his little taunt, he had his people escort me out.”

“I take it they were less than hospitable,” Zaiya said softly, gesturing to the state of him. Maul grimaced.

“They were not.” He paused and let out a deep sigh and glanced up at her. “I should go… after the last time I… I behaved disgustingly.”

“Yes you did,” she said flatly. “Yet you came here anyway.” She tilted her head slightly, “why?”

“I… don’t know,” he admitted, that strained look still on his face. “I managed to fight those fools back enough to get to my bike and I just drove… next thing I know… I was here.”

Zaiya searched his face. He looked genuine… and miserable. She lowered her gaze to his hands again, wondering why she wasn’t telling him to leave.

“You need a shower,” she said finally, “come on.” She moved to stand, gently taking his hands in both of hers. He stood easily but looked a little confused.

“You should be telling me to go.”

“Yes I should,” she admitted.

“I probably wouldn’t do the same for you,” he admitted with a grim expression.

“I doubt that you would,” she confirmed.

“Then… why?” he asked, bewildered. Zaiya took a deep breath, and looked down at his bloody hands.

“Most children only have monsters in their nightmares, and when they wake, all is well. People like you and I… the dreams are far more pleasant than reality,” she said quietly. “Even the bad ones.” There was a silence that passed between them. After a moment his hand squeezed hers. She glanced up, seeing understanding in his golden eyes.

There were no words for a while, and she led him to the bathroom where he could shower and get cleaned up, she would have to tend to his wounds when he had washed the dirt from them. While he was in there, she went to her closet and retrieved a set of men’s clothes, folded up in the back as well as a spare towel. She knocked on the door softly, opening it to bring them to him, and stopped as she saw him. He was stripped to the waist, and while he was indeed impressive to look at, her gaze softened to see the bruises starting to form on his ribs.

“I’ve got something to help with that when you’re done,” she told him quietly. He looked at the pile of fabric with a questioning expression.

“You have men’s clothes?” he asked.

“They’re my boyfriend’s,” she replied in a deadpan manner. She expected a roll of his eyes or some smart comment. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden stricken expression that passed over his face for a brief moment.

“I see,” he said, his voice becoming hard. Zaiya blinked in surprise.

“I’m kidding,” she clarified with a slight frown. “I have them in case I need to disguise myself, or my work associates need to lay low.”

“Work associates…?” he frowned again.

“The… the guy. The one Saxon saw me with. He’s helping me, and my mentor told me to always be prepared,” she shrugged, her gaze trailing away. “It’s not like I have time for a social life these days anyway.” She caught herself and shook her head. “So, get yourself cleaned up and we can get those wounds dressed. You need to avoid infection.” She suddenly felt a little flustered under his intense gaze and pushed the clothes and towel into his hands, retreating from the bathroom again.

It was another fifteen or so minutes before he returned, giving her time to tidy up her files and make some toast. He’d probably be hungry after being awake all night. The door opened slowly, and it was strange to see Maul in a t-shirt and sweatpants, but he had to be more comfortable in this than his ruined suit. She offered him a place of freshly made toast, but took it back when he reached out with his hand.

“Hang on…” she said, and gestured for him to follow, taking her place on the couch again, putting the plates on the coffee table. Maul sat beside her again, and now that he was clean, she began to disinfect and cover his wounds. His eyes watched her as intensely as he had the first time.

“Why are you investigating my father?” he asked finally. “Who hired you?”

She’d known this was coming.

“My client wishes to remain anonymous,” she began, “but what I can tell you, even though I shouldn’t… is that I am here to expose him. To unearth every dirty secret and bring the dossier to someone that can do something about it.”

���You think there is someone that can do something about it?” Maul scoffed. “If you have been investigating him for as long as you have been here, you know how powerful he is…!”

“I do, which is why I have been working with people that can hopefully point me in the right direction.” She looked up at him again for a moment. “I have some allies, and we have a lot of dirt, but we need more. So far, he’s pinned quite a lot on you.”

“You don’t think I did it? That I am not working for him?”

“I did… but I don’t think that anymore,” she admitted.

“What changed your mind?” he asked cautiously. Zaiya finished with one hand and took up the other, looking into his eyes as she spoke this time.

“You did,” she said simply. “Of course this could all be an elaborate ploy. I wouldn’t put it past him…” she said bitterly, but then her expression softened. “Though I am confident that you are being truthful.” She wrapped his hand up, and gestured to his torso.

“That’s unnecessary,” he muttered and tried to wave her off as he reached for the toast. She seemed to have been correct about his hunger.

“You’re bruised and it’s going to swell, let me put an icepack on it… or should I just call an ambulance?” she threatened firmly, glowering at him. Maul raised a brow and looked at her for a few seconds. After a lengthy pause, he sighed, and gave in, lifting his shirt again while she reached for the ice-pack and wrapped it in a protective layer so it would not freeze his skin. She paused as she turned back, and had to force herself not to follow the contours and curves of the tattoos, and his body. It was hardly the time.

“You speak of my father like you know him,” Maul said quietly, as he held part of the bandage in place as she wound the other end around his ribcage. He was broad enough that he had to lean in, nearly hugging him as she wrapped the bandages firmly but not too tightly around him.

“I know some of what he’s done,” she said evasively. “I have seen the things he’s done here.” She avoided his eyes again, but he didn’t press.

She could feel his gaze on her as she tended the rest of his wounds, feeling her skin prickle and tension rising within her. She should send him back, or call his brothers… or do… something. Something to get him out of there, so he would leave.

“There, that should—” she looked up as she finished the last of the bandages, and the words died in her throat. Maul was looking at her with such an intense expression, that her breath caught in her throat. He looked to her eyes, then to her lips, and back again.

She shouldn’t…

He leaned in, and one of his bandaged hands caressed her cheek.

This wasn’t a good idea.

He drifted closer, lips parting…

She mustn’t let this happen.

Zaiya closed the distance and pressed her lips to Maul’s. At the acceptance of his affections, he leaned in further, snaking his hands around her, to pull her closer via her hips. The kiss became more intense, and she could feel a roughness, where his lip was split, and taste blood.

She pulled back slightly.

“You need rest,” she said quietly, though Maul, it seemed, didn’t want to stop kissing her.

“I need you,” he breathed a hair’s breadth away from her own lips. There was a deep melancholy in his eyes, a pain that she understood well. He didn’t want to be alone, and she was sure saying even those three words was hard for him. It was unspoken, but from the way he gripped her, he meant it. Her body relaxed in his grasp and he surged forward, kissing her deeply.

The hesitance in her mind faded away as she began to relax. Her plush form moulded against his as he pulled her even closer. This time her hands slid up over his shoulders and very gently caressed the back of his head between his horns. He let out a sigh against her mouth and gripped her hip tighter.

The rest of this chapter is NSFW - if you wish to continue please check out the full chapter on AO3

Notes: Hello friends!

Well… that break was far more extended than I anticipated! A few weeks became like 5 months. Yikes.

So in the time since I have seen you last, I was nearly made homeless, moved house, fell into a rut and creative depression and I am clawing my way back in an effort to finish this story by the end of the year. Sins is becoming my focus for the time being, though I do still have the desires to continue A Prince of Dathomir and with Ahsoka coming out - ohohoho do I have ideas for that series!

In the meantime, I will be mostly focusing on Sins for the time being, hopefully I am able to get it done sooner rather than later. I still have 2 chapters of Sins to write and to get about 30k words by the end of the year? Idk if I can make it with my current life being what it is, but we shall see!

So, I'll do my best to post some more Sins next fortnight!

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Tags: (If your name is crossed out then check your settings or username -- Tumblr is not letting me tag you!) @alwayssnivellus @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @ashotofspotchka @justalittletomato @nahoney22 @eloquentmoon @stardustbee @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @rain-on-kamino @bacarasbabe @lifeless-being @lazarithebellydancingmime

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[srorgana1]

Into The Reverb (Kylo Ren/Reader)

Chapter Forty Three

A guy in a black security outfit opens the back door for the two of you. “Thank you” you say nodding . The man nods back as he opens the SUV door. Kylo looking a bit put out that he has to put you down, sets you down on the seat lightly kissing the top of your head. You smile, scooting over to make room for him.

He slides in and instantly pulls you to his side wrapping his arm around you. You giggle, happy to be near him again. As the SUV begins to move, you feel his large hand touch your leather covered thigh. Looking up, you notice that he’s staring at you with those expressive eyes and that familiar pout on his lips. Your heart clinches with the familiar pain of being away from him. You feel so guilty still for not reaching out to console him in his time of need.

“Kylo, I want to first say I am sorry” you say turning to face him fully. His eyes widen but says nothing. “I’m sorry that I let that worthless human affect my relationship with you. It wasn’t right for me to distance myself and for that I am truly and deeply sorry.” You feel his grip tighten on your thigh as you hear him clear his throat again.

"Baby girl you have nothing to be sorry for. It's on me for not telling you everything" he says shaking his head "There's things I've done I'm not proud of and..." "Shh" you say, interrupting him, putting a finger on his lips. "We are all imperfect Kylo, we all have done things we aren’t proud of. All that matters is what happens now and moving forward."

He nods, his amber eyes roam you as he kisses your fingertip. You scoot closer wanting more of him. You move your hand from his lips to neck, watching him smile as your fingers play with his hair. "I missed you so much baby girl" he whispers, caging you in against the seat.

"I missed you too" you respond, eyes fluttering as his large fingers dance along the delicate lace detail around your waist leaving a trail of fire. You hear him growl in the back of his throat. “Look at you” he says lowly, kissing your collarbone. You shiver as he smiles into your skin as he leaves a trail of soft kisses and nibbles as the SUV comes to a stop.

He kisses you one more time as he sits up, straightening your blazer. You look into his blown out pupils and color on his cheeks, loving seeing how affected he is. More to come of that, you think to yourself as the door opens.

"Ren, Y/N" a large Asian man says. "Thanks Baze" Kylo says, sliding out and offering you his hand. You take it and exit the vehicle, running a hand through your hair. "I'm happy for you both” the man says with a small smile. "You don’t see happily ever afters in this business much, so it warms my heart to experience it for once."

You smile at Baze's kind words. “Thank you, we really appreciate everything tonight and from the bottom of my heart thank you and your team for keeping him safe” you say, squeezing Kylo’s hand. Baze chuckled as he opened your condo door for the both of you. “No worries, now head on in. I will have a team roaming around here if you need anything. Ky knows how to contact me.” You nod, thanking him again as you head inside.

Your heels click in the empty lobby as Kylo leads you to the elevators. The doors open quickly as he wraps his arms around your midsection. He holds you close, his large tattooed fingers lightly tracing the lace design. You forgot how honestly addicting his touch was. You sigh, melting a little into his touch.

The elevator doors open on your floor and the familiar hallway. You give him a quick kiss as you open your door, him following you in. You smile when you see Kylo’s luggage in the hallway. “Hmm, was this the plan all along baby girl?” he says as he wraps himself around you again, holding your head to his chest. His steady heartbeat is comforting after being apart for so long.

You stand there for a few minutes before he pulls away and laughs to himself. “You hungry?” he says, heading to the fridge. You look at him confused until your Kylo-addled brain finally catches up. “Oh! Oh god, I am sorry Kylo. I didn’t even think. You must be starving and feel gross!” you ramble, turning and opening the fridge door.

You grab him a water and some cheese and fresh fruit and set them down on the island. “I can make something more substantial once you shower. What sounds good? I got…” He silences you with a fierce kiss. You moan into his mouth as you feel his velvet tongue sweep across your bottom lip.

“What I want” he says picking you up again “is you with me in the shower and then in your bed.” You shiver in his hold as you enter your bedroom. He looks over the messy cocoon of blankets and smirks as he and sits down, keeping a hold of you in his lap.

You take off your blazer and fling it behind you, uncaring where it lands. He hums as his hands continue to trace your curves. “Baby girl…” he groans as he places feather light kisses on your collarbone again. You shake lightly, trying to compose yourself enough to tell him what you need to.

“Ky” you say lifting his head up so he can focus. “Yes baby?” he responds. “I need you to know something. I would feel so guilty if we moved forward without me telling you” you say firmly. He nods and rests his hands on your hips.

“The last time we talked I was really upset. I was scared that I really didn’t know you as well as I thought I did. That’s why I needed time” you say, hoping he understands. You watch him softly nod again. “I had a feeling that was why. I just didn’t know how to tell you everything without you thinking that I am a monster” he says, tears forming in his eyes.

Your heart breaks a little bit for him thinking that. “You could never be a monster Kylo, you were manipulated and abused by people who didn’t care about you” you say, scratching his scalp the way he likes it. He huffs out a breath. “How did you find out?” he says, eyes closing. “Cassian. He told me everything” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“After he told me, I was angry at myself for isolating you when you needed me. I know I can’t make up for that, but I felt I could in other ways” you say, kissing his closed eyelids and forehead. “The world needs to know how toxic the First Order is and how you were treated there…” You pause as you see his chin quivering a little. “I love you Kylo and I will fight for you. I want the world to see what I see” you say softly.

His arms wrap around your shoulders and pulls you in. You feel him sigh into the juncture of your neck. You say nothing, giving him time. “I don’t deserve you” he whimpers into your skin. “Yes you do baby” you whisper back, rubbing his wide shoulders “and you deserve good things to happen to you.”

“Thank you baby” he grits out, clearing his throat as he looked at you. You go to push his hair out his eyes as he grasps your wrist lightly, turning it towards him. You hear his breath hitch as his fingers trace your lotus flower tattoo. Your eyes start to water as he caresses your still healing skin. “Beautiful, just like I imagined” he whispers, kissing it softly.

You look at him, still unsure how the universe chose to bless you with such a sweet soulful man. He runs his thumb over it one more time before letting go, giving you a rare full toothy smile. You grip his hair again, kissing him deeply. You hear him groan as he opens for you, letting your tongue tease his.

His hands grip your ass as your hips rock against his. You can feel his rock-hard cock through his jeans. Your gasp as he raises his hips slightly, letting you feel him. “All for you baby…” he growls as he pushes you down onto him again.

"I want to rip this off you" he growls as his hand works at your pants. You hum, liking the sound of that. Stilling his hand, you stand and slowly remove your heels and skintight pants. You have never done anything like this before but the lustful look on his face makes you feel powerful.

"Fuck" he groans, eyes focused on you as he palms himself. You turn, giving him a full view of your ass as you position yourself back between his thighs. His breath quickens as his eyes take you in. "How do you want me?" you say sensually, running your hands over his chest, thumbing at his nipple piercings. You shiver slightly, loving the combination of his warm skin and cold steel.

His head falls back, letting out a filthy groan. You do it again and he snaps. He rips his shirt off and pulls you onto his lap, nipping and sucking bruises at your shoulders and neck as you undo his belt and jeans, touching him lightly through the material. His hips jerk at the sensation. "Can’t wait anymore" he mutters as he rips down the top of the bodysuit, exposing your breasts. Your back arches as he licks and sucks at your nipples.

“Hmm I love this on you, I’ll have to buy you more” he says pulling the rest of our ruined bodysuit off you. You gasp as his fingers touch your now exposed skin. He pauses, taking you in. “Beautiful” he mumbles as his hands rubs your ass and he sucks and kisses your neck.

“Kylo…” you whine as his thick fingers explore your wetness. “I got you baby girl” he says, flipping you into the bed. He pants as he hovers over you, dipping a thick digit into your wet pussy. God, you missed him. Your fingers and toys cannot do what those tattooed fingers can.

You keen again, hips moving in tandem. His mouth opens, looking as overwhelmed as you. “Yes, please Ky…” you whisper as he thrusts another in roughly, curling his fingers just right. He growls as grips your jaw, kissing you fiercely as he fucks you with his fingers.

As his thumb touches your clit, you gasp. He does it again and then removes his fingers, sucking on them noisily. Trembling, you open your eyes to see him kneeling on the bed, shucking his pants and boxers, exposing his cock to you. His cheeks and neck were reddened, his neck vein pulsing. You reach up and still his hand. He looks down at you as you grip his cock, pumping it slowly.

You shiver as you watch his reaction. He looked so fucking sexy like this, face slack and eyes closed as you touch him. “Baby” he whispers as you squeeze his balls lightly. He jolts, growling deep in his throat. “I won’t last long if you keep touching me like that” he groans as you stroke him again, aiming his cock towards your center.

You smile, running his cockhead through your wet folds. He grunts, shifting his hips closer freeing your nails to lightly sractch at his chest and shoulders again. “Fuck” he grunts finally pushing in. You gasp loudly as he pushes you down, taking you to the hilt in one swift motion. You can barely breathe between his rough pace and his desperate kisses.

His pace is overwhelming as he slings your leg around his hip, opening you up more for him. He squeezes your breasts and hip roughly, desperate to feel all of you at once. You moan loudly as he changes the angle. He looms over you, taking what is his and you fucking love it. “Fuck baby, you feel so amazing” he grits out, accentuating his words with snaps of his hips.

You keen as he rotates you to your side, lifting your leg to his shoulder. He grips your breast as he stares you down, watching his cock enter you over and over. You can barely keep your eyes open, too overwhelmed in the pleasure he is giving you. “Ky” you whimper as his hand moves from your breast to your clit, playing it perfectly, his hips never stopping.

You pant between moans as you feel your pleasure building. He must have noticed because he increases the speed of his thrusts. “Oh, baby yes” he moans, gripping your hip closest to him giving himself more leverage. “I feel you…oh fuck baby cum for me” he says, his fingers stroking your clit just right. You shatter in his hold as waves of pleasure overtake you. Screaming to the heavens, chanting his name. He follows quickly, grunting out your name and various praises as he spills into you.

You collapse into the bed, your breath ragged and body twitching from the aftershocks. You groan as you shifts back onto your back, his large body still over yours as his hips rocked slightly. “I love you baby” he whispers, wrapping his arms around you. Humming, you shut your eyes as you feel him place small kisses on your temple and hairline. You pull him closer greedily wanting all of his affection.

“I love you too” you say between breaths, lifting your head so you can kiss along his jaw. He grabs the back of your neck and gives you a deep sensual kiss, groaning slightly as he slips out of you. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, sweet girl” he says as he plays with a piece of your hair. You smile as you rest your forehead on his, breathing him in.

“So, what happens now?” you whisper, your hands carding softly through his hair. You see him smirk at your question. “Anything we want baby girl” he says catching your lips again. “But I have an idea of what I want” he croons, his hand moving to fondle your breasts. “Hmm and what is that Mr. Rockstar?” you say, wrapping your arms back around his neck. “I want to worship you until you’re ready to take my cock again and then do it again and again” he says coyly, nosing at your pulse point.

“I like the sound of that” you say, pulling him down by his neck to your lips, nipping and sucking on his swollen lips. “You ruined me” he groans, kissing down your neck to chest. “I could say the same” you sigh, reveling in his sharp nips and the soothing sweep on his tongue. “Good” he says lowly, dragging you down with him into a never-ending sea of pleasure.

---

He is the first one to stir awake. You both had shifted in the night as he is now behind you with his face in the crook of your neck. He looks over to see it’s a little past 5am. He takes a big whiff of your coconut shampoo and snuggles in deeper. You are so warm. He runs his hand over your arm, smirking at the bruises on neck, shoulders and chest. He kisses one gently.

You groan shifting in your sleep. You must be exhausted between the show and the marathon of sex. He still can’t comprehend what you did. How you shocked him by walking on stage in that sexy as fuck outfit and then showing the world your talent. You shined and everyone was enraptured, including himself. He kisses your shoulder again, so fucking thankful for you.

You have been so strong and now he must be as well. You have shown him you are willing to fight for him and even with his past, you still want to be with him. Shutting his eyes, he curls himself around you more. He knows what he needs to do. In the morning, he will prove to you how committed he is to you and how hard he will work to keep you happy.

We are almost to to end and I want to thank each and everyone of you who has taken the time to read/comment/follow my first crack at fanfiction. ILY all 🥰

A huge thanks to @asnackdriver, @punk-in-docs, @ladyzimmerman, @mrs-zimmerman, @thepilotanon and @waywardrose for all your continued support and laughs ❤️❤️

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Sorry about your uni related stress!

I would love to see your take on "rebellious teenager who’s failing all their classes is assigned a studious tutor" for rebelcaptain.

I'm effectively burned out on high school AUs after "A Little Hope", as it turns out, but I tried my best!

.

“I am hardly failing all my classes, Baze, don’t be so dramatic.”

The school counsellor throws her a pointed look. “I am the least dramatic person in this building, Miss Erso. And I never said you were failing all your classes. But you are well on your way to failing Art History –“

“Can you blame me? It’s the most boring thing on earth.”

“- Draven informs me you’re on shaky ground in World History as well. Actually, he says to remind you that classes are every Tuesday at ten. He worries you’ve forgotten.“

Jyn sighs and rolls her eyes. “Look, fine. Tell him I’ll ‘apply’ myself. That’s the term, right?”

“I’m also to let you know that you could fail AP Spanish,” Baze Malbus goes on flatly, ignoring her olive branch.

Shit. Looks like she miscalculated on just how little the old crone cares about her job in her last year before retirement.

“Jyn, I know you’re not stupid,” Baze says with a sigh. Now he is using her first name. That’s a bad sign.

“I know you’ve had a very difficult time this past year. But most of your teachers are already cutting you slack –“ Jyn scoffs, but Baze goes on before she can argue, “ – and I can’t smooth things over for you from here to graduation, alright? And I shouldn’t have to. We both know you could pass these classes in your sleep if you wanted to.” He adjusts his stack of notes with a sigh. “Ms Spinelli will let you pass in return for an additional twenty-minute presentation in class, and Draven said you will scrape by if you manage a B in the final two tests. Regular attendance is also non-negotiable,” Baze adds drily, and Jyn rolls her eyes again. She didn’t even skip his class that often. The man had such a stick up his ass.

“But Ms Lopez insists on an oral exam at the end of term, no getting out of that one, kid. And if you don’t ace the last physics test, Krennic is going to fail you.”

“Oh, come on, he’s got it in for me! There’s no way to make it past a C in his class!”

“Yes, there is. By giving the correct answers on the test.”

“But –“

“No. I will put you in contact with a senior who is willing to tutor you, and then the ball is in your court.”

Jyn scoffs. “I am not getting tutored –“

“Jyn, either you agree to sit down with this kid twice a week, or I’m mailing all those reports to your father.”

She glowers at the counsellor. “That’s not fair, Baze.”

“It’s very fair. We had a deal. You follow my advice and I keep this kind of thing between us as long as I can. So now I’m telling you to get a tutor.”

He doesn’t so much as bristle under her glare, so after a moment, she resigns herself to her fate with a heartfelt sigh. “Okay, fine. Who is it?”

.

“You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Jyn groans and prods at her potatoes with her fork.

“You’re getting tutored by the guy you threw up on at Han’s? Twice? And he agreed to that?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s thrilled,” she says, spearing a mealy potato with decidedly too much vigour, and shoots her friend a withering look. “And also, the second time was his car. Not him.”

“Well, in that case…” Bodhi is still grinning. “How much is he getting for it?”

Jyn grimaces. “A twenty an hour. And my dignity.”

Her friend shrugs, the grin softening into something a little more serious. “Come on, it could be worse. He seems… nice –“

Jyn makes what was meant to be a derisive scoff but comes out like a hysterical little giggle. Nice. Sure. A lot of descriptors come to mind with Leia’s eternal academic rival and dark horse of the student union. Some she wouldn’t admit under torture (soft hair or beautiful eyes, to name a few), most are more along the theme of stick up his ass – nice definitely isn’t the first.

(He was nice, at that party. Nice enough, anyway, not to yell at her when she barfed in his car, or on his shoes. So basically saintlike. And he drove her home, even though nobody had asked him to. That was probably nice.)

But she is way too embarrassed about the whole thing to let herself remember anything about Leia’s birthday party, and anyway, he’s still insufferably studious and he used to play tennis with Leia and he’s doing triathlon and he’s an editor on the student newspaper and she’s pretty sure he did Model UN.

She’s pretty sure even Cassian Andor isn’t hot enough to make up for that.

And he’s going to be a nightmare as a tutor, if his sweatshop of a local news section is any indication.

.

To Jyn's immense shock, it turns out he isn’t. And it turns out that is worse.

Jyn was perfectly prepared to sit through some condescending lectures for a few weeks, stew in quiet resentment and roll her eyes at him when his back was turned. That would have made the embarrassment of that repressed memory of his hand on the back of her head when he helped her into the car pretty much bearable. And she would have caught up on her classes all by her lonesome afterwards, and have the satisfaction of knowing he hadn’t helped her at all.

She was not prepared for liking it.

He decided that they can kill two birds with one stone if they go through the World History curriculum in Spanish. It’s hard, but she always liked a challenge (a little too much, according to Bodhi and Baze), and Cassian is exactly as demanding as she thought he would be. Except… that kind of makes it fun. He’s ruthless when he wants to be, but in a way that tells her he thinks she’s holding out on him. It’s trust, weirdly – he just always assumes she’s up to the task, that he can push just a little further. And he seems to enjoy doing that, somewhere behind his quiet, reserved manner. He’s even – as much as she hates to admit it – funny, in the same underhand way.

It's… unfortunately attractive. She’d love to blame it on the language (he does have a nice voice), but she finds herself trying stupidly hard to impress him, just to catch that intrigued glint in his eyes again.

He even makes being good at physics look hot, a thought that makes Jyn want to sink through the floor whenever she catches herself thinking it. Which she has four times so far this afternoon. (Seriously, a guy being able to do complex math in his head shouldn’t be this hot. Right?)

This isn’t the type of embarrassing she’d expected from this whole tutoring thing.

.

.

bonus outtake:

“Oh, hey, by the way, I’m… I’m really sorry. About, you know. Vomiting on your shoes at Han’s that one time.”

“Oh, don’t –“

“No, really, I’m sorry! It was disgusting.”

“A bit. Yeah.”

“A bit?”

“Honestly, the car seat was worse,” he says with a shrug.

“Oh my God –“

“It’s fine, Jyn, it… Really. It was… my own fault.”

“Me getting drunk and puking in your car was your fault how, exactly?”

Another shrug. “Well… if I had worked up the courage to talk to you when you were sober, I guess I wouldn’t have got puked on, right?”

Pick an AU and get a one-shot (at some point in the future!)

[amikoroyaiart]

Are there any couples/pairs that you really like in star wars but have never gotten to mention or never talked about as much as you'd like? (Ships or just two people who you think rock when they're together)

Have nice day <3

Hi there! Hmm let me think

I like Bly and Aayla (I drew them few times tho haha). Also I am fond of Barris and Ahsoka.

I like Han and Leia. While reading Rebelcaptain I saw few time Luke and Bodhi and I think they could be a cute couple! I also love Baze and Chirrut. And of course Vel and Cinta ❤

Thane and Ciena from book Lost Stars ahhh

You know about Thrawn and Eli but I also loved Ar'alani and Faro dynamic in Treason 👀

Another one that I've been thinking of drawing is Kannan and Hera. I also love Kalluzeb 🙈

As for sequels Rey and Rose is cute! I also like FinnPoe and have a soft spot for FinnRey. I used to like kylux a lot, it passed but I still have some fond memories from that time (and I am currently working on a commission with them which is cool).

I think that's all for now :D

Have a nice day and thanks for asking Anon ❤

[the-wintry-mizzenmast]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers!

tagged by @bbcphile

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

69. NICE.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

522,701

Smoke and Mirrors (Sephiroth/Cloud, drag queen canon divergence) has disproportionately contributed to this.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I am sadly monofannish, so at the moment I am writing in Mysterious Lotus Casebook 蓮花樓. There are a few fandoms I have gone back to writing to, like Phoenix Wright/Ace Attorney when a new game comes out. I suspect I will dive back into Smoke and Mirrors once I am done with MLC and I play FF7 Rebirth.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Day Still Young (Wrightworth PWP)

Safe and Sound (ZoroLu PWP)

Storm Before the Calm (A Wrighworth piece I wrote for an exchange, I'm surprised it's this popular!)

Love and Longing (Wrightworth piece I wrote a long time ago)

Perennial Passions (Wrightworth PWP)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do my best when I am able, but sometimes I don't always get around to it or I don't have the spoons. I apologize if you've left a comment and I haven't been able to respond. Thank you.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I smashed out Tarnished Silver (Sol/Ky, Guilty Gear, Major Character Death) in one evening because I was shocked that one of the audio dramas would have an AU that kills off a main char

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mostly do one-shots or series that are comprised of one shots that take place in the same universe. Euphemistically, all of my smut has a happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Extremely rarely. And if I did, I would report and then delete.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

All the time. I think every time I get into a ship I write porn for them. My usual tags are Porn Without Plot and Porn With Feelings.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I am extremely proud of Born for the Fast Life, my Ace Attorney x Fast and Furious crossover. This might be the only multi-chaptered fic of any significant length I have ever finished in my life.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

A few over the years. Most recently, the entire Smoke and Mirrors series has been translated into Chinese.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've done massive RPs before and collaborated on universes, but never a specific fic.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I am mono-fannish, so my favorite ship is always whoever is currently my ship, which is Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua. I suspect I will always love and have a soft spot for Zoro/Luffy from One Piece.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Two Bodies (Baze/Chirrut, Rogue One). I had so much backstory for them in my head, but it'll never be done. I need to learn that I am fickle and easily distracted and thus not made for long novel-length projects.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Action/fight scenes, car chases, Porn with Feelings.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing things I start.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I'm only fluent enough to do this in Chinese, and only for short bits of conversation. I've only done this once for 天涯海角 The Ends of the Earth

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Fushigi Yuugi, but it was all for myself and only two people on this earth have read it. First fandom I wrote and posted for? Weiss Kreuz. How's that for a throwback?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I'm proudest of Smoke and Mirrors, mostly because the characters are so vivid, but also because of its length and the way it's been plotted, even though it's yet undone and I don't have an ending for it. I'd like to figure out where I'm going someday and finish it.

I'm shit at tagging people, so anybody who reads this, if you want to do it, please!

[ao3feed-rebelcaptain2]

“Confía y un poco más…”

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ygTncUw

by CallieCadence

The Rogue One crew is enjoying a rare night off, with a campfire, billions of stars, and a quitarra. When Jyn asks Cassian to dance with her, she gets a little more than she bargained for from the normally closed-off Captain.

Words: 1982, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of The RebelCaptain Romance Collection

Fandoms: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Andor (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, Bodhi Rook, Ruescott Melshi, Baze Malbus, Chirrut Îmwe, K-2SO (Star Wars)

Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso, Jyn Erso & The Rogue One Crew, Cassian Andor & The Rogue One Crew

Additional Tags: Found Family, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Campfires, Stargazing, Conversations, Hidden Talents, Music, Singing, Dancing and Singing, Dancing, Slow Dancing, POV Jyn Erso, Jyn Erso Lives, Jyn Erso Needs A Hug, Protective Cassian Andor, Cassian Andor Lives, Soft Cassian Andor, Bodhi Rook Lives, Baze Malbus Lives, Chirrut Îmwe Lives, Ruescott Melshi Lives, Melshi is friends with everyone now, Rogue One Crew Survives Scarif (Star Wars), Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/ygTncUw

[vivid-badsquad]

heoughhh fuck that artz makibg me have mzmf hugging thoughtz :( zo be prepared 4 hc dump except itz literally juzt half bazed off me n my bf chz we r mzmf irl :3c (ft once again lack of tq)

at first theyre kinda hesitant with touch in general (hand holding, leaning on eachother etc) but touch quickly becomes a big thing in their relationship especially on mizukis side

when they meet in person and mizukis had a bad day, theyll lean themself on mafuyu and wrap their arms around his waist and hell hug back just letting them stay there for a while until theyre good to go again

hugs from behind are also a very big thing from both of them, resting their chins on eachothers shoulder

they definitely rock eachother from side to side while hugging

mafuyu will enitiate hugs very rarely, normally leaving it to mizuki (and their touch starved ass i mean- whaaaat?) but he will if hes feeling especially bad that day

mizukis hugs are very soft and loose while mafuyus hugs are strong and leave mizuki blushing madly every time (normally trying to kiss their cheek or forehead as well)

they always always hug eachother wgen greeting amd leaving eachother no matter what

[publicitateonline]

Tipuri esențiale de soft-uri pentru optimizarea unui service auto

În era digitală, gestionarea eficientă a unui service auto implică utilizarea unor soluții software avansate, care să permită automatizarea proceselor, îmbunătățirea serviciilor oferite clienților și optimizarea managementului intern.

Aceste instrumente digitale pot transforma modul în care un service auto își desfășoară activitatea, crescând productivitatea și satisfacția clienților. Iată câteva tipuri esențiale de soft-uri care pot revoluționa funcționarea unui service auto:

Software de gestiune a relațiilor cu clienții (CRM)

Un sistem CRM (Customer Relationship Management) este esențial pentru orice service auto care dorește să mențină o relație solidă și de lungă durată cu clienții săi.

Prin colectarea și analiza datelor despre clienți, un CRM permite personalizarea serviciilor oferite, urmărirea istoricului reparațiilor fiecărui vehicul și comunicarea eficientă cu clienții prin notificări privind stadiul reparației, promoții sau revizuiri periodice necesare.

Soft-uri pentru managementul atelierului

Aceste sisteme sunt proiectate pentru a optimiza operațiunile zilnice dintr-un service auto. Ele permit programarea eficientă a lucrărilor, gestionarea stocurilor de piese de schimb, evidența muncii efectuate de fiecare mecanic și monitorizarea timpului alocat fiecărei reparații.

Implementarea unui astfel de soft pentru service auto poate reduce semnificativ timpii morți și poate crește numărul de vehicule pe care service-ul le poate prelua.

Software de facturare și contabilitate

Pentru a simplifica procesele financiare și a asigura conformitatea fiscală, un service auto are nevoie de un software de facturare și contabilitate. Aceste sisteme automatizează generarea facturilor, gestionarea cheltuielilor și veniturilor, precum și raportarea financiară.

Integrarea cu alte sisteme, cum ar fi soft-ul de gestiune a atelierului, poate oferi o viziune completă asupra performanței financiare a afacerii

Sisteme de diagnosticare și reparație

AttoSoft.ro oferă soluții software avansate pentru diagnosticarea rapidă și precisă a problemelor vehiculelor.

Aceste sisteme permit mecanicilor să acceseze baze de date extinse cu coduri de eroare, scheme electrice și proceduri de reparație recomandate de producători. Utilizarea unui software de diagnosticare reduce timpul necesar identificării defecțiunilor și crește acuratețea reparațiilor.

Platforme de comunicare internă

Comunicarea eficientă între membrii echipei este vitală pentru succesul unui service auto. Platformele de comunicare internă, cum ar fi sistemele de mesagerie instantanee sau software-ul de gestionare a proiectelor, facilitează schimbul rapid de informații, îmbunătățind coordonarea între departamente și accelerând procesul de reparație.

Adoptarea tehnologiei digitale și a soluțiilor software de la AttoSoft adecvate poate aduce numeroase beneficii unui service auto, de la eficientizarea operațiunilor interne la îmbunătățirea experienței clienților.

Soft pentru service auto | AttoSoft.ro

Într-o piață competitivă, integrarea acestor instrumente nu mai este o opțiune, ci o necesitate pentru orice afacere care dorește să se dezvolte și să rămână relevantă.

Prin selectarea atentă a soft-urilor potrivite nevoilor specifice ale service-ului, proprietarii pot asigura o bază solidă pentru creșterea sustenabilă a afacerii lor.

[ertaetewrywt]

Crearea unui deliciu: Arta de a fabrica inghetata profesional

Introducere:

Savurarea unei porții de inghetata cremoasa și gustoasă este o experiență delicioasă apreciată de oameni de toate vârstele. În spatele acestei delicatese se află meșteșugul priceput al unui gelatier profesionist în înghețată. Călătoria de la o masina de inghetata soft  până la un gelatier experimentat mai este doar un pas care implică o înțelegere profundă a ingredientelor, echipamentelor și artizanatului necesar pentru a crea capodopere înghețate.

  Bazele Fabricării Înghețatei:

La baza sa, fabricarea inghetatei implică un amestec armonios de baze lactate sau non-lactate, îndulcitori, arome și aer. Fabricanții de inghetata ambulanti se bazează de obicei pe masini de inghetata soft, care practice sunt niste roboti cu toate functiile necesare pentru fabricarea inghetatei. Cu toate acestea, un Fabricant Profesionist de Înghețată duce acest proces la un nivel cu totul nou, combinând știința și inventivitatea pentru a atinge armonia ideală de textură și gust.

  Instrumentarul Fabricantului Profesionist de Înghețată:

Este crucial să te înarmezi cu instrumentele potrivite. Fabricanții de înghețată la acest nivel investesc în echipamente de top, masini de inghetata de calitate superioara, și socuri freezere. Aceste unelte eficientizează procesul de producție și asigură o calitate constantă la fiecare lot.

  Inovație în Arome:

Un fabricant profesionist de inghetata are alaturi un utilaj de fabricare a inghetatei complet. Experimentând cu combinații unice și texturi, chiar și incorporând elemente neașteptate precum ierburi sau condiment sau chiar mai mult aer in mix, poate crea o aventură senzorială pentru papilele gustative. Intenția este de a uimi și delecta clienții cu arome atât familiare, cât și extraordinare.

  Rolul Prezentării:

Dincolo de gust, prezentarea este crucială pentru un fabricant profesionist de înghețată. Atenția la detaliu în aranjarea porțiilor, alegerea vaselor de servire și chiar adăugarea de garnituri artistice îmbunătățesc experiența generală. Creațiile de înghețată estetic plăcute atrag atât palatul, cât și ochii, făcând desertul o delicatesă de neuitat.

  Concluzie:

Devenirea unui fabricant profesionist de înghețată implică pasiune, dedicare și învățare continuă. Profesioniștii aspiranți se aprofundează în știința unui gust pufos, cremos, arta creării aromei și prezentarea deliciilor înghețate. Pentru a explora lumea fabricării profesionale a înghețatei, vizitați inghetata.com, un centru pentru entuziaști și profesioniști. Eliberați-vă creativitatea și savurați gustul pufos, cremos a unei inghetate perfecte.

[uwingdispatch]

Healing

Healing

Notes: Baze Malbus/Reader, gender neutral reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader, domestic fluff, fluff and angst

CW: canon-typical violence, chronic illness, chronic anxiety, implied PTSD, implied depression, hospital setting, mention of alcohol consumption

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

“Little bird,” Baze says. “I need you to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

You’re at the med center, the sterile scent of disinfectant making you want to climb the walls. You hate this place, you hate that you’re here, you hate that your partner is recovering from a splenectomy that had been completely avoidable. You have his hand in yours nonetheless. Bacta will heal most of the body rather quickly, but re-growing a human spleen is a notoriously difficult process after a certain age and as you wait to hear from the doctor about cybernetic options you can’t help but feel grateful that this happened on Chandrila and not in hyperspace.

“Like as soon as you have the opportunity you’re going to throw Chirrut out a window.”

“You and I both know I don’t have the physical strength to do that.”

“But you want to.”

“Maybe.”

You’d been here since the wee hours of the morning after taking a cab across town with your LEP droid. Baze brought Ellie home a few weeks ago to make sure you’d always have help in an emergency, after you had a particularly bad panic attack. But today the droid is helping you navigate this unfamiliar med center on the opposite side of town because Baze went out with old friends last night and managed to injure himself in the stupidest way you could imagine.

Ellie, who’d shut down and plugged herself into the charging port when you and Baze started arguing earlier this morning, comes back online and totters over to you, asks if you have been hydrating.

“Honestly, I’ve let that slip,” you say. “Thank you for reminding me. My husband let his intoxicated friend toss knives at him in a bar last night and it’s kind of thrown off my whole day.”

“I am aware of this,” Ellie says. “I suppose you have not eaten either. I will go and retrieve a sandwich.”

The droid leaves the thin-walled med room, perhaps having given herself a task just to avoid enduring another argument. You feel a bit guilty. Her model is notoriously conflict-averse, but you’d barely slept the night before and you can’t remember the last time you were this upset.

“She’s really taking to you,” Baze says. “I wish she’d bring me a sandwich.”

You let out a long sigh. He’d be home already, against medical advice, if you hadn’t been here to insist he stay another night as recommended. You run a hand along his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, as if you have to confirm that he’s real, a corporeal being in front of you. When you tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, it’s soft and familiar and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine that you’re at home. But you’re not, and it’s taking every milligram of power in your body to keep from crying.

“When you didn’t come home last night…I was so scared,” You say. “Nobody was answering their coms and I thought maybe you were in a speeder wreck, or a shoot-out or…I don’t know. I just thought something awful had happened and I would never see you again and now knowing how close that came to being true—”

“But it didn’t. I’m right here.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Baze takes your hand in his, brings it to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “Chirrut should have called you.”

“Someone should have. Long before the med center did.”

You’re going to have to call Chirrut to apologize when this all shakes out. You let anger get the better of you when you arrived at the med center last night and parted on bad terms. As angry as you are, it sits wrong in the pit of your stomach.

“I know I kriffed up,” Baze says. “I used to wake up every day with death right in front of me. I forget sometimes that…it’s different now.”

“I’m trying to understand,” you say. “But…I need you, Baze. I need you to not create danger for yourself. I need you to come home to me.”

The tears you’ve been holding back begin to fall and there’s a shift in Baze’s demeanor, like he’s finally coming out of a fog.

“Please don’t cry, little bird,” he says, sitting straight up in bed. You’re afraid he’s going to upset his sutures, but before you can say anything he’s facing you, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. He wraps both of his strong arms around you and you let your head rest on his shoulder. “I love you,” he says in a low voice. “I’ll always come home. I promise.”

*

You hadn’t been so worried about your partner in years. There was an incident, maybe a year after you’d met. Though no longer in the Navy, Baze occasionally joined relief missions as a civilian volunteer. Anytime the Republic was sending aid to Jedha, you knew he was going to go—and you couldn’t ask him not to, either. So many people had to be evacuated every few months as the moon’s environment rapidly destabilized, and while the destruction he witnessed broke his heart, he told you these trips were part of his healing—making sure Jedhans were safe.

And it usually went smoothly, with Baze primarily serving as an extra pair of hands, sending you a holo every day to let you know that he was safe, and that he missed you. Occasionally he was able to call and you could reply in real time. But this trip was different. Faulty intel had led the New Republic to believe that there were no Imperial forces left on Jedha, but you found out via holonews that an Imperial remnant had detonated a bomb in the area Baze was supposed to be. Soon after, coms were jammed in most of the system. All you could do was wait.

Those eight hours without hearing Baze’s voice felt like a lifetime. When he finally got in touch with you, he seemed taken aback by the level of your distress, but eager to reassure you that he was okay and would be home soon. In what could only be described as a stroke of luck, no civilians had been injured. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d prayed, but you found yourself thanking the Force for keeping the man you loved safe.

Your life had been so different from his—you’d never been in combat, never been shot at, never heard a bomb go off in your neighborhood. You both forgot this sometimes—you’d grown up worlds apart in more than one way.

Baze returned to Chandrila two days later, making his way to your apartment soon after. When you opened the door, he swept you into his arms. You felt like you couldn’t be close enough to him, and when he kissed you, a shockwave went through your body. Tears welled in your eyes and as you began to weep, Baze pulled back.

“Hey now,” he said. “I’m right here, little bird. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t know that,” you said.

He took your face in his big, rough hands and said, “I can’t imagine a life where I don’t come home to you.”

“I want that. More than you know.”

“Marry me,” he said.

“What?” You were surprised, having always suspected that if you talked about marriage you would be the one to bring it up. That he might need convincing. That maybe it wasn’t even on the table.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think this would surprise you.”

“You want to get married?” you said. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, little bird.”

You kissed him again, tasting the salt of you tears, a welling joy warming your cheeks as you tangled your hands in his hair, the scruff of his beard a comforting sensation as your lips fit perfectly to his, soft.

“Is this a yes?” he asked, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Yes,” you said. “Very much.”

*

You think sometimes that Baze doesn’t so much miss his days in combat as he needs to remind himself that he survived. That maybe after a few glasses of wine, with old friends, being the body around which someone would land their knives was a bit of proof for him that he was still here.

When you met he was wearing heavy armor and carrying a cannon—not a blaster, but a cannon—with a heavy fuel tank on his back. Now he carries guilt and anxiety. He also carries your heart.

In the morning, Baze is discharged. You take a cab home and as soon as you get through the front door he’s in the kitchen, getting out eggs and butter and asking you what you’d like for breakfast.

“I’d like you to go sit down and let yourself heal,” you say. “I can make us breakfast.”

He sighs, barely concealing the pain as his chest expands and contracts with the deep breath. The cybernetic surgery had taken only hours, but it would be days, possibly weeks, before his body felt normal again.

“You need your rest, too,” he says. “You’ve barely slept in two days, and I know your back is sore even if you’re not telling me.”

He’s right. You’ve been concealing your chronic pain as well as you can, but Baze is more perceptive than most, and he knows you better than anyone.

Ellie retrieves Baze’s datapad from where he left it the other night—then waddles down the hall to charge. You suspect her battery isn’t all that low, but that she’s emotionally exhausted. And you can’t blame her—it’s been a rough couple of days to be your support droid.

Baze settles on the sofa and eases you into his arms as you scroll through menus together. After a stretch of silence, he says, “I don’t know what I’d do if it had been you.”

“Hm?”

“If you hadn’t come home, if you’d been hurt and I’d gotten that call from the med center in the middle of the night.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, letting out a deep breath. “I’m so sorry, little bird.”

“I know,” you say, taking his face in your hand, drawing him into a kiss. “Your body is strong. But I need you to remember that you’re not invincible.”

His eyes are warm as he caresses your cheek with the tips of his fingers, and you can’t help but smile when he looks at you like this—like you’re both falling in love with each other all over again.

“I might be done with Corellian wine,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Terrible hangover.”

You’re too relieved to be mad at him now, and you sweep a few wayward strands of hair away from his face, wondering how, in this enormous galaxy, you managed to find each other.

“Are you sure you won’t let me make you breakfast?” he asks.

“Let’s get something from that diner,” you say. “The one with the really fluffy waffles.”

“Okay, little bird,” he says, settling in next to you. “I’m going to make this up to you.”

“I believe you,” you say.

“Good.”

Baze loops an arm around you, pulling you close. When he presses a kiss to your forehead, his beard tickling your skin, the feeling of safety that you’d been missing starts to return. You lay your head on his chest, his steady-beating heart bringing you a bit of calm after so much stress. This is peace—you, Baze, the tooka cat asleep under the window, the little droid charging down the hall. This is the peace you’d always hoped for but never knew you could have. And you’ll do anything in your power to protect it, to nurture it, to make sure that this man with his coarse hands and his big heart knows he will always be deserving of your love.

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! I'm so pleased that so many of y'all are enjoying my Baze fics. I hope this makes you feel seen and loved.

Tagging: @princessxkenobi​ @zinzinina @galaxtic-writings @r1-sw-lover @laserbrains @waterpancakeao3 @strwrs @phoenixhalliwell @maul-ologue @infinityrevengers @greatcaesarsghost

[angel-bazethiel]

me, collecting philanemo mushrooms bc i am now resigned to the fact that all i'm getting from this banner is barbara:

also yes i wanna showcase my harp which is used by ksjdkskdlsls amber bc stupid childe still won't come home for archons' sakes jwjwkwfkwllw

[chiefofboatwatsonstittymug]

Sometimes I get randomly emotional about Rogue One and now is one of those times