#this is the only ship that has held onto my brain since I started getting into the WC fandom

[nightly-ruse]

Mothpool my loves<3333

I am so tired so I’m just gonna post and pass out lol but I wanted to draw them. Also changed my Leafpool design to be more Leafpool, her other eye is the same green but with blue while her left is green with orange. Cuddle cats <<3333333

(ID- Leafpool is laying down with her back against a tree, her tail curled up, and her paws around Mothwing who is cuddled into her. Leafpool is a light brown with orange markings on her cheek, nose, tail, paws, and side. Cream is on her belly, muzzle, ear tufts, tail tip, and toe tips. A darker color stripes around her pelt with a few black markings on her hair, tail tip, and back leg. She is looking down at Mothwing with a sweet amber and green eye, a small smile on her face. Mothwing is curled up on Leaf with her front leg over Leaf’s side, her other wrapped under, his tail swooping up, and his back leg curled up. She is mostly pale yellow with peach on her face, ears, and back legs. And brown is on her hair, mane, tail, back, and paws with a darker brown striped down her tail on her paws, on her back legs, on her muzzle, and on her hair tuft. Light cream is on her belly, chin, paws, and tail tip. He is sleeping with a soft expression. Grass is under them with purple flowers dotting the grass, a tree on the left, and purple shading across them with light pink highlights. End ID)

[ellecdc]

Hiii :) I saw your requests tips and saw that you didn't write for dub/non con and I don't know if this count as one so just feel free to not respond!

So reader is in a relationship with the Marauders and is starting to randomly think about a past SA and realise this was SA only now bc her brain has been blocking the memory and information. She tells the boys (and maybe Barty idk) about it after sometime of overthinking it and self blaming so it's just like super fluff at the end <3

(it's my personal experience but if you don't feel comfortable writing about it just feel free to ignore it :). Sorry for the bad orthograph english isn't my first language 🫶🏻)

first of all - your English is fucking fantastic (and you know more words than I do - I had to look up what an orthograph was) secondly, I turned this into more of a conversation between reader and her ship. and for plot purposes this became poly!wolfstar - hope that's okay!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who opens up about past SA

CW: discusses themes of sexual consent, inebriation, and SA. Describes past SA and abusive relationships. Describes drunkeness, alcohol, and drinking. viewer discretion is advised.

You could tell it was taking Sirius a lot of effort to appear to be too fussed over Lily, James, and Regulus at the end of the party, but he pretended to gag every time anything even remotely romantic or sexual was brought up about his brother.

“What do you think happens when they go home, Pads?” Remus muttered quietly, causing Sirius to slap his hands against his ears.

“Would you shut up, Moons? I am not interested in hearing about my brother’s sexual habits, thank you.”

Unfortunately for Sirius, Lily didn’t get the memo. 

“Are we le-leaving!?” She shrieked through a hiccup as James held most of her weight up against his side and Regulus gathered her purse and shoes she’d since lost.

“Yes sweets; we’re gonna get you to bed.” James said quietly.

A salacious smirk took over Lily’s face as she tried (and failed) to grab James by the chin. “To bed, hm?”

Regulus snorted, though no one missed the blush that dusted his cheeks. “To sleep, Lils.”

Lily groaned dramatically and seemed to go ‘no bones’ in James' grip as he grunted and tried to keep her from hitting the ground. “Why not.”

“Because you smell like you bathed in a bottle of schnapps, sweetheart.” James placated.

“So?” Lily grumbled though acquiesced to helping James keep her up right. “We can even do that thing you like.” She tried to sing sensually, but her efforts were in vain as every other word came out slurred. 

Sirius grumbled causing James to blush. 

“Not tonight, angel. We’ll cuddle, okay?”

Lily scoffed and turned her sights onto Regulus. “You agree with me, right? Right Reggie? You agree- you agree with me?”

“Almost always.” Regulus agreed quickly, offering Lily his arm as to share her weight with James. “Just not tonight, my love.”

“You guys are no fun.” Lily whined as she allowed her two boyfriends to usher her out of Remus and Sirius’ shared flat.

Unfortunately for Sirius, no one missed Regulus leaning into Lily’s hair and promising that “they’d have lots of fun tomorrow to make up for it.”

“I hate them all.” Sirius grumbled with no real malice as he stood and made his way over to you before offering you both of his hands. “What do you say, dollface? Ready for bed too?”

Remus answered ‘yes’ as you accepted Sirius’ help up which sparked a debate between the two of them whether or not Remus could be considered ‘dollface’ to which you secretly agreed that yes he could but ultimately refused to participate in such nonsense.

You got ready for bed in a haze as you replayed Regulus, James, and Lily’s conversation in your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you were so stuck on, but something about the exchange caused something deep within your gut to churn unpleasantly. 

“You feeling alright, dovey?” Remus asked gently, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you reentered their bedroom after washing your face, carrying your toiletries with you so as not to hog the bathroom.

Sirius (and Remus) had been begging you to spend your nights here with them nearly since the very beginning of your relationship, but you argued that you did not want to pay rent for a flat you never saw. 

He then started nagging you to give up the lease on your flat and just “sodding move in with them already”, but it still felt a little too fresh for that.

So, you spent most nights (but not all) at their flat; living out of duffle bags and toiletry bags.

You hummed in confirmation to Remus’ question, moving towards the mirror above Sirius’ dresser to finish your skincare routine as Remus took his turn with the washroom.

“You sure, sweetness? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight; did you have fun?” Sirius continued as he went digging through what you knew to be Remus’ drawers searching for Sirius’ favourite shirt which was really Remus’ shirt but no one bothered to argue with the black-haired boy…anymore.

“I had fun.” You agreed, massaging product into your face.

“Uh huh.” Sirius commented, not sounding at all convinced as he came up behind you and hooked his chin over your shoulder; watching as you completed your nightly routine through the mirror. “You had so much fun and that’s why you look like Moony when he can’t figure out one of those crosswords in the Daily Prophet?”

You chuckled softly, but something in your lack of enthusiasm (or your lack of disdain) for his joke seemed to tip him off. 

“What’s going on in here, hm?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I just…” You started, sighing as you made yourself busy by tidying up your belongings and refusing to make eye contact with him. “I’ve just been thinking about Reg, James, and Lily’s conversation.”

That caused a dramatic groan to rip through Sirius’ chest as he leaned his forehead against your shoulder.

“What now?” Remus asked jokingly as he returned from the washroom. 

“She’s thinking about Regulus, James, and Lily in bed.” Sirius accused; voice muffled in the fabric of your sleepwear. 

You scoffed defensively, claiming you were “absolutely not” at the same time Remus commented “aren’t we all” which started a very loud bickering match between your two boyfriends. 

The arguing only ceased when Remus “swore on his mother’s life” that Sirius was “by far the superior Black brother.” 

Placated, Sirius turned his sights back to you as you sat on the edge of the bed. “So, what were you really thinking about their conversation?”

Remus, having walked in with only enough time to rile Sirius up, popped his head up at that. “Everything alright, dove?”

You sighed as you turned to face them. “I was just confused, I guess.” You admitted. “I think…Lily was hoping to have sex tonight?”

Sirius groaned again which earned him a swat from Remus who seemed to pick up on some of the tension radiating through your body.

“Yes…I’d agree.” Remus responded carefully.

“And Reg and James said no?”

Sirius’ head tilted at that as he considered you with furrowed brows. “Well, of course, doll. She was drunk.” He said simply, as if that explained it all. 

“So…they wouldn’t have sex with her because she was drunk?” You clarified.

The boys shared a glance with one another before they each took a seat on the bed, prompting you to turn your body so you were all facing each other.

“So, all parties have to be able to consent, right?” Remus started. 

You nodded quickly at that. 

“But when one party is inebriated or under the influence, they can’t consent.” Sirius continued.

You felt your eyebrows twitch as you looked down at the pattern on your bed spread. “Even though she was asking?”

“She wasn’t in her right mind, dove.” Remus explained gently; eyes full of compassion and, perhaps, some sadness. “She may have woken up tomorrow and not remembered anything, or perhaps worse, regretted something. It’s Regulus and James’ jobs to keep her safe, just like I’m sure she keeps them safe when the roles are reversed.”

And now you could understand why their conversation seemed to catch you so off guard. 

“You’re so pretty like this; drunk and all mine.”

“Have a few more; we always have more fun when you let loose.”

“But…I’m really tired.” “All you’ve got to do is lay there - I’ll do all the work.”

“You don’t remember last night? That’s too bad; I won’t be forgetting that any time soon.”

“You’re such a good little whore for me when you’ve had a few too many.” 

You hadn’t realised you had zoned out of the conversation until Sirius was leaning into your field of vision. “You okay, sweets?”

“Yeah.” You said breathlessly before clearing your throat. “No, sorry. I’m fine.”

“Why were you asking?” Remus queried; tone hardening slightly, alerting you to the fact that he smelled trouble. 

“I was just wondering.” You fibbed.

“You know we would do the same, right?” Sirius asked earnestly. “That we have done the same for you.”

“You have?”

“Yes, my love.” Remus whispered. “Always.”

You nodded and looked back down at the bedspread. “Okay.”

“Y/N.” Sirius called with a certain level of severity; though you detected no anger or frustration in his tone. “Why were you asking?” He repeated Remus’ earlier question after your gaze met his imploring silver eyes. 

You quickly looked down at your hands as you began picking at the hangnails around your fingers. “I was just confused; that has not always been my experience.” You admitted quietly; shame coursing through your body as you digested this new information.

The room was quiet for a moment as Remus shuffled scrupulously closer to you. “No?” He whispered; voice intoned with a level of gentleness you weren’t accustomed to hearing. 

You began to feel all sorts of discomfort at the heavy attention being focused on you in the room. “It was usually quite the opposite.” You joked; voice rising to a higher octave in an attempt to make light of the situation as you pulled back the covers and made to retreat to the relative safety of the boys’ bed. 

“Whoa, whoa. What does that mean?” Sirius implored, earning him a gentle warning “Pads” from Remus.

“I’m sorry.” You placated, still uncomfortable with this heavy atmosphere you seem to have blanketed over what had been a really nice evening. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I-” Sirius began, cutting himself off and taking a breath you could tell was an attempt to calm himself down. He shuffled closer to you and wrapped his hand around one of your ankles through the blanket as he rubbed soothing circles against it. “You can always talk about anything with us; it’s important that we talk about these things, yeah?”

“Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” Remus mollified. “But I do agree with Sirius; if you’re comfortable, I think it’s good for us to talk about these things.” 

“It was just my last relationship.” You admitted finally. “He didn’t…agree - with the consent thing, that is.”

Remus’ lips pursed as Sirius’ jaw tightened. 

“He’d sleep with you when you were drunk?” Remus asked cautiously. 

“Yeah.” You agreed half-heartedly, picking at your nail beds. “Or encourage me to drink more so…”

Remus let out a sigh and you could tell Sirius was fighting back the urge to grumble. 

“I’m sorry,” You offered again. “I really didn’t mean to bring all this up, I just-”

“I really, really don’t want you to apologise anymore.” Sirius nearly begged. 

“I don’t understand how someone could do that.” Remus mused aloud. “To anyone; and someone they claimed to love?”

You mistook Remus’ rhetorical question for an actual need for clarification. “He said I was more fun; that I’d try things I wouldn’t normally.”

Sirius did finally let out an angry huff and his fingers stilled on your ankle. “Who?”

“You don’t know him.” You countered quickly, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as you rested your chin on your knees. 

“Lucky him.” Sirius muttered darkly as Remus shifted closer to you. 

“I’m sorry dove.” He offered quietly; holding out his hand to you in a silent invitation. You accepted it, and as you gave him your hand, he gently encouraged you over to him until you were cradled in his arms.

“I didn’t tell you to be sorry.” You murmured quietly as Remus began pressing kisses to the raw and reddened skin around your fingers you hadn’t realised you had nearly shredded in your tension. 

“I know you didn’t.” He whispered. “I’m still sorry, anyhow.”

“I think it’s nice… that the boys were looking after Lily.”

Remus hummed in agreement though he still looked particularly disturbed.  

“That’s their job.” Sirius supplied, causing you and Remus to turn your heads towards your boyfriend whose eyes were red and shining with unshed tears.

“Sirius.” You murmured miserably.

“Just like it’s our job to look after you.” He continued as if you hadn’t said anything at all.

“And you do.” You agreed.

Sirius huffed and wiped at his face. “I hate to think of you being hurt or…or taken advantage of when I wasn’t there to help you.”

Remus made a pitiful sound at that. 

“You didn’t even know me then, Siri.” You offered, half teasing and half placating. 

“She’s alright, Sirius.” Remus comforted. “She’s got us. You’ll be okay now, yeah?”

And you thought of your boys now; you thought of Sirius near tears thinking of someone taking advantage of you during a time you hadn’t even known him, you thought of Remus currently cradling you like you were a precious thing he feared losing if he didn’t hold you with the utmost care, and you thought of their friends - the kind of people who they surrounded themselves with and had the same morals as they did.

Yeah…you think you might just be okay now.

[skellymom]

Hey Skelly

You're taking requests? Oh I'd love to ask for one.

Could you please do a one-shot involving a reader and Hunter after Omega gets seriously injured on a mission (Bad enough to wind up in a Bacta Pod) and the reader has to comfort and reassure Hunter that Omega will be OK?

tysm, GenericFicer Hugs

@genericficerblog NICE! Another ASK!!! Thank you!

"THE INCIDENT"

The Bad Batch Hunter x Reader One Shot

Per more information (not included on this particular message):

So the reader is a male battle medic. It's all platonic The reader was a medic on Kamino. He had taken care of Omega after particularly bad tests (She has the scars to prove it) and he's protective of Omega because of her past with the Kaminoans

Word Count: 2.1K

Warning: Star Wars canon violence, angst, swearing, explosion, physical injuries, coma, mention of human experimentation by the Kaminoans.

I was tasked to hang back with Omega and Tech on board the Marauder. Hunter EXPRESSLY ordered us to stay put. His thinking was to only bring the members necessary for the job: Hunter at the head of the group, Echo next to him and to share logistics on comm with Tech, Wrecker as the “heavy”, and Crosshair as lookout/cover fire. 

The job was technically low risk...but Hunter started having those “feelings” of his just before landing at our target.  

Omega protested when he told her to stay on the ship. She had been looking forward to going on a mission for awhile. Many a time she stayed behind on Pabu with Shep and Lyana. Since her rescue from Tantiss, Hunter was dead set against her going on any dangerous missions. 

Hunter’s words were “You’ll have plenty of time to fight with the Rebellion in the future. Won’t stay young forever.” 

She bristled at those words. Then forgave him immediately after. 

They LOVE each other so much! 

But ever the doting dad, Hunter relented this time. She had eventually wore him down. 

Oh...getting ahead of myself...who am I? 

Hello. I’m Y/N. The Squad Formerly Known as Clone Force 99’s Medic/Backup Heavy/Or Whatever They Need Me For. I can patch up just about ANYTHING with the bare minimum of supplies. Sometimes my methods are unorthodox, per Tech’s opinion, but effective.  It’s saved our butts a few times. So, they let me come along on every mission. 

Plus, having known and taken care of Omega while on Kamino helped. 

And the fact that Crosshair took a liking to me immediately sealed the deal. We both speak fluent sarcasm. 

But...back to the mission... 

“What’s taking SO LONG?” Omega fidgeted in her seat. 

“My guess it is due to Hunter detecting an anomaly, they are taking their time.”  

Tech and I were attempting to play a few rounds of Sebacc. I’m HORRIBLE at it. He thinks he can help me improve my game. I’m struggling currently. 

“Safety first. No need to rush into trouble...especially since we seem to find it easily enough.” I threw down my cards. 

Tech glanced at them and frowned.  

“I totally messed up that hand too, huh?” 

“Well, it’s not a strategy I would have used...” Tech trailed off. 

“You’re being too nice.” 

“Shall I explain in detail the best plan of action for this hand?” 

“Can’t stop you. Just infodump me anyways. Maybe I’ll retain SOMETHING this time.” I LOVE to tease Tech. It was difficult in the beginning. Most of it just went over his head. 

This time, he just grinned at my cheekiness and launched into it. 

Omega continued to fidget in her seat behind us. 

“...and THAT is why you should have held onto those cards until the end.” Tech finally finished his tutorial. 

“I... THINK I got all that? My brain hurts now. How ‘bout I switch with Omega.” 

“That will be sufficient.” Tech looks up and glances behind me. 

Then his face froze. 

I quickly swung around to see Omega missing from her seat. 

“OMEGA???” I called through the ship.  

Nothing. 

“Oh SHIT!” 

“INDEED!” Tech immediately radioed Hunter that Omega slipped out of the Marauder and is probably enroute to them. 

I grabbed my med pack and ran out of the Marauder before he could stop me. 

Omega used to sneak away A LOT on our previous missions. Probably one of many reasons why he wanted to keep her back on Pabu until she matured a bit more. Of course, he feels guilty...the Kaminoan’s keeping her locked up in their home world. He didn’t want to clip her wings.  

“TOLD YOU to stay on the ship!” Hunter’s voice fills my ear comm. 

“I can’t just assume that Omega finds you somehow and is safe.” 

“Don’t need ANOTHER person in danger. Go back to the ship.” 

“Well...is Omega with you?” 

“...no.” 

“She SHOULD have been by now...AND I’m NOT going back.” 

Hunter’s tired sigh. “Well, then... 

He never finished his sentence. 

A flash of intense light... 

I awoke thirty feet away from where I was standing. On my back. 

My head hurts...all I can hear is high pitched whine in both ears. 

Sit up dazed and look around at EVERYTHING obliterated and on fire. 

Torn remains of whatever was left of the trees and outbuilding I was near... 

...two small legs sticking out from under smoldering wreckage. 

I lurch up to my feet and limp over. Grab the unidentifiable thing crushing Omega and try to pull it off her. 

It’s not budging. I frantically keep trying. There's NOTHING else in this world except me and this huge THING on top of her that I cannot seem to move. 

Sweating, my hands are raw, my eyes are wet, there is blood dripping down my face... 

Is it lacerated? Could it be my eardrums are ruptured? I don’t know.  

I just know I HAVE TO GET THIS THING OFF OF HER! 

Push, pull, kick... 

Then the wreckage flew off her like it weighed nothing at all. 

Wrecker is next to me. He freed Omega and put a hand on my shoulder. Hunter grabs her up. Echo is trying to speak to me. 

But I can’t hear anything at all. Just that damned whining in my ears.  

I can lip read though... 

He’s telling me to get back to the ship. 

Echo runs ahead with Hunter.  

Crosshair grabs my arm, dragging me along. He looks extremely worried. 

Whatever happened or if we even achieved our objective, I don’t know. 

Hunter sets Omega down on a bunk. He’s beside himself emotionally.  

I can feel the Marauder take off world.  

My hearing is still impaired, but the whining is less pronounced. 

I gently nudge Hunter aside and open my med kit. Pull out the bacta...but it won’t be enough... 

...she needs a tank. Her burns and lacerations are too numerous and severe. Still breathing and regular heartbeat, but unconscious.  

I am doing the best I can with what supplies are on hand. Putting her prognosis out of my head for the time being. 

We make a pit stop at a Rebel Base on a hidden moon. One with an extensive medical facility.  

Echo radioed ahead. As soon as Tech lands, the staff enters the ship and whisks Omega away. Hunter and Wrecker run after them. Echo runs in another direction...I’m assuming to report his intel to the Rebels. 

I stand at the bottom of the gangplank and watch them leave.  

Tech stares at me strangely.  

I shrug...and a horrible twinge of pain erupts from my upper back. My face feels sore too. 

Crosshair mumbles something. 

“WHAT???” I must be screaming but can’t hear anything. 

He mouths “your back” and points.  

I try to reach behind me to feel it.  

Tech grabs my hand and nods “no”. 

They both immediately took me to medbay. 

I’m treated for multiple facial lacerations, on top of first-degree burns. Missing some of my eyebrows. And, like I guessed bilaterial ruptured eardrums. 

Oh...and the kicker: A 12-inch piece of metal sticking out of my back. Had NO idea it was there.  

Adrenaline is a HELL of a hormone. 

Tech left to confer with Echo over intel and our next move. 

Crosshair stayed with me during the surgical removal of the metal. I demanded to be awake and requested a mirror to watch the whole procedure. 

The doctors were horrified but complied with my request. 

Crosshair held the mirror. He also asked to keep the metal once removed...to frame and hang up back on Pabu. 

“You're NOT like the other kids.” I quip. 

“Neither are you.” he winks. 

They won’t let me walk out of medbay. It’s the sedatives and painkillers, of course. I wouldn’t let me walk, either.  

Crosshair pushes me in a hover chair. We head over to the bacta tanks to check on Omega. 

She’s stripped down to a medical binder and med panties. Tubes to feed, breath, and eliminate. Floating in the tank, the extent of her injuries is very apparent: Second degree burns, multiple lacerations, a broken arm, a few broken ribs, and a head injury. Her hair had been clippered off entirely for cleanliness and most of it was charred.  

Omega was also put in a medically induced coma to aide her recovery. 

Hunter, sitting in a chair, has his arms around the bacta tank. He’s basically hugging it with his forehead resting snugly against the glass. 

“I shouldn’t have let her go. Blame myself.” He mumbles. 

Wrecker puts a hand on his back for comfort. “She’ll be ok Hunter. They said we got her here in time.”   

Then he looks shocked when he sees my face. 

“OH MY MAKER! Where are your EYEBROWS?” 

Still can’t hear very well, but I can DEFINITELY lip-read Wrecker. 

“Look what medical pulled out of him!” Crosshair proudly dangles a clear plastic bag containing the metal shard. 

Wrecker is transfixed. 

Hunter is devastated. “I MISSED that??? Didn’t even register you were injured...looked right at you...” 

Like a man lost and questioning EVERYTHING. His focus had been solely on Omega. 

“Aw...they couldn’t kill me. Don’t think I’ll be attracting any ladies with my perpetually surprised look though.” Trying to lighten the mood. 

“You can’t hear ANYTHING, can you?” Crosshair looks me in the eye. 

“Barely...why?” 

“You’re so LOUD.”  

“You should talk, Wrecker.” Crosshair sneered. 

“That’s how I know!” Wrecker rolled his eyes at his brother. 

Hunter looked even more guilty, hanging his head. 

“Hey guys...” 

Wrecker and Crosshair stopped whinging at each other. 

“Can I have some time alone with Hunter?” 

They both nodded and wandered off to find Echo and Tech. 

I nudge the chair over closer to Hunter and look at Omega through the glass. 

She’s so tiny in that big tank. So beat up and bruised. The lighting in the tank leaves NOTHING hidden. Even the old scars from her time on Kamino. The “experiments” according to the Kaminoans. Things they did to her before her brothers took her away.  

Things she never really spoke about with even Hunter. 

Things I only know about since working so closely at the facility on Kamino. A little girl who needed someone to comfort her. This was before her brothers were ever aware of her presence. 

“Her prognosis is very good, yes?” I broke the ice. 

“The docs say she’ll have to spend close to the next month in this tank.” Hunter’s voice cracked. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I knew better! Why is it SO HARD for me to say no to her???” 

“Because you love her. You know she’s strong. You also know she’s still a child. If it makes you feel better, she snuck out ALL the time on Kamino. The Kaminoan’s would ask me to go look for her constantly.” 

“More of an argument to have left her on Pabu.” 

“You REALLY want to be at fault, huh?” 

“I’m responsible for...” 

I cut him off. 

“YOU CAN’T CONTROL EVERYTHING, HUNTER!” I winced. Moving too much with my exasperation. The sutures on my back were straining...and wet. 

Hunter stood up, glancing at my back. He could smell it. 

“Strike through?” I asked. 

“Yeah...just a little blood. You need to lie down and rest.” 

“That’s gonna be hard. Not supposed to lay on my back...and my face isn’t going to feel great against the pillow. How about I just stay sitting in this chair with you?” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. I know you don’t want to leave her alone while she’s in this tube.” 

"Thank you. Honestly...I should say that more often. Y/N...you've really saved our butts a lot of times...I'm grateful to have you in our squad...family." Hunter cracked a small smile.

"Of course! Man...you are MY PEOPLE!" I beamed back. They really are. I'd go to the ends of the universe for every one of them!!!

Hunter's smile was so warm and genuine. But it lasted very briefly. His face became pensive again.

He was silent for a while...thinking. 

“Technically she’s asleep? Is that what a coma is like?” Hunter asked. 

“Kind of. The doctors are monitoring ALL her vitals constantly. And if anything is off, they can immediately see to her needs. Besides, the coma is just for the next 24-48 hours due to her head injury.”  

“I see.” 

“She’ll come through this. You clones were made to withstand a LOT of physical trauma. Stuff that would kill a regular human.” I added. 

“It’s not necessarily the physical stuff I’m worried about.” Hunter motions to the faint old scars on Omega’s body. “When she does wake up...she told me she has fears about being in a tube like an experiment.” 

“Tell her she has nothing to fear.” 

Hunter looks at me strangely. 

“People in a coma can still hear. Talk to her, Hunter.” 

He nods. Then directs his voice to the speaker on the bacta tube. 

I sit back and relax in the chair, watching this man...a brother, a parental figure speak to his child. 

He’s doing the best he can with what he has. 

We are all doing the best we can... 

...hanging on with HOPE. 

It’s the only thing holding the galaxy together right now... 

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[malachite-iiarie]

Nonsensical Cowboy Bebop Rant:

I just finished the show for the first time and my brain is melted so buckle up because I wasn’t expecting a full on philosophy debate regarding those who are trapped by their pasts, those who are trapped by destiny, and those who are free because they truly “go with the flow” or are able to let go. Starting with the last because it’s the easiest to make sense of-the only people in the end who actually seem content with themselves is Ed and Jet. Jet is the only person on the ship who is actually able to let go of their past (literally since he throws the watch). And although he keeps his metal arm we actively watch him show peace to the man who shot him. Ed is what Spike is trying to be, the only one actually able to go with the flow. I was a little pissed at the way they wrote her out, but honestly now I don’t see any other way they could have done it. She left the way she arrived, a complete enigma who followed her own rules but not because she was stubborn, because that’s just the way she is. And if course the character that goes with her? The one we know almost nothing about-the one with literally no past. Faye is trapped somewhere between her past and present. She desperately holding onto her past because she doesn’t know it, but I’m the end decides to let it go for what she has in front of her. A complete contrast to her actions for the rest of the show where she’s running away looking for her home even though she’s always welcomed back to the crew with open arms. Spike is always trying to project calmness and even describes his fighting style as moving like water, but I first got concerned for him not in the first Vicious fight, but the fight against the big assassin top hat guy. It’s the first time I think we ever actually see him get nervous. And it’s versus a man who is held in a death grip by his past. Also the whole cat thing, I’m certain there’s something there my brain is too rotted to realize. Spike is just running away from his past while meeting a bunch of people dying for the future (like the brother on Venus and Julia). And the moment he turns to fight his past he falls too. There’s that whole thing with the stars too. Representing our guardians or the spirits of warriors and when we die they fall. And the fen shui guy saying he changed the story and had his daughter show up but Spike says she showed up on her own. No one can write your destiny for you. And the way the music not only introduces the vibes of the characters and the message of the episodes, but it is completely silent during any fights or serious/emotional scenes. And I just thought about how the syndicate is trying to control everyone’s past and futures and I don’t know how that fits in there too but I’m sure it does. Idk like I said my brain is rotted and there’s probably so much I missed too and it’s only 1 season long but *aaaahhhhh*

[goosewriting]

“Have we met?”

summary: what if Fives had been stopped before removing his inhibitor chip on Kamino and was instead sent back after reconditioning, thereby forgetting you? 

relationship: Fives x gn!reader

warnings: hmmm angst :^), mentions of characters’ deaths, implied brainwashing?, dw there’ll be comfort at the end

word count: 2.2k 

A/N: in my book Fives is alive, no matter what. here’s one take lol mainly because i found some prompts and this idea refused to leave my brain

prompt used (source): we have just met and yet it feels like i have known you for a lifetime

Navigation: Part 1 (you're here!) | Part 2

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

→ PART 1: When he came back to you

When you heard the news about what Tup had done on Ringo Vinda, you couldn’t believe it. You were told that Fives went with him to Kamino to get checked. Something about a parasite or a virus; that was all the explanation you were given. But if you were being honest with yourself, no one seemed entirely convinced, including some of the Generals, and Rex. 

Fives was currently being held on Kamino for a couple more rotations to keep an eye on him, but was meant to come back to the Resolute soon enough. 

You sit in your room, thinking about how the whole deal smells a little fishy to you. You’d just have to ask Fives in person once he comes back. The fact that he isn’t responding to any of your messages isn’t helping, however. 

A long time ago, you had joined the GAR as a mechanic and worked (and studied) yourself up to mechanical engineer. Since with your new position came your own little workshop to tinker in, you had modified your and Fives’ comm devices to send encrypted messages to each other. They were coupled to the long range transmissions of the ship itself, so your messages didn’t get delivered immediately, so as to not raise any suspicion if someone were to check the log. But that’s how you would communicate with him when he was away. 

Usually it didn't take more than a few rotations for Fives to answer. Even when he was on the most secretive of missions as an ARC trooper, he’d still send you one of your code words to let you know he was okay. Now it’s been longer than ever before since you sent him your last message that went unanswered. 

You can’t help but stand up and start pacing back and forth in your room, trying to push back the feelings of worry. Rex told you Fives is supposed to come back today, but you still haven’t heard anything fromeither. The one thing the captain did tell you, though, was about Tup sadly passing away on Kamino. Those news really didn’t do much to help you feel reassured about Fives’ state.

You’re so engrossed in your thoughts and gradually worsening “what if” scenarios going through your head, that you almost jump out of your skin when your comm beeps on your desk. You hurry to pick it up and see there's a new message, but it’s from Rex. He says Fives’ ship has just landed.

At that, you all but sprint out of your quarters and run all the way to the hangar. It takes you a couple of minutes to get there, holding onto the edges of the wall to cut your curves. In one hall, you almost trip and fall, but catch yourself just in time to keep going. When you reach the hangar doors, out of breath and panting heavily, you press the button for them to open. You quickly make your way to one of the landing platforms, where you can already see Rex and Jesse talking to Fives.

You can't help the tears running down your cheeks, tears of happiness and relief, seeing that your boyfriend made it back in one piece. Feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off your heart, you take a deep breath and make your way to the group. 

As you’re approaching Fives from behind, you can only see Rex and Jesse's faces, and they’re looking… distressed? incredulous? confused? Rex spots you first, and calls out to you to wait, but you’re already hugging Fives from behind.

“Fives!” you greet him, squeezing the living lights out of him. Then again, with all that armour, you wonder if he can feel it at all. “I was so worried! Are you okay? You never answered my messages–”

You circle around Fives to face him, and you notice several things: first, he’s not hugging you back. Second, he looks bewildered at your presence. And third…

“Oh, uhm, hi there,” he says with a polite smile, his arms slightly raised so he doesn’t touch you. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who… Have we met?”

You let go of the clone, taking a step back. Squinting at him, you search his face for any sign of mischief or that he’s teasing you; it really isn’t a tasteful joke, but you’d forgive him. You tremble slightly when you realise that he’s 100% serious. 

You feel Rex’s hand on your shoulder, and you turn to him with a questioning look.

“It seems that Fives has, uhm…” he starts, unable to look you in the eyes. You quickly glance over to Jesse, who looks just as shocked as you. 

“He doesn’t remember you,” Jesse finishes Rex’ sentence.

You can’t help but let out an unamused chuckle at that.

“That’s insane,” you retort, turning back around to Fives. “You’re joking, right? Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m really sorry, uhm…” he scratches his neck sheepishly. “I never got your name…?”

You search his eyes again, but there’s nothing there that you recognise. With a shaky breath, your heart now pounding against your ribcage for all the wrong reasons, you turn back to the captain.

“What did they do to him, Rex?” you ask, your voice cracking. 

“Let’s just go inside first and catch up, okay?” Rex places an arm around your trembling shoulders and leads you towards the exit of the hangar. Jesse stays with Fives and brings him to the barracks.

Rex takes you to his captain’s office, where he sits you down on the small couch and prepares some tea. Once he’s done, he places a cup in front of you on the table, and takes a seat across from you in his office chair.

You thank him and reach out to the cup, but as you lift it, you realise how your hands are shaking, causing it to clatter against the saucer, so you set the tea back down, bringing your hands to your lap and interlacing your fingers instead in an attempt to calm them down. 

“Do you know… what happened?” you ask carefully. Rex heaves a sigh.

“Not really. It’s like Fives’ memory has been… wiped,” he explains, scratching his chin deep in thought. 

“That’s…” you start, but can’t find the words. “You’re saying it like it was deliberate. You don’t think it was a parasite?”

He doesn’t answer.

“...Do you think it was the Kaminoans?” you ask, your voice low, as if there was someone eavesdropping. “Why would they do such a thing?”

“I’m not sure,” he answers. “As a cadet back on Kamino I saw it maybe once or twice that a clone would be taken away, and then they reappeared with no memory of something small that had happened recently. They would do it because the clone in question showed an ‘inappropriate emotional response’, so they had to ‘fix it’.” He gestures the quotation marks in the air with his hands. “After all, to many we’re just a product or a tool, and as such we’re expected to function in a certain manner.”

“You know that a lot of people don’t think that, right?” you interject, and he smiles.

“I know. But that’s how we came to be.” His smile fades, his brow furrowing. “But Kaminoans are good at what they do, and all in all always treated us well. I’ve never seen or heard of a clone forgetting entirely about someone else because of a treatment.”

You both sit in silence for a moment. 

“Do you think it can be recovered somehow?” you ask, your chest tightening at the thought of Fives losing all the memories he had with you. What if he never felt the same again? What if… he was incapable of loving you again? What if he didn’t want to love you again?

Rex can see where your mind is going, so he stands up and makes his way to you, sitting on the couch as well, placing a reassuring hand on your knee. He knows that recovering memories after a thorough wipe is nearly impossible, but he can’t tell you that.

“I’ll see what I can find out,” he settles on. With a small smile, he adds, “For now, why don’t you go introduce yourself to him? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to make your acquaintance.”

“Right,” you reply and sigh. Let’s treat this like… like he hit his head and has amnesia, you tell yourself. After I spend time with him and show him all our holopics and videos together, surely he’ll remember me. Deep in your heart, you know that’s just a lie you’re telling yourself to feel better, but you’d rather lie to yourself than face the truth right now. A truth that wasn’t limited to Fives’ sudden state, but gave place to so many more questions about clones, Kaminoans and what they did out there; questions you had no energy in pursuing any time soon. 

Changing the subject, you make some small talk with Rex while you drink your tea. Once the cup is empty, you leave the captain’s office and shoot Jesse a quick message asking if he knows where Fives is. The reply comes almost instantaneously, telling you the whole squad is in the mess hall. You take a quick look at the time, and sure enough, it’s time for dinner. Only then do you feel the grumbling of your stomach, reminding you that in all your worry about your favourite clone, you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. 

You quickly make your way to the hall. The smell of today’s menu fills your nose and the clattering of plates and cutlery, as well as indistinct chatting of clones and staff alike, reaches your ears. After getting your food, you make your way to the 501st’s usual table. You notice that Fives is sitting at the edge of the group, so that a sitting space is free between him and Kix. That’s where you usually sit. Your heart can’t help but skip a beat; maybe he does remember? Or is it just muscle memory that can’t be erased away that easily? 

Taking in a deep breath, you approach the group and clear your throat. It catches Fives’ attention, who turns around to you.

“Hey handsome,” you smile at him. “Is that seat taken?” You nod towards the empty space. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he says, clearly surprised by your presence. Again. “Yeah, I mean–” He clears his throat. “It isn’t taken. Feel free to join us.”

You thank him and take a seat, greeting the others, who say their ‘hello’s back to you. Fives eyes them curiously, then looks back to you.

“Say, I never caught your name,” he remarks for the second time today, taking a bite of his food. 

You can’t help a sad smile as you look up at Jesse, who’s sitting in front of you. It occurs to you that that’s where Echo used to sit, and for a second you wonder if Fives has forgotten about him too. 

Jesse mirrors your smile with a slight shrug of his shoulders, and you turn to Fives, telling him your name.

“Oh, so that’s you!” he mentions, and you tilt your head at him in confusion. “The guys have been asking me about you ever since I arrived. I don’t know how I could have forgotten about someone I apparently hang out with so much?” 

“Right?” you retort under your breath, taking a mouthful of the rather bland food.

The conversation they were having earlier restarts, and Kix tells them about some patients he had today, Jesse talks about some improvements to their weapon system they could do, and so on. You’re not really paying much attention anymore, fidgeting with your fork once you finish eating. 

One by one, the clones excuse themselves to retire for the night or go back to their shift. In the end, it’s just you and Fives left at the table. You have one elbow propped up on the table, your head in your hand, looking at him.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” you ask suddenly. 

“What does?” he retorts, studying your face. You don’t answer immediately, weighing the words in your head. 

“Not remembering someone who clearly knows who you are,” you finally say, tears starting to gather in the corner of your eyes. 

That’s when you see his façade drop. He curls his hand on the table into a fist and bites the inside of his cheeks, trying to play it off with an awkward chuckle. 

He doesn’t reply at first, just looking at you like he’s trying to draw the answers from your eyes, an answer that is there, but he can’t read for some reason. 

“I don’t understand,” he finally replies, and it’s barely more than a whisper. “We have just met and yet it feels like I’ve known you for a lifetime.”

You can feel your heart shattering into a thousand pieces.

“Oh Fives, what have they done to you…” Your hand reaches up to cup his cheek, but his own shoots up first to press against his temple, just behind his tattoo, and he winces in pain, backing away from your touch. 

“I– I have to go,” he utters and stands up, quickly making his way out of the mess hall.

You’re left there, alone. Hurt. Hopeless.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97

[sr-sam-bodypillow]

hoogh im thinking about stancat123. he’s so cute frrrrr… so behold! nsfw stan x reader headcanons since I’m simping on main. no gendered pronouns but reader is afab

[full disclosure this was first put into my drafts in fucking January. time is a myth i have adhd]

stan is overall kind of a disaster of a guy (affectionate). you would absolutely have to make the first move and flirt with him

he’s so warm…. like human hot water bottle. good for hugging.

he would absolutely ramble about topics that he likes for hours on end and it’s adorable

i don’t think he’s a good cook. like, at all. im pretty sure he managed to give himself food poisoning within a few weeks of living by himself. he goes into the kitchen and creates biohazards modern horror writers only wish they could create. but he makes up for it with enthusiasm and puppy-dog eyes, so you two spend a lot of time cooking together (he improves. eventually)

when you snuggle in bed he starts out as the little spoon but you end up waking up to his limbs tangled around you as he clings onto you like a weird lanky koala

he’s also NOT a morning person at all. he’s like a siren but instead of leading your ship into the rocks with his singing he leads you back into the warm and comfy bed in the morning when you have things to do with his cute snoring and 🥺 face. when he does get up it’s always after 10am (unless he has something to do) and he shuffles around awkwardly like a zombie for an hour until his brain properly wakes up. he has fallen asleep in his breakfast and on your shoulder whilst standing several times and you’ve got a lot of photos

it’s so easy to make him flustered, you hold his hand in public in the beginning of your relationship and he can’t make eye contact with anyone for the next two hours

you accidentally give him a hickey once and he walks into the office, screams at a such a high pitch that has some people think that a bird has gotten stuck in the room, turns around runs out and promptly falls down the stairs.

the only thing he bruises is his ego. you were the one bruising his neck ;)

he’s very submissive in bed. he likes the feeling of someone else taking control of him, telling him exactly what to do and how to do it. he doesn’t have to think for a while, and for a few hours all he will ever be is a pretty little pet, a living dildo for you to use and pleasure yourself with as you see fit, exisiting solely to make you feel good and he fucking loves it.

he’s definitely got a big dick, and his dick’s pretty thick too. this does not change how much of a bottom he is and if anything it makes it more adorable

pet play. god, he’d be so big on pet play. again, he loves being ordered around, so he happily puts on a collar and lets you put a leash on him, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he pants slightly. his mind goes fuzzy and he finds it hard to think, but he doesn’t mind since you’re doing all the thinking for him. he finds it a bit harder to control himself, so sometimes he ends up humping your thighs sloppily to get off and even though both of you know that you’re going to need to punish him later for being a bad boy and touching himself when he wasn’t allowed to, you don’t stop him because the little moans and whimpers he makes as he tries to fuck your thighs, spreading his pre everywhere as he bucks his hips against you shakily sound so damn good

he’s really fucking kinky even though it embarrasses him a bit. like you name it he’s either willing to try it or he’s already jerked off to it. hands? check. choking? absolutely! face sitting? god yes, he wants you to smother him so badly. pegging? spanking? wax play? he’s already been trying to figure out how to ask you about that. knife play? he wasn’t too sure about this but he had a dream recently where you held him at knifepoint and he woke up to realise that he’d come in his pants, so yes.

also PEGGING. holy shit he’d probably love to be pegged, love the feeling of your skin pressing up against him as you slam into him over and over again ruthlessly until he cums all over himself. spanking, too. he wants you to slap his ass till it bruises, and there’s a chance you could probably get him to finish just by slapping his ass

yknow how i mentioned that he loves to ramble about topics he likes? imagine starting to grind up against him as he talks, slipping your hands underneath his shirt and seeing just how long he can keep his composure, words starting to slur together as he gasps and groans, desperately trying to stop himself from moaning like the needy little whore you both know he is. he doesn’t last long, and soon he’s on his knees with his head in between your thighs, using his mouth for something that’s equally as productive and enjoyable for the both of you.

he probably sends you a lot of nudes. like every single image/video he sends you during the day is a Risky Click because it’s either something absolutely adorable and goofy like him showing you how many books he can stack on his head or it’s his fully erect, thick throbbing cock with precum leaking from the tip as he softly moans your name like it’s the only thing in life that matters, tears of overstimulation rolling down his cheeks, pretty brown eyes clouded with lust, one hand groping his chest and playing with his cute pink nipples, the other slowly pumping two of his fingers in and out of his perfect ass whilst he’s rambling about how he wishes you were home with him because he wants you to fuck him so badly and he just can’t wait any longer and he’s so sorry but surely you can understand that he’s too horny to not fuck himself like this

Voyeurism kink…. it’d absolutely embarrass him to admit it but he definitely gets off to the thought of people watching him, you included. he’s put on a show for you quite a few times, taking off all his clothes and slowly edging himself with a dildo or vibrator until he can’t take it anymore, the overstimulation breaking him. he just wants you to watch him be your perfect little slut <3

once you get past the initial hurdle of literally everything embarrassing him and you realise just how much of a needy pervert he actually is you both start to do a lot more somewhat public stuff. he starts wearing a collar around everywhere, hiding it beneath his clothes, starts asking you to give him more hickeys in visible spots because he loves it when people can see just who he belongs to

if he ever tops you it’s more of a service top thing with a lot of body worship. he may be on top but he’s still submissive, doing exactly what you ask of him and doing all he can to make sure that you feel good

all in all, adorable subby pervert. thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[brionysea]

hi! sorry for the brother, i'm reading your posts about mike of st, and thank god you don't ship him with anyone, so i'd like to know a neutral opinion about a writing choice made for him in season 3 where it was show mike say sorry to el for lying to her, while he did not the same for will. It was show an attempt, but in the end the writers choose that mike didn't brother with an actual apology to will. In my opinion mike show his love through his actions, more than his words, and that's the point of his arc in season 4.

(yea mike apologizes to will in season 4 but for his actions at the rick o mania, but he never say anything about the fight of s3, so mike meant those words even if he was a bit rude the way he said them :/)

Thank you for your answer,

have a nice day :)

yeah you're right anon, i don't really care about ships. like, i do, but in an Intellectual, "what does this reveal about their characters?" way, which is definitely not the vibe for most of this website. i'm just here for mike tbh

it took me a second to remember the apology you were talking about. the thing is, like with most of season 3, mike kind of had to have his hand held through it to get there. it was mostly lucas doing his whole wingman thing but max was also put in a position of trying to get mike to do better (even if she was more shouty about it). i see that scene and mike's realisation that he needs to get over himself ("i like that you and max are friends now") as him taking all max's comments about el being a person and not his little pet that he can just hide in the basement to heart and realising she's right. it also goes the other way with max and mike working together to protect el when they're trapped in starcourt, since that was mike's side of the argument

and the way mike says he was jealous of el spending time with max and that's assumed to be romantic... this was the same episode as robin told steve that her being jealous wasn't because she had a crush on him. and there's been a lot of platonic jealousy on this show - lucas over mike and el; mike over lucas, dustin and max; steve over dustin and eddie; eddie over dustin and steve. like, it's not that out there, i'm just saying. friendships matter on this show

and with will... honestly, i think mike was trying not to think about him during season 3. and even though the season 3 apology was never heard, by doing that in the first place, mike was doing what max said ex boyfriends should do when dumped - come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. mike was... very unbothered after el dumped his ass. but when will tells him he's ruining the party and runs off? mike bikes to the other side of town in the middle of a storm, bangs on the door like his life depends on it, and immediately starts begging for forgiveness. max said that in the same episode. i cannot stress enough how much i don't care about the love triangle, there are too many of them in this show and they're boring every time, but just looking at those two reactions when el and will respectively decide they're done with him... yeahhhh, it's telling

also, i think that season 4 apology was meant to encapsulate everything that's gone wrong between them. it's the only way mike saying "the past year has been weird" makes any sense to me, outside of these two just being overdramatic teenagers for no reason; things were weird before the byers moved (which we know they were, because mike was acting like a total jerk and ignoring anyone whose name wasn't el for months), we're just not allowed to see why because mike's pov is holding way more secrets than el's or will's are

back when i first watched season 4, before my brain decided to latch onto mike wheeler for no reason, most of his scenes just bored me to sleep because all he would talk about was el, and he didn't feel like himself in those scenes. i specifically remember thinking that the most mike scene in the season was the "friends, best friends" scene, because i just enjoy him so much more when he's with will. it lets him be all the things i love about his character, strong and brave and smart and caring, and when he's with el, mike himself feels like he can't be any of those things. and that goes the other way too; el was putting on a front for mike, pretending to be happy and normal when she's not

i care about these characters being able to be themselves and just be enjoyable to watch, on an entertainment level, and when mike and el are together romantically all they do is bring each other down and hurt each other constantly. mike doesn't get el's experience with bullying, doesn't get that girls do it in subtler ways, and that el was reacting to months worth of being poked at. el doesn't get mike's experience with bullying, tells him that he doesn't get it, when she was literally there the day a bully made homophobic comments towards him (whether mike is interpreted as queer or not, that was homophobic bullying) and later forced him off a cliff. bullying is one of the first things they bonded over way back in season 1. it feels important that they've lost that ability to communicate (about this and many other things) now that their relationship has shifted

i don't "ship" mike with anyone, but by god i need them both out of that relationship because all they're doing is hurting each other. if byler lets mike stop being so heart breakingly depressed all the time - which i think it would, because if anyone could see through mike's bullshit of pushing people away because he doesn't think he deserves them and realise he's hurting too, it would be will "too selfless for his own good" byers - then i'm all for it. also, a queer relationship as central as byler on a show this big makes me kinda giddy to think about

[bearpillowmonster]

Ok, Sly Cooper.

Well, let me give you some expectations for this game and then see if they lived up.

One of the big three of the PS2 era; Sly Cooper, Ratchet & Clank and Jak & Daxter. Jak & Daxter I've obviously held the highest but as time has gone on, my opinions have changed on Ratchet and Clank but what about Sly?

Back then, I looked up what was considered best of the series, hoping that it would make the strongest impression on me. So for Easter one year, I asked for Sly 2 and played through a little bit of it. I got to Dmitri for the first time and honestly every time that I've tried to go back to it, I get lost with what I'm trying to do, like I don't remember how to play and can't be bothered to restart it, there's just too many places to go.

While Bentley gives you his visual aid, it only lasts a second and you aren't directly looking at it so it can be difficult to navigate. That mixed with my amateur stealth game knowledge, I sat it out.

I saw a YouTube video of someone explaining why Sly is so important to them and why it was still worth checking out. I lodged it in the back of my brain and thought it best to visit the first of the series, maybe I was being too rash starting with the sequel, I mean it being more linear would be a good thing for me so I put it on the backlog. Then one day, I got a real hankering for it, like down bad for it. I started making OCs, looking for it on eBay (which I logged) and really can't say that I've wanted a game that bad since my KH:BBS rom stopped working and I bought 1.5, 2.5 remix where I just wasn't satisfied playing anything else until then but that's besides the point. I eventually broke down and got it. So is it worth all that trouble?

Let's start with age. It has a remaster collection on PS3 but like the other big three of the PS2 era, they didn't port those over to PS4 or the PS store so you're kind of stuck with this one unless you buy a PS3. This is a game that was defining controls, you can tell what was a breakthrough by how they sell it in game too.

So the controls from time to time can seem a bit finnicky since it's PS2 era, but I imagine the remaster probably ironed out those issues since it runs on a different controller. Let me give you an example. Sly's tail has a blue sheen to it to indicate that he's following a track set up in game so that you can balance yourself better. You can break this track but it's easier to stay straight. It's not your masterful controlling doing this, it's the game. Press circle to latch onto stuff (small beams, ropes, etc.) The platforms can shake with momentum as you move on them, in water they start to sink but only where you're stepping. There were a lot of points where I was surprised to see the modern era take reference like Uncharted and Assassin's Creed, this game impressed me 21 years down the road.

I was thinking it was baby's first Splinter Cell but I was dead wrong, it's got variety. I like Splinter Cell, I'm not putting it down, I'm just stating the fact that some of these levels are quite different from the last, not just stealth. From environments like libraries and pirates ships to controlling a submarine to fight off crabs taking treasure chests and all that's within the first 'area'. Yeah, I said 'area'. I also said that this game was more linear. What I'm getting at is that there's a semi 'hub' or sorts where it's portals to levels inside of a level, you play those levels to grab whatever you may need to progress, it's cool and simple enough to keep track of when it's in bites but it's understandable how I could've gotten lost as a kid.

These areas are split between the five different villains or bosses of the game (which are all great btw), starting with the "missions" back at HQ, just like I remember. But if you don't finish that current mission right away and save and exit then you may need a refresher. How many levels can there be? Who's to say, I mean like I said, variety. I think there are seven levels to the first mission but that crab level was the shortest one of the bunch. What do you value in a level? Do you get everything there is to collect?

There are these bottles with little messages inside that collecting enough throughout the level will net you a code from Bentley which can be used for a vault found in that same level. You can go, get them on your first run. Or get some and come back later. It's up to you but the rewards are actually quite beneficial. You see jump is X, and latching is Circle and attack is Square but what's Triangle? Well, you want a fast attack? A roll? You want abilities? Sure, you get new abilities and none of these hidden ones are mandatory but it's a good incentive to thoroughly explore the level. You use the shoulder buttons to scroll through your favorites.

So length can be varying but let's put it this way, it's set up with lives, you run out and you have to restart the level as there are checkpoints otherwise. It's not a bad compromise though because for one, it gives you excuse to get those missed collectibles and two, it saves the collectibles you've already gotten pretty much no matter what so it's not that bad. You can even finish the level and come back and still have the same progress on collecting, I've collected them all before but had to restart because I did them out of order and I did a speedrun of the level in what? A minute? First run was maybe ten. But you really only get a one hit allowance and die if you land in water. You can also pick up level ups and horseshoes which gain you an extra hit or collect a hundred coins for a horseshoe.

So is it worth it? Let me put it this way. I mentioned how I went through a lot to get this game and when it came, it was packaged really good but it was already scratched and the case was dented before they even put it in there and during the cutscene after the first boss, it got stuck and start skipping. I wasn't positive that I could get it to work again so I asked this question. "Now that I've had a taste, (a demo if you will) would I be willing to buy it again in order to play the rest?" And the answer was yes.

It just felt so good to jump with X and press circle to step onto something. With a little elbow grease and improved controls, this game is pretty golden. 4/5.

[blissfulalchemist]

Obligatory OTP Asks!

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

Nate x Aria

Siberite x Thancred

:D

Ahhh!!! Thank you! I truly love answering for both of these ships! (hidden similarities my beloved....) But these were fun to answer! Especially the song ones!

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Aria doesn’t have too many nightmares, the occassional one if there’s a particularly bad storm, but when she does Nate makes sure she faces him, talking softly, and pulling her close once her eyes are focused on him. 

When Nate would wake from the nightmares in the early stages of their relationship, she had no context as to what they were related too and she wouldn’t ask until the next day and he would just deny anything was wrong, but she would run her fingers through his hair, urging him to lay against her, humming some song that came to mind until he relaxed enough and she’d start talking about some random tid bit of history or geology or making up a story until she sees him start to smile or one/both of them fall back asleep.

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

Nate would and Aria would act a bit like they’re too old for such things but loves it and joins in quickly. Its few and far between but it picks up more once they have kids.

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

I feel that “Quietly Yours” by Birdy fits them best. There’s just this softness and romantic sound to the music and vocals that just hits on the elements of their repressing feelings. The lyrics though bring a hope and desire that they both feel at different times but is consistent for the two of them because life just is like that. Honestly the main verses feel like the phases but Aria’s journey goes 1,2,3 while Nate goes 3,2,1 and it just! It does something and its hard to describe honestly. 

1. White sails and off shore lights We were passing ships in the night Now I'm tracing shadows on your back Like I dreamt so many times

2. Quietly keeping This hope in my heart Prayed the night bring Back what I lost Many years have gone by But I never forgot

3. There was a time when I let you go Allowed myself to be swayed and pulled But for all my days I make a vow No words could ever shake me now

And then don’t get me started on the whole chorus with regards to the green house Aria has had since they first met.

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

Listen we all know who’s testing his luck with jumping in the elevator and how much panic it can cause for Aria, especailly since he’s done it once or twice with the old ones that are held together with rope and hope.

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Nightmares are more common with these two considering all that’s happened to them. When its Thancred waking with them she’s right there behind him wrapping her arms around him, resting her face against his back, whispering that she’s there, he’s safe, she’ll protect him (albeit really sleepy sometimes and closed eyes) and will stay awake with him until he chooses to go back to sleep or its time for them to get ready for the day. Sib has them often but really only has the waking up in a panic if she’s not entangled in the person. When she is entangled in them and wakes up he’s there letting her get seperated from him and then gently bringing her face to look at him assuring her letting her fall into him with the sobs that typically come afterwards. If he’s gotten up from the bed and gone to get breakfast or just left for whatever reason its like her brain knows that she’s all alone and the nightmares can start from there. Sometimes he gets back in just enough time to see the thrashing where he can then grab onto her hand, giving it a kiss and that typically does the trick in helping her calm down before actually waking, and should she be awake its all about getting her to see him and feel him that he’s real.

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

Technically setting up a tent counts as making a pillow fort and they do on occassion. Mostly its to get away from everyone for a little while or they just opt to not stay at an inn when on an adventure together.

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

The best one would have to be “Better Love” by Hozier. Now firstly its Hozier so jot that down haha. But the lyrics just have this balance of sadness and hope that just kind of fits how the story goes a lot of times. They have moments where things are looking up only have it all crashing down again and the same goes for their relationship with the up and downs. At the end of the day though I couldn’t put it better than from the man himself in his explination of the chorus:

“The chorus, at its simplest, is a reassurance. It’s somebody reassuring a lover, just saying, “You know what, I’ve looked upon this and tried to find something to reconcile, to make sense of all this, but I can’t.” It’s where the “better love” thing comes from. At its simplest it’s a reassurance and words of comfort to make somebody feel better. At the core of it is a love story about two people trying to protect each other in a very hostile environment.”

and really isn’t it about having love in a hostile enviroment that urges you to keep going and face the world and make it better. It’s about the love that makes us human and all the forms it takes.

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

Admittedly its Sib that is both jumping in the elevator and freaking herself out much to Thancred’s amusment as yes it keeps happening and yes she refuses to learn her lesson.

[monsterfloofs]

Aliens (Sil and Vessa) AxFx Female Reader

( Oh my gosh. . . this story has been a long time coming and it isn’t even done yet! It’s already almost 5k words long and I am stunned, as someone who usually doesn’t write long stories. ^//u//^ ) I guess it’s time to start posting what I have so far! I hope you enjoy!)

It has been about a week cycle until you were able to feel comfortable in the company of your new crew mates.

It was a vastly different kind of voyage than the previous ones you were used to. The last job you had taken, you had been working with beings that prided themselves in negotiations and diplomacy. They had been excited to have an Earthling in their ranks and many were quick to befriend you, even though you were registered as only an assistant mechanic.

You missed the cute beings back on your old ship, but once they reached their destination you once again had to scrounge up a new job. You had been lucky to find a mid-ranking job posted by a group of asteroid miners. While the pay was good and you were hired on the spot, you were a little wary at first by the look of the rag tag crew. Keeping a stun gun at your side while you warmed up to your position.

You first had the pleasure of meeting Sil when you were being introduced to your work partners. Sil was one of the lead Mechanics onboard and they were waved over to come and meet you. Though they did so with an air of annoyance.

At first you had thought they were some kind of cyborg, tall and slim, with the dark red chitinous plating that covered their exposed form. It traveled up their fingers, forearms, and neck, the sloping plates ending at a dark visor that was shaped over their face. You couldn’t see Sil’s eyes, or any kind of expression for that matter. Their face was a blank dark void. You had smiled and introduced yourself politely, while Sil had only grunted, waving away the hand that you had held out in a friendly gesture. “This is the add-on we hired?” Sil’s long neck swivels, his head turns towards your companion and promptly ignores you. You slowly drop your hand, smile slipping from your lips, as the two proceed to talk, the tall being refusing to acknowledge you.

Once Sil had left, your cohort had attempted to apologize, but you had shook your head and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal really, I’ve worked for worse,” You smiled and promised that you were unfazed, but in the back of your head you were giving a sigh. 

“Not all jobs are good jobs.” You told yourself, throwing your bag down once you were settled into a room. Thankful to have space to yourself. This sleeping bunker, which was a fairly large room, housed around four beds. Although from your observation, only one of those beds had sheets and blankets that looked like they had been recently occupied. You could see the resident's things settled onto the grooved shelves inlaid into the wall.

“At least I have a big room to myself. . .” You murmur, “For now. . .” 

Your thoughts trailed back to the tall spindly figure, and you snapped your fingers as your brain finally recognized the species. You didn’t see them around often, but you did remember a few that you've met in and out of space stations. They were a Kestron, mainly you've heard a lot of stories of them being stationed in scientific fields of study and research. Though you had thought if you could get a job aboard one of their scientific ships you would have jumped at the chance. They had a reputation for being sociable and extremely curious beings, hyper intelligent, which painted them perfect for delicate and intricate fields of study. It was so strange for you to see a Kestron here, you had only met them a handful of times since, many of the ones you encountered held pretty prestigious positions. But the ones you do remember meeting, certainly hadn’t been that astoundingly rude.

It was always hard to tell what expressions Kestron’s held, since they didn’t have a standard face like a lot of other species that were drifting through in the galaxy. Though, usually that meant they would go out of their way to try and communicate their feelings. A few of the ones you met previously even had little devices about the size of a name tag mounted on their clothes. The little computer monitor would emote, giving little cartoon faces and changing color, to help show what emotion they displayed.

You had gained a whole new angle from knowing Sil for just a short time.

You were changing when you heard the door open, their tall gangly frame in the doorway and you squeak. Hugging a blanket to you quickly, Sil remains unphased, They hover in the door frame for a moment before they step into the room, without any sign or visible reaction. walking over to the other bunk and flops down.

You had instantly shrunk back, gawking horror before you opened your mouth to say something. After a few unsuccessful tries they beat you to the punch.

"I am sure you aren't going to like this, but we share a room," Their voice hums as they wave offhandedly at you. "Better get used to it sweet heart." They turn their head to look over at you "Nice -- by the way," They gesture at your chest with a lazy hand, denoting the lace around your form and your throat clenches, steam building up in your temple as you grab the nearest pillow and throw it full force at them. It hits them right in the face with a satisfying *Whump* Sil pauses, hands still mid-motion in the air before they drop back onto the bed. "I guess I deserved that," Came a muffled response as you quickly got your clothes righted again. Glaring daggers at them as they lay with the pillow still over their face. 

"You b-better believe it," You stammer angrily, "The next time you make a snide comment like that I'm going straight to the Workers services and report harassment! Don't you dare think this is my first job with people who--”

They sit up immediately and your anger withers slightly, growing nervous at how tall they are. "I wasn't harassing you," Their voice turning icy, "Stars above--" They clip off their translator and you blink at the slew of angry chittering that spews forth from them, before they promptly turn over in bed and lay back down with their back towards you.

It was only later you found out that you had been put on work detail that they were supervising. It was bad enough to share a room, but now, you kept your head down and avoided them as much as possible. You were relieved when you were sent off to a task, all too eager to gain space away from Sil. You don your space helmet before you make your way towards a hatch marked 1-89.

The double doors slide behind you as you breathe a sigh of relief. At least you can work in peace, but dread pools in the pit of your stomach thinking about after having to see Sil after work. You shift from side to side, pressing the large button beside the doorway, a vacuum sucking the air out of the room as the hatch opens. You let go of your toolbox, as the gravitationally stabilizer in the hallway turns off, it drifts lazily beside you. You take the cord on your side, clipping yourself to the metal railing outside the hatch.

You look up at the long shaft full of hardware and computers, making sure your lifeline is secure before grabbing your toolkit. Kicking off with your feet to propel yourself up into the shaft. Grabbing the railing in front of you, you continue to push yourself up effortlessly through the large shaft full of blinking lights and flashing panels. 

You make a few taps to the side of your helmet before a favorite song of yours begins to play within its speakers. You give a happy sigh, it was just you, your music and the work in front of you. You hum softly to yourself, putting a knot in the rope tether to stop at your designated work space. Bobbing your head to the music floating around your head, you open your toolbox, taking a screwdriver from one of its straps. You begin to carefully start unscrewing the panel in front of you. Making sure to take the floating screw and stick them to the magnetized panel at the top of your toolbox.

"Hey you, newbie, Sparky--" 

You had been working on installing a new piece of hardware when you heard your helmet buzz, Sil’s voice crackling over the radio. Touching a gloved hand to the panel on the side and wincing. "Y-yes?" You mumble awkwardly, 

"Once you are done with the addition to the hardware of the data bank, I want to meet you inside. I’ll show you what I want your help with.”

Your heart sinks with dread, “Roger. . .” You reply sulkily. Looking back to your handiwork in defeat before carefully replacing the panel. You half hoped the new tech would go on the fritz, but as green lights flicker on and gleam with a steady light you grimace and groan. You flip yourself over in mid air. Letting your body freely spin in the weightless as you turn around. Hands reaching out once more to grab the handholds as you pull yourself back down to the doorway. Unclipping your lifeline and closing the hatch behind you. As you air comes back into the room you feel the ship's gravity stabilize, the whoosh of weight making your boots clomp down hard onto the floor. Woof. In all the years of going in and out of the main quarters of ships. . . you would have thought you would get used to having the gravity switching on and off in the rooms. No matter how many times you did it, it still made your stomach drop. Which only added to the pit forming in your stomach. You weren’t ready to be on the offensive yet, you had just got here and started your new job. You haven’t even had the chance to make any friends.

“Where did you want me to meet you?” You mumble over the intercom.

You were directed where you needed to go without complaint, keeping your head down as you went about your business for the rest of the day. Most of the tasks you were given seemed to be standard maintenance, hardware updates, and rewiring. Thankfully many of these tasks were a one person job, and you were happy to be left to your own devices.

When the small group disbands for the rest cycle, you wrestle with your nerves, you weren’t exactly ready to head back to your room into the uncomfortable air that had permeated within only a few days. You can feel your anxiety raise at the thought, making your throat tighten. Your direction of your feet changing, instead of heading back to your assigned bunker, you go the opposite way. You walk for a while, getting yourself familiar with the ship's internal map as you fight a wave of nausea.

Looking up you find the blue light of the med-bay pulse, the sign cycling through multiple languages before reaching Standardized Earthian English.

“Must be my lucky day. . .” You murmured weakly as you approached the sick bay’s doors. You knock on the door then cross your arms over your stomach, letting your gaze drift. When your gaze shifts back you see dark beady eyes peeking at you from the top of the door frame. It causes you to blink and do a double take. Is the doctor. . . standing on the ceiling?

You hear a frenzied scuttling as the door opens, a white and blue blur whizzing across the wall.

Your shoulders flinch upwards as you see a fluffy arachnoid creature wearing an extremely rumpled doctor’s coat. Presumably from spending their time crawling around on the ceiling, but your thoughts are abruptly jostled as they chatter at you.

“Esh you!” They chatter excitedly, “Th’ newbie! I wish I knew you were coming down sooner! I would have cleaned up!” From the sound of their voice, it actually sounded like they were speaking Earthian English, but the large mandibles that were on either side of their mouth made it hard to pronounce some of the sounds.

“Esh so nich to see a new fach!”

You feel the corners of your lips turn up, despite yourself. It’s been a while since you had ran into an alien that actually tried to speak another’s language and not rely on a communicator. You were a little sad you couldn’t extend the same level of hospitality.  

“Are you sick?” Their hands had already started enthusiastically pulling out drawers, “Esh got gravity gummies and nausea medishine– Em’ Vessa by the way! And your name?” 

“Anything for anxiety?” You ask shyly after you had introduced yourself, Vessa’s tear drop head tips up, their beady eyes staring at you. 

“Anxshious?” 

You give a small smile and nod sheepishly. “J-just a little, first day on the job didn’t go so well.”

Vessa gestures for you to sit down in one of the , “Sit, sit! Can get you some medishine, or if you like herbal stuff, Em can get you some tea!”

You look surprised at the offer of tea. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a ship’s doctor prescribe tea before,” you reply with a smile. 

“Oh!” Vessa gives a purring little rev of their vocal chords. “Some workers refuse to take medishine, even herbal stuff. Unlesh they’re really sick!” They wink at you. “Em jusht covering all the bashesh!”

You catch yourself laughing faintly at their speech,  shifting on the seat of the chair. “Tea would. . . actually be lovely. Would I be able to take something back to my room too if I begin to feel nauseous again?”

Vessa nods, turning around on their thick legs to scribble out a small prescription, they were probably going to give you something over the counter. But med-bays usually had tight rules about what medicine was leaving the room to whom. You ran into all sorts of doctors while you had starship hopped. Some wouldn’t give out medicine unless you looked like you were two shades from dying, while others would give you it for every little problem under the sun. The med doctors, just like the workers who lived onboard, came in all kinds. 

You drank your tea in a sunny room that looked out at the ocean. This med-bay had a private holo-chamber which would depict different images of places for crew members experiencing homeworld sickness or anxiety. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Imaging the salt air that would have stirred your hair and filled your lungs. You had been a star hopper for so long, sometimes it was nice to remember the place you hailed from. Even if you didn’t have much of a memory of it. 

You walk back into the main hull of the ship, meeting a new but friendly face has been a rush of relief to your system. The ship’s doctor was not your typical ship doctor who hurriedly gives you your medicine and sends you packing. Maybe it was because of the smaller maintenance staff that gave them more time to be chatty. In any case, you greatly appreciated getting your mind off of your troubles for a little while. And the tea that they had given you in the holo-chamber could still be tasted on your tongue. It was an earthy kind of taste. . . but not unpleasant. You were going to have to ask them what plant it had been from. You might see if you can buy yourself a box the next time you reach a supply station.

The pause at the door in front of your assigned bunker, giving a jolt as you see the rusty platting of your bunker partner.

An uncomfortable silence settles between the both of you for a moment.

“Where were you?” 

Sil steps over the threshold to meet you in the hallway, your eyes flicking towards their faceplate uncomfortably, “Just went for a walk, why?”

Sil looks down at you, “. . . I didn’t know where you went. Someone spotted you headed towards the infirmary. I was concerned.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” You muttered, visibly tensing. “I just felt a little ill,”

Sil sighs, “Look. We got off on the wrong foot, and I. . .” You heard a clicking noise before they growl, “I wanted to apologize.”

You prickle, trying to read their expressionless faceplate before you sigh, “It’s fine. . .” You rub your shoulders, “It’s no big deal.”

Sil scoffs, “Hardly, if you reacted the way you did. . . it’s obvious how people have treated you.” He scuffs his foot when you look at him. “I know I’m a crab ass. You can just ignore most of what I say when we aren’t on the job, okay?”

Your lips quirk up ever so slightly to give them a weary kind of smile. “Hah. . . okay?”

You watch curiously as Sil stiffens and turns on his heels, gruffly vocalizing over his shoulder before they stalk away. “Anyway. I’m glad you’re okay.” 

You weren’t sure what to think of this interaction. Looking back at their retreating figure before you step inside the bunker. You laid with your hands behind your head, staring up at the dim ceiling, feeling the remnants of your nerves before your eyes closed for the rest of your sleep cycle.

The active cycle came faster than you wanted, and it was hard to push yourself out of bed.

Sil kept mostly to themselves while both of you shared the bunker space, and you decided that it was in your best interest to keep yourself busy. Only interacting with them as necessary. It was awkward and it made your anxiety rise, steering well enough away from them off-duty.

“If you don’t like sharing a room, you can always ask for a reassignment.” You had just moved out Sil’s way when they tossed that comment over their shoulder.

“Huh?” You replied, nervously,

“Oh come on. It’s obvious you’re not comfortable here, you can get a new room you know. Everyone usually does sooner or later.”

“M-maybe if you weren’t so hard to get along with,” You grumbled under your breath, you froze when you realized your mistake. Sil had turned fully around to face you, practically looming over you. 

“. . . what was that?”

You jolt and stare at the floor, “I didn’t--” You start before swallowing hard, weighing your options before deciding to own up to your comment. “M-maybe if you didn’t make yourself so thoroughly unpleasant people wouldn’t--”

You are cut off by a hoarse scoff of laughter, “You were serious about that?” another sound of clenched laughter, “I don’t know if you are just naive or just stupid--”

Your expression turns angry as you turn your face to glare up at them. 

Sil shakes their head, “You’ve never heard those rumors about us huh?”

Your eyes darted around their blank face, searching for something to focus on that could give you a glimmer of understanding. “. . . What rumors? You mean your species? I’ve only ever met a handful of scientists.”

Sil’s posture changes, their shoulders sinking, the tension that had been in their back dissolving. “You really don’t know. . . that’s a first. . . People usually don’t trust Kestron’s because. . .” Sil grunted in frustration, “I guess if I don’t tell you, you’ll find out some time.” He gestured to the room, “Why do you think we’re the only ones in here?” 

Your eyebrows edge up and you shake your head.

“Because usually people think we can’t keep our hands to ourselves. Don’t ask me why, but ever since I got on this ship people think I’m--” they growl, “I don’t know, going to cart someone off if I get feeling frisky. They keep me separated, I was surprised they even let you in here.”

In a blink you were brought back to your first conversation, and the outburst that the two of you had. You nod slowly, in understanding. “You thought I knew that. . . because of before?”

Sil went silent for a moment before giving a long drawn out sigh. “I didn’t act the greatest. I was nervous and didn’t know how to respond when the door opened. I didn’t need any other questions raised about my record and I wasn’t sure what was going to happen.  So I tried to be nonchalant. . . great job I did huh? I ended up making you angry. It was pretty obvious that you haven’t had the best experience with people either.”

You gave a huff and rubbed the back of your neck. “No. . . not really. There aren’t many female mechanics floating about. . . and people can be. . .”

“Uncaring judgmental pigs. Yeah, I know.”

Sil’s voice was soft, lacking the clipped tone as it did before. Your nod, your lips form a tight line, you let your eyes close as you take a deep breath. Thinking hard before you try to speak again. “Thank you. . . for trying to understand where I was coming from before. I. . . ah. . . will try and do the same.”

“Thanks Sparky, I appreciate that.”

A small smile appears at the corners of your lips as your eyes crinkle slightly, the air still and silent between the two of you. Though it wasn’t the same tense feeling it had before, reaching an understanding between the two of you.

You feel air rush out of your lungs, as you join the other crew members for breakfast, you had been holding your breath and you hadn’t even noticed.

You had just gotten a container of food, looking for a seat when you spot Sil sitting alone, the dark face plate raised enough to fit a straw into the black space between the plating of their face. You look around, gazing at the other tables before you start to walk towards them. 

“Hey,”

Sil flinches, looking around before their head swivels back to you. “There are other free seats around you know.” They snark quietly.

You wrinkle your nose and huff before stubbornly sitting down. “I don’t like sitting too close to other people.”

“So you’re a space hog then,”

You squint at them, before jerking your head in a sassy nod. “I just might be.”

Sil huffs back at you, the tone of their voice sounding more amused than annoyed. “That makes two of us then.”

[qyllenhaal]

❛ Bunny ❜

Series: The Devil I Know

Senator!Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k~

Summary: Reader Surprises Chris on their week long vacation together with something that he's been begging for for a long time

warnings: 18+ only!!! Unprotected sex, daddy kink, dom/sub elements, roleplay, creampie, breeding kink, cumplay, age gap (reader is in her late 20s)

A/N: I'm hoping to start taking requests soon! I've been so busy with life that my ideas for this series are drying up.

Enjoy!

Y/n would be a damn liar if she said she wasn't turned on by the roleplay idea that Chris brought to her and the way he kept calling her his "bunny." She scoffed at him and rolled her eyes at first, it just sounded so ridiculous to her, but the more she thought about it. the easier it became to envision it happening.

Her in a Playboy bunny costume sounded so basic to her, but the excitement in Chris's eyes showed that it meant something to him.

She felt guilty as he explained how boring his sex life was before meeting her. He was trying to make her feel better about the idea, and feel a sense of pride, instead she felt loathsome. She wasn't able to determine if she felt more sorry for him or his wife. Their marriage was dying anyway and was going to die whether or not Y/n was in the picture, but she still felt awful about being the final death blow to their multi-decade marriage. He wanted to take her up to his father's cabin up north while his wife stayed home? It sounded good in theory but something about it made it hard for her to say yes.

"C'mon, you deserve a break. You've been working your ass off to get Withers primaried and you actually have a chance of unseating him. Don't you think you should relax? You work so hard all the time honey."

It was all too enticing to say no; to be whisked away from an entire week and ravished by her lover.

"There she is," he teased when he saw that smile forming on her face, "I knew you'd come around to it. I'm going to make sure you don't lift a finger, and you get to taste my famous ceviche."

He kissed her cheek and let her get back to work before she could come up with a reason that causes her to change her mind.

Y/n kept her excitement to herself but she was over the moon. Once she let the guilt simmer, she began to fantasize about the possibilities of an entire week of having Chris all to herself without interruption. They'll be able to act like a normal couple if only for a week.

She got herself through two weeks of more tough work, but it was fulfilling to know that she was succeeding in her work, and that she had a trip with Chris on the horizon.

He hadn't brought up his little idea since she'd agreed to go on the trip. It seems as if he forgot all about it as his shock that she said yes had consumed his thoughts. Y/n couldn't let it go though. She couldn't stop thinking about it now that they were going to be gone for an entire week. She could wear that little get up for days and give him a sight that's going to be etched into his brain until the day he dies. Y/n loves that she has that effect over him; the ability to make his heart race and his cock hard with just a simple look.

It was not a cheap costume to buy because she didn't just want to buy any regular costume that could be bought at party city. No, she wanted something that was better quality and could endure Chris attempting to tear it off her body. She paid extra for the shipping so she had it in time.

When it was finally in her possession, she stared at it in awe. She was tempted to put it on, to see how she looked in it, but she wanted it to be a surprise for both herself and Chris. The material it was made of felt nice; the entire costume looked like it could've been owned by a real playmate. It wasn't often that Y/n felt overwhelmingly sexy, but she did just simply staring at the costume in its precious box. Chris was up in age, she hoped he didn't have a heart attack.

-

"It's so beautiful up here."

When Chris said a cabin up north, she didn't think all the way up north in Maine. But it was perfect. Only two weeks into fall but the trees were filled with vibrant red, orange, and yellow leaves.

The cabin was near a river that held the reflection of the trees. It seemed as if it had gone untouched for years, but it was filled with pictures. Y/n could pick out the face of a younger Chris in some of the photos, but everyone else was unrecognizable.

"That's my grandfather," he interrupted her thoughts when he caught her lingering on a particular picture.

She glanced at him before bringing her eyes back down to the image again. "You look so much like him," her fingers skirted across the glass. She felt a weird pang of longing hit her in the stomach. It's as if Chris wasn't just a few feet away from her. Maybe what she felt inside was shame disguised as something else.

"C'mon," he grabbed the framed picture from her hand and placed it back where she found it, "I wanna show you something."

Y/n trailed behind him, her hand in his, as he guided her through the house and up the stairs.

Chris led her upstairs and to another set of stairs. He took her to a dusty attic which somewhat confused her. Then grabbed a box that looked older than her.

"Remember that time you tried to show me that constellation...what was it...Be- Belt- B-"

"Betelgeuse."

"Yea that was the one," he took the top off of the box and she peered into it, "now you can show me other star thingys in the sky."

She laughed but wrapped her arms around his neck. It was an unsuspecting gesture from him, but she welcomed it nonetheless. He could get really sentimental at times and it would just make it harder on her that she couldn't publicly love on him.

"It's great Chris. Let's just hope the skies are clear one of these nights."

He smiled and kissed her cheek for the nth time today.

"Alright. I'm gonna go get started on my famous ceviche. You enjoy yourself however you want. Walk around, explore the place," he stroked her cheek before leaving her alone to go get started on dinner for the two of them.

It had been a long day of driving and all Y/n wanted to do was go to sleep, but something was buzzing inside of her. She hated that Chris's dinner and "famous ceviche" was probably going to go to waste because if her plan works successfully then he isn't going to give a damn about dinner.

Y/n made sure she packed the box holding the costume at the very bottom of her suitcase. She held her breath as she held it up in the air and stared at it. She's sure that she could wear a garbage bag and Chris would still want to fuck her but she couldn't stop herself from being so nervous about putting it on.

She did it anyway and was relieved when what she saw in the mirror looking back at her wasn't so bad. In fact, she looked sexy. The look was complete with the bunny ears and bowtie. She wore a simple lipstick, one that was going to be smeared later on, paired with coats of mascara. At the end of night Y/n wanted to see the proof of his handiwork.

Even though she knew he wanted this, she was nervous about how he'd feel about her "act". She's been deliberating for a week whether or not she should go all the way with the fantasy but why not? Chris deserved it after convincing her to come on this trip. Besides, he works hard too.

"Hun, the food is ready!"

A few seconds of silence didn't make him flinch, but after a few more minutes passed and he didn't hear footsteps coming down the stairs, he was confused. Another call of her name resulted in nothing but silence; she didn't even respond to "Button."

She could be asleep, he thought, but he was still curious. If she was then he could at least catch a glimpse of her sleeping peacefully, put the food away, and then come join her.

"Y/n?" His voice got softer as he approached their bedroom. It was cracked enough for him to see that the light was on. He pushed it open and there his girl was. On the bed and dressed like she stepped out of his dreams.

"What is this?" His laughter was mixed with interest and disbelief. Just some time ago she was vehemently saying "no!" regarding his idea and now she was dressed like a Playboy bunny.

"Do you like it, daddy? I got it just for you."

Chris felt himself hardening in his jeans. Sheer tights stretched over her thighs and he just wanted to rip it off her body. She looked good enough to ruin.

"Of course I like it Button," he cooed as he approached her waiting body on the bed. He touched the material of her outfit still in a state of disbelief. This was his ultimate fantasy.

"I'm glad you like it. I did it just for you daddy," her voice was soft, girlish, and coquettish as she palmed his cock through his jeans. He swears he could cum just from this if she kept it up. He grabbed her hand to stop her.

"You're a naughty little bunny, aren't you?"

"Nooo daddy I've been good," she inched herself backwards on the bed before slowly turning onto her stomach all the while keeping eye contact with him, "I've been a good girl."

"I suppose you have," he didn't even try to argue against her claims. That pout on her lips made him incredibly harder.

Chris ran his hands over her ass and she mewled softly at his warm, strong hands on her. Y/n closed her eyes, a cocky smile on her lips knowing that she probably turned his brain into mush. She pushed her ass into his touch for more.

"The things I want to do to you..."

"Tell me daddy. What do you want to do to me?"

"Uh uh, you don't go demanding things around here. You've been a good girl, but I can easily change my mind. I can make you take my fingers and edge you while you wish it was my big cock splitting you open, but I don't think my bunny wants that."

She pouted and pressed her face into the bed. Chris chuckled at how easily her demeanor changed. He put his knees on either side of her legs and grabbed her hips to drag her ass to his pelvis. She gasped at the swift movement whimpered when he started to mime fucking her.

"Oh baby you look so good like this. I don't know if I want to keep you all pretty and in this costume while I fuck you, or take it off of you and ruin that cute little face of yours."

He had plans to do both, but he liked to hear her whimper when he told her about the utter filthy things he was going to do to her. If she thought he was going to rip it off of her without savoring how good she looks then she's wrong.

He's so grateful that he packed that polaroid Y/n gave to him as a birthday gift. It was how he got around her "no pictures" rule. She never let him take pictures of her, not even on the second phone he bought just to contact her. How could he not document how she looks after cumming hard for him? Or when he leaves a trail of white all across her bare chest? He often had to rely on his memory, but he planned on this trip being different.

"Stay just like that Bun."

Y/n broke her character for a little bit, rolling her eyes and relaxing her arched back when he left the room. Sometimes he did little things that annoyed her, but the way she jumped back into her character when she heard him come back showed her that the annoyance was just a façade.

"So perfect," the camera's shutter fired and the camera spit out the first ever photo he has taken of her.

Y/n wanted to protest against him, but she stayed silent. It wouldn't hurt to have a few polaroid's as keepsakes; she even looked back at him and made eyes at the camera.

Chris could spend all day photographing her, but the strain in his pants was becoming too painful. He placed the camera down and stood at the edge of the bed.

"Come put that pretty little mouth of yours to use."

Y/n hopped up from her position and found herself on the floor in between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. She clumsily fumbled with his belt and fastener on his pants. "Eager little bunny, slow down a bit," he taunted.

She tried to listen, but she's desperate to get him in her mouth. His hard cock springs out from its restraint and almost hits her cheek. She gasps lovingly at the pre-cum seeping from his blunt head. She wanted to taste it, but she didn't do it without Daddy's permission. Instead she wrapped her hand around his length and squeezed him.

Chris watched her stare at his cock in awe, like she wasn't already familiar with it. She gave him a few languid pumps and he sighed at her soft touch. He thought about how beautiful it would be to paint his cum across her breast. She looked like an absolute sex-pot; it was hard for him to control himself.

"That feels so good, bunny. You're such a good girl — keep pumping me...a little faster bun... good girl," his praising voice was as smooth as a cat's purr. Y/n felt the presence of her arousal when her sex pressed against the material of her costume.

The pre-cum oozing from his tip made her mouth water. He didn't instruct her to do anything further, but she couldn't stop herself from wrapping her lips around his length. He didn't seem to have a problem with it either because he sighed and pushed her mouth further down on his cock.

"You're so beautiful like this bunny...my precious girl," he cooed between breaths.

Her mouth felt like heaven, her warm tongue laving him with saliva and washing pleasure over him. He felt the muscles in his lower abdomen spasming as she sucked on him faster and feverishly. The concentration on her face was so cute to him, but greatly juxtaposed by the light makeup that was beginning to smudge on her face.

His cock hit the back of her throat and she gagged on him. Y/n tried to pull herself off, but he kept her still, forcing her to relax her throat while he filled her mouth.

"That's it girl — fuck — you're going to make me cum. Is that what you want? Me to cum down that pretty throat of yours?"

Y/n tried to shake her head no and say out loud, but she was muffled by his cock. She loves to watch him jerk over her tongue or other parts of body until he cums, but she wanted him to cum while he was fucking her; he could always paint her tits later.

"You don't want me to cum down your throat bunny? Where do you want me to cum?"

Chris knew she was unable to answer, but that was apart of the thrill. His ego was through the roof and the sense of power he felt because of this was astounding. She made him feel so many things at once, but all he was concerned with now is seeing her body shiver with pleasure.

He let go of his physical grip on her and she took the opportunity to come up from her. Her lips were pink and there was a line of saliva collecting her mouth to his cock.

"Look at you, so pretty," he petted her as he stared into her eyes that held a glossy look of desire for him and him only, "get on the bed bunny."

He wanted to worship her. He wanted to make her cum over and over again until his name was the only thing left on the tip of her tongue. As she laid out on the bed for him, in a costume just for him, he wondered how he got so lucky with her. They were so different, but they were somehow meant for each other.

"You're so gorgeous," his hands glided down her stocking-covered thighs. He squeezed her flesh and he groaned as if he could feel what he was doing to her. She made him dizzy just from how beautiful she was.

Y/n's body anticipated every stroke of his hands on her body. He didn't leave an inch of her exposed skin untouched. He touched and looked at her like she might disappear at any moment. It was his mission to memorize how her body feels under his touch.

"Daddy," she whined, not being able to stand to ache between her legs anymore. She isn't sure what she wanted him to do, she just wanted him to do something.

"Be patient, sweet thing. Let me take in how beautiful my little bunny looks."

"You like when I dress up for you, daddy?" She further parted her legs as a suggestion for him to place himself between her legs. Chris picked up on what she was doing, but he didn't follow through.

"My perfect little bunny," his voice trailed off as he palmed her breast through the costume.

Y/n moaned and arched into his touch. It wasn't long before he was pawing at the top of the costume to free her breast. The costume was tight against her body, but he managed to get what he wanted. He cupped her tits before he leaned down to wrap his lip around her nipple. His thumb teased the other one, stroking it to life. Her delightful sighs sounded heavenly.

"Feels so good," Y/n whined. She tried to grind against him in desperation but he wasn't having any of it. More of his weight was pressed against her to keep her still. He switched over to sucking on her other nipple. His eyes met hers before lightly closing from the feeling of ecstasy.

The mess that was forming between her legs was becoming unbearable. Y/n knew for a fact that she soaked through her costume and with just one swipe of his hand, Chris would be able to feel it. She didn't say anything but she was just so impatient and wanted him to give the same attention to her sex. But he wanted to savor her in this costume before he takes it off of her and just fucks her in the bunny ears.

"This body is so perfect."

As his hands slowly slid across her stomach, the cogs began to turn in her head; she wanted this night to fulfill all of his fantasies.

After taking his sweet time with her body, Chris was finally getting her out of the costume. It won't be the last time she wears it this week, but it was bittersweet to see her out of. However her body alone was driving him wild. She still had the bunny ears on which made her look incredibly cute.

"My lil' Bunny has been so patient for me," he kissed her cheek before moving to kiss the front of her throat, "I'm gonna reward that pretty pussy of yours."

Y/n felt the lust boiling over as Chris moved down her body and his was finally home between her legs. "You got so wet for me bun," he taunted her. His fingers prodded at her slit but didn't push in all the way like she needed. It was torturous to tease her when she had been such an obedient girl for him.

He didn't keep her waiting for long. His tongue was diving through her silky folds to get a good taste of her.

"Undress daddy, baby."

The gruff of his voice made her feel even wetter. She often teased him for being so much older than her but oh did she love all the psychical manifestations of his age. The grey in his hair drove her wild, and she loved how grey his beard was whenever he grew it out.

She grabbed at his soft cotton t-shirt and pulled it over his head. The light dusting of grey hair on his chest tickled her fingertips. She couldn't stop herself when she leaned in to nip at his collar bone. Her lips were so sweet on his body making his head spin. She started tugging at his pants while her lips were still on his skin. He did most of the work, but he didn't care, he just needed to be freed of his restricting clothes.

Y/n wrapped her hand around his cock and gently pumped him.

Chris sighed into her ear, "wanna cum on my tongue or my cock bunny?"

"Your cock daddy! Bunny needs your cream inside of her," she whined.

He thought about fucking her the entire drive; his mind thinking of all the things they could do alone, but he never thought he be blessed with this.

"My little bunny wants my cock? You want to get on all fours and show me how dripping you are?"

Y/n nodded her head, eyes wide with lust and her bottom lip slightly poking out.

"Good girl. Show daddy just how pretty you are."

She moved from his arms and laid her head against the bed as her ass stuck in the air. Chris got off the bed and stood against the very edge. His strong hands laid gently against her ass and he pulled her puffy lips apart with his fingers.

"Fuck girl," he groaned, unable to contain the desire he felt," you're dripping. You're dripping for daddy, aren't you? I thought you were a good little bunny, but only slutty bunnies get this wet."

Her body tensed when his left thumb dragged against her clit. It was swollen and so sensitive to his touch.

Chris's cock was hard and ready to be inside of her warm silk. He had brought the condoms that felt like nothing along with him; two boxes since they were going to be together for six more days.

She heard him tearing something up, but she looked back at him and reached up at him.

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" He furrowed his brow but still held the half ripped condom wrapper in his hand.

"No condom daddy. I want to feel all of you."

He groaned and he felt his cock become impossibly harder. They had gone back to condoms because Y/n said stopped taking her birth control when she stopped speaking to him, believing that they were possibly going to stop this relationship. She also said she was going to start again, but he just could not remember if she said her doctors appointment was happening this month or next month.

"Are you on the pill?" His tone had a hint of excitement to it, but ultimately he was concerned; she was always strict about protection.

"I don't know," she said feigning innocence, batting her lashes at him and wiggling her hips in anticipation for his cock. This little character she decided to adapt was driving him crazy.

"Don't lie to me girl," he gripped her arm and she whimpered. His rough handling of her had made her even wetter.

"I'm not! I really don't know daddy!"

She knew, and he knows that she does, but he was too weak by the sight of her bent over in her little bunny ears with her wet cunt exposed to him. Her ass began to sway from side to side, calling him to come closer. But what she wanted him to made him think to himself: 'is she fucking crazy?'

"I need you so bad daddy. Please ruin your little bunny," her voice was sweet as candy.

Chris always wanted her but something about this unlocked a deep hunger inside of him. The risk of this made his heart race and sweat form on his skin, but he wanted this just as bad as she did.

"Baby," he placed a hand around his cock to help guide it inside of her, "I'm gonna ruin this pretty fucking body of yours."

He fully sheathed himself inside of her and Y/n sighed with tenderness. The small touch of his hand on her lower back felt so incredibly intimate and she was grateful that he convinced her to come on this trip.

"You feel so fucking good girl," he pulled out just a few inches only to push back in, "I'm going to fill you up. Is that what you want, pretty baby?"

Y/n is unsure what is more taunting: the tone of his voice or his increasing pace. Both of his hands now grabbed her hips and she swooned over how large they felt holding her. He dragged her back onto his cock until he was nearly pounding her. Each thrust was ruining her softly.

His thrust became more wild as he felt her walls grip his entire length. She felt so warm and wet around him. He missed being bare inside of her, feeling her entirety from the inside.

Soon her little bunny ears were falling off of her head as he fucked her hard. There was something so intoxicating about ruining everything that's so perfect about her. He loved that she gave him permission to do so too.

"Look at me," he said through gritted teeth. He grabbed her arm and forced it against her back. Y/n twisted her upper half to look up at him. She placed her hand on top of his for a glimmer of intimacy in this moment of nasty brutal fucking.

"I'm gonna pump you full of me, bunny. Good girls get all my cum."

Every time he slid home inside of her, stretching her completely, she cried out louder. Her thighs trembled and shook with each thrust into her. He was fucking so hard it was almost mindblowing. She always teased him for being an "old man" but he was proving that his age didn't hinder him from pounding into her.

He was getting closer and closer to slipping over the edge. She just feels so warm and tight around him, her contracting walls inviting him to cum inside of her. He loved being able to see her face as she hit every spot inside of her that made her toes curl.

"I feel that pussy tightening up," he spoke breathlessly. He tried to concentrate on his words but her wet cunt rendered him speechless. "Cum for me bunny."

Y/n began to meet his thrust. Lust bloomed in her stomach when she imagined feeling him empty inside of her. They were so incredibly close and if they kept this up they could cum together.

"Give it to me daddy" she whispered, staring back at his face, "please cum inside of me...I've been such a good girl...I need it so bad."

Chris's thrust got sloppy as the muscles in his lower abdomen began to spasm. His entire body felt like it was on fire. Y/n started cumming around his cock and her pussy tightening up hugged his cock and milked him. "Fuck!" He grunted loudly as he fucked the both of them through their orgasms.

Despite her body being too hypersensitive to take anymore, she whimpered when he pulled out of her.

"Keep that ass up in the air."

Chris grabbed her ass cheeks to spread her open. "Push it out for me bunny." His cum came seeping out of her hole and slid through her folds. He spread it around her sex with two fingers before pushing it back into her hole. She gasped when she felt him slide back into her. Her walls clenched around his fingers, still hungry for more. He wanted to fuck her again, but he was too tired to go again.

"You're going to wear me out girl," he joked, laying next to her on the bed. She looked just as tired as him but that look in her eye indicated that she was completely satisfied.

"It's been a long time since you've fucked me like that. I think I should wear that costume more often."

He placed his palm against her face and she leaned into like she always did. She closed her eyes and felt lulled by the sound of his now steady breathing. This moment together felt like it could last a lifetime. Y/n wishes that they could just stay here forever instead of a week. If she never had to think about an empty promise ever again, she'd be content for the rest of her days.

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 16: An Understanding

Warnings: this one really isn’t bad, just a droid death and sappiness.

Author’s Note: Thank you to anyone who has supported this. We are almost there!

(If this is your gif please lmk!)

The sweet moment between the three of you was quickly ruined by a distant explosion, so the Mandalorian woman quickly rushed you all out after she quickly gave Mando a gift.

A Mandalorian jet-pack.

You had seen other Mandalorians use them in the past, and Mando seemed incredibly honored to have one, so if Mando was happy, you were happy.

The team followed the tunnel towards the smell of sulfur, trying your best to track the lava flats. You didn’t have much of choice. That was the only way out.

As you walked down the tunnels, you held the sleeping child in your arms, keeping him close to you. Mando walked next to you, stealing glances at you as you walked. You would glance back, but he would always face forward once more, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t starring. You would always smile at him when he would turn away, obviously embarrassed.

Who knew you could make a beskar covered warrior like that be embarrassed?

You felt at peace. At home. For once you actually had one. You didn’t even know how to describe the feeling. It’s like your anxious brain and beating heart finally subsided. Like your body relaxed, and you had nothing to fear. Sure, the team was still stuck in these tunnels and the exit would be swarming with stormtroopers, but you had backup. A team. A clan.

It felt like a new start.

Once you finally made it to the river’s edge, a boat was leaned up against the land. It had obviously seen better days and the droid inside hadn’t been used in a long time.

Great.

Mando and Karga tried pushing the boat, but that did no use, so Cara raised her rifle and shot the boat free from the hardened lava.

You smiled at her and chuckled, thinking about the fact she had outsmarted a Mandalorian and a well known Guild member. You were not surprised in the slightest.

You could’ve sworn she laughed back.

Everyone climbed into the boat, and by some miracle, the droid inside sputtered to life. It stood up, raising its paddle and dropping it into the orange liquid beside it. It then said some droid gibberish, which IG-11 presumed was a request.

“I believe he is asking where we would like to go,” IG said.

“Downriver. To the lava flats,” Karga said, and the droid set to paddling.

Mando was to your left, while Cara was at your right. The child had woken up once more, using his energy to chew on your thumb. Mando brought his hand up to his helmet, activating the thermal scanners.

“That’s it,” Karga yelled, pointing to the growing light coming from the end of the tunnel.

“We’re free!”

It had been a long time since you had heard something like that.

“No,” Mando said, squashing your elated mood.

“Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. They must know we are coming.”

“Stop the boat,” you said sternly to the ferry droid. The droid, however, gave no sign that he actually heard you.

“Hey,” Cara said firmly, walking up to the droid.

“She said stop the boat,” she said before shooting the droid’s head off.

You appreciated Cara’s act of defense for you, you really did, but it didn’t do any good. The boat kept moving.

There was no other way. You had to stand and fight.

You pulled your longspear from your back and tucked the child deeper into your arms. You had fought stormtroopers before, why would this time be any different?

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child,” IG said, and you turned your head to look back at him. Your confused expression accurately represented the feelings of the rest of the group as well.

“This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

“You don’t have that kind of firepower pal,” Mando said in reply.

“You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective,” said the droid. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“What?” you asked the droid.

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.”

The droid looked at Mando and said, “Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved in which I survive.”

“No,” Mando said, moving closer to the droid.

“You’re not going anywhere. We need you.”

“Please tell me the child will be safe in your care,” the droid said, now looking at both you and Mando.

“But you will be destroyed-” you began to say.

“And you will live,” IG said. “I will have served my purpose.”

He looked to Mando and said, “There is nothing to be sad about.”

“I’m not…. sad,” Mando said, but you were no where near convinced. His voice was the only way for you to humanize him, and emotions were very easily traced on the voice. When you can’t see someone’s face, the voice is all they have. You had gotten good at that.

It seemed IG had gotten good at it too.

“Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I have analyzed your voice,” IG said before coming to the child and brushing his hand along his forehead.

No matter how little Mando wanted to deny it, the droid was your saving grace.

The droid then stepped into the boiling lava, and started making its way down towards the exit.

You watched the droid with wide and curious eyes. You had never seen a droid be so… selfless. You had always seen droids as mindless robots who only acted out of survival, but this one gave its life for you.

You wished you could repay him somehow.

When the detonator on the droid finally exploded, the child in your arms lifted his ears and watched. Even though the droid had been there for a small time, he was still the reason you and the child were alive. It seemed like the kid was loosing a friend.

You could see the pain in his eyes, and you wished you could take it all away from him and put it into your own.

Once the boat finally drifted into the tunnel, you saw the bodies of the stormtroopers on either side of the bank.

Maybe this actually… worked?

But, like many… many… times before, the scream of a tie fighter ruined all chances of an easy departure.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara shouted before raising her blaster and shooting at the aircraft. Mando and Karga immediately joined her, while you used your longspear to shield you and the child from any blaster fire.

The ship’s canons rained fire on the group for a couple seconds before the ship went roaring completely over your heads.

“He missed,” Karga said in relief.

“He won’t next time,” Mando said. The ship was already starting to turn back around.

“He mentioned he knew you,” Mando said to you, referring to when he was trapped in the town not even an hour before this.

“Yeah….” you said.

“I’ve pissed him off,” you chuckled out, and Mando looked at you with a breathy laugh as well.

“Hey,” Karga said suddenly. “Let’s have the kid do the magic hand thing.”

Oh great, you thought to yourself.

“Come on baby! Do the magic hand thing,” Karga said to the kid while wiggling his fingers.

The child only giggled in your arms and waved back, and you let a light chuckle come out of your nose.

“I’m out of ideas,” Karga said.

“I’m not,” Mando said, turning around to get the jet-pack from the boat.

You watched him walk away with a slight smirk on your face. You believed in Mando more than anyone, and you prayed he had enough training to know how to use that thing.

You saw the tie fighter making its way back to you through the corner of your eye, but you continued to watch Mando. He attached the pack to his back and then locked eyes with you before shooting into the sky like a rocket.

You watched him with a beating heart as he flew right in front of the tie fighter, allowing it to go under his feet. He then hooked his grappling cable onto the wing and used the jet pack to propel himself onto the cockpit window.

Even though you were scared out of your mind, you still managed to smile at the sight above you.

Your Mandalorian was incredible.

Mando’s blaster did almost no damage to the cockpit door before Moff Gideon jerked the ship to the left. The ship was starting to spiral, and your awe quickly turned into worry.

Mando was holding on with everything he had.

He all of a sudden let go and went soaring through the air. The left side of the ship completely exploded, which sent the ship careening to the ground. It burst into smoke on impact.

Barely a second later, your Mandalorian landed before you in a slight crouch, before standing to his full height.

The smile on your face said it all.

He chuckled slightly at your shocked and happy expression before taking the child from you and holding him in his arms. You walked to stand beside him and stare up to his face, proud and joyful.

You got a Mandalorian.

Karga and Cara stood before you two with equally shocked expressions

“That was impressive Mando,” Karga said. “It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up.”

You grinned at Karga, enjoying his little tease.

“Any more stormtroopers?” Mando asked.

“I think we cleared the town,” Cara said with a laugh. “I’m thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

“You’re staying here?” Mando asked, equally confused as you were.

“Well, why not?” Karga asked. “Nevarro is a very fine planet, and now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s very respectable again.”

“As a bounty hunter hive?” Mando asked, and you once again giggled at his bluntness.

“Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters,” Karga said with a bit of a chuckle.

“And perhaps”- he said while placing a hand on Cara’s shoulder- “this specimen of a soldier might consider joining our ranks.”

“And you, my friend”- he said while turning his attention back to Mando -“will be welcomed back into the Guild with open arms.”

Mando looked to the child in his arms, beaming up at him with utter adoration. He then looked to you at his side, and you gave him a smile that said I’m with you. With whatever you choose.

“I’m afraid I have more pressing mattors at hand,” he said, turning his head back to the child.

“Well you better keep watch of this one,” Karga said to Mando while gesturing to you.

“She could take your place at the Guild in a second,” he says, while snapping his fingers for emphasis.

“And she would do a damn good job,” he says, and you laugh in reply.

Mando gives a slight nod in agreement which only makes you laugh harder.

You can’t recall ever laughing this hard.

“Y/n,” Cara says, and you divert your attention back to her.

She is trying to look at you, but she just can’t meet your gaze.

“Listen… I… I’m really sorry. The Empire hurt me a lot and I just couldn’t…” she chokes out.

You could tell she was trying to apologize to you. For when your identity got revealed, for doubting your loyalty, or anything in between. She was obviously struggling, so you decided to help her along.

“Cara,” you said, and her eyes met yours.

“Your reaction was perfectly understandable. Truly. There is nothing to be sorry for,” you say, and a flash of relief skates over her eyes.

“I just saw how you were with Mando and the kid today and I…. I owed you an apology,” she said, and you smiled at her.

“Thank you, Cara. I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” you respond, and she smiles back at you. A genuine, relieved smile.

“As am I,” she says while leaning forward to caress the child’s ear.

“Take care of this little one,” Cara said to you and Mando. You gave her a respectful nod, acting as a promise that you would.

“Or maybe,” Karga added, “it will take care of you.”

You looked to Mando with a light smile, and you could tell he was grinning too.

The weight of guilt and shame had been lifted off of you. The people you cared for most forgave you. They looked at what you did right in the eyes, but looked past it, and saw you. You were sure it would take some time for them to completely trust you, but they were willing to try.

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic @impala1967666

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 13 - Spinning

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Angst

Summary: You and Gojo are caught up in your feelings and he unintentionally breaks another rule. 

A/N: (18+ / minors and ageless blogs dni) New chapter! This is a bit of a filler chapter but I am working up to some dramatic things (smut and angst coming up!) plus revealing some of the secrets that happened in the timeline 👀 I hope you enjoy it! And as always comments are appreciated ☺️

- - - 

Sitting cross legged on your bedroom floor, you proceeded to fold the fresh laundry into perfectly neat piles. Music enveloped your room, the bass from your speaker bouncing off the walls as you mindlessly hummed along to the track that was playing. This is how you were choosing to unwind after a long work week, by organizing and cleaning up your apartment. There was something completely cathartic about resetting your space and you found yourself having plenty of free time on your hands recently.

Gojo has been exceptionally busy. At first there was an itch when you began seeing less of him, the two of you would plan to get together but that consistently kept getting cancelled. Eventually those plans transitioned to you agreeing on catching up with one another once things settled. Now it seems the only time you managed to hear from your friend was with sporadic phone calls and random text messages that he would send you at weird hours. The itch slowly turned into an ache, that familiar knot in your stomach making its presence known more often than usual.

There was something about the way he managed to fill the silence. You always gave him a hard time about talking your ear off but realised that he actually entertained you with some great conversations.

Even though half the time he was talking about ridiculous subject matters…

You had to hand it to Satoru though, he always spoke with such enthusiasm he would make the concept of paint drying seem fascinating.

He was fascinating.

Eight years of friendship have taught you that but you were smart enough not to feed his ego. Despite the two of you being close, Gojo still never fully let you in. You couldn’t deny that you were intrigued by him, curious to know more about the strongest sorcerer who seemed totally unphased by his own title whenever he was around you. You wanted to know more about how he fought off curses and protected people from the evils that seemed to be invisible in your eyes. Although he consistently evaded your questions, he did slowly open up about other things. You particularly loved the way his face let up when he talked about his students and it made you realise that if there was anything Gojo Satoru had committed himself to, it was his role as an instructor to the next generation of sorcerers.

Still, you usually tried to pry information out of him when the two of you would get lost in deep conversation, noticing the way Gojo would drift in his own thoughts whenever the subject seemed to focus on him.

Clearly there was an extent to which the man loved talking about himself.

There was a point when he spoke where you saw his face grow pensive as he brought up an old friend. He referenced him in passing but the way his mouth fell pained you just as much as it seemed to hurt him. Your question was on the tip of your tongue, eager to learn more about the people within his own circle, but Satoru immediately shifted the conversation onto something else.

That wall, much like his infinity, is impenetrable.

Unfortunately, the dynamics were in his favor. You wished that you could conceal your own emotions as easily around him but it was impossible. Gojo had the capability of knowing exactly how you were thinking and feeling at any given second. His incredible perception was his advantage, that’s why he is able to gauge your reactions so well.

You smiled subconsciously to yourself, goosebumps floating up to your shoulders when you realised how much you wanted your arms wrapped around his neck, your body pressing into his chest while breathing that spicy, sweet cologne…

Stop it.

You paused your action, the jeans on your lap in a mid-fold as you froze in place and your brain instantly turned off those dangerous ideas.  

You swallowed your own emotions, your abdomen tight when you realised that you had just spent the last ten minutes having intimate thoughts about Gojo.

You really shouldn’t but there was something about the way he acts around you that made you the slightest bit curious as to what he was thinking and how he was feeling.

How often did you cross his mind and did he even miss you as much as you did him?

At some point the two of you were going to have to stop this little game you were playing. Even though you weren’t seeking it out at the moment, you do want to settle down eventually with somebody you love. Satoru made it perfectly clear where he stood on relationships. He had no desire to get involved with anybody and the concept of marriage was something he completely rejected.

You recalled having a conversation with him about: 

“Are you really telling me that you’re okay living as a bachelor for the rest of your life?”

“Happily, actually…” Gojo replied, while you both continued your heated debate on the prospects of love.

“But why are you so against it?”

"I have my reasons,” he replied with a shrug.

Satoru always seemed to have a reason for everything but he was not willing to share it with you, leaving you in moments like this to analyze the little things he says to try and put the pieces together yourself.

Truthfully, you don’t want to stop as you found yourself fixated on this new…friends with benefits-ship…

Everything about it felt so good that you couldn’t even remember what things were like before you started hooking up.

How could you go back to just being friends after he’s seen you in your most vulnerable state? How were you supposed to pretend that his hands haven’t unraveled you into submission time and time again? How could you sit next to him without thinking about kissing him for hours on end? How were you supposed to listen to him talk without remembering the moments where he would whisper angel in your ear?

How the hell did you manage to keep your hands off him before this even started?

There was always the unspoken fact that you found each other attractive but since this new dynamic has started the two of you were like magnets whenever you were in close proximity to one another.

Well, you were able to keep the barrier because you were in a happily committed relationship with Haru, you interjected and suddenly you found yourself slumping your shoulders.

Haru was in love with you. He gave you the companionship you needed, he filled the silence with mindless conversations and was the one who held you when you needed him. He was the one to swallow your cries with soft kisses, that made you laugh in hysterics when you needed to boost your mood…

Your heart stopped, realizing that you were seeking out what Haru gave you with Gojo. Your gut wrenching at the idea of you using your friend to fill the emotional gap that Haru left. This ache that knotted your insides meant nothing and you were letting your thoughts confuse you into thinking that you were missing Gojo.

All you needed was to get your distraction back.

After all, Gojo is just your friend.

You had no reason to think anything else could come of this and burned any other thought about Satoru from crossing your mind for the rest of the evening.

If you even thought for a second that you might be falling for him, you would cut ties immediately. You weren’t going to put a strain on your friendship because you’re silly ideals were getting in the way of your agreement.

The two of you were just fucking.

Nothing more, nothing less.

***

Gojo studied the woman before him, acknowledging the fact that she is one of the most stunning individuals he had ever laid his eyes on. She was older than him by ten years but if it wasn’t for the age on her online profile, he wouldn’t have been able to tell.

She was tall, meeting his own towering height, give or take a few inches. Her long, pin straight hair flowed to her hips, accentuating her curves and covering her supple breasts. Her face could strike down any man that looked at her with those deep eyes and he was tempted to nibble on her full lips. Seeing her in person made Gojo realize that her price was high for a reason and totally justifiable.

Anyone would pay extra to fuck a goddess.

Somehow, he wound up here thanks to his own frustrations. His desire for you was driving him wild and his own hands weren’t enough to solve this problem. He still respected the rules that were unbroken and knew that as long as he didn’t go too far with Ami, he was fine. He wasn’t going to have sex with her but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t help him out with his current predicament in other ways.

Besides, you did tell him that he was allowed to see other people. However, that didn’t stop his stomach from twisting at the thought of climbing into bed with someone other than you. He couldn’t quite figure out what this awkward sensation was or why he was bothered by his own decision to meet up with Ami in the first place.

Gojo stripped down to his boxers before sitting on the edge of her satin covered mattress. She was admiring him with amusement, the tempting smile on her lips telling him that she was also enjoying what she was seeing.

“You paid for a full hour but said that you might not be here for that long. Did something urgent come up?” she questioned, her voice sensually low and sending a shiver up Gojo’s spine.

My she is dangerous, he thought to himself, knowing full well how this entire experience would go under different circumstances.

The circumstances being, well, you.

“I don’t plan on sticking around too long...” he explained.

“I’ll have to adjust your pay accordingly then,” she replied, taking a few steps forward until she was standing in front of him.

“I don’t mind paying for the full hour,” Gojo teased with a grin, his free hand moving to touch her silky hair as he rubbed it between his fingers.

She smiled, nearly taking his breath away as she brought her finger to the blindfold covering his eyes.

“I don’t like accepting money for free,” she  stated, tracing her touch down his chiseled jawline. “I bet you’re handsome but I am guessing you don’t plan on taking this thing off to show me what you really look like.”

“Yep,” Gojo smiled as Ami proceeded to slide across her bed next to him. "And you guessed right, I’ve got an exceptionally pretty face.”

“Cocky too,” she purred, “there’s a special way I treat guys like you…”

Gojo hummed, switching his position so he was lying back against her pillows. Ami crawled her body over his lean torso, her hands rubbing up and down his thigh as she glanced in his direction.

“Oh, yeah? I would love to see how...” Gojo insisted, his breath growing heavy as she guided her hand all the way to his mouth.

She traced his bottom lip with her thumb, a devious mask highlighting her stunning features as she spoke, “Be a good boy and lie back while I take care of you…”

He fully caved, allowing this sultry siren to take control by touching and teasing his body however she pleased. Gojo usually enjoyed relinquishing his power every now and then but for whatever reason it was taking some effort for him to fully immerse himself with what was happening. Ami straddled his cock, before proceeding to press her mouth against his. Her lips were working fervently over his own as she deepened the kiss, but the spark that he needed just wasn’t igniting.

When Ami flicked her tongue over his, he would only think about the sensation of yours. The taste of you in his mouth lingered like an addictive poison. One that he craved every single time you crossed his mind. The sound of your moans played in his ear and the sweet way you called out his name when he touched you between your legs filtered his brain. He was only brought back to the reality that it wasn’t you pushing your body against his, when Ami wrapped her fingers around his throat. He tried to erase you and focus on the woman before him but was persistently failing.

She could see that something was off from how he was responding to her caresses. “Are you sure you're up for this tonight, baby?” Ami teased, whispering into his mouth as she snagged his bottom lip between her teeth. “You don’t seem ready for me...”

“Fuck…” Gojo grunted out of frustration, knocking his head back as he pressed his fingers to his temple. “It’s not you, I’m just distracted…”

“What’s on your mind?” she continued, stroking his broad chest lovingly to try and coax him out of the daze he was in.

“Not what...who…” he responded shyly, his cheeks blushing ever so slightly by his admittance.

“I see…” she cooed, “Wife? Girlfriend?”

Gojo scoffed, a comical laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

“Definitely not.”

Ami pressed her lips together, her nail doodling along his upper body with random figures as she continued to question her intriguing client.

“Tell me about her…”

Gojo froze, his hands digging into Ami’s thighs upon hearing her bold question, “she’s just a friend. There’s nothing to say...”

“Is she beautiful?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Gojo exhaled, his words passing his lips faster than he could process what he had just said. Ami tracked her hands down between her legs, stroking his boxers as she massaged his length.

“Tell me what she looks like…”

He described you in detail, from your sinfully sweet lips to the beautiful sound of your laughter and how soft your skin felt in his hands. She continued tricking him into revealing the intimate thoughts that swirled in his mind when he thought about you. She heard the way Gojo’s voice wavered as he swelled between her hands, the tip of his cock poking through his underwear as the pre-cum stained the material of his boxers. Ami pulled the clothing away from his hips, hands returning to grip his member as she continued stroking up and down his shaft.

“Do you think about fucking her with the other women you meet?”

“Yes,” Gojo revealed through gritted teeth, swallowing hard as she played with his tip by circling his thumb over the slit of his cock.

“How often?”

“Too often,” the sorcerer hissed, his hips bucking into her hands.

“I bet you wish you were fucking her right now, don’t you?”

She saw how turned on he is and how easily the thought of you brought him close to his release. Ami spread her legs, adjusting her stance until she brought the tip of his cock to her entrance. Gojo hesitated, knowing that he needed to stop what was about to happen. This wasn’t supposed to go this far. He was only here for a quick hand job or blowjob, but he couldn’t suppress a satisfied moan as she slid down to take in his length.

“F-fuck, wai-...”

“Shh, baby, close your eyes and think of your sweet angel…” Ami whispered in his ear, making Gojo roll his blue irises to the back of his head as he relaxed into her touch.

She didn’t speak after that, fulfilling her promise of taking care of him but also ensuring that his focus was solely on the mental image of you. The sound of her skin bouncing up and down his length took over the entire room. The way Ami stated that you were his was enough to send him over the edge and it didn’t take long until he climaxed at the thought, quickly pulling out of her and releasing hot ropes of cum all over her stomach but imagining that it was you the entire time. She immediately cleaned herself up after they finished, before giving Gojo some privacy and allowing him to get himself together.

After he got dressed, he pulled out his phone to transfer the payment. He doubled the amount he was supposed to give, totally aware that she didn’t reach her own release and was disappointed in himself that he couldn’t pleasure the remarkable temptress before him.

He slipped on his boots, his mind racing as the guilt rushed right through him. He hated that broke another rule, especially since this particular one was a boundary you set for your own comfort. He was angry at himself that he disrespected that and was annoyed for crossing the line in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me?, he thought to himself.

“I told you I don’t get paid for doing nothing. I don't accept money like that, not even from spoiled rich boys like you,” Ami stated, her words stung but she spoke in such a gentle tone that didn’t offend the sorcerer. She was leaning against the wall as she appeared before him, her body now covered with just a pink robe.

“You got me off but I did nothing to reciprocate. I tell all the other girls to charge double if that happens.”

“How considerate,” she mused before arching her brow in delight at him, “but for the sake of my own conscience I feel like I need to give you something in return…”

Gojo stood up from his seat, smoothing out his clothes before approaching her slowly. Even though he got what he wanted out of this arrangement, he was feeling worse about himself the longer he stayed in this room.

“How about a piece of advice before you leave and we can call it even?” Ami questioned.

“What is it?” the sorcerer wondered, hearing her feet patter against the carpet as she followed his footsteps to her front door.

She paused when she reached for the handle, before tilting her face and directing her full attention towards his covered eyes.

“Tell your friend how you feel or cut off whatever it is you’re doing. If you don’t tell her then you’re fucked, plain and simple.”

“Look, what happened just now doesn’t mean anything…”

She raised her fingers to his lips, stopping him from even attempting to defend what transpired.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re easy to read. I have had clients come here trying to forget their lovers and those who come to see me because they can’t resist their own primative urges. I see the ones who are lonely, who only visit me for companionship and nothing more. Then there are the ones who are like you, who will bury themselves in any cunt they see just to pretend that they aren’t in love with somebody else…”

Gojo clenched his jaw, squeezing his hands together as the heat rose up to his face.

“You don't know what you're talking about. Besides, wanting to fuck somebody and being in love are two very different things.”

“True, except those two things are tangled up in one person when it comes to you…”

Gojo pressed his lips into a thin line, unsure as to why her accusation made him so irritated.

“Awww, don’t get angry, pretty boy. It’s unbecoming for somebody as handsome as you are…” Ami whispered, before kissing him on the cheek as she said her goodbye. “It’s okay, I promise that your secret is safe with me…”

*** 

CHAPTER 14: JEALOUSY

[hansoulo]

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

hi

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver.  “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

 “Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of  strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.  

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting.  “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————���———————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me 's SPN advent calendar 2020. prompt: phone calls and late night texts.

Cas isn't a serial texter.

And Dean's a-okay with it.

But for all that's worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

*

>>> hello, dean. [12:07 am]

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren't exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas's name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

<<< hey [12:09 am]

<<< you OK? [12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

>>> do you have peanut butter? [12:09 am]

And as if it's an afterthought, Cas adds.

>>> yes, I'm fine. how are you? [12:10 am]

Dean blinks.

<<< peachy. peanut butter? [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend's stash of condiments.

>>> I ran out. [12:12 am]

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It's not like he's a stranger to Cas's weird cravings when he's high. (There'd been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas 'N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean's conscience.) But he doesn't think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean's usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular "jelly, not jam"-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who's also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

<<< pretty sure i have some [12:14 am]

>>> :) [12:14 am]

>>> I'm coming over [12:14 am]

*

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn't mean that he ever would be (or for hell's sake, he'd scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, is.)

*

The second time had been early — way, way too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin' am on a Sunday. Like, that’s practically nighttime. 

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

>>> I miss you [6:28 am]

>>> I'd* miss you [6:29 am]

Dean's stomach twists, and he's not sure if it's in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

<<< what [6:32 am]

<<< wtf are you talking about? [6:32 am]

Nothing.

<<< cas? [6:33 am]

<<< dude [6:34 am]

<<< cas???? [6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can't stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin' toothbrush since he's already up, and now definitely awake. Cas was so paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically sags when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

>>> sorry, I had to make a call. [6:42 am]

>>> I'm not taking the job. [6:42 am]

*

And that's how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas's oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer's (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty') and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

And it's how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

"It's not who I am anymore." Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn't see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. "And if I go back there, I'm never getting out again."

Dean'd swallowed.

"I don't want to." Cas had said, voice trembling. "I am — my own person here. It shouldn't be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are you. I don't — I can't. I'm not going to let them take it away."

"Good." He'd sounded shaky to even himself. "Don't."

"Yes." Cas had promised. "I'm not going."

*

And eventually they'd moved past the heavy talk into why-didn't-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may've been the first person he'd confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn't mean he'd understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean's target of irritation and added, "They asked Gabriel too, by the way."

"And?" Dean didn't ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

"He's running off to Miami."

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, "And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me." 

At which point, of course, he'd started coughing instead, because holy shit, it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn't really sure how much longer he'd be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin' kitchen with the guy.

*

The third time's after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin' crunch, because goddamn is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other's, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and then, just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms - but then they'd separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he'd received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let's do it the way we're supposed to."

And Dean had known immediately what he'd meant. Let's not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let's...play safe.

"Okay. Uh," he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Thursday." Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It's at least midnight, it feels like he's been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn't asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he's not the only one — although he's better at hiding it (practise, he'd say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas's text.

>>> I think I'm falling in love with you [11:43 pm]

>>> already. [11:43 pm]

Dean is very grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

<<< so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby [11:44 pm]

>>> in my defense, it's been years. [11:44 pm]

<<< that part i get [11:44 pm]

<<< me too [11:44 pm]

<<< but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass [11:45 pm]

Jesus, he'd never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

>>> I'm texting. [11:46 pm]

And he guesses he'd never expected to giggle (he's alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

<<< good for you [11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They're idiots, sure, but nobody is this dumb.

<<< so when the fuck are you coming over then [11:50 pm]

>>> on my way <3 [11:50 pm]

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean's door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean's space like it's been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean's.

*

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he's found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean's cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas might just be a texter.

But Dean's pretty sure he's more than okay with it, so it doesn't really matter.

[tooweirdforyou]

I-I very much enjoyed your fic with the S/O having a mean & horrible ex. I-I was wondering if you could do one with Law, Shanks and Crocodile?? (It’s cause I too had a very horrible ex and it was very comforting to read your lovely fics) thank you so much and I hope you stay safe and have a lovely day 🥺💖💖💖💖💖

Law, Shanks + Crocodile And A S/O With A Mean Ex

A/N : I’m sorry this took a while, I really hope you all are okay, with having to experience and deal with exes like that :/

note : mentions of abuse / harsh words / names

no mention of specificity so I varied scenes.

Summary : these boys reacting to your mean ex coming by and talking to you.

Zoro, Mihawk, Ace » Here!

-

Law

Law is harsh. He is sadistic. He is angry. But yet, he remains calm. Though, he is quite the provoking type. He’s almost a Yandere.

It starts off on just coming onto an island in hopes to pick up some supplies. As much as the others focus, Penguin and Shachi are easy to get distracted and immediately made friends with a particular someone, while you were out with Law.

Once the crew regrouped at the coast, you and Law find Shachi and Penguin laughing with an unfamiliar person and your eyes widen at the sight.

“[ Ex Name ]?”

Almost immediately, laughter ceased and your ex turn to you with wide eyes before a sneer was seen, shocking everyone else once again.

“[Name]? What the hell are you doing here?” Your ex scoffs as they roll their eyes. “Everywhere I go, it seems it always links back to you, I swear.”

Your brows furrowed as you unintentionally took a step back, Law quickly noticing the said action as he narrows his eyes at the person.

“Who are you? What business do you have with [Name]-ya?”

“What business? Who the fuck are you?” Your ex then snaps in realization. “Ah, you must be the surgeon of death, captain of the Heart Pirates.” They began to cackle.

“Doctor? You went for a doctor after me?” They continue to laugh, you just gulping as they continue to take step by step closer to you.

Unknown to the group, Law was creating a giant room and his sword was ready to slice your ex apart.

“It makes sense you’d go for a doctor. Maybe he could find what the hell is wrong with your brain for even thinking about leaving me, you little—!”

Shutting your eyes and bracing for another physical attack from your ex, you widen them when you hear Law’s voice.

“That’s enough.”

SLASH!

“You really have the nerve to come to my crew, to walk towards my significant other, and dare attempt to hit them?”

Swinging his sword to rest on his shoulder, his eyes darken dangerously and a cocky smirk was found on his lips, nearly sending chills down everyone’s spine as they stare at your ex that was cut into two.

“What were you saying about them dating a doctor? Oh, that’s right. ‘To fix something in their brain’ was it? It was actually to allow me to heal any disgusting injuries that you both mentally and physically caused [Name]-ya.” Law corrects, pulling down his sword to cut a few more pieces from your ex.

Speaking of which, your ex didn’t say a word, mostly internally panicking at the sight of his limbs apart from each other, since he was witnessing first hand, the Surgeon of Death’s skills.

“Where is that arrogant attitude just now? What happened?” Law hums, tilting his head to the side before he continued to cut them piece by piece.

“Law.. let’s go..”

Law stands up hearing you and with a piercing glare, he sheathes his sword and stepped onto one of your ex’s hands, eliciting a whimper from them.

“Next time, I’ll break off your arms to make sure you can never even attempt to hurt [Name]-ya.”

With that, he began heading back to the submarine, guiding you along with him as the crew silently followed, the room disappearing and left your ex alone, all cut up.

And though you were in public, in front of the crew, Law willingly brought you closer to him. His movement gentle with you. Only for you, was he soft.

-

Shanks

Though Shanks’ looks are quite calm about all of this, his eyes say otherwise.

It would be when you are sailing around the New World, heading out to the Grand Line to meet with Mihawk with Shanks.

However, along the way, it seems something had occurred. A lone sailer, drifting across the water on a small boat passed out.

The kind gentleman he was, Shanks told the crew to pull him up and treat them. You almost didn’t recognize who it was, until they actually confronted you, and it seems someone still held anger within themselves.

“[Name]?”

You’d be shocked for sure, unable to say a word, just speechless that the person Shanks saved, turned out to be your ex that you left after they verbally abused you.

“Why the hell are you on Red Haired’s ship?... you don’t belong here..not on the famous, notorious one armed Emperor.” They were clutching their arm and had bandages all around them.

“I..” Before you could say anything, your ex continued to talk, unknown to the red-haired pirate Captain coming out himself.

“Even when we were dating, you always stood out. Not in the good way. You kept making trouble for me and everyone else, and just never belonged anywhere with anyone. I’m almost embarrassed I dated you.”

You simply look away, ignoring whatever he had to say, missing Shanks silent steps forward.

“You’re just an accident waiting to happen. Oh wait.. it already did.”

Before your ex could continue further, Shanks was already looming over them on the ground, the sharpest glare his eyes could muster. He didn’t even have to use haki to instantly intimidate your ex. You could tell from the fearful and shocked look across their face.

“My apologies, sir/Ma’am. I don’t think I heard you right. Could you repeat that for me?” His one arm would be gripping the hilt of his sword casually.

His face plastered the forceful and harshest grin you’ve ever seen.

“I know you couldn’t have insulted my beloved so casually like that, so I must kindly ask you to repeat your words once more. My dear [Name] is an angel and if you really have the guts to say further unnecessary things to my lover.. well.”

He began to unsheathe his sword and a smirk came over his lips.

“I can make you a nonfamous, one-armed asshole.”

Fully unsheathed, Shanks casually held out his sword, now crouching down to their level. “Would you like that?”

Hyperventilating at the thought of being cut by one of the Emperors, your ex simply screamed and ran over to the railing of the ship, before jumping off for his life.

You were just shocked, not quite sure of what to say or think but Shanks quickly snapped you out of it, his sword now sheathed and hand gently caressing yours.

“Hey, Angel. Let’s continue sailing and once we greet Mihawk, let’s have a party and relax. Okay?”

-

Crocodile

Crocodile is condescending.

He’d just sneer and scoff at your ex.

It’d be when you two are away for a bit, along with Mr. 1, Daz Bones. After Crocodile’s title as Warlord has been revoked.

You two were just together, Crocodile walking with you around the area and occasionally looking at a couple things through the display window, and if you looked at something a little too long, he’d immediately buy it for you, plus more, despite your attempts to stop him.

Now, this time, Crocodile and Daz had to discuss a certain topic that he didn’t want you to overhear, so he gave you some money and told you to wander around and buy yourself some things.

Not wanting to disrupt their important meeting, you agreed, and so you were simply just walking around the town on your own.

Unfortunately, had to bump into someone along the way. Literally.

About to fall on your ass, a hand caught yours immediately. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you! Are you okay?-“

Almost immediately, once the person recognized your face, they let go and caused you to fall anyways.

“[Name]?!” Clear confusion ran across their face as they immediately jumped back at the shock. “Why are you here?”

You barely heard them, feeling pain on your tailbone from the rough fall as you slowly stood up. “I’m here.. for none of your business..”

Coughing slightly, your ex scrunches up their face before rolling their eyes. “I can’t believe I almost saved you. Get out of my sight, [Name]. This town isn’t big enough for the both of us.”

“Why don’t you leave instead?”

Crocodile, making his way over with Daz behind him, stares down at your ex like he was inferior. Nothing more than a pest.

His cigar between his teeth and his giant coat hanging around his shoulders, which he took off and carefully placed around you once he was beside you.

“Tch. An ex-warlord? Pathetic. I can’t believe you’re actually going out with a man like him.” Your ex comments rudely, making Crocodile smirk a bit in amusement, walking towards your ex and gripping his throat with his large hand.

“A man like me, you say? Someone who is strong enough to even become a warlord. Someone with money and power that can easily take you down within seconds?”

Slowly, your ex began to lose all liquid in their body and was becoming wrinkly, due to Crocodile’s sand.

His smirk then drops to one unimpressed as he squeezed harder, until there was nothing left.

“You are undeserving to even be in my nor [Name]’s presence. Get lost, you pathetic waste of space.”

With that, Crocodile dropped your ex’s lifeless corpse and turned to you, with a soft expression. “Let’s go, darling. We’ll find you some new clothing.”

Hand pressed against the dip of your back, he gently guided you away from the scene and let Daz take care of your ex’s body.

-

Sorry for the delay, anon. I sincerely hope this was okay!