#I wasn’t going to have any ships in twisted but they dragged me to the depths

[manicali]

Should Camilla and the bird girl kiss?

Yes.

[the-californicationist]

he trims his beard

Pirate!Price/Reader

God, I want to write thirty damn chapters about Pirate!Price so badly. Someone tell me not to, please? Lol. Otherwise, y'all might be getting thirty chapters of Pirate!Price...

MDNI/18+ TW: virginity reference

Summary:

Captain John Price is king of the Seven Seas, and after he saves your life, you owe him a debt. His fee? To take you as his wife.

The Mediterranean Sea, 1708

“I just can’t…ARGH!” Price slammed his hand down on the porcelain basin as he tried to shave his chin, unable to use his right hand after the accident. 

You pitied him, but you were still terribly afraid of him. When he rescued you, you thought he had been Death riding in on his ghostly white ship. But, now that he had been with you going on a fortnight, you realized the hardened, gruff exterior was but a hard shell encasing the soft, warm center of Captain Price, leader of the Queen’s special unit of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. 

You’d been marooned on Cassadaga Island for two days, stripped of your jewelry and purse, beaten within an inch of your life, and left for dead. Your would-be husband had planned the whole attack, hoping to cash in on the dowry money. The joke was on him. Your father had a gambling problem and had not two coins to rub together. The musket he kept above the mantle didn’t even have any gunpowder in it, you were so destitute. As soon as your fiancé found out about your lack of adequate funding, he tossed you overboard on his father’s ship. When Captain Price found you there, you were barely hanging on. 

The captain had nursed you back to health, promising to chase down the vagabond and kill him for his dishonor. He’d been true to his word, slaughtering the lot of them, but during his vengeful assault, he’d been shot through the hand with a musket. You’d cleaned the wound, and he had yelled at you for the pain. Now, you were cowering in the corner of your shared room, back to being a prisoner. 

He eyed you from his shining mirror above the basin, 

“C’mere, girl.”

You edged closer. It wasn’t quick enough for him, so he crossed the room, his black leather boots banging on the ash wood of his quarters.

“I said come here,” he growled, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you over to the wash bowl, razor in his uninjured hand. 

He let go of you, straightened himself, and sighed, fixing his harshness into a more genteel tone,

“My apologies,” the words came out of his mouth oily and practiced, not at all his natural verbiage, “Would you be so kind as to trim my beard? With my injury, and my left hand being more useless than a fuckin’ hook, I am at your mercy.”

He handed you the razor and you took it from him, 

“Yes, sir - I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.”

You were stuttering, full of abject fear at his possible retaliation. 

As you approached his face with the razor, your hand was trembling and he noticed it. Something in him softened, his icy blue eyes melted just enough for him to hold you around your waist and gaze down at your face,

“It’s okay, pretty girl. My bark and my bite are both nasty, but I won’t harm you.”

His warm body was so close to yours, and with him leaning over you, breathing into your space, you could smell the tobacco scent that lingered in his clothes and beard. His long, braided hair was adorned with gold coins, bent and twisted into it to make little beads, and he had been caramelized by the sun. At the top of his sternum, you could see thick tufts of curly hair poking from his shirt. You tried not to stare. 

“Captain,” you asked as sweetly as you could, “Can you sit, sir, so that I may reach your cheek?”

He smiled, 

“Alright, love.”

He sat on his down mattress. The bed creaked at the addition of his familiar weight. 

At this more convenient angle, you were able to reach his face and neck, so you began your task. You applied the foam in thin layers, working gently as you went, mindful that the captain kept his blades sharp enough to cut steel twine. What you hadn’t realized was that, by requesting that he sit, he was in full, direct eye sight of your heavy breasts. They were corseted up, as was the fashion, but without your normal over-dress to cover you, your nipples ghosted through the thin chemise, hinting at little pebbles beneath the surface. He had not stopped staring at them since you began to shave him. 

You looked down while you were cleaning the blade, trying to discreetly glimpse at his growing passion, curious and fearful all at the same time. His breeches could barely contain him, and his thick phallus pressed into the join of his pants. He caught you staring, and he laughed at your rosy complexion, rolling his eyes,

“Ha! Embarrassed at your thirst, pretty girl? Surely those vagabonds did not leave you a virgin during your ordeal.” 

“They did, sir,” you admitted, returning to your work, sad at having been discovered sinning with your abject perversion. 

He made a small noise, unable to talk while you were shaving his prominent chin, careful around the curve of the bone. He liked to keep the sides long, trimming them with shears, but he always shaved his chin. You followed the razor’s line down his neck, careful not to knick his protruding Adam’s Apple. 

“Is that so?” The captain purred. 

“Yes, sir. At my fiance’s order.”

“Ah, I see.”

He was silent again, his eyes growing hungrier at the sight of you. His hands returned to your hips as the waves tossed the large vessel on the high seas. You stilled, feeling your belly flutter, wondering if it was seasickness or excitement from his newly focused touch.

“You alright, love? Bit choppy tonight. Storm’s brewin’.”

“Oh,” you nodded, finishing with his neck, “There. All finished, Captain.”

He moaned, holding your hips tighter, situating you between his open knees,

“Shame, that. I was enjoying your skillful hand, pretty girl.”

You blushed, setting the razor cleaned back in its case,

“Thank you, Captain Price. And thank you again for your rescue. I would be dead if not for your mercy. I am in your debt.”

“Aye,” the Captain eyed you slyly, “a steep debt at that. Your dowry should solve that for us. Then, you’ll be on your way. When we land in Málaga, your father can pay me.”

“Sir,” you gasped, “I don’t have one. My father took it to the game house and lost it on his cards.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked down at him in shame, hoping his mercy was deeper than his greed. 

“Hmm, I see. Then, perhaps you would consider a captain as your betrothed?”

You looked up at him in shock, and he was amused by your fear. He used one hand to hold you by the hip, and his other, uninjured hand delicately pulled at the silk ribbon of your bodice, aiming to free you from your painful restraints. 

“Y-y-yes…sir,” you could feel the heat on your cheeks, “My family would be most pleased with such a match.”

“Bugger your family, girl. They left you for dead. If you’re mine, you’ll be only mine. Once I have a bounty in my grasp, there’s not a man on God’s green earth who could take it from me. Does that scare you, girl? Do you want to run off home, turn to the cloth, become a nun instead?”

“No,” you shook your head, “No, sir. I owe you my life, and if it is my hand that you wish, I must oblige you.”

“I wish not your hand, love…” His tone was darkly suggestive, “Well, maybe at first.” He laughed warmly. 

It was a joke that you had missed, but you knew it was your innocence that kept you from divining its meaning. In your core, your body yearned for him. Seeing him command his men, the fiercest swords on the Seven Seas, watching him take down pirates and vagabonds like it made his heart beat in his breast, it was mystifying. His huge muscles and broad bones made his tall figure all the more imposing, and every port you landed in, women swooned over him while the men cowered in fear. Yes, you’d enjoy him as a husband. No one would ever dare lay a hand on you again. 

“What are your terms, Captain, should I accept your proposal?”

He ran a finger into the hole he had created in your leather bodice, letting you feel his warm touch through the thin fabric of your chemise. It electrified you.

“You’ll be mine, and only mine. I’ll be yours, and only yours. When I fill you with my seed, you’ll carry my children, and you’ll love them in earnest. You’ll sail with me, and learn the trade. There’s no comfortable manor house awaiting you, girl. What say you?”

“I agree to your terms, sir. But, I have one of my own.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll not lay a hand to me or our children, no matter the height of your rage.”

“Never. You have my word.”

Looking into his eyes, softened and vulnerable now, he meant it. You felt relief for the first time in weeks. Safe, protected, cared for, and welcomed into his adventures. It was everything you’d dreamed of. All of your childhood friends had dreams of servants and painting rooms and buying linens, while you had wanted to see the world. Here he was, offering it to you. 

“I accept.”

“As do I, love. Now,” he finished removing your corset and bodice top, letting it fall to the floor, “as your husband, I’ll have what I’m owed.”

“Yes, Captain. But, please,” you felt a tear roll away from your wet lashes, “be gentle with me.”

“I promised no such thing,” he said, lowering his mouth to your nipple, sucking it and wetting the silk of your chemise, using his hand to pull down the fabric on your other breast, exposing it to the sea air. 

You gasped, feeling his hot mouth explore your skin, your nipples tightening in the heat of his attentions. He was using his tongue to flick back and forth across the tip of your breast, not caring that you were trembling at every swipe of his tongue or thumb. You moaned, involuntarily, as you felt the sparkle of pleasure rush into your belly, making you wet under your skirts. While you had explored yourself plenty of times to discover the hidden secrets of your body, to have a man - especially such an aggressor like Captain Price - do it, it was so much more exciting. His forbidden fruit made you clench your legs together, upset and tingling within your core. 

“Mmm,” he praised you, “Like that, love?”

“Yes, Captain,” you whispered softly, placing your hands on the back of his neck, rubbing the firm musculature you discovered there. 

“Good girl,” he told you, pinching your nipple cruelly to make you moan again. 

He kissed you then, full and with his long, ravenous tongue, forcing it into your mouth to feel your tongue and throat, the silky skin of your cheek. As he kissed you, he was busy rucking up your skirts, searching for your dripping heat. He found it, and he stilled. Barely moving, he stopped kissing you and looked up into your eyes with his stark blue ones, a look of pure delight on his face. 

“Oh, my stars. There it is. You’ve been hiding it from me. So willing? Tell me the truth. Have you been hungering for me as I have been for you?”

It would not be proper to confess such a thing, even to a man who would be your husband. You shook your head in denial, pressing your lips together to keep from telling the truth. 

“Say it! Tell your naughty thoughts to me, love. This is not the cunt of a frightened girl.”

You blushed, red as a rose, unable to meet his gaze. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he moved his finger inside of you then, gently sinking into his drooling sheath, ready to send home his sword to it.

“Y-yes,” your voice was barely audible.

“Yes? What have you been thinking of?” He returned to your nipple, pressing his finger deeper into you, massaging your walls as he explored.

“You…when you fight pirates, sir. You look…”

He chuckled, biting your firm nipple softly, teasing you,

“You like seeing me murdering those devils, do you? In all my days, I never thought I’d find a lass who had a taste for war.”

“Not the war, sir. Just the warrior. You seem to be in command of the chaos, and my body…well, I guess…I am unsure how to describe it.”

He pulled you down to the bed and tossed you on your back, rutting against you with his length, letting his hardness press into your core through his breeches. 

“You like seeing me in charge, hm? Your captain, barking his orders, tossing those traitorous rats into the drink, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you confessed, rolling in the broiling pleasure he was building inside of you, his hand knuckle-deep inside of your core. 

“Good,” he said smugly, “Then, I have a command for you.”

You looked up at him, watching him roll your skirt up above your knees, his eyes never leaving your dripping folds. He smiled when he saw it gleam for him. 

“What do you ask of me, my love?”

“Open your legs, girl. Feed yourself to your Captain.”

[c0ld0utside]

Hi! I wanted to request a script with a mermaid reader. Something like a cub that doesn't look like the others, maybe sharp teeth, maybe something else, whatever you want. + a fisherman who accidentally caught them. You don't have to write this if you don't like the concept!

No, no you're onto something! This request is PERFECT AUGH-Fisherman Dad...is something I didn’t know I needed. 

Here’s your fun fact for the day: Piranhas can bark. 

Criticism is welcome!

Warnings (Let me know if I missed any): Reader/MC gets hit, Blood, Reader/MC gets gagged, Reader’s/MC’s hands get bound, Reader is put in a box

Growing up in his small port town, Cannon heard stories of sea monsters and their relatives. Mermaids, Sirens, Leviathans, Serpents, Krakens…the list goes on. Now that he’s an adult, however, he knows those were just stories parents told their kids to warn and teach them. Don’t go to the beach at night, don’t swim too far out, swim with a group, wear lifejackets.

If those beasts really do exist, he wonders how they handle storms as shitty as this one. Lightning and thunder clashed overhead and the rain poured down in tubs. The waves were large and rough, going way farther than they normally did at high tide. Ah well. Cannon’s just glad his boss is sane enough to not make him and his coworkers work in that mess. 

Feeling like an old man despite being in his mid-thirties, Cannon stood up, popped his back, and headed off to bed. Hopefully, the conditions will be better by tomorrow. He doesn’t want to go to work on a rainy day.

…

…It’s raining. It’s not as bad as yesterday, but it’s raining. At least that means the catches will be good today. 

Speaking of good catches, Cannon isn’t sure if he’s hallucinating. He didn’t bring someone with him since he wasn’t going too far out, so he had no one to ask. Normally, when a fisherman pulled up their nets, they got fish. Or none at all. 

“Easy, easy…it’s alright,” Cannon says, mostly to himself. This is fine. Totally normal. Maybe this is a crazy dream and he’s going to wake up late. Cannon moves away to grab a knife and crouches back down next to the wet gremlin. “Not gonna hurt you,” He whispers, hooking the blade under the rope where it’s pressing into the fish kid’s neck. 

What Cannon has in his net is half a fish and half a kid. A fish kid. A fish kid that looks like a mess, and who is currently hissing at him like a rabid possum and snapping at the wet ropes. Snapping. Like a piranha. Are they a piranha? He can see the pearly, pointy whites from where he’s standing, holding the rope down so the net stays in the air. The creature continues to thrash and hiss and bite. 

He lowers the net and moves it onto the deck, careful to avoid the rabid little monster that is going insane. Cannon can’t blame them. If he was a little fish kid caught in a net while bruised up he’d be freaking out too. 

The brat twists their head and bites down. Letting out a startled yelp, Cannon uses his other hand to smack them and pulls away. Yikes…it’s ugly and the blood is streaming down his hand, making a mess. “I just said I wasn’t gonna hurt you, bonehead,” He grunts, using his good hand to hold their head down while he cuts them free. 

He’s caught off guard again when they push themself out of the net and start scrambling over to the edge of the ship. The kid’s tail flops around and drags as they try to get away. It hurts- Cannon can tell from the way the thing whimpers and hisses. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” He tuts, grabbing some of the rope and walking over to the small fry. Small fry? He’s not thinking straight. Are there major arteries in hands? Maybe he’s losing too much blood from the bite.

Grabbing onto their tail firmly with his good hand, Cannon tries to gently pull them back. ‘Small Fry’ has different ideas, because they start screeching and barking like a madman. Their mouth snaps at open air over and over as they flail around. “Hey- hey, shhh, shhh…” He tries to soothe, but it doesn’t work. 

Cannon was really hoping he wouldn’t have to do this. He doesn’t like what he’s about to do, but he has to. He shoves some of the rope into the kid’s mouth and wraps it around their head. He doesn’t make it too tight- they’re hurting enough as is. Before the kid can rake their claws- they have claws- down his arms, he grabs their hands and ties them together. 

“Sorry, Small Fry, you’re not making this easy.” 

He gets muffled snarling and barks in return. 

“Can you breathe, little buddy? Can you understand me? …No? Alright, that’s…fine.” Cannon murmurs, looking down at their tail. Oh yeah. They weren’t going to be able to swim with that. Their fin is torn and there’s an ugly cut running up the tail. Not to mention those bruises from earlier. 

“I can’t let you go just yet, Small Fry. You’re a mess, see?” Cannon says, pointing to their tail. Their gaze follows his and their glare hardens. “Don’t give me that. I’ll patch you up, alright? Now be nice.” 

With that, Cannon grabs an empty tub and dips it into the water before pulling it out and securing it onto the deck. He then walks back over to the little monster, scoops them up, and carefully lowers them inside. 

He is so glad it’s still early. Barely anyone will be on the streets. He’s also glad it’s cloudy- had it been sunny people would have seen the silhouette of a small mermaid in a closed fish container as he drives back home in his truck. 

He’ll figure this out later. Right now it’s finally settling in that he just accidentally caught a mer…maid? Merchild? Yeah. A merchild. He caught a merchild and he’s taking them home. A merchild that bit him. The bandage work on his hand is messy. He'll change it when he gets home.

And half of him doesn’t want to let them go. They’re so…reckless. It’s no wonder they got so banged up. Wait- no, maybe it was the storm. Still, they need help and they don’t understand. They don’t get to not want help. They’re getting it because he said so and he doesn’t know how mer society works, but he cares.

-

Feel like making a part two for this as well. 

You’re looking fine today! Take your vitamins!

[smilesatdawnmain]

ETERNAL LMK AU (Part 4) (Interactive Story)

Had some close ties last part :3 But we have gone with "STAND YOUR GROUND AND FIGHT!"

Lets continue this tragic story, shall we~?

The rules are simple.: I will give the written passage, and then at the bottom there will be a vote on how the characters act next!

Story: Eternal

Ships: Shadowpeach

Angst: You betcha

Fluff: With enough choices, maybe we'll get there.

Macaque smacked their hands away from.

“No! I’m not going anywhere with you!” he shouted, adrenaline choking his words into a hoarse rasp. He tried to call upon his power, to manifest his staff from nothingness, but all that greeted him was a suffocating void where his shadow should have been. He never had a time in his life where he didn’t have his very essence beside him. More than just an ally in combat, it was a piece of himself. To no longer have it to draw from was bone chilling.

Still, he was not going to the Diyu. Not today, not anytime soon. With no other option, he rolled his hands into fists and held them up. He wasn’t completely defenseless without a weapon. He would fight in any means he needed to, teeth and claws included.

“Desperation doesn’t suit you, Liu’er,” the first figure replied, tilting their head with feigned pity. “You’re merely prolonging the inevitable. Denial only deepens the pit that cling to your soul.”

Macaque’s heart twisted painfully in his chest—if it still beat, he wondered. “You don’t understand! I have to—”

“Have to what?” the second figure interrupted, their voice smooth as silk yet laced with a chilling edge. “Have to stay connected to that which caused you so much pain? What are you, Liu’er? A martyr? A ghost bound by grief?”

“I’m not a ghost!” he yelled back, fury igniting within him against the encroaching cold and despair. He did not have to explain himself to these two. He did not have to make justification for his actions. His reasonings were his own. To be denied life simply because he wanted to bring his Mate home- it was unfair. It was nothing but an injustice! And he wanted to be sure his Mate knew that.

“No, I am not a martyr,” Macaque spat, trembling as the weight of his fragmented memories pressed down on him. “I’m a warrior. My fate is not up for anyone but myself to decide.”

The figures exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from mockery to something resembling interest. “Ah,” the first remarked, voice dripping with mock delight. Many had attempted and failed such similar feats. Too many tried to cheat or deny death, and all were quick to realize that there was no parting from it. Dragging another soul down by force was any typical Monday for them.

“Listen, fella,” one drawled, “I’d rather not play this game. You’ll fight us, we’ll overpower you, yada yada-but in the end, I'm afraid you’ll still lose.” The figure’s amusement made Macaque’s eyebrow twitch.

He squared his jaw and prepared himself for whatever they might conjure next. “You think you know my fate? You think you know me?” he retorted, a fierce gleam in his eyes.

The second figure, taller and clad in shadow that flickered like flames, took a step forward, a smirk playing on their lips. “Lets get this over with, hmm? It’ll be the talk of the Diyu when we bring you in. One of the four demon Stone Monkeys, the Six Eared Macaque, the mate of Sun Wukong. The man who avoids death like a plague- yet sent his own beloved there with his own two hands.”

Macaque’s skin prickled, his eyes widening in fury as he lunged.

His fingers clawed through the emptiness, aiming for the smirk that enflamed his rage further. The first figure merely sidestepped, maneuvering with a grace that belied their insidious nature. Mocking, teasing, then standing with utter stillness. Goading Macaque to even try to take a swing.

When Macaque did, his fist connected with the man’s jaw. Expecting the man to recoil, to react- his stomach dropped when the man only smirk. The attack hadn’t even jerked the man’s head back, as if Macaque's punch were a gentle breeze ruffling through his hair. “Is that all you have?” he taunted, rubbing the corner of his mouth with a deliberate slowness. “Such power wasted on a hallow spirit.”

With a flick of his wrist, the figure conjured a dark mist that wrapped around Macaque's limbs like serpents, constricting him, pinning him to the spot. The icy grasp snaked up to his neck, squeezing just enough to steal away his breath. Panic set in, and he thrashed against the bonds.

What power did a spirit have. Nothing without a form. Nothing without a body to command.

“No!” Macaque gasped, fighting against the shadows coiling tighter, each breath a battle. Desperation clawed at his chest like a wild animal seeking freedom, making him writhe. It couldn’t end like this—not here, not now. He needed to- he wanted- there was so much he hadn’t done. So much he hadn’t said.

As he twisted, his gaze caught Wukong. Only but a few steps away, legs crossed and back straight as he meditated. Unaware, uncaring- even if he could see him now, would he even help him? “I-!” he choked up. He was home. He didn't want to be taken from it. He didn't want to continue to be forced to leave his home due to the will of another.

He was scared. Terrified. Perhaps it was just a natural thing to fear death. To fear what you did not know. He feared the cold, the pain he might experience down there.

The isolation and the inevitable punishment they were bound to give him for attacking the Great Monk Tripitaka. He had accepted this fact at the time, so he supposed had no one but himself to blame but... but still...

And more than anything- Wukong.

Did he want to yell at Wukong? Stay with him? End things? Reconcile? He didn't know! But he at least wanted the time to figure it out!

So close. Right there... He was right there...

Previous

next;

[something-tofightfor]

Fool's Gold 6: Storms Will Pass and I'll Remain

Pairing: Pirate Oberyn Martell x Female Reader (with a twist)

Rating: M.

Word Count: 9,954

Summary: With the pirates taken care of and the truth revealed, you and Oberyn have a lot to talk about. There's only hours to go until you reach Dorne, which means that everything's about to change ... again. Even with Oberyn's assurances, your fears get the better of you, and there's no hiding it.

Author's Note:

IT'S PEDROTOBER 2024 OBERYN MARTELL DAY!!! I couldn't let the day pass without posting.

This is a little longer than expected, but I didn't want to drag out the final hours on the ship more than necessary. I cannot wait to get to Dorne - and hope you're excited, too.

If you want to talk about this story (or any of my others) please feel free to pop into my inbox or DMs!

Chapter title comes from "The Stormchaser" by Caligula's Horse.

Fool's Gold Masterlist

You went back onto the ship’s top deck, Oberyn walking a few paces ahead of you. 

Even in the short time you’d been down in his quarters, the crew had made progress with cleaning up after the attack. 

The wood had been scrubbed free of blood, crates and barrels were stacked back into place, and the prisoners were nowhere to be found. There are no bodies either. You wondered what had been done with them - if they’d been moved back onto the other ship or simply tossed into the water, made into meals for the creatures that lurked below. 

The smell of smoke filled the air and you turned toward the source, watching as the pirates’ ship burned in the distance. “It was necessary.” He touched your arm, drawing your attention back in his direction. “They would have chased us if we’d just let them go back onboard.” 

“And now if they make it to one of the islands and are rescued, they’ll just talk about how they need to find the Blood Adder’s ship.” He nodded. “And this ship won’t be sailing anywhere anytime soon, will it?” 

“No.” You made your way to the same area you’d first spoken in, Oberyn gesturing for you to sit. “No, she’ll need some repairs, and new sails. The next time anyone sees her…” He looked up, eyes lingering on the wheel. “She’ll be a Dornish pleasure ship again.”

“That’s been true this whole time, though.” He smiled at your words, taking a seat next to you. “I understand why you didn’t tell me the truth right away, Oberyn, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t upset.” 

“I know.” He clasped his hands together, one thumb spinning the golden ring on the other. “And I am sorry for lying to you.” He paused long enough to let the apology sink in. “I thought, at first, that you knew who I was.” What? “I thought you were pretending to have no memory and that you recognized me since you knew so much about Oberyn. I assumed it was all a ruse, and because I was finally on my way home, I was … worried.” 

“I didn’t, and it wasn’t.” You bit your lip, wincing as you felt the wound on your side pull. “I thought … I thought that some things about you and this ship didn’t seem right, but I never thought you were Prince Oberyn Martell.” He smiled at that, still staring out at the horizon. “Now, it makes sense, though.” 

“How?” He angled his body toward you, eyes narrowed. “What wasn’t right?” 

“Your hands aren’t rough enough to have lived a life on the sea. You spent far too much time with me to captain the ship.” You looked down at your hands, thinking. “You and your crew are too kind, especially to a woman like me.” You pointed at the plume of smoke. “If they’d found me? There would have been no question about what my future held.” 

He didn’t disagree, but Oberyn did say your name then, reaching over to take one of your hands. He held it gently, eyes downcast to focus on where you were connected. 

“I left the drawers unlocked and the journals out, even in the beginning. But you didn’t read them. You could have at any time, but you didn’t.” He was right - and that reminder made his reaction to you not reading Oberyn’s letters much more understandable, too. He tried to tell me even when he had no reason to trust me. 

“Your promises make more sense now, too.” You held up your other hand, his ring still on your finger. “To keep me safe and to give me choices?” You wiggled your fingers, his gaze rising briefly to watch. “This has a version of the Martell sigil on it, doesn’t it?” He nodded. “Do the people in Tyrosh know that -”

“There are rumors.” He smiled, the expression smug. “The only people that truly know are Doran, Ellaria, my oldest children, the crew on this ship, and a few friends in port cities that I couldn’t avoid.” Of course. “And now you.” 

The gold glinted in the sunlight, and for the first time, you realized exactly what it meant that you were under the protection of the Dornish Prince. “You meant it. You meant that I had a choice about Perle and Oldtown. You meant that I didn’t have to go, and -”

“I did. I do.” He tightened his grip on your hand. “I will invite that Lord to Sunspear and lie to his face about finding pieces of your ship and an empty raft if remaining in Sunspear with me is what you choose. I know you’re worried about your parents, but as I said before, there are options, even though in my opinion they don’t deserve them.” 

Hearing him speak about your parents that way hurt - but not as much as you’d thought it would. Because I think the same, too. They didn’t care where they sent me as long as it meant they survived.

He was right. It wasn’t just that you’d been picked up by a pirate and had a chance at a new life in a far off land when he set you free. Oberyn had promised you a place to stay and whatever type of life you chose in Dorne, including a job. “But if you’re Oberyn Martell, that means that your … that when we get to Dorne, Ellaria will be there. And I’ll just be …” 

If he’d gone back to just a woman he was in love with, that would have been one thing. But Oberyn and Ellaria’s devotion to each other - and the lengths they’d go to prove it - was one of the best known facts in the realm. But so is the understanding that they seek others out often. That realization brought up another thing for you to consider, though. 

“Ellaria won’t like that you’re returning after so long with someone. I know you two don’t have a conventional relationship, but -”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” He moved closer, changing his grip on your hand so that he could slide his fingers between yours. “She will understand, especially when Nymeria and Obara tell her what they know.” You thought back to their surprise when they’d seen his ring on your hand, and that memory made you react almost violently. 

“Take this back.” You pulled your hand free and removed the jewelry, holding it out to him. “I have no business wearing this when we return to your home. It served its purpose, and I’m thankful, but …” But I cannot arrive in Dorne wearing a piece of your jewelry on my finger when Ellaria doesn’t. “But I won’t need it in Dorne.” 

“No, you won’t.” He took the ring back and slipped it on, flexing the digits a few times. “You must have many questions. What’s on those pages answered some things, but … there is so much I couldn’t put into written words.” 

“You were injured in the attack.” He nodded, swallowing. “How did you survive that?”

“When I was stabbed, I went overboard. I’m a good fighter, but in those moments, it was safer for me and my crew to let them think they’d won. I am a strong swimmer, even injured, and I managed to reach one of the below deck windows and climb back onto the ship.” He paused, thinking. “I hid for hours behind a stack of crates, waiting until we were underway again before I snuck out and found some of my men.” 

“I bet they were surprised.” He cocked his head to the side and winked at you. 

“Not as surprised as you might think.” That made you laugh, and when he reached over to take your hand again, you let him, curling your fingers against his. “It was much easier than you’d imagine to overtake the pirates in the darkness and take my ship back.” He nodded. “I killed the man who took this ship with the same weapon that Cersei’s lapdog thought he killed me with. And once they were all gone, the healer finally tended to my wounds.” 

“And you’ve just been sailing around since?” He nodded. “No one wanted to go home? Your whole crew just decided to -”

“A few of them did, and we let them. They were how we got word to Doran and Ellaria and my daughters that I survived. They were the proof my family needed to prepare for the news from King’s Landing and Cersei fucking Lannister.” He snarled the words out and then lowered his head, scoffing. “And we have been sailing ever since, waiting for the right time to go home and reveal to the world that I am still alive and still angry.”

“And now’s the right time.” He nodded twice. “Because of Prince Doran’s health.”

“It has worsened.” Oberyn closed his eyes. “A Martell has ruled Dorne for as long as it has existed, and that will not change. If … when my brother is no longer able to remain in power, my nephew will need guidance.” 

“So you’re going home for good.” He nodded again, his eyes still on the horizon. “Will Cersei try to kill you again?” 

“She’s got bigger problems now.” He smiled, the expression almost soft. “The Dragon Queen. Her own people rebelling against her. Losing two of her sons to death and her daughter to us.” He turned his head, meeting your eyes. “My daughters tell me that Princess Myrcella has fallen in love with Trystane, and does not want to leave Dorne.” 

“A Baratheon and a Martell? That’s quite the surprising pairing.” 

“Hmm.” He nodded, taking a deep breath before his smile turned into a smirk. “It will surprise you more to hear that Baratheon isn’t even the girl’s correct name.” 

There had been rumors that had made their way to Braavos; whispers of Cersei and her own brother together, but you’d never believed any of them. It wasn’t because you didn’t think it possible, instead it was because there’d only been the whispers - and nothing certain. 

“Oberyn, are you saying …” You moved slightly closer, head shaking back and forth. “That the rumors are truths? That the King Robert isn’t actually -”

“I am.” He cleared his throat. “And you can believe me when I say that in Dorne, we care very little what a child’s parentage is, or how it impacts their status or who anyone chooses to love … but a brother and sister passing their children off as future kings or queens under another banner?” His jaw was set. “No. Even that is not acceptable in Dorne, and even a Lannister child deserves better.” 

“But Cersei will want to attend the wedding.” You crossed your arms. “And if it’s in Dorne, then you’ll be in danger. Again.” You didn’t want to think about it; Oberyn fearing for his life in his own home just because a woman was hellbent on revenge.

“We will make those plans when the time comes.” Oberyn reached over and settled his hand on your knee. “They are still a few years away from marriage. And Cersei … she may not have that much time left.” 

You didn’t know what he meant by that. You wanted to ask, but didn’t want to overwhelm him with questions or get overwhelmed with his answers - and so you chose another route - and entirely changed the topic of conversation. “When we get to Dorne tomorrow, what … what will I do?” 

“You’ll come with me to my home. You’ll greet my brother. You’ll meet Ellaria. We’ll tell your story, and then you’ll go off and take a real bath and eat a real meal. You’ll sleep in a real bed, but still have the sounds of the sea coming in through the window, and then …” His smile grew, one of Oberyn’s hands rising so that he could cradle your cheek against his palm. “And then I will show you the place where I was raised.” 

“The palace?” He nodded, swallowing. 

“And the Water Gardens, and the orchards and the markets. All of it. I’m going to make you fall in love with Dorne.” 

“It sounds like it won’t be that difficult for you.” He grinned at your words, shrugging as he pulled his hand back and rested both atop his thighs. “Oberyn, I know … I know that you haven’t been home in a long time, and when you get there, you’ll have things to do.” You paused, looking down at your hands and then back over at him. I might as well say it; we’re both thinking it. “You and Ellaria have a lot of lost time to make up for.” 

“We do.” He said nothing else for a long time, and you watched the smile on his face as it was replaced with a frown. You hated being responsible for putting that expression there, especially when he was so excited about going home.

“I don’t want you to feel responsible for me once we get there. You don’t need to pull yourself away from your family to make me feel comfortable. I’ll just …” You looked away and out over the water, forcing a smile. “I just need a place to sleep and to know where to go for meals, and -”

“Stop.” He reached for you again, whispering your name. “I know what getting back to Sunspear means. I’ve been looking forward to it since the day I pulled myself out of the sea and back onto this ship. But me being back home doesn’t mean that every word that has come out of my mouth to you was worthless.” 

“I never said -”

“No, you didn’t. But for some reason you seem to believe that once I step foot back into Sunspear, you’ll be forgotten or that I won’t want to spend time with you.” He leaned in, locking eyes with you. “That could not be further from the truth.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that the honesty in his eyes - and the seriousness of his tone would matter when you reached Dorne. You wanted to believe that even after Oberyn got his hands back on Ellaria, there’d still be enough of a place for you in his life for what he was promising to become reality. But I can’t count on that. 

“Oberyn, I’m just trying to be realistic. You’re a Prince. You have a woman that is your wife in, as you put it, all the ways that matter. You’re going to have things to do and people to see and stories to tell. You’ll have responsibilities to the throne, even if you’re not in line to inherit. You say that you want me to fall in love with Dorne, but what happens then? I stay and rely on your kindness for the rest of my life just because I find Sunspear or the Water Gardens agreeable?” 

“Tell me what it is that you’re not saying.” He stood abruptly, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw anger in his eyes that was directed at you. “I want the truth.” He didn’t reach for you. Instead, he let his arms hang loosely by his sides, his fingers curled in toward his palms. 

“My fate in Oldtown with Perle would be to become his wife and bear his children and sit silently and take whatever abuse he deemed appropriate as my husband. I wouldn’t be happy, but I’d know that my parents and their business were alright.” You wet your lips, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “In Dorne? What is my future there? No matter how much I enjoy a place, I still need to make a living if I won’t be married off to someone that is expected to support me. And I’m afraid, Oberyn, that my staying would make it seem like I was taking advantage of your offer or trying to force something impossible. I don’t know that I could accept that.” 

That wasn’t even everything that you weren’t saying - and he knew it. “There is more.” He crossed his arms, waiting. You didn’t want to admit the depth of your worries, because it wasn’t fair to him. “I’ll stand here all night if I need to.” I know you will. 

You weren’t getting out of it, and after a few more moments of thought, you nodded, covering your face and taking a breath to steady yourself. The sooner I say it, the sooner he can set expectations. “I have become attached to you in the time since we’ve met, and I’m not sure how I’ll react when there’s more space and more people between us, Oberyn.”  Ellaria. I’m not sure how I’m going to react to seeing you with the woman you love, even though I knew it was coming. “And going to Dorne may not prove to be as perfect a solution as I hope it will be.”

“What changed?” His tone softened slightly and his posture loosened, Oberyn shifting his feet. “You were excited to go to Dorne and to see it, and now … you’re anticipating the worst before you even get there.”

“I didn’t know you were a Prince. I thought … we’d get to Sunspear and even if you were wealthy or had a large home, we’d still… cross paths occasionally after things settled. I am excited to see Dorne. I’m looking forward to it, but I also dread it because who you are? It changes everything. What you’re going back to? You’re not just returning home to a woman you love. You’re returning to Ellaria Sand, I don’t belong anywhere near -”

“You do if I say you do.” He held out his hands and you took them, letting him help you to your feet. “And I say you do. You will not be a prisoner in Dorne. You will not be expected to marry or have children or serve any man. For as long as you wish to stay, you are a guest of the Martells - my guest. And between you and me?” He leaned closer, the warmth back in his eyes. “I would be happy to have you stay for good.” 

“What do you gain from it?” You pulled free, turning away from him and shaking your head as you stepped toward the railing. “I still don’t remember everything about myself or my past. I can’t offer you coin or an army or -”

“Stop.” He reached out, gripping your upper arm. “I don’t care about any of those things.” He tightened his hold, and even though it wasn’t painful, it was still more tightly than he’d ever held you before. “Turn around and look at me.” 

You did, and were ashamed to realize that there were tears in your eyes. “Oberyn -” His fingers loosened, though he didn’t pull his hand back. 

“You are not the only one who has become attached.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as it moved back and forth. “The thought of you going anywhere that is not Dorne saddens me. The thought of you returning to your home and letting your parents choose your future or going to Oldtown and letting Perle do what he pleases sickens me.” He lifted his other hand and cupped your cheek with it. “You deserve better. You deserve to have what you want and who you want. I can give you that. Dorne can offer that.” Can you? 

“But why? Why would you do that for me with everything else you’ll return home to? We only met each other weeks ago. I -”

“Because I want to.” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Because you gave me a chance, even when you didn’t trust me or know who I was.” He opened his eyes and there was sadness in them. “My whole life has been one opportunity after another because of my lineage. I’ve made the most of it, and like to think that I’ve proven that I am more than the Martell name, but …” He looked down and then raised his head, meeting your eyes. “It was new to meet someone new without any of those expectations hanging over my head.”

You hadn’t thought of it that way, but it made total sense. It doesn’t change anything though. “Everyone will just think that I’m one of your -”

“Fuck what they think.” He stepped closer, the sadness in his eyes gone. “It only matters what we think and what we know. ” 

“It’s going to take some getting used to.” He nodded, and you could feel your heart racing. “But will you promise me something?”

“Of course.” He wet his lips. “Anything.” 

You didn’t doubt that he meant it, but you were unprepared for the surety in his voice and the steely look of determination he gave you. It threw you for a few seconds but when you recovered, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, holding it before you let it out slowly. 

“No matter what happens, please don’t lie to me. I know there will be things you can’t tell me about your family’s dealings and that’s to be expected with your position, but I can handle truths. They might hurt, but I need them.” He looked confused. “For example, if Ellaria is unhappy I’m in Dorne, I need to know. I don’t want to cause tension between you, so -”

“If she’s unhappy you’re in Dorne, she will tell you.” He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “And you’re so concerned with her being displeased that you’re coming home with me, why? We have done nothing wrong.” 

“I forget just how different things are between you two sometimes.” You looked out and over the water, needing a few moments to think. “When it comes to sharing each other, anyway.” It was the truth, and even though he’d told you over and over that what was happening between you wouldn’t be a problem after going home, it was difficult for you to believe it. Even after finding out who he is. 

“I would be a fool to believe that Ellaria hasn’t found someone … or many someones to keep her busy in the time that I’ve been gone.” He shrugged, stepping next to you and turning his body so that he was facing the water. “I certainly kept myself occupied. I will not hold that against her in the same way she won’t question my behavior when it comes to you.” 

It confirmed what you’d thought about him even before learning who he really was - and the truth to the reputation of Oberyn Martell. But. “Bringing someone home is different, Oberyn. And even though we haven’t… even though it’s just been…” You struggled with your words and he saved you, turning his head and murmuring your name. 

“You want the truth from me?” You nodded. “It would be easier to explain things if we already had slept together. But I am not welcoming you to Dorne only to warm my bed, and that is different.” That set off a new flood of panic within you, and you were angry that you hadn’t thought of it at first. Of course us being together just for sex would complicate everything less. That’s what they do.

“We still have tonight.” You rushed the words out, heartbeat racing as you gripped the railing. “We can change that. We can -”

“No.” He settled his hand over yours and squeezed. “The time for that has passed.” You wondered if he meant on the ship or in totality, but couldn’t force yourself to ask. Instead, you opted for humor. 

“Oberyn Martell, turning down a lover? Are you sure it’s really you?” That made him laugh, which eased your panic slightly - but then it went elsewhere and reared back up. “If you’re not bringing me back as that, what will we tell people about who I am and why I’m with you?” 

“That depends on you.” He straightened up and then leaned against the wood, recrossing his arms. “You may want to think that over and decide what you want the story to be after you meet my family. But all we have to say is the truth: I found you in a raft, floating in the water, and I couldn’t just leave you there to die.” It was good advice, but it still didn’t answer exactly who you were or where you’d been going. You still had the token you could use if you chose to disappear, so even if you told the whole truth, you weren’t trapped. “Are you hungry? It’s getting late, and they’re making a feast to use as much of the remaining food as possible.” 

“I am.” You closed your eyes, thanking him for the distraction. “Are you?”

“Very.” He stepped away from the railing and motioned for you to take his hand. “Will you have dinner with me?” 

“Of course, Your Grace.” He rolled his eyes but linked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer, his other hand finding its way to your waist. “Oberyn, what -” 

“Ellaria is going to like you,” he whispered the words, angling his head so that he could speak them directly into your ear. “Because it seems as though you share her enthusiasm for teasing me.” That made you laugh, but it turned into a sharp inhale when he pressed his lips to your temple before pulling back, his smirk full of mischief. “I will have my hands very full between the two of you.” 

You hoped he was right. 

You hoped that when you met Ellaria Sand, you’d get along with her. You desperately hoped that she understood that even before you’d known who he was, you’d cared for Oberyn. And that he cares about me. “We’ll see. Maybe it’s going to be us that have their hands full.” Swallowing back a lump in your throat, you squeezed his hand before he could respond. “Food, Oberyn. I want to hear all about your weapons training.” 

— 

You ate with a large group of the crew and halfway through, Obara and Nymeria breezed in, both of them giddy. 

They sat with you and spent the better part of the evening telling you stories about Oberyn and their upbringing in Dorne. It was clear that despite the way things had begun for them, they’d adapted to the life he’d offered and flourished under his care - and with his love. He’d never send them away only for his own benefit.

Everyone was excited; the room was buzzing with conversation, and even though you were focused on what Oberyn and his daughters were saying, you couldn’t help listening to the others, too. They’re all so happy to be going home.

“Are we boring you?” He was leaning back in his chair, a goblet of wine dangling from between two fingers. “You seem distracted.” Oberyn went quiet, arching a brow and staring you down. It was a look that you hadn’t yet seen from him, and you could feel the heat in it, his eyes bright. 

“Of course not.” You picked up a small handful of berries and ate one of them, gesturing with your hand. “This is the most excited I’ve ever heard or seen the crew, and I’m just … it’s hard not to pay attention to them, too.” 

“They deserve long rests.” He finished the wine and set the cup down, his eyes moving away from you and over the other people in the room. “And they will get them. We all will.” He stood suddenly, clearing his throat. What is he doing? “Everyone.” He held up a hand and the room went silent almost immediately. “I want to thank you.” 

You turned in your chair to stare up at him, watching as his posture changed - shoulders back, head held high. He looked around the room, nodding, and you watched the set of his jaw change too, his lower lip jutting out slightly as his lips turned downward in thought. 

“I have kept you away from your homes and your families and your lives for far too long. I am sorry it took many months. I never intended -” He sighed. “If I didn’t want to be away this long, I can’t imagine any of you would, either.” 

There was murmur of agreement, but no one actually spoke up. It didn’t surprise you. Even though they were likely closer with him than was typical with a member of the Martell family and sailors, it was clear that he’d shifted from pretending to be Daavos to once again being Oberyn in the hours since the Dornish port had become the next destination. And they respect him. They respect his position. They don’t fear him like so many others would fear the ones they serve. 

“You have my gratitude. It has been an honor to spend so many months in such close quarters with people like yourselves who are so loyal to my -”

“For Dorne!” One of the men stood, lifting one hand to his chest and then bowing his head. And  then another man stood, adopting the same position. 

“For the Martells!” Slowly, the others joined them, rising to their feet and making their own declarations - a combination of  the two phrases you’d heard already, accompanied with a few indecipherable ones, too. Even Obara and Nymeria stood, turning their attention toward their father. He reached out and put an arm around both of them, and you could feel the pride he had in them - and what they’d accomplished.

You rose, too, curling your fingers inward before you pressed your fist to your chest. He held power over the crew - and so did his daughters, despite their origins. It impressed you. You were certain that you’d seen the arrivals of nobility in Braavos, and even though you couldn’t remember your entire life, you knew that if you’d seen anything similar, it would have stuck with you. They love him. They love him in a way that the Lannisters could never begin to imagine anyone loving them. 

His daughters were watching the room, their smiles broad. But Oberyn was eyeing you, waiting. And instead of using something that the others had said, you took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders and met Oberyn’s eyes. “Fuck Cersei Lannister.” 

That made him laugh, his head tipping back to expose his throat as his eyes closed. 

It was short lived, though, because Oberyn returned his attention to the crowd and held up his hand again, waiting until the noise had died down slightly. “What are our words?” 

“Unbowed!” The voices were a chorus, with no hesitation. “Unbent!” Oberyn and his daughters joined in, their smiles never faltering. “Unbroken!” It repeated, over and over, the volume growing as people began to bang on the tables and clap their hands together. You didn’t join in - you weren’t Dornish, and it didn’t feel right, but that didn’t seem to matter. 

Oberyn pressed kisses to the tops of his daughters heads before releasing them and beginning to move into the crowd. He circled the room slowly, thanking people one by one. When he made it back to where you stood, he stepped behind you, the heat from his body apparent even through your clothes as you both faced the entirety of the room. 

It was an intimate position, and though everyone’s eyes were on you, you felt no judgment from them at their Prince’s display of affection. Instead, you felt peace - leaning back into Oberyn and allowing yourself a small smile. I can’t get used to this, but there’s no harm in this one moment. He cleared his throat, inching closer.  

“Tomorrow we will be home. Tomorrow we will feel the Dornish sun and smell the Dornish air and gorge on Dornish food and wine. Tonight?” You felt his hand on your hip, his chest pressed against your back as he inhaled deeply. “All I ask is that you make sure we get there safely.” 

Everyone laughed, some shouting out their promises to him. Moments later, the attention fell away from where you stood as people returned to their food and drink. But Oberyn didn’t step away. Instead he urged you to turn around, his hand remaining in place. 

“That was an impressive show, Oberyn.” He winked at you, his lips twisting upward into a smile.

“That was nothing.” He sighed. “Let me walk you back to your room.” Gesturing to your side, he frowned. “It must be painful.” You hadn’t noticed it throughout his speech, but your side did ache. “Obara. Nym. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

Both of them nodded, Obara’s smirk directed at both you and her father, but then they turned away and toward a table where a group of sailors were laughing heartily. “Thank you. But you don’t have to. I can get there on my own.” 

“I insist.” He led you from the room and down the hall, footsteps quiet on the sleek flooring. Both of you stopped to use the commode and washroom, and then resumed your path to his quarters. “I meant what I said in there. All of them - the crew and my men - will get the rest they deserve once we’re home. They have lives and families to get back to, and I’ve stolen enough of their time.”

“They all want to be here, Oberyn. They love you.” You were getting close to the doorway, and your steps slowed, trying to drag out the time until you said goodbye. “They’re all loyal. I’m sure they’ll be happy to be back on land for longer than a few days at a time, but …” You turned to face him. “I very much doubt that any of them hold it against you that they’ve been away for as long as they have.” 

“You may be right.” He took a deep breath, looking over your shoulder at the door to his quarters. “If I was out of line in front of them with you, I apologize. I should not have … put my hands on you, at least without knowing if it would make you uncomfortable.” 

“It didn’t.” Closing your eyes, you lowered your head. “I liked it. I know that’s not how it’s going to be in Dorne, but it was nice to feel so wanted.” He stepped closer, keeping his eyes on you. 

“You really think I won’t want you in -” He was interrupted by the ship’s movement on the waves, and much like the first night you’d been in the same position, you lost your balance. You took two steps forward, both hands shooting out to steady yourself. 

He caught you, keeping you upright, but that night, he didn’t hesitate to hold you close. He said your name quietly, one hand on your elbow and the other pressed to your back. You had every reason to push him away - the fact that he was a prince, the fact that he was going home to Ellaria Sand, the fact that he’d already told you that there was no chance for sex on the ship and letting yourself get even closer was a dangerous game - but instead of that you curled your fingers in his shirt and sighed. 

“I’m not going to stop you from kissing me like I did the first night, Oberyn.” 

His eyes flashed but he didn’t keep you waiting. His hand slid up to the back of your head and angled it so that when he leaned in to press his lips to yours, the connection was perfect. The kiss didn’t linger, though, and it was Oberyn that backed away first, clearing his throat. “Goodnight. We should arrive in Dorne before midday tomorrow, so -”

“I thought you said you wanted to stay.” It was a risk, but if you were going to believe what Oberyn said to you, you needed to begin with accepting the things that he’d said before you knew who he was. Because he said nothing was changing. He said he still wants me. “Just this morning, you said you wanted to spend the night. Has that changed?” 

Questioning Oberyn - even in private - wasn’t something that you’d ever expected yourself to do, but in the darkness of the hallway, you did it anyway. All he can say is no. “Even though I lied to you for weeks?” You nodded, heart pounding as you tried to keep your breathing steady. “Even though you believe that after tomorrow, nothing will be the same between us?” 

“Especially because I know that once we’re back in Dorne, it may be some time until I see you after sundown, Oberyn.” It stung, but it was the truth. “Between Ellaria and your duties and all of the Dornish pleasure houses that have certainly missed your patronage for the last two years, I’ll have to wait my turn.” 

He blinked a few times before taking a deep breath, and then Oberyn reached around you and pushed the door open, nodding. Reluctantly, you turned away and walked in, the realization that it was the last time you’d enter for the purpose of sleeping hitting you all at once and stopping you in your tracks. 

“What’s wrong?” The sound of the door closing behind him was soft, and then his arms were around you, Oberyn’s mouth next to your ear. “Is everything alright?” 

“This is the last night I’ll… we’ll spend in this room.” You looked around, eyeing your surroundings. “I remember much of my home, but this room… this ship, and you, Oberyn…” You turned to face him again, your lower lip trembling. “I feel safe here, with you. And I know that Dorne is safe, too, and that people will help to reassure me of that.” But it scares me. “It’s not just about us being different once we’re on land, it’s everything.” 

He was frowning, his eyes searching your face, but Oberyn didn’t answer you. You wondered if you’d said the wrong thing, wondered if you’d voiced the thing that would make him regret inviting you to his home. But when his expression softened and Oberyn closed his eyes, sighing, instead of pushing you away he pulled you closer, urging you toward him. 

“I did not consider that, and I should have.” He spoke against your hair, his chest rising and falling steadily. “It will be different. It will be new. But you will not be truly alone. Even if I am not with you, or one of my daughters aren’t beside you, you’ll have everything you need. Anything you might want. I hope … I hope that one day, you will feel as at home in Dorne as I do.”

It was an offhand comment, but you understood the significance of it. You feeling that comfortable in Dorne would only happen if you were there long term, and that was only possible if you chose to stay for good. You closed your eyes and hugged him tightly, hissing out in pain as the wound on your side rubbed against your clothing. 

Oberyn immediately let you go, holding you at arm’s length and letting his eyes drop. “I need to see that.” You lifted the material without thought and Oberyn dropped to his knees, the tips of his fingers gently skating over your skin and then removing the bandage. Staring down at the crown of his head, you tried to stay still as he examined you, though it was difficult because of the pain - and because of the way your stomach bottomed out at the way he touched you. 

“Despite my best efforts, this may require an actual healer.” He glanced up, and you saw the worry in his eyes. “It is deep, and if the blade was filthy, it will need to be thoroughly cleaned.” 

“You cleaned it.” Wincing as he touched the skin just below the injury, you let out a shaky breath. “You studied poisons, and -”

“I do not think he poisoned you.” Oberyn reached for more bandages and re-covered the area, securing it with a small knot. “But I do think the blade was dirty. And while supplies on this ship are limited, they’re plentiful on land.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to the dressing, his hands on your hips. 

It was a position that you’d never have even dreamed to find yourself in - the Red Viper of Dorne on his knees in front of you - and so when he pulled away enough to look up and meet your eyes, you savored the sight of him. 

There was need in his gaze, and you didn’t try to stop yourself from lifting your hand to drag your fingers through his hair. “You should get up, Oberyn. A Prince on his knees for a commoner?” 

He stayed in place, lips splitting apart in a toothy grin. “There is nothing common about you.” That made you laugh, and a few seconds later he did stand, his hands sliding up your body so that both of them could cradle your jaw, tilting your head back. “And you will find that I enjoy being on my knees far more than the average man. Give it time.” 

You gasped, but it was a quick sound, Oberyn’s lips meeting yours again - and that kiss wasn’t slow or gentle. Despite the pain in your side, you melted into him, hands grasping at his shirt as he repositioned both of his to hold you even closer. 

With his hands on your body and mouth on yours, it was easy to forget what was coming and what would change once you arrived in Dorne. And though you knew it would only make things harder for you, you let yourself forget - let yourself kiss him back, one hand slipping under the deep neckline of his shirt, nails scraping against his chest. 

Oberyn only broke the kiss long enough to breathe and then he resumed it, urging you to draw his full lower lip between yours as he turned both of you toward the bed, the groan he let out when your lips turned into teeth dragging over that same lip long and low. 

You wondered what other sounds he made, and what sounds he’d be able to pull from you, but before you could get lost in those thoughts, he let you go, whispering your name. “Someone is feeling adventurous tonight.” You inhaled deeply, lips parted as you looked at him. I got carried away. “I wish I could let you continue.” 

“I understand.” You let out your breath, closing your eyes. “Oberyn, I’m -”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” He laughed, the hand on your hip tightening. “We should get some rest, though.Tomorrow will be a long day.” He was right, and when you moved away from him to sit on the edge of the bed to remove your boots, he began to undress, too. 

You watched him - eyed his movements in the low light, the candles casting a warm glow across his skin once he removed his shirt. His pants hung low on his hips, and when he loosened them, they dropped even lower, exposing more of his lower back. He was teasing you - tempting you, and though in the coming days, you figured the memory of his bare body would make waiting harder, you were thankful. 

You climbed into the bed first, rolling onto your uninjured side and waiting until Oberyn had joined you to speak. “Will I be watched while you’re doing whatever it is that you need to do, Oberyn?” He smiled, inching closer and carefully draping an arm over your side. “I’ve never been in a castle before, and I don’t know what to expect.” 

“My words will never do it justice,” he started, moving his hand up your arm slowly. “I can tell you that it is beautiful. I can tell you what I love about it and why, but until you see it? Until you’re there? You will never understand.” His fingers danced over your skin, the tips of them dragging along the curve of your neck before he flipped his hand over and trailed his knuckles over your jaw and then up and over your cheek. “You will only be watched if you wish to be.” 

“What does that mean?” You yawned, turning your face toward the pillow and closing your eyes. “If I wish to be?” 

“There are many people employed by House Martell in Sunspear.They attend to our needs - whatever they might be. And as my guest, someone will attend to you, too.” What? “I have a confession to make.” That got your attention, but it took a few seconds for Oberyn to continue. “I have been away from home for so long that I am … worried about what will happen when I’m back in Sunspear.” 

That admission - moreso than anything else he’d said or promised - convinced you that Oberyn truly trusted you and cared for you. You had a feeling that there were very few people who ever saw the vulnerable side of the Red Viper, and even though it would have been a great tactic to use to win you over, you were certain that he wasn’t trying to do that. He’s admitting something to me that he won’t tell anyone else. 

“What are you worried about?” He wet his lips and then squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sure they won’t expect you to -” 

“As Daavos I was free to live my life however I wanted to.” He sighed. “And in Dorne, it is much the same, but with Doran’s health, I … I’m worried that I’ll be asked to immediately return to politics and be much more involved than before. I have so much to catch up on, and I don’t want to fail after I’ve already asked so much of them.” 

“Oberyn, they’re going to give you time to adjust to being home.” You stroked his beard, shaking your head. “They have to. All of the news you’ve gotten has been secondhand or delayed. I don’t know your family, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Leaning closer, you rested your forehead against his. “They’ll give you time. They need you. And they need you at your best.” 

His uncertainty should have shattered your image of him. Coming from anyone else, it would have diminished his reputation - put doubt into your mind about just how intimidating he was, or what he was capable of. But it doesn’t. It makes me … respect him more. 

“You barely know me and you have so much faith in me. Why?” 

“Because you’re the Red Viper of Dorne.” Backing away to meet his eyes, you said his name. “Because you fought a mountain of a man to avenge your family and walked away from a fight that no one thought you’d survive…and you did it twice.” His eyes flashed and you continued. “Because you pulled me from the Narrow Sea and helped me when you had no real reason to.”  And you’re still helping me. “You haven’t given me a reason to doubt you.”

“I lied to you. I let you think I -”

“Your name and status were a lie, but everything else was the truth.” Smiling, you shrugged. “I hope, anyway.” 

“It was. It is.” He shifted closer, one of his legs rising from the bed and bending at the knee before it settled over yours. “I told you everything about myself without revealing who I was, and all of that was true.” 

“Then let yourself enjoy going home. Your family has been waiting for two years. Ellaria has been waiting for you for two years. And I’m sure she’s going to tell you the same thing I am right now.” 

“She will.” He smiled, eyes drifting closed. “The two of you together …. I’m in trouble.” 

You wondered what he meant by that. Was it possible that he thought that you and Ellaria would become friends? Did he want that to happen? And if he does, why? You’d known that Wyllam had been with other women before you. You’d understood that some of them were from Braavos, but you’d never entertained the thought of friendship with them. Even if I knew who they were, I don’t think … 

But Oberyn and Ellaria were a different story - and their relationship was also different. You weren’t naive enough to believe that spending time with Oberyn in Dorne would be time spent between just the two of you, but you’d never actually considered that he’d want you to get to know Ellaria, too. Or if she’ll want to get to know me. 

“Oberyn?” He opened his eyes, waiting to see what you’d say. “I’m … sorry that I’ve been the way I am about… where I fit in with you and in Dorne. All of this is a surprise to me, and finding out that you’re who you are only complicates it more.” 

“It is a lot to take in.” His hand moved back down your body and came to rest just below where you were injured. “I just ask you to give it a chance before you decide that you can or cannot be a part of it.” 

It was a reasonable request. And despite the way you felt about him, and the fact that you’d never dreamed of possibly sharing a man’s attention long term with others before, the truth was that you didn’t know what would be more difficult for you: only having Oberyn in your life in a small way, or not having him there at all. 

“Sleep now. You’ve had a busy day.” He leaned in, taking a short breath before brushing his lips against yours. “And tomorrow will be even busier.” 

He was right. Even though you knew your day would be less demanding than his, it was still going to be a change from the life on the ship that you’d gotten used to over the previous weeks. “Goodnight, Oberyn.” You whispered the words, inching even closer to him so that you could tuck yourself against his chest, forehead resting against the top of his shoulder. 

You didn’t know what was going to happen once you got to Dorne. There was no way to predict what you’d feel - or what Oberyn or Ellaria would feel - once you were on land and everyone had settled in. 

But you did know that if it was the last night you’d get to fall asleep next to Oberyn, you were certainly going to make the most of it. 

— 

When you woke up the following morning, he was still in bed - but his eyes were open, and he was staring at you. He looks tired. He shouldn’t, because - “Oberyn, did you sleep?”

“No.” He blinked, chuckling. “I couldn’t.” 

“Too excited?” His laugh got louder, Oberyn’s eyes closing to show off the crow’s feet at the corners. “I didn’t think it was funny, Prince Oberyn, so -”

“I am excited. But like I said, this ship? It has been home for a long while, and I will miss it.” He let out a breath and then said your name. “And I will miss these last weeks with you, too.” His words hit you hard, but you were quick to speak, rushing your own reply out before you could give yourself too long to think about what they meant. 

“As soon as you set foot on Dornish soil, none of this will matter.” Backing away, you took a deep breath. “All you’ll feel is excitement to be back home and with the people you love.” It was easier that way - to set expectations for him, but also for yourself. “You won’t have time to miss this.” You gestured to the room with one hand, smiling at him. “And speaking of that, I wonder how close we are. I should get up and get dressed, and -”

“We have time.” Oberyn leaned in, kissing your forehead. “Plenty of it.” 

“I think that’s the first actual lie you’ve told me.” Both of you laughed, and you let yourself enjoy the closeness with him for a few moments longer before sitting up, careful of your bandaged side. “I need to get into the dress Nymeria and I chose, and it might take me a while. It’s not as straightforward as Braavosi attire.” 

“I can stay and help.” He propped himself up on one elbow, arching a brow. “I am very skilled with -”

“I need to put it on, Oberyn, not take it off.” That made him laugh again, but instead of arguing with you, he sat upright and then stood, stretching before he began the process of tightening his pants and putting his boots back on. “Should … I come to the top deck once I’m dressed? Should I bring my things? I -”

“You can leave everything.” He turned to look at you over his shoulder, nodding. “Pack it together, and someone will bring it to your room later. It will be safe here, you have my word.” Thanking him, you looked up at where he stood, watching as Oberyn turned to face you again. “But yes. Get dressed. Find something to eat. I’ll be topside. My daughters will, too.” 

He didn’t say anything else before he left the room, your eyes following him until the door shut and obscured him from view. It was a strange goodbye, and unlike any of the others he’d given you, but you figured he was just distracted by the fact that he was so close to home after so long. 

As you got out of bed and carefully packed all of your things into a small satchel, you wondered if he was beginning the process of distancing himself from you in preparation for reuniting with his family. You hoped he wasn’t. You hoped that he wouldn’t. It is a possibility, though, even if it’s temporary. 

It didn’t take as long as you expected to redress yourself in what you’d chosen. Once you got the straps and ties situated properly, you let out a slow breath. More of you was exposed than you were used to, but you still felt good in it, the soft material flowing over your skin in a way that your other attire hadn’t. You wondered if you’d have the opportunity to choose more clothing in Dorne, or if the outfit was a one time thing, meant only to impress Prince Doran and the royal council upon your first meeting. I have coin. I could probably buy … Looking down, you smoothed your hands over the fabric, smiling at the way it felt against your palms. Hmm. 

You hadn’t chosen a pair of shoes to go with it, though. So before you headed to the galley to find something to eat, you went back to the room that you and Nymeria had visited and opened a trunk, digging through it. You ended up with a comfortable pair of slippers in gold, sliding your feet into them and wiggling your toes at the freedom they afforded you. I could get used to this. 

With one last look at your boots, you bit your lip and turned away from them, heading for the door.

You were hungry but too anxious to eat anything substantial, and after grabbing a stonefruit, you headed up to the main deck, stepping out and into the sunshine. Tilting your face upward, you inhaled deeply, eyes closed. 

He’d told you that you’d still be able to hear the sea from your room in the castle, but you wondered if you’d be able to smell it, too. I’ll ask him. I - Your mind went blank as you opened your eyes and saw that the largest sail had been replaced with a new one, the Martell sigil in the center of it and unmistakably visible. 

Your heart raced at the sight, and you moved one hand to cover it, pressing your palm against your chest as you stared upward. It’s really happening. He’s going home, and he’s making an entrance. Blinking twice, you lowered your eyes and scanned the deck, looking for more changes. 

Some of the crew were wearing armor, their chests and shoulders covered in what looked like reinforced leather pieces. Others had changed from the attire you’d grown accustomed to into more flowing garments, though there were a few that had kept the casual dress that you and Oberyn had also adopted. 

You saw Obara and Nymeria first, both of them leaning against the railing on the deck up and near the wheel, their backs toward you. He can’t be far. There was a flash of yellow to your right, and when you turned to look and see what it was, you gasped, mouth hanging open. Oberyn. 

He’d changed clothes, too, and you recognized the new ones immediately. The yellow coat from the wardrobe. He strode toward you, arms swinging by his sides, and all you could do was stare. The coat reached mid-calf, and was held closed by a belt that sat low on his waist. His chest was still bared, the tanned skin visible between the panels of golden material and the slightly darker underlayer. 

But what was completely new was the thick golden chain and large pendant he wore around his neck, the metal glinting in the sunlight. You realized that the formal dress was for show, and while you understood why he’d opted to wear it as you sailed back into Dorne, you wondered what Oberyn preferred. He looks comfortable. He looks… like a prince. 

He’d wet his hair down, too, combing through the tousled curls and then pushing them away from his face, but one of them wasn’t behaving like the others. Instead, it had caught the wind and was hanging over his forehead, reminding you that even though he was dressed differently, he was still the Oberyn you’d met weeks earlier. I wonder if he’ll keep it long once we dock. I wonder if he’ll shave his face, or - 

“Dornish clothing suits you.” He stopped just in front of you, eyes moving up and down the entire length of your body. “You chose well.” 

“Nymeria helped.” You used one hand to adjust your skirt. “I think she pulled this one out because it …” You eyed his robe from up close, breath catching in your throat. Oh, Nymeria. What were you thinking? The stitching on your dress matched what was on his robe - the golden threads woven into sun shapes that were broken up by tiny spears. “It matches. Oberyn, I didn’t mean to -”

“Do not apologize.” He reached for your hand, fingers curling around yours when you took it. “I would have chosen the same one for you.” His smile widened. “Come. There is something I want to show you.” 

You let him lead you up to where Nymeria and Obara stood, both of them giving you quick glances before they turned their attention back toward the horizon. Oberyn stepped behind you as you gripped the railing with both hands, his chest flush with your back. He lifted one arm and used his finger to point ahead of you. 

It took you a few seconds to see what he was focused on, and when you did, you felt your heart skip and tears well up in your eyes, even as he used his free hand to pull you backwards and toward him, his fingers splayed over your stomach.  

“There.” He rasped the word into your ear, his voice thick. “That is Dorne. We’re almost home.” 

—  

[gunnrblze]

Kick x Hesh

NSFW, 2000k+ words, pt. 2 here

A lazy little thing for these two, idk what it really is lol but I love shipping them. Very teasing, very sappy sweet (it was actually supposed to be horny shit but I lost the plot like three times. will probably write something else actually smutty for them)

CW: no actual sex but mention of dick and what not, 18+ MDNI

Kick couldn’t quite explain it, but there was something intriguing about one of the newest young additions to the task force.

Hesh was a smart kid in his eyes. A damn good soldier, trained well and bred with enough ambition and determination for a lifetime. Not a kid, actually. A man. One he found himself lingering on for too long sometimes, amber eyes tracing the outline of Hesh’s biceps all the way down to the belt constricted around his waist. One whose voice made his stomach twist when it rang in over comms. One who had started to drive him up the wall.

It was that little grin that usually did him in. When the man would dote on Riley or joke with Logan, his mouth would curve up, and it made Kick’s heart stutter behind his ribs. He’d willfully ignored it for a while, until Hesh began talking to him more. Asking more questions, unnecessary ones, really. Kick didn’t mind, he could chat if the time called for it. But he couldn’t focus with Hesh standing over him at his desk. He had to will himself to look in those pretty green eyes instead of at the pretty mouth yapping over god knows what.

The worst part though, above all he reckoned, was the dreams he’d started to have about the man. Dreams of lips glued to one another, hands up shirts and mouths going down in directions they shouldn’t.

Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he stared at the sway in Hesh’s hips for too long sometimes. Maybe he shouldn’t admire the way his tac pants wrapped taut over those thick thighs, corded with muscle and littered with enough dark hair to make anyone salivate a little. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe Hesh just had a charm that could drag down even the strongest of men.

——————

“Hey man, have you seen Merrick? Got paperwork to do” Hesh would linger in the doorway of Kicks office. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was the younger man before he spoke, and frankly he didn’t want to. Didn’t want to fuck up his focus, is what he decided on.

“Nah, probably lurking around here somewhere though” the amber eyed man shrugged, clicking at some bullshit on his desktop while his fingers curled around the mouse a little tighter than necessary. He’d curse himself for being so goddamn affected by the kid one day, all it took was that smooth, honeyed voice and he was no better than a sailor being dragged down by a siren at sea.

He could hear Hesh walk up behind him, no doubt eyeing said bullshit on his screen. Kick could smell him too and god, he thought he’d have to force the poor soldier out of his office before he did anything regrettable.

“Watcha working on?” Hesh asked with more intrigue in his voice than he knew the boy really had. He’d been doing that lately. Along with the questions of genuine curiosity he’d throw at him, Hesh would do exactly what he was doing now. Linger. Kick felt both lucky and psychotic about it.

“Workin on work, kid” Kick would reply easily, his free hand biting the nail off his thumb, a habit he couldn’t recall when he’d picked up as of late.

He could feel those mossy eyes on him as Hesh stood behind his desk chair, observing too intently at the way Kicks mouth moved over his thumb. He distantly wondered if the nearest insane asylum had any beds available, because he was certain he was being driven to madness.

“Ya know, Logan told me how gross it is to bite your nails, lots of bacteria-“ Hesh would start to ramble, and Kick wasn’t sure why he was still here, but he couldn’t complain. He’d never complain. It was just difficult to focus with a six foot one, brick wall standing behind you, the dizzying scent of his musk and something faintly pine scented filling his nostrils.

Kick let him rant, and he nodded, chuckling at Hesh’s insistence that he stop the habit before it gets worse. That he should find something else to chew on.

Goddamn himself for taking the whoreish route everytime, but his mind filled with so many other options of items he could sink his teeth into. Things he’d chew and bite and lick at until they were raw-

“Just saying, kinda gross if you really think about it” the soldier would cap his rant off with, reaching a hand around Kicks shoulder to knock his fingers away from his mouth. A grin would form on both of their faces, making the amber eyed man turn to look up at his office intruder, ignoring the way his heart flitted too hard at the contact.

“Don’t ya got something better to do than insist what goes in my mouth and what doesn’t?” He’d ask Hesh, and honest to goodness, he wasn’t sure if he could take the sight before him when he actually did turn around.

Wide grin on the man’s face as he chuckled deeply, the type that made his stomach lurch and his dick twitch a little. Staring down at him with those deep eyes and a comeback settling on the of tip of his tongue.

“Trust me, what goes in and out of your mouth is your business, not mine” Hesh would retort, making Kick smirk deeper than necessary as his mind filled in so many blanks. He debated for only a moment about whether or not he should voice those fill ins.

“Yeah? You seem to care quite a bit about my mouth” he’d settle for something cheeky enough as he swiveled around in the desk chair, thick arms crossing over one another as he faces the soldier now.

It made Hesh blink plainly for a second, a gear visibly turning in his head as the grin faltered for a moment. Kick worried for a second, if he should shut the fuck up and never speak again, but the blush that started to bloom on the man’s cheeks in front of him had his own mind stuttering.

“So what? Nail biting is a bad habit” Hesh recovered quickly, giving a perfectly pretend nonchalant shrug. Kicks brain geared into autopilot, unable to talk himself through whether or not he should bite his tongue now.

“Not biting them anymore…still concerned with the state of my mouth though, aren’t ya?” A little grin found its way on his lips, looking up at the man to admire the way the worsening pink of his cheeks contrasted against the green of his irises. The momentary widening of those eyes was just the cherry on top for him.

“No, just…just saying” Hesh would shake his head, and Kick could see the way his fingers dug into his thick biceps, curling around the firm muscle.

“Yeah? That why you’re still in my office instead of Merricks?” Kick would add swiftly, wondering how far he could take it. How far Hesh’s leash would run before he let himself detach from it, and hit Kick with the comebacks he knew the soldier wanted to give him.

The amber eyed man wasn’t stupid, he knew this wasn’t an equal playing field. That Hesh was younger, less experienced. Too dignified to let himself flirt with an older team member, one that outranked him regardless of actual rank. But Kick knew he wanted too. Wanted to test the waters with him because why the hell else would he still be here? Why would he linger so much? Why would he drive Kick crazy and then let him flounder? Why, why, why, would he let himself get worked up over the resident computer nerd of the bunch?

“Yeah” Hesh nodded, not very subtly biting the inside of his bottom lip as he gazed down at Kick, whose turn it was to be at a loss for words now. His eyes flicked to the open door of his office, and back up to Hesh, eyeing him down and ignoring the way his throat felt a little tighter all a sudden.

Hesh stepped a little closer to him, eyeing the man himself. The way Kicks thighs were spread in his desk chair, tactical shirt tight over his upper arms and shoulders, the delicious week old stubble on his jaw.

“What if…I did care?” He’d ask the operator below him with enough confidence to surprise them both, fingers in a vice grip around his own arms, crossed taut over his chest. Kick merely stared up at him, a smirk forming on his pretty mouth.

“What if you did, hm? Would that be so bad, kid?” Kick would ask, head tilting slightly as he felt his brain start to turn to molten lava at just the simple sight of Hesh biting his lip now.

“Would it?” The younger man asked a bit more seriously, voice deepening. Confirming all of Kicks suspicions. He didn’t want to get in trouble for this.

“No…” Kick answered easily, shaking his head softly. All he wanted was to reassure him, to run his fingers over his buzzed hair and kiss those pretty lips red until every worry drained from Hesh’s head.

“…wouldn’t be a bad thing at all” he was becoming less and less concerned with the state of his office door being open, trusting that he could rely on the sound of any footsteps down the hall to make him act more professionally than he was about to.

Kick stood up, stepping too close for comfort toward the soldier in front of him. His hand extended, cupping Hesh’s cheek with more tenderness than he usually exerted. He could feel the man’s jaw clench and unclench under his roughened fingers, and it made him smile. A smile that Hesh couldn’t help but return.

It was far more warm and inviting than Kick ever thought the world would allow him. Especially with someone who deserved that whole world in its entirety. Someone who deserved a world sweeter than the one he was given.

It became a blur as Kicks other hand cupped Hesh’s face, leaning in only halfway before the green eyed man reciprocated, lips pressing firmly enough to make both men weak in the knees.

Hesh was backed up into the wall behind him, boots squeaking against the linoleum flooring, his own hands flying to Kicks shoulders for support as their mouths fought for first place. One of Kicks hands slid down the man’s cheek to the back of his neck, grasp firm enough to belay his own need, the all consuming heat that was spreading throughout his body.

Sighs turned into groans, hips pressed flush against one another as both men fought to control themselves, all too aware of the open door, and the fact that they’re both very much on duty.

“God, this is even better than I thought it’d be” Kick rasped against the other man’s mouth, willing his dick not to harden up just yet. He could feel Hesh smirk against his lips, the soldiers hands leaving his shoulders to grip his hips with enough firmness to make Kicks knees even weaker, damn near threatening to give out on him.

Somehow Kick could hear footsteps coming down the hallway over the pounding of his heartbeat and the melting of his brain. He regrettably pulled himself off Hesh, catching a bit of oxygen as his eyes roamed over the man’s swollen red lips. A sight he wanted to sear into his brain.

The footsteps drew closer and Kick backed away from the wall, walking toward his office door to shut it before catching sight of Merrick ready to peer into the room.

Merrick immediately noticed Kicks equally disheveled state, but thankfully chose to ignore it, instead, asking if he knew where the lieutenant was. A moment of silent understanding passed between them, before he mentioned a little too loudly to tell Hesh his ass is due in his office if Kick just so happens to see him. Followed by what looked like an eye roll.

Both men fought not to laugh after Kick shut the door and put his lips right back where they belonged.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

Chapter 42: Unforeseen Encounters 

Sanji in whole cake island was both Sad, but they gave us incredible angles

A/N: We are back at it again with another chapter! We finally made it to Whole Cake Island Arc!!! WOOOO!! Now get ready yall cause this one right here!! I am beginning to color coordinate with the chapters, i'll go back and do the previous chapters as well, but for whole cake island, thats going to be blue, and will be highlighted on the masterlist. Thank you guys for reading my fanfic, liking, sharing, reblogging, commenting! I love you all so much! And without further ado, let the adventure begin! 

Word Count:

Sanji x Reader, Sanji x Y/N, One Piece x Reader 

Sanji POV…

As the ship draws closer to Big Mom's territory, the cotton candy clouds drift lazily from the sky, dissolving in the wind. Yet, no sweetness from the air can ease the bitter knot of dread twisting in my stomach. Solitude. That’s what I feel most keenly now. I’m surrounded by her subordinates, and yet, I’ve never felt more alone. I chose this path, but it doesn’t make the weight any lighter.

Y/N’s face flashes in my mind—a vision I try to cling to, to remind myself why I’m doing this. The very thought of her being forced into the same situation I am, married off to that bastard Ichiji of all people, makes my blood boil. There’s no way I could let them find her or drag her into this nightmare. It’s better she stays far away. Better she doesn’t come here at all.

The letter I wrote her was my truth. No one else knows what’s in my heart, how deeply she’s become a part of it. My eyes are set on her. I’d sacrifice everything before letting her be pawned off in some arranged marriage, even though I’m in the same damn boat. But it’s different for me. I can handle this. I have to.

Bege was adamant about leaving Zou without her, and for that, I’m grateful. I refused to give them any clue as to where to find Y/N. Let them look, let them search—it won’t change a damn thing. Once I settle this twisted mess, I’ll find my way back to the crew. I’ll see her again. And when I do... maybe, just maybe, I’ll find the words to tell her everything that’s been locked inside.

"Now, I do hope you’ve decided not to be stubborn." The voice of one of Big Mom’s subordinates snaps me from my thoughts. His tone is smug, dripping with authority as he stands over me. "Remember, it’s not just Big Mom’s family you’ll be tied to. You’ll be swearing allegiance to Germa 66 as well."

I don’t flinch at his words, though it feels like a punch to the gut every time they bring up Germa. Those bastards. I swore to myself that I was done with them, but here I am, heading back to the hell I thought I’d escaped.

The subordinate narrows his eyes, as if something has only just dawned on him. "As for the princess, why is she not on board?" His question is laced with suspicion, as if he’s beginning to sense the gaps in the story I’ve woven for them.

"Like I said, the princess will not marry Ichiji," I snap, my voice firm as I stare down the subordinate. "Besides, she’s engaged to me."

It’s a lie—a bold one—but I wasn’t going to let them take an inch. I’d say whatever I had to, anything to keep them from dragging Y/N into this twisted mess. My stomach twists with guilt, knowing she really isn’t engaged to me. But in that moment, it’s the only card I have left to play.

The subordinate narrows his eyes at me, suspicion creeping into his expression. "Engaged to you?" He seems to weigh the words, looking for any crack in my story, any sign of hesitation. I hold his gaze, daring him to challenge it.

After a tense moment, he lets out a low, dismissive chuckle. "Doesn’t matter," he says, waving a hand as if swatting away a nuisance. "She is still set to marry Ichiji. Arrangements have already been made. Whether you claim she’s engaged to you or not won’t change a damn thing."

My fists clench at my sides, a surge of anger burning through me. These bastards think they can control everything, including her future. But I’ll be damned if I let them. They may have me in this stranglehold, but Y/N is where I draw the line. I’m not about to let them manipulate her life like they have mine.

"I told you," I grit out, my voice low but filled with resolve. "She’s not marrying that bastard. Not now, not ever."

The subordinate smirks, clearly enjoying my frustration. "We’ll see, Black Leg. We’ll see."

"You think I give a crap what that bastard wants?" I said with defiance, my frustration barely contained. "I never want to see him again. He makes me sick."

I lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag, trying to calm the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "I only came here to bring this to a close," I said, my gaze steady, focused.

"No need to get so antagonistic." The subordinate smirked, not missing a beat. "Mama is looking forward to both your arrangements. You should feel honored."

I exhaled a cloud of smoke, disgust settling in deeper. The thought of Big Mom pulling the strings on my life, dictating my future… it made my stomach churn.

"Mama’s well aware of your connection to Strawhat Luffy, but she holds you in high regard," the subordinate added smoothly. "After all, you trained at a prestigious restaurant in the East Blue. But the princess... well, it’s more than that. It’s about Ichiji. I remember watching her battle at Punk Hazard, taking down Monet. Quite the performance."

I clenched my jaw, the mention of Y/N’s fight bringing a flash of memories. She was strong, relentless, and fierce. They had been watching her, too. Of course, these bastards would want to use her.

The subordinate’s grin widened. "In fact, with Germa’s legacy behind her and her impressive abilities, they’d make a perfect match. The union of her skill and Germa’s technology? They’d be unstoppable together. Don’t you think?"

His words cut deep, filling me with rage. The idea of Y/N being paired with Ichiji, being forced into their sick plans, it was beyond unbearable. They didn’t care about her, only the power she could provide.

"You’re insane if you think I’ll let that happen," I growled through gritted teeth.

"Screw what they want!" I shouted, my frustration boiling over. "You see these hands?" I held them up, shaking with anger. "They’re made for one thing and one thing only—cooking for my crewmates. For as long as they'll have me!"

A flash of memory hit me like a punch to the gut—us, aboard the Sunny, all together, laughing, eating, enjoying each other's company. That’s why I went through hell and back—to become a better chef for them, for my family.

"I went through hell itself to become the best chef for them!" I yelled. "And I bet right now, they're starving—stomachs growling, eyes full of tears. And my beautiful fiancée, Y/N, must be craving something sweet right about now," I added with a smirk, blowing out a puff of smoke. "But punks like you? You aren't worthy of my food!"

"Vito!" The subordinate shouted, holding up something in his hand. "We've got a special photo from Whole Cake Island, lelo, just for you to see."

I didn’t bother turning around. "There’s not gonna be a wedding, jackass. What difference does a photo make?" I muttered, still seething. "And for the last time, my betrothed is Y/N."

"Just take a look," Vito insisted, inching closer.

I was ready to kick him into next week, but when my eyes landed on the picture, everything stopped. I couldn’t help it.

The girl in the photo—her face. Her soft, sweet eyes. My heart suddenly started racing.

"This is your fiancée, lelo," Vito grinned, knowing he'd hit a nerve. "The 35th daughter of the Charlotte family, Lady Charlotte Pudding."

I felt my heart pound in my chest as I stared at her. I wasn’t sure what to say, the cigarette barely hanging from my lips as I looked at the photo. This… this was the girl they wanted me to marry? My fiancée? My mind was racing, and for the first time, I didn’t have a quick retort.

Time had passed since I saw that photo of Pudding, but eventually, we docked. I walked silently, my mind still racing, trying to shake off the image.

"So, what do you think, lover boy? Quite the sight to see, lelo. Glad I showed you, lelo!" Vito’s irritating voice broke my focus, making me halt mid-step.

"It doesn’t matter what picture you show me," I said, my voice low and firm. "My heart belongs to another woman." Without missing a beat, I continued walking, trying to leave him behind.

"By the way," Vito started up again, "do you ever read the WEJ? It’s a major paper, lelo. They used to run this awesome comic strip, Sora, Warrior of the Sea—had a giant robot and everything. And the enemy? Well, it was the evil army of Germa 66."

I clenched my jaw but kept walking. He wouldn’t shut up. "People all over the world loved that comic," he continued, grinning like this was some big joke to him.

As Vito rambled on about Germa 66 and the comic, I just kept quiet, ignoring every word that spewed from his mouth. The last thing I needed was to be reminded of that cursed family, and even less of what they were planning with Big Mom.

When Vito finally led me to my room, I noticed Caesar locked up in a cage, ranting and raving as usual. "Would you stop following me? This is supposed to be my room," I said, glaring at Vito.

"It’s supposed to be my room too! Why am I locked in a cage?!" Caesar whined, throwing a tantrum.

"Serves you right for wishing ill on my princess," I shot back, settling on the sofa, trying to calm my irritation.

"I wish her nothing but hell!" Caesar barked, making my blood boil. My hand twitched, wanting to deck him across the cage bars.

"Listen, we were told to capture you, not pamper you, lelo," Vito chuckled. "But Sanji here, and what was supposed to be Princess Y/N, lelo, are the stars who will bring the Vinsmokes and the Charlotte family together as one!"

"Not happening," I shot back, crossing my arms defiantly.

Vito smirked, looking over at Caesar. "So you may be a genius, but they are worth more.”

 “I'm not getting married, and neither is Y/N. Now get the hell out of here." I lit another cigarette, my resolve firm.

"What did you just say?" a hitman named Gotti interjected, stepping forward menacingly. "Ain't nobody disrespecting my boy Vito! Now apologize or you're dead!"

"Gotti! It’s fine; he didn’t hurt me," Vito said, trying to control the situation. "He was just playing around."

"No, I was serious," I retorted, maintaining my stance with my arms crossed. "Now both of you get the hell out of my room right now!"

Gotti’s anger flared, but before he could respond, a female voice rang out from the doorway. "Gotti! What the hell are you trying to pull?"

She stepped into the room, her tone fierce and authoritative. "Please forgive me, I'm sorry, ma'am," Gotti stammered, suddenly on the defensive.

"Sorry ain’t gonna cut it. Gotti, do you realize he is one of the Vinsmoke family?" she scolded, pointing an accusing finger at me. "If you lay a finger on him, my Bege's head is going to roll! It’s bad enough my Bege couldn’t bring the princess, but you will not impose threats on a Vinsmoke!" With that, she yanked Gotti away from my line of sight, clearly not willing to let him escalate things further.

I took a moment to process her words, and as I watched her, something about her looked familiar.

The door closed, leaving me with a moment of peace as I blew out the smoke from my cigarette, the tension still thick in the air.

"Big Mom is going to kill me for sure!" Caesar whined from his cage, his voice trembling with anxiety. "None of this is fair! You're a Vinsmoke, and that princess is marrying that Vinsmoke, so you both get star treatment, and I get the giantine!"

I ignored him, my thoughts drifting back to Y/N. The weight of the situation pressed down on me, but I was determined. I wouldn't let them dictate my life, nor would I let them take Y/N away from me. The fight was just beginning.

Y/N POV…

I wiped the sweat from my brow, the sweltering heat making it hard to focus. Nami and I had switched outfits to survive this unbearable temperature. Nami opted for a white tank top and blue ruffled skirt, while I followed suit, wearing a white cropped tank with a few buttons undone and a blue mini ruffled skirt with open-toed heels. It didn’t help that we were stranded without Sanji and with nothing to eat.

"Alright, I was wrong... I'm gonna die after all," Luffy groaned dramatically, trying to catch something in the water. "It’s so hot, I might melt before I starve. I want Sanji back on this ship!" He complained, flailing about as the rest of the crew—Chopper, Brook, and Pedro—worked to catch something edible.

"Ugh, I’m hungry, it’s hot, and I’m tired," Carrot whined, lying across Nami and me in the shade. We were all feeling the exhaustion.

"How much longer will it take?" I muttered, feeling my arms turning to jelly as the sun continued to beat down on us.

"I know it’s hot, but someone please catch something while the sun’s still out," Nami pleaded weakly, echoing my fatigue.

"Go team food..." Carrot groaned from her position beside us.

Suddenly, Pedro called out. "Luffy! Pull quick!" Luffy reeled in a giant fish, causing us all to stare at the catch, momentarily hopeful—until we saw its strange, purple skin.

"Uh… why is the skin purple?" I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

"Yeah, that color might be a bad sign," Chopper said hesitantly.

"It could be poisonous," Nami suggested, eyeing the fish warily.

"If it’s a fish, then it’s food! You don’t know what you’re talking about!" Luffy insisted, delirious from hunger, as he began cutting into the fish’s skin.

Chopper rushed to Sanji’s locker, pulling out a cookbook, flipping through it frantically. "Let me see if Sanji has something on this type of fish."

A few moments later, Chopper returned, his eyes wide with alarm. "The skin is poisonous! You can eat the fish, but not the skin!"

We all turned to look at Luffy, who was chewing happily on the purple flesh. "The skin’s so good," Luffy said with a grin, offering me some. "Here, Y/N, you should try some too!"

"Hard pass, Captain," I said, shaking my head firmly.

"Wait, what? Poisonous? Oh no," Luffy groaned, but then he quickly shook his head. "I feel great. Maybe it’s not poisonous after all."

"Sanji’s notes say once you peel the skin, the rest of the fish is safe to eat," Chopper read from the book, sounding relieved.

"Alright, peel the skin, and I’ll cook it up!" Luffy announced, ready to spring into action. But Nami quickly smacked him on the head, reminding him that one kitchen fire was enough.

"You sit here and don’t do anything crazy!" Nami said sternly. "Y/N and I will cook the fish."

I peeled off the skin while Nami followed Sanji’s recipe to the letter, the kitchen filling with the mouthwatering aroma of the fish cooking. "That smells amazing, Nami," I complimented as we plated the food.

Minutes later, we brought out the plates, handing them out to the crew. Everyone dug in with tears in their eyes, relieved to have a decent meal at last.

"It’s so good!" Carrot cried, her energy coming back instantly.

"Chopper, eat something before you pass out," Nami urged, handing him a plate.

But despite the momentary relief, Chopper looked panicked. "Luffy’s doing really bad. I’m afraid he’s going to die!"

"I already used up all our antidotes," Chopper continued, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Oh no," I gasped, feeling the gravity of the situation settle in. "We need to find an island, Nami!"

"Unfortunately for your captain, we won’t be able to get to land for medicine," Pekoms said as he removed his bandages, his tone grim. "We’re about to hit Big Mom’s territory."

Our jaws dropped in shock.

"Black Leg Sanji has probably reached Whole Cake Island by now," Pekoms continued. "No matter what, don’t lower your guard."

Pedro moved to keep watch, and the rest of us tensed up. "At the first island we dock at, we’ll find an antidote for Luffy," Pekoms reassured.

Just then, I noticed something unusual. "Why is it snowing?" I asked, squinting at the sky.

"That’s not snow—it’s cotton candy rain," Nami said, her voice filled with disbelief. Cotton candy began falling gently from the sky, landing in my hand.

"We’ve entered Mama’s territory," Pekoms stated darkly.

"I see something!" Pedro called out. "It’s a ship, coming right for us."

"It’s one of Mama’s tart ships!" Pekoms warned us. "You guys, hide!"

As we scrambled to hide, Chopper worked to slow the effects of the poison spreading through Luffy’s body. "This is bad," he whispered.

"Do you see anything?" I asked in a hushed voice, squinting at the ship.

"Is that a transponder snail?" Nami asked as we peered out cautiously.

"It’s not Big Mom’s ship," she said, sounding confused as we stepped out from our hiding spots. The ship had an eerie presence.

"They call Germa 66 the warmongers," Nami explained, making me tense up. My heart skipped a beat.

"Isn’t that…?" I started to say, turning to Brook, who instinctively moved to shield me in case it was Ichiji.

Suddenly, we spotted someone on the ship with a familiar, curly eyebrow.

"Sanji!!!" Chopper cried, running toward the figure.

"Sanji?" I whispered, hope blooming in my chest. Could it really be him?

I grabbed my sword but quickly dropped it, my heart racing. I leapt forward, using all the momentum I had, and landed gracefully in front of the figure.

"Sanji!" I threw myself into him, wrapping my legs around his waist, hugging him with all my strength. My arms tightened around his neck as I buried my face into his shoulder. "Sanji, is it really you?" I sniffled, planting soft kisses along his neck.

"I have so much to tell you! Oh my goodness!" I said, holding onto him, relief and joy washing over me. But then, I clenched my fist and smacked the back of his head. "Why the hell would you say we were engaged?! We never even had that conversation!" I scolded, still clinging to him.

He tensed at first, his grip on me slightly different than what I remembered. But I brushed it off, my emotions clouding my judgment. "It’s okay, we can talk about that later," I said, loosening my grip.

But then, his hands tightened around me, the pressure becoming uncomfortable.

"Sanji… you’re kind of hurting me a bit," I said, squirming in his hold. Something felt wrong.

"Sanji… you’re kind of hurting me a bit," I said again, my voice firmer this time, but he didn’t release his grip. Instead, a dark laugh escaped his lips, sending a shiver down my spine. Something was definitely wrong.

"You can let me go now!" I demanded, but his grip only tightened. My patience snapped, and with a clenched right fist, I swung, punching him square in the face. His hold loosened just enough for me to leap backward, putting distance between us. As I caught my breath, my eyes locked on him—something was off. He wasn’t Sanji.

Before I could retreat back to the ship, he stood in front of me again, removing his hood with a smirk. My heart dropped.

"You're not Sanji," I whispered, my blades starting to hum with a white hue as I clenched my fists, electricity crackling through my right arm.

"Y/N!" Brook called from the distance, his voice filled with worry.

"Stay back, all of you!" I shouted to the crew, not taking my eyes off the imposter.

"Stop calling me Sanji!" he snapped. "You got the wrong guy. My name is Yonji," he said, his eyes scanning me from head to toe with a disgusting grin. "I gotta admit though, you're even better in person." His gaze shifted into heart-shaped eyes as he ogled me.

Disgust flooded through me as Yonji suddenly lunged forward, grabbing me by the left arm, yanking me closer. I struggled, trying to wrench myself free from his iron grip.

"Oh no, Y/N!" Nami gasped, watching in horror.

Yonji's grip tightened further as he sneered, "I don’t care if you’re my brother’s fiancée—you should’ve been mine from the start."

My heart raced, not out of fear but from pure anger. "I’m not anyone’s fiancée!" I yelled, and in one quick move, I sent an electrical current surging through my right hand, shocking him hard enough to make him release me. I leaped away, landing back on the ship just in time.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Carrot asked, rushing to my side.

"I’m fine, Carrot. Thank you," I said, catching my breath and standing back up. I turned toward Yonji, who had retreated to his ship, his eyes still filled with those disgusting heart shapes. His grin only widened.

"A feisty woman," he chuckled. "You’re so hot."

I clenched my jaw, anger boiling inside me. Just as I thought I was safe, Yonji extended his arm from his ship, grabbing me again, this time with even more force.

"Y/N!" Chopper cried as I struggled to break free. His grip was suffocating.

"Let me go!" I shouted, kicking my legs in vain as he pulled me closer.

"Why?" Yonji sneered, tightening his hold. "You liked me better when you thought I was Sanji. Why don’t you give me kiss, huh?"

"Wait, come back! Sanji!" Chopper yelled, his voice frantic.

"Ugh, I’m Yonji!" he growled, his annoyance flaring.

I had enough. Just as Yonji was about to pull me in closer, I lifted my right leg and landed a swift, powerful kick on his arm, forcing him to release me. I plummeted toward the water, but before I hit, I clenched my left hand and used the momentum to leap back into the air, landing safely on the ship once more.

I gasped for air, my heart pounding from the close call. "That was close..." I muttered, sheathing my blade back into its thigh holster.

"Oh no! Luffy!" Chopper suddenly cried out. "He’s developing a rash—he can’t fight it anymore!"

"Stay with us, Luffy!" Nami pleaded, kneeling beside him.

"Don’t give up, Captain!" I added, rushing over as I spotted my sword on the ground. I picked it up quickly, making my way back to Luffy.

"You must have some antidote!" Chopper yelled toward Yonji, his voice thick with desperation.

Yonji slid his glasses on, grinning arrogantly. "Sorry, guys, I’m not into the whole saving lives thing. But if you want that medicine, why don’t you come and take it from us? I mean, you are pirates, right?" His grin widened as he toyed with us.

Nami, fuming, clenched her fists. "He only has Sanji’s bad parts, none of the good ones! He’s just a playboy jerk!"

"That’s it," I muttered, fury burning through me. I clenched my left hand and, without hesitation, leaped into the air once more, my sword gripped tightly in my right hand. I was done with his games.

"Y/N, be careful!" Brook called out, his voice echoing behind me.

"Princess, can’t get enough of me, I see," Yonji teased, smirking as he moved to intercept me.

But I was ready. Pressing the red gem embedded in my sword, I expected the familiar blaze of red flames, but instead, a mix of red electricity and a vibrant blue hue surged from the blade. What is this? I thought, momentarily stunned. My sword had never done that before. The energy crackled around me, sharper, more powerful.

Just as Yonji reached out to grab me again, a female voice cut through the tension. "Yonji... Stop being so stingy, will you?" Before I could react, Yonji was sent flying into the air, crashing into the water below with a loud splash.

The sheer force of the kick had me blinking in shock. "That kick’s strength... it looked similar to mine," I muttered as I made my way back to our ship. I pressed the red gemstone on my sword once more, deactivating the energy, and placed the sword behind me.

"What is going on?" Nami asked, her voice filled with confusion.

Suddenly, the female who kicked Yonji out of the way gracefully landed on our ship. "Do forgive him. He’s rather heartless... a creep too, but never mind my little brother. I’ll set this straight." She flashed a charming smile, completely unbothered by Yonji’s embarrassing defeat.

"Creep is an understatement," I muttered under my breath, still glaring in the direction Yonji had been launched from.

"Little brother?" Nami echoed, her eyes widening as she looked at the mysterious woman who had just arrived.

"Are you related to Sanji?" Chopper asked, his curiosity piqued. "She’s got curly eyebrows too!" he exclaimed, connecting the dots.

"She’s lovely!" Brook said, hearts practically radiating from his eyes.

I couldn’t help but slap my forehead and shake my head at his antics. "Reiju!" Yonji yelled, now flying out of the water and into the air.

"He flies?" Chopper gasped, his eyes sparkling with amazement.

"Damn it! What were you thinking, humiliating me like that—and in front of the princess?!" Yonji was clearly furious, more bothered by his embarrassment than anything else.

"Baffoon! You should be ashamed of yourself!" Reiju scolded him, hands on her hips, clearly not taking his tantrum seriously.

"I wonder how he’s floating," Brook mused, observing Yonji's ability to stay airborne.

"Maybe it’s the same thing that King gave you, Y/N?" Nami suggested.

"Impossible," I responded, shaking my head. "I trained for two years to wield the power I have. It’s definitely not the same."

"Maybe it’s a Devil Fruit power?" Chopper guessed.

"It’s not like Sanji’s Skywalk or CP9’s technique either," Nami noted, trying to piece it together.

"Well, whatever it is, I just want him away from me," I muttered, turning my attention back to Luffy, who was still struggling.

"That’s because they didn’t acquire that skill through training," Pekoms chimed in, stepping forward. "It’s technology. They’re powerful, but the strength of Germa 66 is science-based. That’s why Big Mom wants them—she wants their technology."

"Does that mean I can fly with super shoes too?" Chopper asked, his excitement bubbling over.

"I don’t think that’s how it works, Chopper," I chuckled, despite the tension.

"Sanji’s family is amazing… I wonder why he never told us," Nami mused, her gaze lingering on Yonji and Reiju.

"Vinsmoke… the leaders of Germa 66," Brook said, his tone more somber now. "Pekoms, that name rings a bell. If I recall, Vinsmoke is the name of a royal family."

"Wait, like Vivi or Neptune’s family?" Chopper asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"So… they’re really famous?" I added, glancing up at Yonji, still floating above us with a smug grin on his face.

"That’s right. Their name is synonymous with evil. In fact, they were portrayed as villains in a comic strip," Pekoms explained, his voice carrying a note of warning.

I stood up from my position and sighed, running my hand through my hair, feeling Zoro’s bandana still securing it tightly. "Great… so my fiancée is not only an assassin, but he’s also evil."

The weight of everything felt like it was pressing down on me. How had I ended up in this mess?

Reiju laughed lightly, her composed demeanor masking any surprise at Brook’s bizarre request. “I’m impressed, you're quite the historian,” she remarked.

Brook, blushing despite his skeletal appearance, chuckled nervously. "Well, I have been alive for a long time... and dead as well," he said, taking off his hat and bowing. "You see, it’s not just a story. Even now, we are royalty. Germa is a land without soil. Although we own no territory, we are still given the right to join the Reverie, all the same," Reiju explained, her voice proud yet calm.

"I see," Brook said, still bowing. "May I see your royal panties, most honored lady?" he asked, this time falling to his knees in front of her.

Without missing a beat, Nami delivered a swift kick to the back of Brook's head. "Stop it!" she yelled, hands on her hips in frustration.

I shook my head at Brook’s antics but couldn't help smiling.

Reiju turned her attention to me. "As for you, Princess," she said with a warm smile, "It appears my brother is quite fond of you."

I rolled my eyes. "Which one?" I asked sarcastically, pointing at Yonji, who was still hovering nearby. "Because this guy over here seems to be rather fond of me too."

Reiju laughed again, this time a bit more warmly. "No, no, not Yonji. I’m talking about Ichiji. He hasn’t stopped talking about you since the moment he decided he wanted to marry you."

I crossed my arms, feeling defiant. "Yeah, well, the feeling isn’t mutual. I’m not interested in marriage—any marriage, for that matter," I said firmly.

Reiju’s smile didn’t falter. "The terms are already set, Princess. You will marry Ichiji."

I blinked, my mind racing. "What does he even want with me?" I asked, frustration creeping into my voice. "Out of all the women in the world, why me?"

Reiju’s eyes softened. "He never said. All he did was tell our father to arrange the marriage. And since Sanji’s wedding was already set, yours was arranged on the spot."

"Is that why my wanted poster suddenly says ‘Vinsmoke’?" I asked, the realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.

"Yes," she nodded, confirming my suspicions. "He wanted to ensure no one else would try to claim you. He's... quite a jealous man."

"Great," I muttered, my stomach churning. "And what about the ‘only alive’ part?" I pressed, interrogating her further.

Reiju tilted her head slightly. "He added that because, after watching you fight, he knew he wanted you by his side... alive."

I froze. "Wait... what do you mean, watched me fight? The only time my fight was broadcast was—"

The realization hit me hard, and I took a step back, my eyes widening. "No... It couldn’t be."

Reiju’s calm gaze held mine, and I could tell she wasn’t lying. Ichiji had been watching me, possibly for longer than I realized.

"Now if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking that from him," she said, making her way toward Luffy.

"Taking what?" Nami asked, confused.

Reiju knelt down in front of Luffy. "I’m going to guess he ate the skin of an Armor Fish from the Poison Sea," she said.

Chopper’s eyes widened. "Yeah, how’d you know?" he asked, bewildered.

"This poison has a rather unique set of components. He’s a glutton for eating it. Not even a giant could survive this," Reiju said matter-of-factly.

Chopper panicked, tears forming in his eyes. "What?! There’s nothing you can do?! I’ve failed! I’m the worst doctor in the world!"

Reiju, however, remained calm. "But this is good. You’re lucky, it’s the best kind of poison. Down the hatch," she said before locking lips with Luffy and beginning to extract the poison.

"Luffy is getting a smoochy!" Brook exclaimed, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and excitement.

"Ahh, that’s so gross," Nami groaned, turning her head away.

"That’s so scandalous," Pekoms said, blushing.

I blinked rapidly, feeling like I was intruding on something personal. "I feel like I’m interrupting something," I muttered, covering my eyes but peeking every few seconds out of curiosity.

Chopper, still panicking, yelled, "Whoa! If you suck out that poison, you’ll die for sure!"

"Oh, I’m so jealous!" Brook wailed dramatically. "If only I could trade places with him, but alas... my lips are long gone! Yohoho!"

As Reiju continued to extract the poison, we all watched in shock as the rashes began to transfer from Luffy’s body to Reiju’s.

"What?!" we all yelled in unison.

Chopper examined Luffy. "There’s no more rash! It’s all gone!" he exclaimed.

Reiju stood up, unphased by the poison she had just absorbed. "I’ve never felt better. After all, I’m ‘Poison Pink,’" she said calmly, giving us all a faint smile.

Luffy finally came to, coughing a bit as he regained consciousness. "Whoa, what happened?!" he asked, looking around.

Carrot and Chopper began crying in relief.

"Wait, did I fall asleep while eating that giant fish? That skin part was really good. Do we have any more?!" Luffy asked, completely oblivious to how close he had come to dying.

Nami and I were both in tears, frustration and relief mixing together. "No!" we yelled in unison.

"You don’t remember? Not even the part where you almost died?!" Nami shouted, her voice rising.

Luffy blinked, then turned to Reiju, mistaking her for Sanji because of her curly eyebrow. "Sanji!" he said, grinning.

Chopper sighed. "That’s a woman, Luffy."

Luffy looked at her again. "Actually... you’re right," he admitted, scratching his head, confused but still Luffy.

“Luffy… she’s the person who just saved your life,” Brook pointed at Reiju with a skeletal finger.

Luffy, with his typical grin, turned to her. "Huh, thanks, lady!" he said, his carefree tone easing the tension for a moment.

I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. It felt like I was drowning in the weight of everything happening around me. But Luffy’s casualness, as usual, brought a strange comfort.

"I never knew Sanji had a big sister!" Luffy exclaimed, his grin growing wider.

"Yes, that’s right," Reiju nodded. "Sanji is a Vinsmoke like us."

My body tensed again, and Luffy caught it, his sharp eyes flicking to me, but he didn’t say anything. I tried to focus on what Reiju was saying.

"He was separated from us when he was young. Our father’s been searching for him for a while. When Sanji’s wanted poster began circulating two years ago, my father made a call to the government to prioritize catching him. But, well… they ended up catching a man named Duval by mistake,” Reiju said with a slight smirk.

“Sanji was not a fan of that whole mess,” Brook chimed in, causing me to stifle a laugh. The memory of Duval’s ridiculous face and the chaos that followed flashed in my mind. Even in the middle of all this madness, the absurdity of that situation was hard to forget.

“When your crew made a surprise comeback, the World Government shared the news with us,” Reiju continued. “My father then replaced Sanji’s wanted poster with ‘Only Alive’ and raised his bounty to make sure he’d come back to us.”

Nami crossed her arms, nodding. "So that’s why we knew something was off with his bounty, but we couldn’t figure out the reason."

Luffy’s focus sharpened. "Okay, so where is Sanji right now?" he asked, the easygoing air disappearing for a moment as concern for his crewmate replaced it.

Reiju sighed. "I can’t say for sure. He could be with Big Mom or with our father. We thought we might catch him along the way, but it seems we were too late."

She turned toward me, her eyes softening, but her words carried a weight I wasn’t ready to deal with. “At least I got to see the woman who’s going to be marrying my other brother,” she said, her gaze lingering on me.

I clenched my fists, every fiber of my being resisting that statement. But Reiju smiled knowingly. "He’ll be thrilled when I tell him you’ve arrived."

The thought of being married off to Ichiji—someone I’d never even met—made my stomach churn. My future, my choices, were being ripped out from under me, and no matter how much I wanted to fight it, the Vinsmoke family wasn’t about to give me a choice.

I shot Reiju a look of defiance. “I’m not marrying him, or anyone for that matter,” I said coldly.

Reiju’s expression didn’t change, as if she expected that response. "We’ll see," she said calmly, almost too calmly.

"But we will see Sanji at the tea party along with Ichiji’s fiancée, that’s the important part," Reiju said, her voice steady as she looked at me. The weight of her words pressed on my chest, reminding me of the looming wedding, the plans that were being made without my consent. I tried to stay calm, but my mind was spinning.

"It won’t be long now," Reiju added, her gaze shifting to Luffy. "And I even got to meet you. You took care of Sanji, Strawhat, for that, I am grateful."

Reiju was about to leave when Luffy shot up from where he sat, fire in his eyes. "Sanji’s sister!" he called out. "Thanks for saving my life for real, but still, we are taking Sanji back and stopping Y/N’s wedding. They’re my crewmates and friends!"

I couldn’t help but feel the strength behind his words. He was standing up for me, for Sanji, for all of us. Luffy’s loyalty, that unshakable determination, reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this. No matter how daunting things seemed, we would fight this together.

Reiju turned back around, her eyes scanning us—each one of us standing with defiance on our faces. We were ready to fight for what mattered most.

"I won’t give up on them," Luffy declared with conviction, his voice like a solid anchor pulling us all together.

Before I could dwell on those feelings, Yonji’s loud voice cut through the tension. "Hey, you! You’re Pekoms from the Big Mom Pirates. Just what the hell are you doing hanging out with the Strawhats?"

Pekoms stood firm, his expression unyielding. "I have my reasons, and that’s all I gotta say. Things might be different after these wedding ceremonies, but for now, you’re just some random guy."

Reiju glanced at him and nodded. "Can’t argue with that," she said, then leaped into the air, landing gracefully beside Yonji. We watched, a mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling among us.

"Raise the anchor! Let’s move!" Yonji commanded, his voice booming. He turned his gaze from his subordinates back to me, and for a heartbeat, our eyes locked. I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of discomfort under his intense stare, like he was weighing something in his mind.

As Reiju and Yonji headed off in another direction, I felt a rush of determination. We couldn’t let them dictate our fate.

"Okay, we better get moving," Nami said, breaking the tension. As we began to set sail, I sank into my thoughts, finally sitting down and closing my eyes for a moment.

Chopper began to examine Luffy, who was looking worse for wear, and the relentless ringing of the transponder snail filled the air.

"Geez, shut up!" Luffy and I exclaimed in unison, irritation bubbling up. It felt good to share the moment of frustration, a reminder that we were still on the same side.

"It’s a warning signal; it won’t stop even if you pick it up," Pekoms explained, his tone calm and collected.

"Well, that’s annoying," I huffed, crossing my arms.

"Poison made me hungry," Luffy grumbled, the usual sparkle in his eyes dimmed but not extinguished.

"We are still short on food supplies," Nami reminded us, her expression serious.

Pekoms continued, "You’re on one of Mama’s 34 islands. Whole Cake is in the center, and each island has a minister that runs the show. It’s Totoland."

Pedro piped up then. "Another ship is heading toward us."

"If they find you, it’ll be a whole pain in the ass," Pekoms warned, urgency in his voice. Without hesitation, we all dashed back to our hiding spot, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Once we docked, we stayed hidden until Pekoms finally gave us the signal that it was safe.

"Where are Luffy and Chopper?" Pedro asked, scanning the area with concern.

I couldn’t help but smile at the situation. "We should have expected this, except I’m not with them this time," I said, a playful glint in my eyes.

"They bought my cover story, but we better not stay long," Pekoms urged us, urgency lacing his voice. "So do what you gotta do, then scram! We are in a rush anyway."

He handed out disguises, and as I slipped mine on, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Nami and Carrot stepped out first. Nami looked stunning in a white and red overall short dress, the pink bow at her waist adding a touch of charm. Carrot twirled into view in a playful green short dress that suited her lively spirit perfectly.

And then it was my turn. I stepped out, and my heart sank as I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection. I was wearing a white short dress with sleeves that fell off my shoulders, and the sweetheart neckline accentuated my chest. Rhinestones adorned the neckline, glistening in the light, while the ties at the back created the illusion of an hourglass figure. The bottom flared out gracefully, and my silver heels clicked softly against the floor. My hair was half up, half down, with a few strands framing my face.

Overall, I looked like I was heading to a wedding reception.

"Now why the hell am I wearing a white dress?!" I exclaimed, a mix of disbelief and frustration flooding my voice. The last thing I needed was to draw more attention to myself, especially dressed like this.

Nami chuckled, clearly amused by my predicament. "You look great! Just go with it," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Easy for you to say!" I shot back, though I couldn’t help but smirk.

"You look gorgeous, Y/N!" Carrot said, her eyes lighting up as she took in my ensemble.

"Thank you, Carrot," I replied, smiling at her enthusiasm, even though I felt a bit out of place. The dress was beautiful, but I wasn’t used to wearing something so formal, and the feeling of it clinging to me was a constant reminder of the situation we were in.

Suddenly, a loud voice echoed from behind. "There’s our young bride!" Brook called out, his usual cheerfulness somehow both amusing and alarming.

"Brook, what are you...?" I started to ask, but he didn’t let me finish.

"Ohh, I knew this day would come!" he exclaimed, looking as though he was about to break into a song at any moment.

"Brook, I’m not—" I protested, trying to cut through his joyful delusions.

"I told you, you’d make a blushing bride!" he continued, tears flowing from his eye sockets, each drop a testament to his excitement and unwavering optimism.

"Brook, I’m not getting married!" I insisted, my voice rising in exasperation. I could feel my cheeks heat up, and I desperately wanted to hide.

"Could have fooled me! You still look fantastic, yohooo!" he replied, spinning around as if to emphasize my supposed wedding attire.

I shook my head, laughing despite my embarrassment. "Thanks, I guess?" I said, trying to take it all in stride. The situation was bizarre, yet Brook's antics somehow made it easier to breathe amidst the chaos we were facing.

Pekoms then coughed, bringing us all back to reality. "It’s going to take a whole day to get to Whole Cake Island, so be sure to get all you need, especially food."

"Oki dokie!" Carrot yelled, her enthusiasm infectious as she bounced on her heels.

I went to grab my sword, trying to figure out how I could carry it along with my thigh halter and blades. "Hey, Nami, do you have a bag big enough to hold my essentials?" I asked, hoping she had something suitable.

She nodded and made her way to find it. When she returned, she handed me a small but discreet bag. I placed the thigh halter and blades inside, then focused on my sword. "Hmm, what if I pressed..." I mused, pressing all three buttons on the hilt. To my surprise, the sword began to shrink. "Whoa! I didn’t know it could do that!" I exclaimed, marveling at the magical functionality as I placed it into the bag.

I also took off Zoro’s bandana, placing it inside the bag as well.

"How did you fit that giant sword in there?!" Nami asked, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"I know that moving the hilt to the right creates a shield, but I didn’t know pressing all three gems would make it shrink. King really thought of everything," I said, smiling as I grabbed the strap and placed it over my shoulder.

Carrot was watching everyone in the town, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It’s a land where every race can live without discrimination," Pekoms explained, his tone proud.

He went on to tell us the rules about eating chocolate since you could eat anything in Chocolat town. Suddenly, Brook piped up, "So… are the panties made of chocolate as well?"

"Of course they are!" Pekoms replied, barely able to contain his laughter.

Brook began to fantasize, his eyes glazing over with ridiculous thoughts until Nami sent a punch right to his head. "Just get the food and go!" Pekoms ordered, shaking his head.

"Alright, we’re ready!" I said, feeling the adrenaline start to pump through my veins.

"Oh my! Somebody ate the whole café!" yelled a voice from afar.

"There they are!" Nami exclaimed, pointing in the direction where Luffy’s unmistakable energy was.

We began to run toward Luffy, and I could hear Carrot urging, "Come on, guys, we gotta go faster!"

"We are trying too!" we all shouted in unison, pushing ourselves to keep up with the energy of the moment.

We caught up to Pedro and Brook, but we halted when we saw something unusual coming down from above.

"What the heck?" Nami exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Is that a carpet singing?" I said, squinting up at the bizarre sight.

"Not the owner of the café," Brook added, his curiosity piqued. We watched as the café owner covered for both Luffy and Chopper.

"What did she save them for?" Carrot wondered aloud.

"Maybe she’s just really nice," Nami suggested, though I felt a nagging hesitation about Luffy and Chopper’s savior.

"No one's that nice," I said, crossing my arms, my instincts warning me.

"We sure got lucky," Pedro chimed in, lighting his cigarette with a spark of electricity from his fingers.

"You gotta teach me that trick, Pedro," I said in awe.

He chuckled, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "You got it."

"Captain Pedro?!" yelled someone from behind us. We all turned, surprised.

"It really is you! What a surprise! It’s been a while," the familiar voice exclaimed.

Pedro quickly shushed the mink. "I'm sightseeing; don’t tell anyone," he said as we moved forward.

"Is something wrong, Pedro?" I asked, noticing a hint of tension as we made our way toward Luffy, Chopper, and the café owner's chocolate building.

We all sat down at a table while Luffy and Chopper continued to eat the walls, the sight both hilarious and alarming. As I settled into my chair, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the café owner.

"Can you cool it for a second?" Nami said, her brows furrowed as she eyed Luffy and Chopper. "You were stuffed a second ago; where’d all that food go?"

"You gotta try this, Y/N! I know you're going to love it!" Luffy exclaimed, handing me a piece of chocolate. He passed one to Brook and Nami as well.

I looked at the piece and politely declined. "Sorry, Luffy, I’m not a sweets kind of person, but I’m sure it’s really delicious."

"Oh well, more for me!" he shrugged, diving back into the feast.

Brook and Nami took bites of theirs and simultaneously shouted, "It's so good!"

Time passed, and Luffy turned to Pudding, the café owner. "Thanks for saving me back there!"

"Oh no, don’t thank me; I should be the one thanking you," she replied in a sweet voice that made my skin crawl.

"This girl is acting," I thought, crossing my arms defensively.

"How is this woman real? She’s too sweet!" Brook exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

"I don’t mean to be rude, but we need to get going," Nami interjected, trying to steer the conversation.

Pudding then offered us tea, but I decided to stand and take a walk around.

"Where are you going?" Nami asked, her tone concerned.

I turned to her, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll be right back," I said as I headed out the door.

Once outside, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. "I just know this ‘Pudding’ isn’t being truthful," I murmured to myself. "She’s hiding something, and I’m going to find out."

I took in the sights around me—the whole city was made of chocolate. "Best be careful; don’t want to dirty my outfit," I thought, holding the straps of my bag tightly, which contained my blades and sword, ensuring they stayed secure as I navigated through the sweet chaos of the city.

To my right, I noticed a jewelry store and chuckled, shaking my head. "Chocolate jewels? Now this I gotta see." I made my way inside, intrigued by the assortment on display.

"Now isn’t this creative," I thought, admiring the craftsmanship. My eyes landed on the rings, sparkling under the shop lights.

"Find something of interest?" the shop owner asked, his voice eager.

"At the moment, I'm just looking, but I will definitely let you know if I find something," I replied, about to walk away when he called me back.

"Miss! Would you please come for a moment? I must show you something!" he insisted, guiding me back to the rings.

"This ring is one of our finest collections—the rarest of rare," the owner proclaimed, presenting a stunning gold band adorned with diamonds and a captivating red ruby at its center.

"My, it's quite pretty," I said, genuinely impressed.

"Yes, it is... Would you like to try it on?" the owner offered, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

I laughed, shaking my head. "As long as it’s not made of chocolate, I'll try it."

He slipped the ring onto my ring finger. "A perfect fit!" he declared, clasping his hands together in delight.

"So it appears," I muttered, returning the ring back. "Thank you for your time, but I must be on my way."

The owner tried to stop me once more, but I was already out the door, eager to continue my exploration.

As I strolled through the streets, taking in everything around me, I suddenly lost my footing. Just as I was about to trip into a chocolate fountain, a strong arm pulled me back, spinning me around until I landed against a hard chest.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern etched across his face.

"Yes, I’m fine... thank y..." I started, taking in his features. He wore a white long-sleeve dress shirt, the fabric a sleek v-neck that revealed a hint of his chest, paired with dress pants. His vibrant red hair caught the light, and his glasses had a red tint that matched perfectly.

"Wow, this guy must really like red," I thought, taking a step back to create some distance.

"You gotta be careful; a pretty girl like you would have been drenched in chocolate," he said, his compliment making me smile and blush slightly.

"You're right; we wouldn’t want that now, would we?" I replied, laughing. The man chuckled as well.

"Well, I gotta get back to the café. Thank you for saving me," I said just as I was about to turn when he grabbed my wrist, halting me.

"Wait?!" he said, his grip rather strong. "Why don’t I walk you to the café? That way you don’t trip on any more chocolate," he suggested, chuckling.

I pulled my wrist back and replied, "If you want." We continued to stroll through Chocolat town in comfortable silence. I noticed some of the shopkeepers trembling in fear, which made me wonder why.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, and I turned to look at him, noticing more of his features—his nose was delicate, his chin chiseled, and his arms looked buff without making his dress shirt tight.

I nodded with a smile. "Everything is just fine," I assured him, feeling a small blush creep onto my cheeks. I noticed that he also blushed slightly, the color deepening in his cheeks as he glanced away for a moment.

"Well, this is it," I said as we approached the café. "Oh, I forgot one thing!" I exclaimed, making my way down the steps. I turned back to him and said, "Thank you for walking with me," as I placed a gentle peck on his cheek.

As I made my way back inside, I didn’t hear him say softly, "No problem, fiancee"

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Light Show

(Masterlist)

(Content: living weapon whumpee, implied minor character(s) death, sensory overload, magical exhaustion, fainting, hiding injury, dehumanization)

For a moment, sunlight streamed in through the window with a terrible clarity. The ship was pulling into the orbit of the red star’s nearest planet, catching violent rays. Gradually, the planet began to eclipse their view of the star, until the ship was once again immersed in black night. They were drawing closer to their destination. On the earth below, all was silent.

“Get up,” Paris hissed with urgency, shaking Delta awake. Delta’s eyes shot open. He recoiled, pulling himself back into the corner. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his alarm grew.

“I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly, thinking he had overslept. It was impossible to tell in space. But Paris shook his head, reaching for his arm.

“C’mon. I have a job for you,” Paris tugged him out of the bed. 

“I’m not dressed,” Delta protested. Paris paused a moment, looking him up and down. He wasn’t in fatigues, obviously, but he was decent.

“Just put your shoes on. We don’t have time.” Paris pushed the door open. Delta slipped his sneakers on, jogging after him. Paris caught his wrist, dragging him along to the loading bay. He shoved him into a small craft without ceremony or explanation. A pilot was already inside. She waved at him politely, which Delta returned.

Moments later, they were joined by Simon, Dr.Martino, and an admiral that Delta didn’t recognize. Paris and Dr.Martino were in the middle of an argument.

“Just wait until morning, you don’t need surprise with this. They don’t know what we have. That *is* the surprise,” Dr.Martino complained. 

“Shut up,” Paris held up a hand to him, “I want everyone to see it. The Scythians are pulling out tomorrow morning because they think we’ve got it covered. I want them to be here when we launch. God, they’ll be able to feel it from where they are. Let’s go,” He patted the pilot on the shoulder, slamming the door shut behind him.

“You didn’t even give us time to warmup,” The doctor complained, “Didn’t even have breakfast.”

“Cry me a fucking river,” Paris said, barely audible over the sound of the rotors starting up, “Delta’s the one doing all the work, I don’t hear him complaining.”

Delta was staring blankly ahead, still half-asleep, only perking up when he heard his name mentioned. Simon had slid into the seat next to him, looking only slightly less disheveled. Delta looked to him for help, but didn’t have the gall to speak without permission in front of so many people. Simon held up a finger, signing Wait.

The ship blasted off into the night. Below, there were lights from the military camps, but no signs of active combat. They’d settled down for the night, so it seemed. The bright orange and red against the dark ground made it look not so different from outer space. Delta found it oddly peaceful.

“Further East,” Paris pointed out, “And higher up, we’re still in visible range.”

The pilot nodded, pulling up above the cloud cover. Paris sat back in the chair, like someone who was trying to relax but didn’t know how.

“Hover here.” He said to the pilot. The craft stopped abruptly, jostling all of them. There were only clouds below. 

Paris twisted around to look at Simon and Delta. “We’re directly above the mech site. Most of their land fighters are here and the engineers have an encampment about a mile wide around the complex. I need you to level it.”

Simon nodded, “Any preference for how?”

“Whatever’s the most dramatic,” Paris said.

Simon considered this for a moment, “Permission to unleash?” 

“Granted.”

Simon fidgeted with a small device in his wrist, as did Dr.Martino. Delta flinched as the collar around his neck suddenly deactivated, electrocuting him and everyone else in the ship. 

It was like he was everywhere at once. Delta could felt the contour of the entire planet, the depth and order of each form. It was a kind of euphoria and a kind of sickness. He was vibrating, vision switching from black to white and back again as the blood coursed through him. His skin glowed and a deep blue light emitted from his eyes.

Simon snapped his fingers in front of his face, urging him to recenter. It didn’t matter much. Delta couldn’t see with his eyes then. The sixth sense overloaded him, made him fully dependent on it. He tried to focus back in on Simon’s voice.

“Do you know where the site is? Do you need visuals?” Simon asked.

Delta confirmed the target. It was a couple miles below them. Even without seeing it, Delta was faintly impressed, almost sad to destroy it. It reminded him of a launch site. There was a giant mecha inside of the hanger and two more just lounging outside of it. Their features were ursine and bulky. Around them, much, much smaller forms moved. The soldiers and engineers running around camp. Delta could feel the expanse of it, a little over a mile in diameter.

“Lock on. Await further instructions,” Simon ordered him, all business now. He addressed Paris, “We could go for an energy strike. It’d be the most dramatic, probably the highest risk of complications though.”

“Do it,” Paris said. 

“Permission to launch?”

“Launch,” Paris affirmed.

Simon turned to Delta, whispering the code into his ear. In an instant, the clouds below them were lit up as if in a storm. The bright blue glow held for four, five seconds before fading out. A sharp sound, almost like a church organ, pierced the air. The wind carried the sound off into the night.

Delta signaled Target Destroyed.

The collar clicked back on. The sudden collapse of his senses sent Delta lurching forward, passing out neatly. Simon caught him, leaning him back against the seat. A slow stream of blood trickled out of his nose. Martino reached over, feeling his pulse at the neck.

“I want to see it,” Paris said.

The ship pushed off into motion again, slowly dipping beneath the clouds. 

“That might be an issue, Your Highness,” the pilot said softly, as pillars of smoke clouded the windshield. She kept advancing until they were out of the carnage. As she turned back to the mothership, she encircled what was left of the sight, allowing all of them to witness the destruction. A large crater was carved into the middle of the clearing. The vapor coming out of it was too thick to see through. There were no human bodies visual, no machinery. Everything had been wiped clean.

Paris let out a low whistle.

“You think everyone saw it?” He asked the admiral.

“It would be hard to miss,” He responded.

“Yeah. Bet the cameras caught it, too. I had one trained on it, hope we were at effective range. Oh well,” He kicked his legs up on the dashboard, “Let’s go back.”

When Delta regained his consciousness, he was in the same craft, now idle in the bay. Paris was pressing a handkerchief against his nose to stop the blood flow, his other hand gripped at his chin.

“See, if I’d let you get dressed, you would’ve gotten blood on your uniform,” he chided gently, “Hold it.”

Delta took the handkerchief from him. He could feel the blood had mostly stopped, but his shirt was now soaked with it. Dr.Martino was in the seat next to them, unfazed at the sight of Delta’s blood everywhere. It had stopped being shocking years ago. No one else was in the ship.

“You did good, but you need to get up now. Victory lap. Don’t pass out again and don’t look hurt,” Paris warned him. Delta looked at him foggily, prompting Paris to smack him on the side of the head.

“That’s what I mean. Look alive.”

“Sorry, sir. I will,” He was still out of it, but with his hair hanging in his face, it was less obvious. He didn’t look any more tired than he usually did, which was something. Paris wrapped his jacket around Delta to cover up the blood on his shirt. It was several sizes too big and too warm to be comfortable. Seeming to sense this, Dr.Martino reached a hand out to his foreheads, clicking his tongue. 

Paris pushed the door open, rolling out skillfully. He offered a hand out to help Delta down, but was totally unable to resist yanking him the rest of the way. He caught him before he could fall completely. The doctor hopped out next, shutting the door behind him. He looked ill at ease. Even from the hanger, they could hear the sound of frenzied chatter. It sounded like the whole ship was up in arms. 

Not letting go of Delta’s wrist, Paris marched out of the hanger, back into the common area of the ship. All at once, the chatter ceased, replaced with an eerie silence. Delta didn’t look up, feeling the hundreds of eyes on him. All the blood was rushing from his head. Paris moved him forward, not acknowledging anything was amiss. The fearful silence followed wherever they went. As they passed, it was replaced with hushed whispers. 

Paris led Delta into his room, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against the door, laughing quietly. Delta collapsed into a kneel, no longer able to remain standing. His vision was fading again. Paris didn’t seem to notice, immediately moving to his laptop, which was sounding off in a cacophony of notifications. 

“Stay,” he ordered sharply, darting out the door. Delta fainted the second it closed.

[hux-and-gay]

Kylux Short Shorts Fest 2024: Day 1: Memory Loss

Till You Return

—————————————————————————

look at me still posting day one prompts on day two lmao. Pls reblog I don’t have A03 yet.

Rating: General Audiences

maybe more chapters in the future idk yet

after their shuttle crashes, Hux finds himself stuck on a planet with his rival, yet again. but it seems Ren is not exactly himself.

At first everything was loud, too loud. Sounds so jarring he couldn’t discern what they were or where they were coming from. Everything echoed as if he were underwater. He was bombarded by sensations, rumbling, crashing, the smell of smoke, light flashing. screaming? No that was himself, pain shot through his body, he couldn’t tell from where. Was he bleeding? He wasn’t sure. He reached out grabbing the wall in frontal of him to pull himself from the rubble of the crashed shuttle. He stumbled forward, almost falling into the belly of the ship. He caught himself on his elbows glancing back to see his foot still stuck in the twisted metal of one of the passenger seats. He moved it slightly. It hurt but it didn’t seem to be stuck too tightly. He gritted his teeth and yanked it forward, yelping as the metal cut into his boot. Once it was free he pushed himself to stand, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting through his leg. 

As much as he hated to give any form of credit to the man, If Ren hadn’t been piloting he’d likely be dead. He looked across the compartment where the other troopers had been standing. The ceiling had caved in, their bodies strewn across the floor. He knelt down to them, removing the helmets of those he was able to, and feeling for a pulse. Dead. He grumbled to himself. He’d told them to sit down but they hadn’t listened, now their stupidity was their downfall. He limped to the cockpit door which still seemed relatively intact though the access panel was crushed and it was slightly ajar. He grabbed it and pushed as hard as he could, which was quite difficult while trying no to put weight on his leg. He could see Ren at the pilot's seat through the crack in the door. 

“Ren, A little assistance, please!” He grunted, pushing harder as the door started to move. “Of course this would happen. I’m beginning to think it’s not merely a coincidence that something goes awry every time you’re with me. This is the second crashed shuttle you know.”

There was no response. 

“Ren?”

Silence.

“Typical.” He squeezed his body through the slight opening in the door he had widened, trying to mask his anxiety about Ren’s lack of response. If Ren was injured it would make things a lot more difficult. Though his silence could mean alot more than just injury… he tried to shake away the feeling. He doubted a mere crash landing would kill Kylo Ren, and if it did, well, he should want that, right? 

He didn’t have any time to dwell on these thoughts. Once he was through the door he rushed forward, almost hopping as to not put pressure on his injured leg- which probably looked more ridiculous then he elected to admit. 

Ren was slumped in the pilot's chair, he didn’t appear to be bleeding, which was a good sign. Hux took his head, gently lifting it. His eyes were closed and there was an angry bruise across his forehead. He must have slammed against the console when they landed. He was breathing so he wasn’t dead. Hux wasn’t sure whether to be fortunate about that or not. He got to work quickly, unstrapping him. 

“Of course you're going to make me drag you out of here. Don’t say I never do anything for you.” He said even though he knew Ren wouldn’t hear.

As he began pulling Ren up from the chair he started to smell something acrid, sulfuric. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was but it could not have been good. The air seemed thinner in the cockpit, harder to breathe. He glanced up seeing a gaping hole in the roof. It must have been the atmosphere that was causing the difficulty. He actually had no clue what planet they were on or whether the air was breathable. 

“Kriff” He mumbled to himself. He glanced around taking shallow breaths and trying not to cough at the tightness in his throat. Quickly he squeezed himself back through the door grabbing two of the trooper helmets and limping back over to Ren. Taking one He began shoving it over Ren’s head, which was slightly difficult since he was bigger than the average stormtrooper. 

“the one time that ridiculous helmet of yours would prove useful you don’t have it.” He grumbled finally managing to shove it on, winching slightly at the thought of how much it was probably pressing on the man’s head wound. He pulled the other helmet on himself, taking a deep gulp of air as soon as it was filtered. He squinted through the visor, the helmet was certainly something he had to get used too.

 He grabbed Ren and hoisted him up hissing as he fell back on his leg. He certainly couldn’t carry him, dragging would have to suffice. He couldn’t deny he was slightly amused by the notion. He dragged Ren from the ship, taking the transponder with him. Once they were free of the wreckage he brought them a safe distance away and leaned Ren against a tree before collapsing, panting. He was grateful his co-commander wasn’t conscious to see how much he’d struggled. He glanced down at his foot, the pain was numbing, he didn’t think he could take his boot off without cutting it. He’d have to wait for the first order to arrive. Right… they didn’t know where they were. He picked up the transponder, it was somewhat crushed but salvageable, he took off the front panel and began working on it. So immersed in the inner workings of the machine he didn’t notice Ren stirring. 

“Don’t move!” Ren’s voice cut through the silence.

“Oh your awake?” Hux said not even bothering to look up. “Good I was begging to think you were dead, not that I would’ve been adverse to that.” 

“Silence Imperial scum!”

“Imperial- What?” He sputtered, turning to Ren who was standing over him with a broken tree branch. 

“Ren, what are you talking about?”

“My name’s not Ren.” He growled angrily “You’re probably part of the remnant aren’t you?”

“The remnant?” Hux shook his head realizing what was going on. “Lovely, you were bad enough before, and now you’re delusional. Put the bloody stick down, I'm unarmed, I won’t attack you. I’m not a fool.”

Ren relented and dropped the stick. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you hit your head, evidently very hard.” He responded curtly. He hadn’t noticed he was bleeding, nor was he sure from where, but he wasn’t that concerned about it at the moment. “Ren- or Ben… or whatever you remember your name being, I’m not an imperial.”

“Then why are you wearing a stormtrooper helmet?!” He said, hand lingering over where he’d placed the stick down.

“So are you.” Hux nodded. 

“I am?” He reached up and felt around his head. “Oh, I guess I am-“ He began to take it off. 

“No! Don’t take it off!” Hux yelled, sounding more anxious than he intended to. 

“What? Why! I can barely see and it’s really tight.”

“Not my fault you have a big head.” He scoffed. 

“Hey! no need to insult me!” He said, crossing his arms. 

“Oh what a joy it is to be stuck here with an oversized concussed toddler,” Hux added, shaking his head. “You can’t take the helmet off because it’s filtering the air.”

“Oh! I guess that makes sense.” 

Hux couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Ren’s agreeable nature was odd, endearing, almost cute. 

“Did you think I put a helmet on your head for fun? I’m beginning to think you’re more brainless than you were before.” 

“Do you want me to get the stick again?” Ren asked bluntly, Hux couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. 

“Oh no, I’m terrified.” He crowed sarcastically. 

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Ren added as he paced around the tree. Hux had to admit he was jealous the man could still walk, though he wasn’t sure which injury would have been better.

“If you’re not an imp, then what kind of uniform is that? It looks pretty imperial to me.” He said poking Hux’s shoulder 

Hux scowled and shrugged off the finger. “The empire is long gone, I’m part of the first order, so are you, though it seems you’ve forgotten.”

“First Order…” He sounded out the words slowly and deliberately as if he were testing them on his tongue, trying to see if it felt familiar to say. “What of the republic then?”

“Also gone, aside from a few loathsome troublemakers bent on keeping the Galaxy in turmoil.” 

“But my mother was with the republic…”

“And you’re with the order. Ren I can’t make it make sense to you, I can just tell you what is true.” He slumped his back against the tree picking up the transponder again. He didn’t really think it was important to explain what he knew of Ren’s past to him at the moment. 

“What’s that?” Ren inquired pearling over his shoulder like a curious child. 

“The transponder, communications were shot so I’m fixing it. If not, we won't be able to contact anyone.”

“And you know how to do that?” He sounded impressed. 

“What, fix it? Yes, sometimes engineering skills can be useful.” 

“What happened?” 

Hux mumbled under his breath, the questions were only distracting him and he was in too much pain to put up with Ren at the moment. “Would you calm down with the questions they’re giving me a migraine.”

Ren blinked at him waiting for his answer, making it clear he would only keep asking. 

Hux sighed, “Our shuttle crashed, It’s just over ther-“ As he spoke there was a massive explosion in the direction the shuttle had been, they both jumped slightly as the trees shook with the force of the blast. “Or it was over there.”

“So who are you exactly?” 

“Hux.” He didn’t care enough to add anything more. He was still trying to focus on getting communications back up. 

Ren raised an eyebrow “If I don’t remember who you are then a name isn’t going to do much to help. How do I know you?”

“You’re my co-“ He paused, smirking to himself. “My assistant.” 

“You’re assistant?” I find that hard to believe.”

“Means nothing to me if you don’t believe me. Again I can only tell you the truth.” There wasn’t any reason for him bluff but he had to admit there was some fun to it.  

“Fine then why would you need an assistant?” 

“Well I’m the- the leader, I rule the order.” It was a childish lie he knew, but Ren didn’t have any reason not to believe him, or prove he was lying. 

“So you're like on the senate?”

“Something like that.” It was nothing like that, but why bother explaining something that wasn’t true. 

“Oh- Does it hurt?” Ren kneeled down beside him

“Does what hurt?”

“Your leg, It’s bent weirdly.” He nodded to it, brushing his fingers across his boot but trying not to add any pressure. 

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He insisted. 

“It hurts, yes, I’d be surprised if it didn’t. But at the moment I’m more concerned about getting off this planet, and dealing with your… Amnesia.” Hux wondered to himself if Ren’s memory loss would be permanent. He doubted it, but it would change a lot of things. One of the leaders of the order not even remembering what the order is could prove a challenge, or an opportunity. He yelped, jolted from his thoughts as Ren suddenly propped up his leg up on his knee.

“What are you doing?!” He choked biting back pain at the sudden movement. 

“Helping you? Come on, don't tell me you can’t bear a little pain.” 

“It’s no use, I can’t take my boot off.”

“Don’t worry I have my-“ Ren’s hand reached down to his belt finding his saber but staring at it curiously as he held up the unfamiliar hilt. “Jeez, how much have I forgotten?”

“I couldn’t tell you, and there is no way you are putting that thing anywhere near my body!” He scooted himself further away from Ren, he’d seen the man use his saber to angrily slice through the finalizer’s walls too many times now, he did not want to become his next innocent victim, especially when Ren was impaired.  

“Relax, it's just a quick cut, I’ll be careful.” He assured him, taking the saber hilt firmly in his hand. 

“THAT IS NOT AT ALL REASSURING!”

“It will hurt a lot less if the boot is off, so stop squirming damn it!” He grabbed his foot and steadied it making it clear Hux did not have a choice in the matter. 

Hux sighed watching as the blade flickered to life. Ren blinked at it, eyes wide. “It’s… it’s Red.”

Hux hadn’t yet thought of how shocking that would be for him. As far as Ren or rather Ben was concerned he was still a Jedi in training, living with his uncle, or his parents, or whoever under, republic rule. He probably didn’t understand exactly what the first order was and Hux wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to deal with him discovering that he was a Sith apprentice. “it’s not yours.” Hux lied, hoping Ren’s memory would eventually return so he wouldn’t have to explain all this later. 

“it isn’t?” He looked at it puzzled. “Then why do I have it?”

“you fought the man who owned it, you won and took his blade.”

“Oh!” he laughed, smiling as he did. “ for a second I thought I’d turned to the dark side!” Hux had never seen him like this before, for a second, it seemed as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he was just a young boy again. Seeing this made Hux smile internally then he immediately scowled, shaking off the feeling. That wasn’t something he should enjoy, in fact, he should be disgusted by it. Even if it was in the past, he’d never experienced that kind of happiness, and Ren had, and he threw it away. Now he was looking upon it fondly? Feeling remorse that Ren was no longer like that? He shook his head. He was just getting buried in his thoughts again, there was no attraction to this strange boyish version of Ren. There couldn’t be. 

“Yes, what a crazy notion…” he added dryly, not bothering much to hide his lie. 

Ren got to work carefully cutting through the boot, making sure he wouldn’t singe any skin. Once there was a slit down the side, he removed the boot carefully and worked to unclip the garter that held up Hux’s sock before gently rolling down the fabric. Hux winced, glancing at his swollen bloodied foot. It was definitely twisted in the wrong direction as Ren had pointed out, but the boot had hidden just how bad it was.

“Oh yeah this is definitely bad.” He said studying it. There was obvious concern in his voice. 

“At least I haven’t lost several years of my memory.” Hux jested. 

“yeah well if you didn’t let me take your boot off, you might’ve lost a foot.” He interjected, paying him a serious glare. 

“I think that’s a bit of an overexaggeration” Hux added, rolling his eyes. In reality though his foot had gone numb, he wasn’t actually sure how bad it exactly was. 

“Hux, the boot was cutting off your circulation, your foot is purple!”

It took Hux a second to process what he said. However it wasn’t the comment on his injury that stumped him, it felt odd to hear Ren say his name right now. He felt like more of a stranger than the man he’d known for several years. “Why are you helping me? You don’t even remember who I am and I haven’t exactly been cordial.”

“Well, I’m your assistant right? Isn’t it my job to assist you?” There was a sarcastic tone to his voice and Hux tried hard not to laugh. “Plus why would I just leave you in pain? Is that something I normally would do? Cause If so, then I guess I’m not a very good guy.”

Hux paused thinking about the question. “I- I don’t know. I suppose not.” It's true. Ren had hurt him in bursts of anger when his powers got the best of him, but he never felt that his life was threatened by Ren. Perhaps he should have, but sometimes he felt as though there was this unspoken bond between them. They both saved each other's lives on several occasions, Though they never spoke of it openly. And despite all their arguments they had always paired well together and been successful on their missions. 

“Look,” Ren said, his voice sounded oddly somber, and genuine, “ I don’t know how much of what you’ve told me has been true, you very well could be lying to me right now. But what I do know is you pulled me from the shuttle or whatever or wherever I was. I was injured and unconscious, but now I’m safe because of you. That has to mean something doesn’t it? I may not be able to see your face through that helmet, but there’s something about you that feels familiar. Safe. You’re someone that I trust. I know that. Even if you lie to me. There’s something about you that tells me you’re important to me even if I can’t remember why. So whatever kind of person I am normally, I must value you very highly.”

Hux was stunned. He wasn’t sure what to say. Ren valued him? It was all too surreal. surely It had to be because of the injury? Naturally, he was just delusional, concussed, confused. He’d overheard countless times Ren complaining to Snoke, asking the Supreme Leader why Hux was still around and grumbling about his appointment as co-commander. There was no way these two men could be the same person. But deep down, Hux knew what Ren had said was true, and he knew he felt the same. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could think of to say. It was something he rarely said, though Ren wouldn’t know that at the moment. But part of him knew Ren realized it was a special occurrence. 

Ren smiled at him, placing a hand gently on his knee before quickly turning back to his injury. “Good, now shut up and stop moving!”

@lessdenied @fives-ren @jaynesilver @thegeneralorder @diabollicallyangelic

@existing-sadly

@theosb0rnway

@dragonflies-draw-flame @hpdmism @fridayincarnate @tomatette

@transmasc-vampire-is-tired

@bostarsky

@kyluxshortshorts

[hippolotamus]

Fav lines game 💫

rules: share your favorite lines or paragraph you've written from one of your fics, posted or wip.

thanks for the tags @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @tizniz @daffi-990 💖

since I'm indecisive and, like Stevie, do what I want, I'm choosing lines from each of my 'ships

Buddie - from honey, when you call my name

It’s okay. Eddie can ask for this. He can want this. Isn’t it just one of the (many) points Frank’s been trying to get across? That he doesn’t have to settle for the bare minimum of whatever life hands him? That he can request and desire and, most importantly, receive. And anyway, it’s Buck. Who would be more enthusiastic to give than him? “I, uh, want you to have me,” he whispers. “I‘ve never. Not with another person, but. I want you to.” Jesus Christ, for all the confidence he started with he sure can’t seem to find any now.  “It’s okay if you haven’t. If you’re asking what I think you’re asking.” Buck presses a kiss to his hair. “You can have it. But I need you to ask me.” Another soft kiss, so light that Eddie could have imagined it. “Need to be sure.” Eddie squeezes his eyes shut tight, only for a second though. Because he wants Buck to see, and maybe he wants to allow Buck to see him, here in this sacred space they’re creating. He tilts his head back, baring himself. Offering himself up for Buck to take.

Lutalia - from stay here honey (i don't wanna share)

“You’re not getting soft on me, are you?” Nat teases. “I might start thinking you want me for more than just my body.” Lucy snorts and rolls her eyes. “This is a one-time thing. Don’t get used to it.” “Well, if you’re interested…” She trails off, tracing a finger down the center of Lucy’s chest, over her abdomen, and dragging the sheet down as she goes. She pauses to rub the heel of her palm over Lucy’s neatly trimmed patch of coarse blond curls. Nat’s gaze turns darker, hungrier. Like she’d eat Lucy alive, which doesn’t seem like such a terrible thing. “I don’t mind going back to something more familiar. You know, in the spirit of putting you at ease.” “How very altruistic of you.”

David/Patrick - from I know all your secrets

“Don’t go.” The words are barely more than a whisper. Still, David may as well have screamed them for as raw, vulnerable and hollowed out as he feels. He bites down on the inside of his lower lip, a pitiful, broken attempt to hold himself together. If Patrick wants to leave, David won’t stop him. He’ll stay frozen in place, stone faced and unyielding, until Patrick is gone.  Once upon a time he would have tried for nonchalant, but that act is no good anymore. Patrick doesn’t just mean something to him now – he is everything. Anything less and David will crack, bleeding his emotions everywhere until there’s nothing left. 

Twylexis - from the with my heart in my lap wip

Twyla steadies herself, maintaining her hold on Alexis so they’re almost walking as one down the sidewalk. She’s a comforting line of warmth huddled against Alexis’s side. Her cheeks are pink and flushed from dancing, and her lips curl up in a satisfied smile.  “Wasn’t that fun?” Twyla stops abruptly to look up. “That was fun.” “Yeah, doll. It was,” Alexis assures her, tapping a finger to the tip of Twyla’s nose and indulging in the soft chuckle it earns her.  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have gone with Tommy? He was having a really great time dancing with you.” Twyla’s giddiness turns to something more subdued and vulnerable that makes Alexis’s heart twist and ache.  “No, Twy.” Alexis presses a kiss to the crown of Twyla’s hair, then tilts her chin to drown in a mesmerizing sea of green. “Trust me when I say there’s nobody in there for me.”

np tagging @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @actuallyitsellie @filet-o-feelings

@queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights @chaosandwolves @elvensorceress @fortheloveofbuddie

@bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @saybiwithme @honestlydarkprincess @hoodie-buck

@indestructibleheart @jesuisici33 @kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @ladydorian05

@lemonzestywrites @lizzie-bennetdarcy @loserdiaz @loveyouanyway @monsterrae1

@rmd-writes @shipperqueen6 @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @statueinthestone

@slightlyobsessedwitheverything @steadfastsaturnsrings @the-likesofus @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998

@vanillahigh00 @watchyourbuck @weewootruck @welcometololaland @wikiangela

@wildlife4life @your-catfish-friend @mrs-f-darcy @drowsy-quill @a-noble-dragon

@blackandwhiteandrose and anyone else who wants to 😘

ps: if you want tagged in stuff like this click here

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

The Ghost and the Painting

What happens to Virgil after he dies in Roman's arms after the sinking? Maybe he was there in spirit all along.

----

| Ao3 |

Warnings: Major Character Death, so much sad omg. These bois are miserable, A character being trapped? idk if that needs a warning, Other than that, I don't think theres any specific warnings, this does NOT have a happy ending though let me tell you. you have been warned.

Pairings: Prinxiety

Word Count: 2004

Notes:

This one is HEAVYYYY and honestly made me cry more than writing the og titanic fic did. I am. So upset rn /pos, consider this your warning omg.

This is a continuation of Ship of Dreams, it probably wont make sense without reading it first.

Roman had told him the ship wouldn’t sink.

He didn’t blame Roman, of course, it’s not like Roman had any way of knowing what would happen. There was no way he could’ve predicted how this would end. No way he could’ve stopped this. 

There was a way he could’ve saved him, though. 

But it had been too late. 

Virgil couldn’t blame him for not turning him, despite all of his begging and pleading, Roman never would’ve done it, he knew that, and when he finally tried it had been too late. If he had been able to hold onto his life for just a few more seconds, maybe Roman could have saved him. 

For a long time, everything was dark. 

Virgil floated where he had died for a long time, he heard things distantly, he thought he heard Roman scream. Everything was so, so cold. 

That was all he could feel, cold. It was cold and everything was heavy, cold and heavy and wet too, he felt like he was floating in water - which he supposed he was, that was how he died at least. 

He was about to let go, he didn’t want to exist like this, cold and wet and heavy. Letting go was easy, slipping away from consciousness, he could go, he could leave, he didn’t know what would happen to him when he did, if he had the opportunity to stay and didn’t take it, if he let himself slip into unconsciousness would he disappear forever? Was that what he wanted? Surely it would hurt less than whatever other option he had.

He heard Roman scream.

It was distant and quiet, but the sound hurt Virgil’s ears - did he even have ears anymore? What was he anyway? Whatever, he dragged his wandering mind back to the problem at hand - even his thoughts were floaty and distant. Roman’s scream pulled him back just a little though. He had never heard Roman make a sound like that before, he didn’t like it one bit. 

He had to get back to him. He had to help, if there was anything he could do to make it okay he had to do it. 

It felt like clawing his way through a thick sludge of tar. Trying to pull himself up, trying to find something to hold onto to drag himself back. Focusing on Roman helped him push his way through, he had to get back to Roman, he had to. He couldn’t leave him behind, not like this, he couldn’t go like this. 

With renewed strength, Virgil clawed his way through the black sludge of his own mind. He felt a tug, another cry, he heard Roman, felt a connection and used it to pull himself up, to drag himself back to consciousness. He wasn’t a being, not really, he couldn’t be anymore. His body was gone, sunk in the ocean more than likely, he was a soul now, a spirit, he wasn’t tangible. 

He pulled on that connection he felt, the one through which he could hear Roman’s frantic sobs, his cries and tears - Virgil hated it, it felt like a twist in his gut, everything was wrong with that sound. He never wanted to hear it again. It felt like being torn apart, he was gone, he had left Roman completely and utterly alone. 

Another boat. He didn’t know what the boat was, but Roman was on it now, with single minded purpose he went to him. Hundreds of others were there too, many sobbing or shaking or scared, but Virgil had no care for anything but Roman, who sat curled in the corner of the lower deck, wrapped tightly in a blanket and sobbing. A member of staff stood nearby him, as though watching. Virgil tried to wipe the tears from his face, but his fingers went right through Roman’s cheeks. Virgil tried to put his hand on Roman’s cheek, he tried to curl up to his side, to do anything at all to let him know he was there, but nothing worked. The most he could do was make Roman shiver - even then he didn’t know if it was even him or if it was the cold. 

Virgil was so angry, he was angry at the world, for not allowing him to comfort the man he loved as he sobbed. Angry at the people on this other ship who spoke in whispers, calling Roman mad as they huddled in groups. Virgil wanted to scream at them, ask them how they could be so cruel after what had just happened. How could someone call another person mad, someone who had experienced the same things, Virgil couldn’t help but think about how many people here had lost someone. It wasn’t far that they would call Roman mad. 

Virgil wished, he wished and wished he could be with him for real, he wished he could stand there and hold his hand, wipe away his tears, brush his still beautiful loose hair back from his face as it was soaked by the rain. Virgil had had his ribbon in his pocket when he died, he wondered if he still had it with him.

Roman cried as the ship passed under the statue, Virgil wished Roman knew that he was here too. 

Virgil was with him as he disembarked the ship, he was with him as the officer asked his name. He broke when Roman gave Virgil’s. 

All the way back to Roman’s home Virgil wailed, he sobbed and cried, tugged along not by his own volition, only following because of the connection he seemed to have with Roman’s soul, he was pulled along as he cried and cried, as he shook and shivered and froze, tears dripped from his face and never landed, he curled up, Roman was right here and yet he missed him so, so much already. He missed his cold touch, he missed Roman’s weight on top of him when they slept - when he slept. He missed the way Roman would lift him and spin him around, even if it startled him every time, he missed how Roman would kiss the corner of his lips before spinning away, always a tease. There was no way to feel those things anymore. Virgil couldn’t even touch him, Roman couldn’t feel him, he didn’t even know he was there. Roman cried and cried and kept crying and it felt so, so unnatural. There were hardly ever tears on Roman’s face, Roman couldn’t cry, he had said so himself, he couldn’t cry properly, and yet here he was, Virgil could hear Roman’s sobs over his own. Virgil wished there was anything he could do. Anything at all. 

—-

The next time he looked up they were somewhere else. How long it had been he had no idea, how long he had been curled up sobbing for, but when he looked up they were in a room splattered with paint, messy and chaotic and full of colour just like Roman should be, just like anything Roman was should be. Even then it all looked grey. 

Virgil looked around, and on the floor he found Roman hunched over, clutching Virgil’s jacket close to him and that had him letting out another sob, Roman was still wearing his jacket, his salt stained, soaked through beaten up jacket, he loved that jacket and he had always thought Roman looked cute in it. Right now the sight just worked to tear him apart even further. 

Hands shaking, Roman held a paintbrush and palette, full of colours, black and blue and purple and white, grey and yellow. Tears still ran down Roman’s pale face, Roman’s pale cheeks were stained, his eyes had dark patches underneath, the light Virgil loved so much was gone as he painted, stroke after stroke, canvas after canvas Virgil watched them all. He watched as Virgil barely moved, he didn’t know how long Roman sat there, how many days passed, there were no windows in this room. So many times Roman had to stop, so many times Roman had dropped his paints and brought his chin to his knees and sobbed halfway through a painting, Virgil wrapped his arms around him, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face to the back of Woman's neck. He knew it did nothing, he knew Roman couldn’t feel him rub his cheek over his hair, the gesture Roman loved so much, he couldn’t do it anymore. His beloved vampire was suffering and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. 

The paintings came quickly, so quickly, Virgil could hardly comprehend them with how fast he was painting, his floaty thoughts leaving him lost as Roman finished and framed and pushed each one aside. They were all of him. Virgil touched the painting of his own face, every single one of them was him, some were of the titanic, some were before. Roman painted him on the stern of the boat, the sunset in the background, he had said he wanted to paint him like that, seeing him do so made more tears come to his eyes. He tried to pull Roman into a hug once more, once more he fell straight through. 

The last painting Roman painted was big, Roman cried the whole way through, with ink black stroke of Virgil’s hair, every dab of paint in his eyes, the tiniest details, highlights, soft colours, the morning sun shining off of his hair and making him look ethereal, holding out his hand to Roman as they walked up the gangway, he remembered, as they boarded the boat, the painted smile on his face looked so real, so happy, it had been just days ago, A week ago at most, he couldn’t imagine being that happy now. He wished there was anything he could do as he laid his hands on Roman’s shoulders, tried to kiss the top of his head. He tried so, so hard, focused all of his energy in just letting Roman feel something, he tried kissing his cheek, his lips, he tried pulling his hair and squeezing his cheeks, he tried everything, everything he could try, but nothing, still nothing, always nothing. He let out a scream of frustration and all that happened was a soft breeze blowing a strand of Roman’s hair. 

“I miss you,” Roman said softly and for half a second Virgil thought he had somehow let Roman know he was there, but Roman was laying his hand on the dried paint of Virgil’s face, the canvas, nothing real. Virgil sobbed, “I miss you so much, I - I wish you were here.”

Tears dripped down Roman’s face.

“I am here,” Virgil said, laying his hand over Roman’s on the painting, but once again it fell through, straight through into the canvas, for some reason he couldn’t pull it out again, “I’m here, Roman, I’m here, I’m here, I wish you could hear me, I miss you so much my Prince please-,”

And still Roman didn’t hear a word he said. 

“Te extraño mucho mi hermosa nube de tormenta…” Roman whispered, dragging his hand gently down the painting, Virgil sobbed, his hand was still stuck. 

“I miss you too, my handsome prince,” Virgil whispered, looking back to the painting as Roman stood slowly to find a frame, he touched the picture again and suddenly, suddenly he was falling, falling face first into it, there was no impact, he couldn’t touch a thing, he turned around and made a startled noise when behind him he could see the ship, the bridge, the people, the railings. The image from the painting, Roman’s memory, he turned, and as though through a foggy window now he could see Roman in his painting room, he was picking up the painting. He wanted to come back, he was pressing his hands against what felt like glass - there was no glass, but he still couldn’t push through, no matter how hard he tried. 

And suddenly he couldn’t see anything at all. 

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 ( if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[dawnslight-aegis]

2. horizon

Aymeric woke in the early morning hours to his bed empty and the smell of crisp, snowy mountain air overpowering the typical wood-and-fire scent of his bedchamber. With a sigh, he dragged himself from the still-warm sheets, snagged a dressing gown, and padded to the door of his balcony.

His wife was exactly where he expected to find her: perched on the stone railing, staring out at the western horizon, mug of steaming spiced tea in her hands her only ward against the cold. Melancholy seeped into his bones at the sight – he had known Kaede long enough, loved her long enough, to know exactly what her faraway expression heralded. Perhaps not today, but soon, she would be leaving again, her wanderer’s heart calling her out to the unseen distance.

Closing the balcony door quietly behind him, he crossed the distance between them, looped his arms loosely around Kaede’s torso, and was rewarded with her leaning into him without even a twitch of surprise. She was gloriously warm in his arms, as if she had been sitting by the fire, not outside in the cold Coerthan air wearing naught more than one of his shirts, and her lack of reaction to his presence told him clearly that she had heard him approach, as she normally did. Indeed, he could tell absolutely no difference in the woman in his arms now from the one who departed to Ultima Thule, the last of the lingering damage truly healed. There was no need to worry.

Not any more than he ever did, at any rate.

Pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, he murmured, “When do you leave?”

Thankfully, she did not waste either of their time dissembling or playing the fool – instead, he felt her sigh in acknowledgement. “A ship leaves from Sharlayan to Tural tomorrow. Shtola and G’raha are going, as well as all the the Turali who had their artifacts stolen. They’ve asked me to play escort. I was thinking of accepting.” Her tone was almost a question, as if unsure of his reaction.

This would be her first true journey after becoming his wife. Brief sojourns into the Void aside – and wasn’t that a ridiculous thought, that her venturing through time and space to save the world once again barely even registered to him – he had had her in his arms most nights for well over half a year, the longest span that fate had ever afforded them. But as the days grew longer and warmer, he could practically feel her restlessness building, tense and coiled beneath her skin. Taking up the viper’s arts had dispelled some of that pent-up energy, but he'd known it wouldn't last. To say that the thought of her leaving didn’t make his heart ache would be a lie, but she was who she was, and he would not have asked her to be anyone else.

Brow furrowed in mild frustration, he shifted until he could look her in the eye. “Kaede. I knew full well that a ring and a ceremony would not change your nature.”

Blue eyes flicked down to her tea, and then back to the horizon as she took another sip. Her voice was soft when she spoke again: “At times, I wish it had.”

“Well, I do not. If I wish anything, it is that I had the freedom to accompany you – I would not bind you to Ishgard merely because I am.”

Truly, the thing that galled him the most was the fact that out of everyone he loved, only he was expected to remain in one place, the solid stone around which the winds twisted as they wound their own paths through the sky. Kaede, Estinien, hells, even the normally ever-present Lucia – they cast themselves out into the world as they would, while at times it seemed he had to barter like a Lominsan fishwife for every moment of time he spent outside the city's gates.

Leaning fully against him again, Kaede tilted her head back to smile at him, her face a mixture of gratitude and apology. “No chance of you coming with me, I suppose? To… establish diplomatic relationships with another nation? It should just be a quick visit. Perhaps a moon or two.”

Thinking back to the pile of work and multiple nearly democracy-ending problems he’d come back to after their honeymoon that spring, Aymeric grimaced and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. As much as I would prefer it to be otherwise. And only you, my dear, would call crossing an ocean to explore an entirely separate continent ‘quick.’”

“Well, once I’ve seen Tentoawa and Loazenikwe back to their village, perhaps checked in on Marz and Estinien and the twins, I imagine I’ll be headed right back. Unless there’s some horrible world-ending crisis going on over there that I’m yet unaware of,” she said with a grin, but it faded as she took in the vaguely horrified expression on his face.

“My lady, with the life you lead, I dearly wish you would not tempt fate this way.”

Kaede put her teacup on the railing beside her, then turned to face him and twine her arms around his neck, drawing him down to her. “You’re right, as always. Forgive me. I can’t imagine you want to spend the morning standing around into the cold, anyway.”

Breath mingling in the space between them, Aymeric allowed a wolfish grin to come over his face as he cast a long, considering look down at the ample view of her cleavage that such an angle – and lack of proper dress – afforded him. “You’re right, as always,” he echoed back at her, and drank in the sight of her answering smile like a flower basking in summer sunlight, that it might live on through the cold dark winter. “Shall we go back to bed? Perhaps I cannot steal away to another land for a moon or more, but a leisurely morning should be well within my power. And I would not have you leave me without ample reminders of what you shall be missing.”

Lean-muscled legs curled around his hips as Kaede’s mouth found his, her attention finally, fully his, at least for the moment. For the brief span of a heartbeat, drunk on the heat and closeness of her, he thought of simply staying here, rather than lose even the fraction of time with her that it would take to get back inside, but then a rogue gust of wind made his breath catch in his throat and skin shiver. He felt, rather than heard, Kaede’s chuckle, and then nearly groaned at the loss of her warmth as she disentangled herself from his arms and hopped down from the railing, sashaying back into their bedroom with an exaggerated sway of her hips, solely for his benefit.

For one more moment he watched her, the dawn’s light catching on her scales and hair, as he committed the sight of her to memory once again, as he had dozens of times and would, Fury willing, do many, many more times to come. As soon as she disappeared inside he followed her, leaving naught but the abandoned teacup to witness the waking of his city, as the sun broke fully over her horizon.

[highlordofkrypton]

Day 5, Prompt 1 of @tamlinweek: Shapeshifter

Notes: I've already written a couple of Shapeshifter-Faerie Tamlin scenes, so I wanted to see if I could put a twist to the prompt. So, welcome to Pacific Rim!AU ACOTAR. This fic is ongoing and multi-ship.

I'll probably put the masquerade prompt in this fic, too. Trust the process 👌

Read Courting the Apocalypse on AO3 or below the cut.

THE FIRST ATTACK

They came out of nowhere—somewhere deep in the sea, a place no one could follow.

The first attack happened in Australia, on the coast, and before long the massive creature was dragging itself into the city, destroying the lives of thousands. It had taken five days for the air force to take it down, in tandem with the military, and any other goddamn fighting force at our disposal. But the damage was done.

We called these creatures kaiju.

And that first guy? That first big, ugly, fucker? We called him Hybern—a level one kaiju that came back after the winter. We thought we had him, but whatever death we saw was a retreat. He waited, recuperated and hibernated until it popped up on our sensors again.

After the first attack, we knew we needed to change. We need to get bigger, faster, stronger. We needed to defy what we were in physicality by using what set us apart as the dominant species of this planet—our brilliance. We were no longer at the top of the food chain, but not for long.

And that is how the Jaeger program was born.

Giant mech suits that allowed us to change our shape and meet those things on a level playing field. We were knights—fuck, we were goddamn superheroes. We were anything but helpless little humans once the world came together and started sharing all their innovations, coming together against a single enemy. We could be whatever we wanted, fight in whatever way felt right. Plasma guns? Check. Swords? Check. Rocket launchers? Hell yeah.

But it wasn’t always good, and it wasn’t always shit.

My father was a part of the initial Jaeger Program, and he was the commander of Western Shatterdome of the Pan-Pacific Defense Force. My brothers were rockstars. They were the first dual pilot-team—the first soldiers who were able to set aside their hangups, their wants and needs, and blend into one another as one. They became our cause, and they became everything we needed.

Until me and my co-pilot killed them.

PRESENT DAY

“You need a new partner.”

“No.”

“Tam, will you slow down.”

“No.”

The auburn-haired soldier jogs beside his friend until he can stand his way; he can barely get Tamlin to stop, and much less look at him. A thick white bandage covers his eye, and Lucien knows that’s exactly why his friend won’t look at him. He sighs, trying to catch his gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault. None of it was. Not this, not what happened back then. If that’s what’s stopping you—”

“It’s not.” Tamlin snaps, looking at the metal walls of the hallway. The shatterdome isn’t made for comfort, it’s cold, utilitarian efficiency. Right now, it’s a lot more comforting than the warmth (and forgiveness) Lucien is offering him. “I’m done.”

After two partners, both of which that ended in some kind of tragedy, Tamlin gets the message. He’s not made for this fucking life. He can’t keep his partner safe, and he sure as hell can’t help his other teammates. What? Lucien doesn’t think he knows what they say about him? The PPDC are a superstitious bunch; the rangers have their rituals, and he wouldn’t be surprised that on their next deployment, if they manage to coerce him to get into one of those godforsaken machines again, they’d steer clear of him. Bad luck is contagious.

“Just go see. Andras found her manning an abandoned model two alone. Do you know how insane that is? Do you know who the only other pilot is who did that successfully? Will you,” Lucien snaps, grabbing Tamlin’s face to look at him. “It’s not your fault. I’ve been in your head. I know that you’re beating yourself up over guilt that doesn’t belong to you. I knew what I was in for signing up for this shit.”

His amber eyes search Tamlin’s emerald ones, finding all the grief he wishes wasn’t there. Lucien sighs, shoulders slouching.

He remembers the first time he jumped into Tamlin’s head—the fear and the anger had been so overwhelming. More importantly, the desperate cry to keep others out of his head was deafening. Lucien wonders if he’s the one that’s in the wrong, if he’s asking Tamlin to sacrifice himself for ‘the cause’.

“There’s so few of us left,” he says softly. Pilot compatibility has dropped over the years. Hell, there isn’t even enough people to test. The war against these monsters has worn hope down. “Someone has to believe in the PPDC. If it could be me, you know I’d free you.”

“If it’s not you, I’m not doing it,” Tamlin says softly. “We are one.” He shaped himself to Lucien—he slotted himself against his heart and mind. To abandon Lucien is to abandon a part of himself. It has to be him.

But it can’t. The second Lucien steps into the Drift, he’ll rob both of them of their left peripheral view. He knows they could adapt; he knows that Tamlin is so damn stubborn, he’d give Lucien his sight back like a healing, avenging angel. Pair that weight along with the responsibility Tamlin feels for Lucien, he’d be taking too much of the mental load. It’s a risk that he can’t take.

Lucien pulls Tamlin close, pressing their forehads together. “Just because I’m not in there with you, doesn’t mean I won’t be there with you.”

Tamlin eases at his touch, and listens. He closes his eyes, latching onto that familiar voice that’s lived in his mind for years.

“I’ve asked for a transfer to LOCCENT. I might not be in your head, but I’ll be in your ear.” Lucien grins.

“What?" You’ve been planning this the whole time?”

“Yeah? Do I look like a quitter to you?”

No, Lucien doesn’t quit. Lucien is a fighter, through and through. To think, they’d sold Lucien to Tamlin as the failure of a legacy family, just like he was. To think, they’d made the best team—brain and brawn.

“Fine, I’ll go see her.”

“Good man,” Lucien pats Tamlin’s cheek, affectionately. His smile falters, as his hand slips to Tamlin’s shoulder. “I need you to know. He’ll be there. He’s still looking for a partner.”

Well, fuck.

[kyberblade]

Shatter - Gone Rogue (Din x Reader)

A/N: They’re back! These weirdos that I love poked my brain until I couldn’t ignore them. I really hope you love it. We have Fennec and Boba making a guest appearance, too! This is Part 3 in the Shatter-verse. The reader has a name in this fic, but that’s the only descriptor of her. Past that, nothing else, I don’t think. I still use “you” mostly, the name is only used a handful of times. This was meant to be a multi chapter fic, but it’s just not wanting to translate that way, so it’s going to be a series of one shots and a whiff of continuity. Please feel free to send me scenarios, prompts, requests for these crazy kids! Just remember to stick to the rules.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Snark, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Light swear words. Space swearing. Mando’a. Like a lot of it. (Translations at the end of each sentence as I go.) My Mandalorians do what they want. Banter. So much banter. And you’ll probably fall in love with them like I did. (I don’t make the rules.)

Word count: 11,934

Thanks to @grippingbeskar​ for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Also a shout out to @what-the-heckin-heck​, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss​, and @fordo-kixed-rex for reading it over for me as I went and telling me I wasn’t crazy. (And @deceiver-of-gods​ for helping me with the Mando’a - You’re a life saver.) (Any mistakes are my own.)

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

You twisted the wrench as you tightened the bolt under the Crest, the ship’s shadow blocking you from the scalding heat of Tatooine’s twin suns. 

“There. I think that’s it, Peli. Wanna test it out before I move?”

“Sure!” She called, jogging up the ramp and into the cockpit. Her voice came over the comm in your pocket a few seconds later, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you muttered, wiping sweat from your brow. “Wait!” The engines that had started to power up came to an abrupt halt.

“What?” Peli asked urgently.

“Do I need to have Mando hand me my helmet or something? As protection? In case, I don’t know, something pops off and flies straight for my-”

Her loud guffaw rang throughout the hangar from your comm as you glared at it, unimpressed. “You’ll be fine,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath as she muttered your words back under her breath in a fit of giggles. “Starting the engines now.”

The ship roared above you, vibrating just slightly to show its displeasure at being finely tuned. Oh well. It was better than the clunking. 

“All looks fine up here,” came her voice over the comm as the engines powered down. “You can close her up and come out. Good job.”

Smiling, you mumbled a thanks, starting to scooch out of the tight space when her voice crackled through again, making you pause.

“Hey, wait. When did you finish this interior?”

You squinted as the suns moved just enough to be in your eyes. “Um, in the last few days, I think. You mean on the lower level?”

“Yeah….” Her voice sounded distant, amazed, moving away from the comm like she was turning around.

“Within the last few days. Mando finished it up while I did the wiring with you in the cockpit.” You dragged your gloved hand down your face, bringing it up to block out the suns. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Looks very good,” she agreed. “Almost makes me wish I could go somewhere in this ship. Almost.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Din said dryly, standing by your head.

Pulling your hand down quickly, you glared up at him, reaching out to whack his leg. “Kriff! You scared me! Don’t do that!”

Peli’s laughter barked over the comm once again, soon coming around the corner to join Din’s in real time as she stood beside you. “Need some help? I can get R5 to tow you out a few feet if you need-”

You glared at her, making her snicker. “No, I’m good, thanks. I can manage.” Wiggling back a few inches, you let out a huff before holding a hand out toward Din. “Help your bodyguard out?”

“If anyone attacked right now, I’d be-”

“Don’t say it,” you grumbled.

“I mean, you’re just laying down on the job,” he continued, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you the rest of the way out before offering you a hand to help you up. 

“You’re-”

Once you were on your feet again, Din pulled you close, speaking in a low and teasing voice, “It’s a wonder no one’s snuck in here yet.”

“I was about to say the same thing,” a familiar female voice rang out behind him, making you both turn with blasters drawn. “Hello, Mando.”

“Fennec,” he said on a sigh, lowering his weapon.

“Again?!” Peli lamented. “There is a door, you know.”

“And a lovely door it is,” a familiar man’s voice drawled. A tall bald man in beskar walked up casually, one hand resting on his belt, the other cradling a matching Mandalorian helmet against his side. He tipped his head in respect towards Din. “Hello, old friend.”

You moved to stand in front of him, the man and the woman chuckling. 

“You can tell your attack dog to stand down anytime now,” the woman said in a droll tone, making her way down from the rafter she sat on.

The man laughed softly. “Attack dog? No, no, this is his shadow!” He gestured to you with his free hand. “Everyone knows the shadow of a Mandalorian is the most dangerous part, because if you’ve lingered long enough to see it, odds are you’re probably within striking distance.”

You smirked. “I don’t mind you.” Turning your blaster on the woman, you gestured to her with the weapon. “You, I’m not so crazy about, but I have a feeling that’ll change.”

Din put his hand on your shoulder, sliding it down your arm to make you lower your blaster. “Ti, this is Fennec Shand and Boba Fett.”

Disengaging your blaster, you holstered it. “The ones who gave us the piece of shi- I mean ship.”

Boba laughed loudly while Fennec rolled her eyes with a small grin. “That would be me,” he chuckled. “She was in horrible shape when I found her, but look at her now!” He gestured to the ship behind you. “Got you here in one piece and she’s sparkling.”

“Because I flew her here,” you grumbled, smiling when Boba laughed again. You liked him. He brought a joy into a room. Walking up, you offered your hand, which he took and gave a firm shake. “Ti Jyrr. Head of strategy and tactics, and temporary head of security. Also currently a bodyguard to the Mand’alor and the child until we can get back home.”

Boba’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of, where is the foundling?”

“Asleep on the ship,” Din stepped up beside you. “He’s her shadow, follows her everywhere. Tired him out early today after she convinced him to chase Peli’s droids around the hangar for a few hours.”

Peli let out a surprised huff of laughter. “That was you? That was the cutest thing I have ever seen. Plus, getting R5 to finally wind down and connect to a charging dock for once - ah! Blissful silence - you’re a magician!”

“I think it was just trying to get away from Grogu,” you smirked, shrugging. “But hey, it all worked out.” Turning back to the newcomers, you jerked your head back toward the ship. “Would you like a tour? I need to wake the kid up, anyway, or he’ll wake up right when I go to sleep and start jumping on my bed or something.”

“That would be lovely,” Boba smiled before his features adopted something a little more serious. He set his helmet on a nearby table before he brought his hands together to rest in front of him. “Then, after that, if we could have a….” He looked at Fennec before turning back to you and Din. “Discussion of sorts? A business proposition is more like it.”

Sharing a look with Din, you nodded once to him. “I can watch the kid so the three of you-”

“Oh no, this would involve you, too.” Boba’s voice made you stop short.

“I can watch the womp rat,” Peli chimed in softly, her hand raised as if you didn’t know who was speaking. “I owe ya one after you got R5 on the dock earlier.”

You shared one more look with Din before he turned to Boba and Fennec. “Sounds like a plan. Now come on. I want to show you what we did with the hyperdrive.”

Xxx

Grogu squawked across the hangar in Peli’s arms as she fed him, the sound bouncing off every surface and echoing into the cool night air.

You and Din sat across from Boba and Fennec at a small table off to the side, parts for all sorts of craft shoved out of the way so you could see one another.

“I have a proposition for you,” Boba began on a sigh, leaning forward on the table to brace on his forearms. “Someone has stolen from me. Wormed his way into my inner circle and as soon as he had an opening, made off with a small fortune in credits.”

He leaned back in his chair, lounging almost. “Now, you know the credits aren’t a problem for me, I don’t care about that.” He leaned forward again, his eyes determined as his finger jammed into the table to emphasize his words. “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“What do you want us to do about it?” Din adjusted in his seat to recline slightly, one hand resting on the table.

“We have enough people to keep the ports and ways out of town under surveillance,” Fennec took over. “He’s not going anywhere. But by keeping everything under watch, we don’t have the manpower to actually look for him.”

“And you think just the two of us is enough?” Both of them looked at you in amusement.

“Two Mandalorians is more than enough.” Boba chuckled. “He’s not a genius by any means.”

“He was smart enough to get past you.”

Din kicked your foot under the table with his own, making you roll your eyes.

Boba looked on in amusement. “That he was,” he agreed with a nod. “Probably because I don’t have someone like you keeping watch for me. Then again, we did sneak up on you today, did we not?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked across the hangar absently, not willing to dignify that with an answer.

“These things happen,” he continued, his voice softer. “I just want to make an example so it doesn’t happen again.”

“We wanted to give you first go at it before we put out a puck.” Your eyes finally landed on Fennec as she explained, a smirk growing on her face. “Figured you’d want some fun before you had to get off planet. And like Boba said, credits aren’t a problem, so your finders fee should help keep your life on the run well funded.”

“What are friends for,” Boba drawled teasingly, his focus across the table on Din.

“I’m assuming you want him alive,” he finally said after a long moment, sitting up straight in his chair.

“Preferably,” Boba nodded, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “But should something…. happen, I’m not going to deduct anything from the final total.”

“Can you send us copies of city maps we can add to our navs in our helmets?” All three heads turned to you. “It’ll be much easier if we’re not getting lost in the maze of back alleys and market stalls.”

Boba looked at Fennec before he turned back to you with an amused look and nodded.

“I’m also assuming you don’t want any damage done to the city? Or at least, as little as possible?” You turned to Din. “I have some blasters with decent stun features I picked up at the market the other day when I made a food run. Might be best to avoid the most civilian casualties and property damage, then if we get close enough to him and get a clear shot, should we need to, we can switch it over.”

“You went blaster shopping on a food run?” Din asked after a moment of silence.

You shrugged. “I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.”

“This is the way,” Boba teased.

Din groaned, making you smile. Leaning forward to offer Boba his hand across the table, they shook on it. “We have a deal. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

After getting the man’s details, talking over the prices, and getting the necessary maps, you all said goodbye.

“It was an honor to meet you,” you said as you stood beside Din near the doorway on their way out.

“The honor is all mine,” Boba said, his head inclined as he looked down at you. “I’m excited to see you work, Ti.”

“If it all goes to plan, you won’t notice a thing.”

He chuckled at that, looking to Din and bowing his head respectfully. “Mand’alor.” Then they disappeared into the night.

Turning to Din, he turned to face you before you both began walking back into the hangar. “Why don’t you go grab Grogu, let Peli get to sleep, and I’ll meet you on the ship. Show you what all I bought.”

He nodded, his steps speeding up as he headed toward the little alcove where R5’s bleeps and Grogu’s squeaks were heard echoing softly.

You went up the ramp of the Crest, going to the weapons cabinet where you had stored your recent purchases and pulled a few out.

Din padded up the ramp quietly a few minutes later, a sleeping Grogu in his arms, making you smile as he passed by. “He passed out almost as soon as she handed him off,” Din said on an amused huff.

Setting Grogu in his small hammock before he closed the door to the bunk area, he turned back to you and sighed, rubbing the top of his helmet absently. 

“What’s wrong?” You set the blasters down and turned to fully face him.

“She can’t watch him tomorrow. Has some job she agreed to before we got here.” He leaned on the wall next to the bunk door. “I used to take him with me on bounties, but….”

“That was when you were on the run because of the bounty on him. Now we’re on the run basically because of a bounty on you.” 

Din lifted his head, his visor meeting your understanding gaze, nodding gently before he looked away again.

“Hey, the bounty is basically on both of us.” You took a step closer, craning your neck back, tilting your head just slightly to try and catch his eyes. “You don’t get to take all the blame, Djarin. Whatever is going on, it’s a problem for all Mandalorians, and we aren’t the kind to just hide under a rock.” Looking over his shoulder, you studied the wall behind him. “Well, except for coverts, but we aren’t talking about that.”

He snorted out a laugh, making you return your eyes to his visor and grin up at him. “He doesn’t care. He loves spending the day with you. Just bring him with.” Your hand came to rest on his upper arm.

“I don’t want to put him in any more danger. If anything happened to him because of me, I-”

“Then I’ll take him with me.” He finally met your gaze again. “I’ll keep him safe. Do you trust me?”

After a moment Din nodded. “You know I do.”

“Then it’s settled.” You squeezed his arm before letting your hand fall back to your side. “I’ll take him in the cradle. I’ll keep him safe. Nothing will happen to him.”

Lifting his head all the way back up, Din looked behind you. Gesturing with a jut of his chin, he asked quietly, “What’s under the tarp?”

Turning to face the nearby crate draped in the dull fabric, you made your way over to it. “They didn’t know what they had. It’s all pieced out and needs a good clean, Peli might even have some parts you could replace these with if they’re too far gone, but…. I thought you might want it after all the stories you’ve told me while we’ve been working on the ship.”

“Stories?” Din looked down at the crate as you pulled the cloth away, showing old rusty pieces that put together would be an Amban rifle. 

“You mentioned you lost it with the ship, and since you have the ship again….”

Din traced the parts with one gloved hand, his fingers barely touching the storied metal pieces. 

“Since we’re fighting for our home, our values, our everything, it only seemed right that you do it with this. Thought it might help restore your faith a little bit.” You winked.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly, his hand coming to rest on your upper arm like yours had on his. “I…. This is…. Thank you.”

“Now, don’t stay up all night putting it together,” you warned. “You need sleep. And it’ll be here later.”

He looked at you with a tilt of his head that said, you’re crazy.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You smirked. “I’ll help.”

Xxx

As the suns began to peek over the lip of the hangar the next morning, Din stood just inside the Crest admiring the completed Amban rifle.

He held it in his hands, tilting it back and forth to see it from all angles, his head tilting fondly the longer he stared. 

Letting out a massive yawn from where you sat on a nearby crate, you smirked at him. “Why don’t you just ask it to marry you already? That’d be faster than whatever this is.” You made a small circular gesture to him with your hand, arching your brow when he lifted his visor to look at you for the first time in hours.

Before he could say anything, the bunk door slid open to your right, Grogu already bright eyed and chittering happily after a good night's rest.

“Jate vaar'tur, ad’ika,” you said softly, yawning again as you reached for the tiny green creature ambling over to you as fast as his little legs would carry him. “Did you sleep well?” Reaching down, you scooped him into your lap, chuckling when he screeched joyfully. (“Good morning, little one.”)

The kid reached out and grabbed the mudhorn pendant you wore, his eyes going wide as it caught the light just right, before he promptly began gnawing on it.

“Kid,” Din groaned. “Hey. Stop that. Grogu.” He began to walk over, reaching out to tug the metal out of his son’s mouth. “That’s not what that’s for, kid.”

Making a sound of displeasure, Grogu looked between both of you before trying to take his new toy back from between Din’s fingers, letting out an annoyed huff and glaring up at his father when it was pulled further away from him.

“It’s too sharp, ad’ika. You could get hurt.” Grogu looked up at you with the biggest eyes you’d seen yet, blinking slowly as if to plead with you to give in. “I know. How about we get you some food instead?” A laugh painted the last few words as Grogu’s face changed instantly and he began trying to scale your front to get face to face with you, slipping down your chest plate with a screech.

It quickly melted into another yawn, Grogu following suit a few seconds later, and Din a few moments after that. 

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “I’ll get him something to eat, and grab a cup or seven of caf. Want some?” Din nodded, turning back to admiring his rifle again, making you roll your eyes as you began down the ramp. “I’ll be right back. Give you two a moment alone.”

Din mumbled his thanks, not looking up from the weapon as you glanced over your shoulder, smirking.

Headed for the kitchen, you mumbled almost conspiratorially to Grogu, “Your dad is something else, kid.”

Xxx

As your little clan of three stepped through the door of the hangar, Peli’s voice sending you on your way ringing off of every hard surface behind you, both you and Din shared a look before turning to the kid where he sat in his floating cradle.

“You got that set to stun?” Motioning to Din’s new Amban rifle that sat on his back, attached to a leather strap slung across his chest, you tightened your gloves.

He nodded once in confirmation, his head slowly turning to survey the nearby area.

“What about everything else?”

His visor turned to lock with yours. “All but one. I’m not leaving myself defenseless.”

You let out a snort of laughter. “I think if anyone had to use a word to describe you, ‘defenseless’ wouldn’t be on the list, even if you didn’t have a single weapon.”

“Then remind me the purpose of your job, then, if I don’t need protecting?” You tilted your head at him in annoyance. “I like to be prepared,” he amended, pulling your hand toward his and fixing the clasp on your glove you had been fiddling with. “What did you do to this? It’s like it’s been through a trash compactor.”

You couldn’t help but snort once again. “Not far off. R5 rolled over it a grand total of three times before I could get him to stop moving- hey!” You cried in protest as he yanked the buckle from the fabric with a precise tug, tucking it into the pouch on his belt and tying a simple but effective knot in its place.

“I’ll fix it before we leave. But right now, you need to focus, and you can’t if you have a buckle- if it can even still be called that- flopping around while you're trying to aim.” Cinching the knot tight, he let your hand fall back to your side. “There. Ready to go, ner cabur?” (“My protector.”)

You shook your head at his antics. “Elek, olaror, ner verd'ika.” (“Yes, come, my little soldier.”)

Din scoffed at your teasing tone, following a few paces behind as you both ventured into the market, the kid following alongside you in his cradle. “Mir'sheb.” (“Smartass.”)

“The smartest,” you quipped playfully, looking at the kid with an affectionate tilt of your head as he grinned broadly back up at you.

“Sheb'urcyin,” Din grumbled, making you bark out a laugh. (“Butt-kisser.”)

Looking at him over your shoulder as you continued forward, you spoke over a laugh, your words bouncing with the effort. “Now what about me has ever made you think that?”

“You’re right. Your pure shereshoy blinded me for a minute and I had to look away. I only saw what the sarcasm allowed.” (“Lust for life and much more.”)

You turned to face him, walking backwards, your voice the most sarcastic he had heard it in days. “Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” (“Are you looking for a smack in the face, mate?”)

Din smiled under his helmet, glad to finally be back to the banter the two of you had slipped into since first going on the run days ago. The closer it got to leaving Tatooine, the more business minded and mission oriented you had been, focused on making everything run smoothly for all three of them, and it seemed to come at the cost of some of your lighter moods. Seeing the teasing tilt of your helmet now, the almost literal spring in your step, hearing the lilt in your voice…. The world was spinning the right way again. “Now, now, don’t be stupid, that would be a jare move.” (“Kamikaze - someone taking a fatal, foolish risk.”)

Barking out another laugh, you turned to walk forward again, Din shaking his head fondly once your back was turned. “I’ll show you a jare move,” you grumbled.

Grogu began to coo happily as he looked between the two of you, giggling softly as he looked up at you with a broad grin, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight.

Looking down at him, you huffed out a laugh. “You think that’s funny, ad’ika? You think I’m funny when I threaten your dad?” He giggled again. “That’s kinda copikla, kid.” (“Cute.”)

“Be careful who you jurkadir, burc'ya.” (“Threaten/Mess with.”) (“Friend.”)

You turned to face him, your hands held behind your back in feigned innocence as you leaned toward him to tease, “That works both ways, burc'ya.”

“Sha'kajir?” Din held up his hands in surrender. (“Truce?”)

You thought for a moment before bowing your head in agreement. “Sha'kajir. Oya!” (“Let’s hunt!”)

“Should we split up?” Din stepped up beside you, surveying the sea of market stalls sprawling in front of you.

“Not yet. Let’s move as a unit for now, let everyone see us together. Then, later I’ll take the market while you take the alleys, and if we happen upon him- or anyone else who wants to cause us trouble- they’ll assume the other is nearby and they’ll be distracted looking for someone who isn’t there.”

Nodding, Din followed behind you as you started into the crowd, people watching your little party with weary glances, but they didn’t keep their distance like people on other planets tended to do.

It only took a few minutes before you stopped and turned to Din, your voice low. “I see him. He’s in the cantina.”

Looking to his left, Din saw the man sitting at the bar, surrounded by a group of locals, all guffawing as he told some story. “Too many other people. We’ll tail him.” Reaching up to touch the side of his helmet, he overlaid the map of the alleys behind the building. “I’ll go around the back and wait, make sure he doesn’t get spooked and try to run.”

“What are they even laughing at?” You muttered, staring blatantly into the dingy watering hole. “He’s probably not even that funny.”

“Why do you say that?”

You looked up at him. “Have you seen his face?” Turning back to the bar, you shifted your weight to one side. “He just doesn’t have it.”

Din let out a snort. “They’re probably just doing whatever gets them another drink. Looks like he’s waving his new found wealth around without much worry.”

“Di'kut,” you grumbled, moving to lean your back against the front of the building with a soft groan. (“Idiot.”)

“Kaysh mirsh solus,” Din agreed with a chuckle, stepping into the shade next to you. (“He's an idiot.” (Lit. “His brain cell is lonely.”))

“Go ahead and wait by the back door. I’ll stay here with the kid.”

“And what’s going to keep you out of trouble? You’re not known for being the best at waiting.”

You turned your face to him slowly, ignoring his satisfied shift of weight, the teasing tilt of his helmet as he waited for your response. “Myself,” you grit out, leaning your head back to look down your nose at him.

Turning your attention back across the street, you saw a little nest of scurriers tucked under one of the booths. Tilting your hand until the suns caught the armor on the back of it just right, light reflecting off the raw beskar triangle and bouncing onto the sand near the nest. The creatures lifted their heads, cautiously investigating the light as it danced with every slight movement of your hand, running in circles as you made it go this way and that.

The kid watched with rapt attention, clapping and squealing with delight as the scurriers stumbled over one another in an effort to catch the light.

Turning your visor up to Din proudly, you paused when he tilted his head down to peer what felt like straight into your soul.

“What? Oh, come on! It’s harmless!”

“Ner ver'gebuir, anade.” Din gestured to you with a flourish, bowing at his waist in a mock introduction to no one as he spoke in a low tone. (“My bodyguard, everyone.”)

You pulled your hand back into the shadow of the building to shove him to the side, the scurriers following the light as it streaked across the market, making a cart pulled by a droid slam to a stop to avoid hitting the creatures. All was well until a landspeeder crashed into the back of that cart, then a speeder bike into the back of that.

Smoke curled into the marketplace, causing patrons to begin to vacate, the passengers of the vehicles involved all hopping out and beginning to yell at one another as the scurriers returned to their nest safe and forgotten.

People in all the nearby establishments began to pour into the streets to see what the commotion was, the lane filling with bodies faster than you could process what was happening.

“Kriff,” you mumbled, taking in the scene before adding a hissed, “Osik!” Turning you surveyed the bar, finding no sign of the quarry. (“Shit!”) 

“Dank farrik!” Din grumbled, taking a few steps out onto the street and pressing the side of his helmet as he scanned the crowd.

“What are you looking for? Heat signatures will be useless right now. It’s Tatooine, so it’s hot, plus everyone and their bantha is on the street right now-”

“K'uur!” Din snapped, making you pull up abruptly from where you stood, standing at attention. (“Hush!”)

“Me'ven?” You deadpanned, staring right at him. (“Huh?”)

He sighed, still surveying the street. “I need to concentrate. Please. Just five seconds of silence.”

Pushing a button on your vambrace, you closed the cradle to protect the child, but a repetitive knocking from inside made you roll your eyes and pop it back open. Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at the kid, one hip jutting out to the side as you gave him the look. 

“Really?” You signed to him in Tusken, shifting your weight to the other side when he giggled in response.

“I think he took the alleys,” Din finally said, turning to face you, and finding the kid giggling as you signed away to him. “Ti,” he grabbed your attention, ignoring the attitude he felt when you tilted your head at him questioningly. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you signed, standing up straight again.

“That’s not nothing, that’s-”

“Uur,” you whispered sarcastically in explanation, leaning toward him as you did. (“Silence.”)

Din huffed in annoyance. “I had his chain code programmed to an old puck Fennec brought me. I rerouted it and sent the signal to my display so I can track him without tipping off the mark, or anyone seeing the fob and getting in the way.”

You stared at him. It was all you could do. Arms still across your chest, you shifted your weight under his gaze. “Is there a way I can get my hands on that, too?” Your voice was small, and you hated it.

He reached out, tapping the side of your helmet twice, and your display filtered through settings before landing on a blinking red dot moving rapidly back behind the buildings to your right. 

“I did it last night when you fell asleep while we were putting the rifle together. You left your helmet on a crate next to you. Only took a second, in and out, no problems.”

“I didn’t-”

“You drool.”

Again, all you could do was stare wordlessly, hoping your brain would catch up with something in time to snap back with. And it did. “You snore louder than a kriffing bantha fart.”

Din just held your gaze, neither one of you moving an inch as the child babbled mindlessly, watching the chaos ensue throughout the streets. “Sounds like we’re both a party, then.”

“Bal'ban,” you mused quietly in agreement, huffing out a small laugh. (“Indeed.”)

This was the most Mando’a the two of you had spoken since leaving Mandalore days ago. Slipping into it was effortless, and it helped logistically in the chaotic din left behind by the accident. It was easy to pick out the familiar words above the rest of the noise, allowing both of you to communicate painlessly.

Din chuckled, nodding as he turned to find the bounty again. “He’s moving toward the port. Fennec and Boba said they have the area well guarded, so he won’t get far, but I think it best we split up and head him off before he tries anything stupid.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” you muttered. “Man’s a or'dinii. Stole from the richest man in the city, okay, kinda smart. But that man is also a crime boss who wears beskar, and is probably one of the most lethal people on the planet, present company excluded.” (“Moron.”)

“Comms channel two. Head to the port through the streets, I’ll go through the alleys like we planned.” Din turned to the kid, sighing heavily after a moment.

Narrowing your brows, you followed his gaze and found Grogu letting out soft happy squeals as the cradle spun in circles by some unseen force. 

Moving as a unit, both you and Din reached out to grab the sides of the hovering orb, bringing it to a gentle stop, Grogu’s head still moving in a small rotation as the world continued to spin around him.

“At least he can entertain himself. And quietly,” you chuckled, turning your attention from the little green ward back up to Din’s visor. 

“Mmm-hmm,” he agreed on a hum, moving his hand from the edge of the cradle to his son to stabilize his still woozy wobbling, tugging down the front of his robe about an inch to check he had the beskar shirt on.

“I put it on him myself, Mando.” Din’s visor turned to you as he let the robe go, smoothing the fabric back in place before withdrawing his hand altogether. “He’ll be safe. I promise. He’s my aliit now, too, remember.” Din nodded once. “You have my word, no harm will come to him.” (“Family/Clan.”)

You couldn’t help but smile. Here was this large, dangerous Mandalorian, and his level of care and concern for arguably the smallest little ward in the galaxy never failed to make you stop and stare. Their meeting went beyond just fate, beyond just chance bringing a protector to a child in need. Something greater was at work here, bringing two lonely, damaged souls together to help pick up one another’s pieces. 

They were forged with fire, stronger than any beskar, hardened and tempered against the strongest of tests. And now not even the greatest blacksmith in the galaxy would be able to pry these two apart. But it loved to try. And you’d do everything in your power to keep them from breaking, keep them strong, no matter the cost. Ne shab'rud'mhi. (“Don't mess with us.”)

You smiled broader at the thought of staring fate down in the face, should it ever try to do your family harm. Ne shab'rud'ni. (“Don't mess with me.”) 

“Now go.”

Din took a few steps backwards, keeping his eyes on you, then the kid, before turning and disappearing down an alley, the smoke from the accident curling around him.

“You saw everything!” A man walked up to you, covered in black streaks of soot and smoke, probably grease from whichever of the three vehicles involved was his. “I need you to tell the authorities.”

Reaching out, you patted his shoulder in what he probably took for kindness, but you were just tamping out some embers smoldering through his tunic. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have the time. I-”

“I wasn’t asking,” he ground out, grabbing your wrist where your hand still sat on his shoulder, squeezing it much too tightly. He gave it a good jerk toward the wreck, but you pulled back, making him stumble, before turning a glare on you.

Without fuss, you adjusted your grip on him and yanked him to you, stooping down slightly while swinging your arm before straightening back up as he flipped in the air, landing flat on his back at your feet with an oomph.

You looked down at him, unamused, as Grogu peered over the edge of the cradle, cooing gleefully. 

“I said,” you leaned just slightly closer to him, tilting your head when he flinched away, “no.”

Lifting your visor back to the streets, you switched your display to the city map, overlaying it with the tracker with a press of a button on your vambrace. Another press opened comm channel two. “You there?”

“What took you so long?” Din sounded relieved as you began to venture through the mess of market stalls toward your target. 

“Don’t worry about it. Locals,” you brushed off, turning abruptly to bypass a thick group of pedestrians.

He grunted. “Explain.”

“Someone wanted me to make a statement about the accident,” you sighed, navigating back to the main road. “Didn’t understand the word ‘no’.”

“How did you explain it to them?”

You grinned. “You know me. It was fast and only slightly painful.”

“Ti, you better not have-”

“I didn’t kill him,” you protested loudly, veering to the right. “Why did you jump to that?”

“Have you met you?”

“No. No, I haven’t. How am I? Am I great? I hear I’m amazing.” He let out a soft snort. “Yes. I can confirm, I’m amazing. I live up to the hype.”

Din’s soft chuckle filled your ears before a blaster shot replaced it, making you pull up short.

“Din?” He didn’t answer. “What’s going on?”

“Kriffing Jawas,” he grumbled. “Tried to jump me and take my jet pack.”

You snorted, shaking your head gently as you began moving again. “At least tell me-”

“It was set to stun,” he ground out as if the thought was physically painful to him, making you laugh a bit harder. “I know why you jumped to that.”

“Good, so you’ve met you.” Teasing, you pushed another button and a yellow dot popped up showing Din’s location.

“Yes. I can confirm, I’m amazing. I live up to the hype.”

“That’s what you think,” you mumbled under your breath, smiling again when he hummed in question. “Nothing.” Stopping, you watched the red dot start to head in a totally different direction. “He’s deviating.”

“I see. Looks like he’s doubling back. Headed your way.”

Nodding, you turned and headed back the way you came. “I’ll cut him off at the bar. The accident mess will add enough cover to not draw attention to us.”

“Good idea. Plus, then you can give your statement.”

“Nu draar.” Din chuckled at your response. “I would rather eat a mouthful of this sand.” (“Absolutely not.”)

“That’s commitment.”

“You sound like you speak from experience. You ever gotten a mouthful of Tatooine before?”

“Once or twice. I did kill a krayt dragon not long ago, remember.”

“How can I forget? You tell that story at least once a week if not more.”

Din grumbled.

“At the rate you’re moving, we’ll be at the bar at the same time.”

“How do you…. You’re tracking me?”

Dodging under a cart as it crossed the road in front of you, sliding on the sand in its shadow before hopping back up, you smiled at Grogu’s happy squeal of approval at your side. “You sound surprised. Of course I am. You and the child are my first priority.” Glancing over at the green smiling face at your side, wide eyes taking in the world around him, you moved a bit faster. “You aren’t the only one who did some display modification last night. I ran the upload while I was comforting Grogu after his nightmare.”

“How-”

“I have two hands. He fits in one, I can press buttons with the other-”

Din’s heavy sigh cut you off. “No, how are you tracking me? Chain code?”

“It’s a program I made a few days ago before we even left Mandalore, believe it or not. Chain codes would be too dangerous if anyone got their hands on it, especially for the kid. Too universal of a tracker. This is a regional proximity sensor, condensed to a certain mile radius I can set each time I open it. Right now it’s just three miles, the size of the city from the port to the hangar. It’s following your comm. Specifically the one in your helmet.”

He hesitated. “When did you-”

“I told you. You snore. Loudly.” He said nothing. “You didn’t wake up the entire time I plugged in, uploaded, modified…. You just kept snoring away under that dome, oblivious.” You grinned. “You’re lucky I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“I think that would have woken me up,” he huffed. 

“Would it have, though?” The smile grew in the silence. “I’m good at my job, remember.”

“How can I forget? You remind me at least once a week if not more.”

It was your turn to grumble. 

The bar was just up ahead, the red dot of the quarry now still behind a few buildings to the right. “He’s stopped. The area behind the accident. Maybe he’s not so stupid after all….”

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to admire him.”

“Why? You jealous, Djarin?”

“No,” he answered after a moment. “Just…. Concerned. You called him a moron less than an hour ago.”

“Even morons have their moments,” you said absently, turning in a circle as you searched for a clear way to the target. 

That’s when you saw him.

He was leaning up against a wall, arms crossed easily, ankles crossed leisurely as he watched them begin to pull the vehicles apart, a small grin on his face. 

“He’s here.”

“What?” Din must have stopped, because his voice no longer shook from the impact of his footfalls. A quick glance showed his yellow dot was indeed stationary. “But the tracker-”

“Is wrong. I’m looking right at him.” 

Just then he looked up and held the gaze of your visor for a long moment, realization dawning on his face before he pushed off the wall and turned down the alley, disappearing in the smoke just like Din had. 

“Osi'kyr!” You took off running after him, pressing a button on your vambrace to make the cradle go faster, shaking your head when Grogu let out an approving cackle. (“Strong exclamation of surprise or dismay.”)

“Ti?” Din’s voice rang in your helmet, and he was once again in motion, grunting as he dodged around the many obstacles Tatooine always provided. “Which way?”

“South. Turn your display off and back on, it should reset. I don’t have time, I have eyes on him, I’m not losing that.” Jumping over a large crate, you had to vault over an even larger one on the other side, and your feet went out from under you when you landed, making you roll before quickly popping back up and resuming the chase. “The sand tastes like shit, by the way.”

A soft laugh filled your helmet, growing steadily with each second.

“Never give Tatooine an ultimatum. She’ll make sure you eat your words. Literally.”

Smacking your lips in distaste, trying to get rid of as much of the grit as you could without doing anything to your helmet and losing sight of the target, you made a sound of disgust. 

“Was that for my joke or the sand?”

You chuckled, licking your lips as you ran faster still. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The cradle kicked up a notch, speeding along beside you, dodging crates and civilians with ease. Grogu screeched with excitement, holding on to the front rim of the orb as his ears flapped behind him in the wind.

“Display is back up. He’s right in front of you.”

“I can see that, thanks.”

He huffed. “You have a dead end coming up. Two turns to the left and one to the right. Corral him there.”

Nodding, you turned sideways to shimmy past two tight walls. “Got it.”

The quarry was desperate, throwing whatever he could get his hands on at you, clothes on lines between buildings, pottery in people’s windows, contents people were carrying. 

You’d successfully dodged all of it, the kid too, his cradle swinging left and right as you ducked and rolled out of the way, making him let out little grunts from the impact of each abrupt direction change. Until a white shirt came flying toward the cradle, covering the kid from top to bottom, forming to him like carbonite from the force of the wind behind it. The impact cut his scream of glee short, silence ringing through the alley as your steps slowed just slightly, your attention turning to him, assessing him for injuries. Suddenly giggles started erupting from under the material, growing by the second, and finally the shirt flew off of him by an unseen force, drifting to the ground lazily as it was released. Grogu looked at you with pure joy, babbling something as he gestured toward the man with one clawed hand, the quarry’s steps slowing down as he looked down at the ground with wide eyes.

“Thanks, kid,” you chuckled, speeding back up, the cradle matching your speed as Grogu gripped the edges again, the bounty regaining control of his limbs and charging ahead. “You’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

“Patu!” You grinned at his declaration, his own smile beaming up at you before he began to squeal again as you picked up speed.

The man kept glancing over his shoulder, stumbling when he did, but he’d gain the ground right back when he turned back the right way, making you grunt in frustration.

“You’re almost to the dead end.”

“Kriff! Son of a mudscuffer!” You hissed. “I forgot you were there, Din. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he sounded almost sheepish, before he began again abruptly. “Right! Right! Get him to go right!”

“Hey! Asshole!” The man’s steps stuttered before he leaned into it again. “Whatever you do, don’t you dare go right!”

He hesitated, slowing just slightly, and you matched him, wanting to give him the illusion of control. Finally he came to a stop, turning to face you, a skeptical eyebrow raised as he asked, “Why?”

You grinned under your helmet, trying to control the glee in your voice that he was falling for the trap. Stopping a few yards away from him, you slouched slightly, feigning catching your breath. “Because I can’t follow you there. My nav stops at this point and I’d be going in blind. Help a girl out, huh?” You held your hands out to the side, showing you didn’t have a weapon drawn. Grogu cooed questioningly as he tilted his head at the man.

“Well, in that case, I think that’s exactly where I’ll go.” He grinned.

“No,” you cried out, trying to sound convincing, and starting to head his way again, stumbling slightly for dramatic effect with a hand reached toward him as if it would do any good.

When he disappeared down the dark alley, you dropped all pretenses. “Or'dinii,” you muttered under your breath, watching after him. “Headed for the dead end, Din.” No answer. “Din?” Looking around, you saw his yellow dot stalled nearby, his comm crackling through. (“Fool.”)

A growled, “Jawas,” was all you heard, before some grunting, the comm crackling in and out, then the telltale “Utinni!” made you roll your eyes before you headed into the darkness after the mark.

“So long as I don’t hear the….” A distinct shot echoed in a nearby alley, making you lift your hand to cradle your face, shaking your head. “….Amban rifle.”

You walked up slowly, casually, enjoying the sight of the quarry staring up at the dead end, frantically trying to find a way up and over the massive wall. One hand resting on your hip as it juts to the side easily, you watched for a moment in amusement before clearing your throat. 

The mark went stiff before turning to face you, glowering fiercely. “Couldn’t come this far, huh?”

“To be fair,” you began, gesturing needlessly with your free hand as you spoke, “I did tell you not to come over here.”

He huffed an unamused laugh as he looked off to the side, ignoring the sound of a shrieking Jawa somewhere a few buildings over. 

Din’s yellow dot still blinked steadily despite the broken connection, and it seemed he was finally making his way over to you. You just had to stall.

“I’m assuming this is because I stole the credits?”

“That would be correct.”

“How much is my bounty?”

You tilted your head at him in amusement. “More than you took.”

“Okay, look lady,” he was starting to get desperate. “If you let me go, I’ll give you what I have left, plus interest!”

“Interest?”

“I didn’t just steal from Fett! I’ve been making my way across all the crime families of Tatooine. I’ve got a mountain of credits back at my place, stashed under the floorboards.”

“Gar cuyi or’dinii,” you whispered under your breath, but he heard you. He must have thought it was an exclamation of joy or disbelief at the information, though, because he simply smiled smugly, nodding as he offered a quiet, “It’s true.” (“You’re a moron.”)

And, well, you couldn’t really disagree.

“Where is this place?” You asked instead, jutting your chin toward him as he began to smirk.

“Right beside the bar across the street from where you first found me. There’s enough there for you to buy anything you want. New armor….” Din’s yellow dot was coming in fast. “A new ship….” He was almost here. “A friend for your, er,” he eyed Grogu, the child narrowing his eyes at him, unamused, “pet….” He finally decided on, earning a grunt from the kid.

“He’s not a pet,” you corrected calmly, taking a step closer to the man, and his smug demeanor all but crumbled instantly.

“I’m not scared of you!”

“I’m not the one you need to be worried about,” you replied simply with a shrug. Tilting your head back and to the right, you smiled under the beskar. “It’s his kid.”

The bounty barely had time to register your words, mumbling, “Kid? What is that thing?” before Din’s armor clad fist was slamming into his face with a clang.

As the engine of his jet pack powered down, Din took a few extra steps from the momentum before stopping, breathing heavily like he had just got out of a fight for his life. “We don’t know,” he said decidedly to the unconscious man. “But he’s my son.” 

“Utreekov,” you muttered, nudging the man with the toe of your boot. (“Idiot.”)

Slapping binders on the quarry, Din slung the man over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Kriffing Jawas,” he seethed, shaking his head before taking off again with his jet pack.

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t have one of those, why?!”

Din just laughed softly, the sound buzzing around the inside of your helmet.

Looking up as he disappeared over the buildings, his cape flapped dangerously close to the flames. “You’re just a fire hazard!”

Xxx

Boba and Fennec were there to meet you once you returned to the hangar. 

Peli was blushing at something the older man was saying, waving him off with a quick laugh as she turned to see your clan of three come through the door. 

“Oh, thank the Force, you’re all alive!”

“You thought we wouldn’t be?”

“With you I never know.” She leveled you with a look.

Din let the man flop to the floor unceremoniously, leaving him in the heap he landed in. “Here’s your thief.”

“That’s him alright,” Boba sighed, turning the bounty onto his back with a shove to his shoulder from his boot. “Thank you.” His eyes flicked between you and Din. “I heard about an accident by the cantina. That didn’t happen to be either of you, by chance?”

Din shook his head wordlessly while you copied him a few seconds later, adding, “No. Saw it happen, though. They swerved to avoid some wildlife.”

Boba nodded, looking between you both for a long moment. “Okay, then.” He began to turn away, but you stopped him.

“Wait.” He paused, looking at you with a curious tilt of his head. “The quarry spoke to me at the end, tried to bribe me. I think you might be interested in what he had to say.”

Boba gestured for you to continue with a bob of his head. “Go on.”

“He said he’s been making his way through the crime families of Tatooine. Offered to give me what was left of your credits plus interest.” You explained the rest about his house and stash, their faces a mix between frustration and surprise the further along you got. “He seemed to be telling the truth, but I wanted to know what you both thought before moving on it.” 

They exchanged loaded glances before asking you to go look into it. “Take Fennec, she’ll get you out of any locals asking too many questions. We’re from Mos Espa, but they know us here, too. Mando, I’ll help you get this one,” Boba shoved the man’s shoulder with the tip of his boot, earning a groan from his still unconscious state, “to my cells.”

“I’ll watch the kid,” Peli offered softly, pulling the cradle to her as Grogu snored gently.

Nodding, you turned and followed Fennec out the front door of the hangar. 

Xxx

Knocking on the door of the house, just as a precaution, you slammed your shoulder into it when nobody answered, busting it open. It was sparsely furnished, the only real defining thing a giant rug over the middle of the floor. Letting out a huff of laughter, you shook your head as you knelt down, flipping the corner back as you scanned the bare floor with your display, looking for a varying heat signature. Finding it near the middle of the rug after you pushed more of it to the side, you pried a board up, slipping the rest out easily and handing them to Fennec to set to the side. Pulling back once they were all removed, you let out a low whistle. 

Sure enough, under the floorboards there was a pile of credits, almost tall enough for you to stick your arm in up to your shoulder, and wide enough it’d take two containers to get it out. The ground underneath had been dug out, leaving behind a hole filled nearly to the brim. 

“He’s been a busy little thief, hasn’t he,” Fennec mused quietly as she stared at the glinting pile of credits with wide eyes. 

“Too bad he wasn’t also a smart one.”

Turning your visor her way, you met Fennec’s gaze in silence, holding it for a moment before you both broke down in snorts of laughter, warm chuckles filling the night air.

She sat back on her haunches, grunting as she settled in. “You know, I’ll admit, I was a little leery at the beginning. I’ve worked with Mando before, I didn’t really know why we needed you, too.” 

Turning your visor back to the pile of credits, she was quick to continue.

“But,” she said pointedly, “Boba was quick to help me see the error of my ways.” Smiling fondly, she waited until you turned your gaze back her way before saying anything more. “You two work well together.”

“He’s easy to work with,” you countered with a shrug.

“No he’s not,” she said with a snort, making you shake your head as you chuckled. “But he’s a good man. A good leader. And he loves that little foundling with a love that’s dangerous for anyone willing to get between them.”

“I would never do that,” you said quietly. “They belong together.”

“I’m not saying you would, but you’re quickly becoming someone he shares that same type of devotion for.” She reached out and took the mudhorn pendant around your neck between her thumb and index finger, a smile beginning up her face, her voice softening to something almost friendly. “And I’m beginning to understand why.”

Taking the mudhorn between your own fingers as you looked at it, you grinned. “Just a few days ago he couldn’t stand me, believe it or not.”

“Not,” Fennec huffed on a laugh, turning to look at you after another moment of silence. “I’ve known Mando for a while now, and he’s just…. like that. It’s hard for him to show his emotions sometimes. Boba, too. The way they grew up…. Well, I don’t have to tell you. I’m assuming you probably had the same type of childhood.”

Hesitating, you finally nodded briefly, looking down to your hands in your lap where you sat on the floor beside her.

“They don’t trust easily, they love fiercely, and they don’t do anything halfway. It’s all they’ve known. If you’re lucky enough to be welcomed into their circle,” she tugged the pendant lightly, “into their family,” she sat back as she continued, “there’s something special they see in you, something worthwhile, and you just need to keep being yourself to live up to that everyday.”

When you lifted your visor back up to meet her eyes, she smiled kindly.

“So, like I said, not. He was probably just watching and waiting for the right time.”

“Grogu is my little shadow. I think he was just relieved someone bought him five minutes alone.”

She threw her head back and laughed, her hand lightly gripping your upper arm. When her gaze landed back on you, a mischievous smirk took over her features. “I could be wrong. Maybe he was just waiting to ask you to be a babysitter full time,” you snickered, “but I’m thinking that signet tells a different story.”

Fennec reached into her pocket for her comm, mumbling something about needing to call Boba, but you held up your hand to stop her. “I have a secure connection straight to the comm in Mando’s helmet. Guaranteed private, and he’s with Boba. Let me call him and relay the information.”

She nodded, tucking her comm back into her belt.

Pressing the side of your helmet, you waited until you heard it connect. “Mando?”

“Ti? Everything alright?”

Pressing a button on your vambrace to project the conversation through your modulator so Fennec could hear, too, you nodded. “Yeah, we’re fine. We found the credits. What should we do now?”

“Hold on, I’ll ask him.” Silence filled the room before he came back. “How much is there?”

“Enough to fund your life on the run for over a decade, comfortably,” Fennec said dryly, her eyes darting across the pile of credits as she did some quick math. “Very comfortably.”

Silence again filled the line as you assumed he was relaying the amount to Boba in a much more concise manner. Finally his voice crackled back over the line. “He said he’ll send the Mods to come pick it up. Wait for them then leave and go back to the hangar when they get there.”

“They don’t need protection?” You had no idea who they were, but this was a lot of money to just let someone move without any sort of backup.

Fennec grinned. “They can take care of themselves.”

Xxx

The Mods dropped it off at the hangar a few hours later and left, leaving the five of you standing around the two containers, staring in silence at the mass of credits just sitting there.

Peli let out a low whistle like you had when you’d found the stash.

“How does someone steal this much and not get noticed?” Din’s voice was thick with disbelief.

“Little by little,” you answered, looking up at him when you felt his visor turn to you.

Looking at him for the first time today without your own visor in the way, you scanned over his armor, noticing a few scorch marks, and some scuff marks near his jet pack.

You smiled. “Those Jawas really did a number on you, didn’t they?” Reaching out, you tried to rub one of the scuffs away with your glove, digging your thumb into his beskar. 

Reaching up, he grabbed your wrist gently, turning it toward him with a soft grunt. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled, untying the knot he’d tied to keep your glove on earlier. He pulled something out of the pouch on his belt and began attaching it. “Fixed this for you.” When he let his hands fall to his sides after he finished, you saw it was the buckle he’d torn off this morning. “Don’t let R5 get this one,” he joked.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, looking up at him with a smile as he nodded at you before he turned back to the pile of credits. Your eyes darted across the containers in front of you to find Fennec already looking at you, a sly smirk already firmly on her face.

“Told ya,” she said lightly.

“What?” Boba asked, looking across his shoulder at her.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Nothing. I was just saying,” she gestured to the credits, her gaze falling back to them before lifting to yours. “I told ya it’s a lot.”

Boba nodded, turning back to the credits, not noticing the look Fennec gave you, eyebrows raised. “I’ve not heard anything about this money going missing from the other families. It could be they are just keeping it quiet, in which case, letting them know you know is just adding another enemy to your list.”

Din looked between the older man and Fennec. “So what do we do?”

Shrugging, Boba looked at him as if the answer were obvious. “Keep it.”

As he took a few steps back, Din shook his head, lifting his hands to begin gesturing as he spoke. “No. Absolutely not. We don’t need this much.”

Shrugging yet again, Boba sighed, arms crossing over his chest as he stared at the pile of credits like it was a problematic hyperdrive instead of the not so small fortune it was. “Fine.” He let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll take back what was stolen from me.”

Din took the few steps back toward the pile he’d pulled away. “That still is beyond too much.”

Turning to your friend who had been silent this whole exchange, you began speaking before either of the other Mandalorians could start in again. “Peli?” Her head snapped up to look at you, eyes wide. Separating a small stack of credits from the pile, you pushed them her way with the toe of your boot. “Would this cover your hangar fees for say, a year?”

Eyes wide, Peli gulped as she stared at the smaller pile, her gaze darting back up to yours as she nodded emphatically. “And then some.” 

“Good.” Breaking off another pile just a bit larger, you added it to the first, Peli’s eyes going comically larger still. “Consider this payment for babysitting up till now, and keeping you on retainer for whenever we need to stop by, storing the N1, and watching Grogu.”

Peli stammered for a moment, her mouth opening and closing as she stared at the small mountain of credits at her feet. Her eyes lifted to meet yours before they shot to Din, then the child sleeping soundly in her arms before landing back on the credits, nodding rapidly again. “As far as I’m concerned, this makes us square.” She studied the pile for a moment, before adding softly, “For life.”

Din pulled his hand down the front of his helmet, letting out a sigh of exasperation “That still leaves quite a bit.”

You shrugged like Boba had, making the man chuckle. “Running isn’t cheap.”

With a heavy sigh, Din finally nodded, his hands resting on his hips, shaking his head as he continued to stare at the pile. “We still use it sparingly.”

You nodded. “Agreed.” He turned to look at you one more time. “We have to save some for the foundlings.”

“The foundlings are the future,” Din said quietly in agreement. “This is the way.”

All five of you turned away from the credits for the first time since they arrived, looking at Grogu where he slept in the cradle Peli had just set him in.

“This is the way.” The smile on your face that only came in the presence of the child wasn’t going anywhere. “The future is in amazing hands, then.”

“The best,” Din concurred.

Xxx

“Drop by anytime!” Peli called after Boba and Fennec, waving at them as they walked down the street after leaving the hangar. “Just remember to use the door next time. Maybe?” She flicked her wrist in front of her. “Bah. They heard me.”

Laughing softly, you gestured Grogu’s cradle up the ramp of the Crest, walking alongside it until you got to the bunk. Turning to lift him up, you set him in his hammock before gesturing the now empty cradle over to the corner.

Closing the door to the bunk, you turned to find Din just coming up the top of the ramp.

“He’s down.” You stretched, hands on your back as you let out a loud yawn. “And honestly I’m not that far behind him.” You smiled at the sound of Din’s chuckle. “Did the credits get stored?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they’re right there, below the bunks. It’s a false bottom.”

“Sounds good,” you yawned again. “Well, I’m gonna head to bed-”

“Wait,” he stopped you, making you turn back to face him from the small bit you’d already turned away. “I have something for you.”

He made his way over to another crate along the wall, and pulled out a bundle wrapped in the tarp you’d used to cover the pieces of the Amban rifle. 

“While Boba was looking at the Crest yesterday, I asked him if he could help me get my hands on this for you. It needs a good cleaning, like everything else on this planet, but it’s in good shape, all the same.”

He pulled the material away from the object, and your breath caught in your chest. 

A raw beskar jet pack, like his own.

“How-”

“They didn’t know what they had.” Repeating your words about the Amban rifle as he looked at the jet pack for a long moment, he tightened his grip on it, his leather gloves creaking in protest. Lifting his gaze to yours, he held it as he gently set the gift in your hands. “But I do.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you. He wasn’t talking about the jet pack anymore, at least not just about that. It was as close to a complement as he was going to get, and that made a smirk start to twist up the side of your face.

Reaching behind you to attach the jet pack, Din reached out and pulled your cape gently to the side out of your way, releasing it when it sealed with a whirr.

“How fortunate for me, then.” Your voice was soft, much softer than you intended, but it fit. 

Everything about this moment seemed fragile, precarious. But at the same time, something about it also seemed forged of steel, tempered and holding steady in the strongest of tests.

“Indeed.” He was smiling, you could tell. 

It had only been days of truly spending time with him, but something about Din just clicked. You could read one another under the beskar or from across the city over a comm. Never had you felt so in tune with another being, and it felt like something special.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

It was unexpected, but you found yourself wrapping him in a quick embrace, arms around his neck as you pulled him close. He went stiff at first, but soon melted into the touch, his arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you impossibly closer still. Tightening your grip around him, you mumbled another thank you into his neck, the fabric of his flight suit rough against your skin as you pressed even closer, sighing into the warmth that was him.

This was different. This was new. It was exciting. But also terrifying. 

Your feelings seemed to have gone rogue, pulling you into him without your permission, and keeping you there. But then again, his seemed to be doing the same, if the way his hands were spreading across the expanse of your back below the jet pack was any indication. It was drawing you both in, and holding you tight, not giving an inch.

Growing up in a society that kept a barrier between you and everyone else, it was just inherent to keep your distance. And you didn’t realize until right now, faced with what you’d been blatantly denied, that you realized just how much you needed it. Like the jet pack, it finally made you feel complete, the missing pieces falling into place to paint a beautiful picture of what could be if you just…. Let it. 

Pulling back to look up into his visor, you smiled, hands falling to rest on his arms. “No, really. Thank you.” You gave him a gentle squeeze. “For everything.”

“I’d say you’re welcome, but since it’s your job to keep me alive, let’s just call it even.”

You narrowed your brows at him. “I’m good at my job.”

He chuckled softly. “And that’s the second time today you’ve said that.”

“And counting.” You grinned up at him, rolling your eyes when he groaned. Taking a few steps back, you headed for the ramp of the Crest. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a jet pack to clean up.” You paused after a few steps, your eyes narrowing at him curiously. “Wait. You said you asked him for this before we even agreed to help them?”

Din nodded. “I know it’s something you’ve wanted. The Armorer mentioned as much right before everything happened, something about I needed to sign off on something…. I don’t know, to be honest, I hardly listened sometimes. It was all a bit….”

“Much?” You offered.

He sighed. “Yeah. Too much. One of the only things that helped make it easier was you, actually.”

You scoffed. “I thought for sure you hated me.”

He let out a huff. “Oh, I thought I did.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Believe me. I tried to convince myself I loathed you. But truthfully? We’re just too much alike, that I was frustrated that you were doing so well at your job and thinking of things before me.”

Grinning, you looked down at your feet before lifting your gaze back up to his visor. “What were the other things? You said that was ‘one of the only’….”

Din sighed, his hands resting on his belt as his weight shifted to one side. “Time with Grogu.”

“Of course,” you said, because obviously.

“And target practice.” You grimaced. “What?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, boss, but…. Right before everything happened, I may have beaten your high score at the range.”

He was silent, his hands moving from his belt to rest on his hips as he stood up straight, visor leveled on you. “You what?”

You began backing up slowly, holding up a finger and lightly waving it at him. “I’m good at what I do, remember?”

“That’s three.”

“No, that’s technically different.” Your feet hit the sand at the bottom of the ramp. Pointing over toward Peli’s shop, you began moving that way. “I’m gonna go get started.”

Din began down the ramp, his tone dry and amused. “Are you going to paint it? I can go get some tomorrow.”

Looking at him over your shoulder, you shook your head, scrunching your face up at the thought. “Nah. I think the raw beskar looks best. Plus it matches yours.”

Din shifted his weight to one side. “You want ours to look the same?”

You shrugged. “I like people knowing who I belong to.” Turning back to face the workshop, you went on. “Let’s make clan mudhorn…. What was the word Boba used for the ship? Ah! Sparkle.” You chuckled. “Shiny big ship, shiny tiny ship, shiny big Mando, shiny smaller Mando…. You see the theme?” Looking back over your shoulder, the smirk slid off your face when you didn’t see Din anywhere in the hangar. “Great. I’m talking to myself.”

With a sigh, you turned back toward the work area, only to run straight into a wall of beskar. “Dank farrik, Din!”

“If you belong to clan mudhorn, you’re not going to be sparkling.” Din unfastened your jet pack. “You’ll be dral.” He set it to the side. “Dralshy'a - ori'shya ka'ra.” (“Glowing.”) (“Brighter - more than stars.”)

You grinned. “Ni emuurir gar jate'shya.” (“I like yours better.”)

Xxx

Tags: @lam-ila​, @oliviajdjarin​, @peonyophelia​, @what-the-heckin-heck​, @Itsavicf, @just-shut-up-kid​, @noodlesavailable​, @mildlyhopeless​, @multifandomsw​, @professionalfangrrl​, @tizylish​, @whoodattt​, @heyitsaloy​, @djarinsimp​, @athenasproverbs​, @aliens-apricot, @snow30285, @jallen0126​, @jxvipike​, @kodzuvk​, @untitledarea​, @crazyworldofsiani​, @adora-but-ginger​, @momc95​ What’s This?

[kendrene]

22 Beatrice/Lilith 😘

22. You don’t have to be alone (dead space au)

***

The Ishimura groans and creaks around them. It tilts, then settles. 

“Not good, not good, not good.” Cam mutters nearby, fingers flying across the terminal’s keyboard. “Bea? I’m not sure but I think the centrifuge is shot. Can you come take a look?” 

“Give me a moment.” Bea spares a distracted glance for the nearest screen, where the ship’s diagnostics are displayed - a solid wall of red, all systems failing - before her eyes return to Lilith’s wound. “I just need to stabilize her.” 

Lilith’s hand, blood-slicked, covers her own. “If you don’t stabilize the ship we’re all fucked.” Weakened by blood loss, but still with enough strength to push Beatrice’s hands away. Black ichor drips from the gaping hole in her abdomen, and Beatrice has the impression that something’s wriggling, hatching within. Lilith presses down with both hands, hissing, and nods towards Camila. “Go. Help her. I’ll be fine.” She’s never been good at lying.

It is the centrifuge, as it turns out. And it’s worse than Beatrice imagined. 

“It needs a manual restart.” Lines of code appear on the screen. She tries a different bypass. Nothing. “There’s something… blocking it, I think? I can’t tell. The sensors are picking up a foreign mass, but without cameras…” She trails off and raises a questioning eyebrow at Camila, who just shakes her head. 

“No cameras. That entire level may as well be a black hole. If everything wasn’t going to shit around us, I’d say it was intentional, but-”

“Bodies.” Lilith calls. voice down to a strained whisper. “The mass the diagnostics are picking up. It could be bodies.”

“No personnel is allowed into the centrifuge when it’s engaged. G-force would suck you into the machinery.”

“But if it were sabotage.” Lilith plants a heel against the wall and leverages until she’s not slumping anymore. “If someone shut the centrifuge off, they could have shoved bodies into it. It’d mess up the hydraulics, wouldn’t it?” 

“You’d need a lot of bodies.” Beatrice counters. A frisson of fear electrifies her spine as the scale of what Lilith is implying fully sinks in. “We’re talking mass murder.”

“Or mass suicide.” Lilith doesn’t have to remind them there was actual crew members attacking them among the monsters. You’ve got to-” 

The vent closest to them explodes outwards, scattering bits of metal all around. Beatrice has the time to register something twisted buzzing past her face before Camila barrels into her, flattening her to the ground.

What must have once been personnel lands on all four in front of them. Tattered fabric clings to its misshapen shoulders and its spine is fully exposed, an ivory coast emerging from a frothing sea of white-red muscle.

“Lilith!”

Any second now it’ll see her. Unless she and Cam do something, Lilith is dead.

“Run!” 

An elongated shape skids across the plasteel floor plating. Lilith’s rifle. Beatrice’s hand closes around it. She feels numb.

“LILITH!”

“I said: run!”

She does, haltingly at first, and Cam has to push-pull her.

She does, faster after, Lilith’s weapon dragging in her hands, and never in her life has she felt so lonely.

[lenreli]

Day 25 - Gangbang

[AO3]

Dream tilts his head, looking at the big cylinder now at home on Hob’s spaceship. “And what am I looking at?” He asks, baffled. It could be any number of things, considering how much humanity loves their cylindrical things, especially once they started going into space. Nostalgic, Hob said once with a grin, citing some sci-fi shows for inspiration. 

Hob bounds over to the cylinder enthusiastically, “well, this,” Hob says with a knock to the side of it, expression bright as he leans against it, “is highly modded and illegal, mainly since I don’t want my DNA anywhere near the company who no doubt also keep the data. Usually it’s used for those who have long-haul ships and they want it to be looked after while they cryo-sleep, or simply for another pair of hands,” Hob gestures, scowling and Dream blinks, still confused since Hob explained nothing. 

“And, well,” Hob ― talks, but Hob is still leaning against the cylinder, only smirking lightly and Dream almost swallows his tongue at a hand touching his spine, looking behind him to find ― Hob, “we’ve done this so often in the Dreaming, whether with you or me,” this Hob says, thumb pressing up his spine and Dream shivers. A hand touches his hand neck from the left, and looking over he finds another Hob, “but trying it in the Waking World seems like a good gift,” the third Hob says. There’s suddenly breath against the other side of his neck and Dream shivers, closing his eyes, “just because I can,” another Hob says on his right. “What do you think?”

“You,” Dream swallows, feeling Hob practically all around him, a hand going under his shirt, “you cloned,” he breathes, mind almost breaking as the other Hob’s press against him, many hands going under his shirt, going to his neck or hair as Hob ― the one against the cloning machine, finally moves to stand in front of him. All the other Hob’s have no rings or jewelry, but this one does, ringed fingers caressing his jaw, and Dream whimpers, surrounded by Hob’s warmth on all sides as they kiss, tongue piercing cold and tingling against his mouth. 

“What do you think?” Hob asks, and Dream can only nod in reply, words meaningless in the face of so much want, “thought you’d like it,” Hob says, moving away from him as he’s ― dragged over to Hob’s bed, would almost be a room by itself if it wasn’t on a spaceship, Hob splurging on one of the largest beds when he bought it, and Dream shivers as hands quickly pull off his clothes, a Hob settling between his legs, awash with pleasure as fingers go inside his hole, another pair of hands going to his dick, another to his nipples and he whimpers. 

There’s soft chatter as Hob puts his head under his knees, ringed fingers going into his mouth and he arches into the feeling mindlessly, grinding down into the fingers in his arse as well, the Hob underneath his hips moving his legs as they talk about ― how pink his nipples and lips are, how he’s so unmarked and beautiful, but even more beautiful as fingers twist his nipples and Dream cries out, holding onto Hob under his head, scrabbling for arms or legs, anything he could hold onto as fingers press against his prostate.

“So sweet, but you could be sweeter,” Hob says, a daydream pressing into his mind and Dream sobs, cock changing into a cunt with the press of the daydream, “oh yes,” Hob says with relish, and Dream can only hold on as he starts to be eaten out, another mouth on his clit, opening him up and Dream just―  Exists, on a plane of pleasure, as fingers in his arse or mouth get replaced by cocks, as mouths get replaced with fingers on his cunt, can feel Hob ― all of them, moving around and underneath him as they lavish attention on him, and Dream’s unsure if he ever stopped coming after the first time, as warm mouths bite into his inner thighs, another on his nipples, ringed fingers in his hair, time meaning nothing under the ocean of bliss and Hob’s ― all of Hob’s attention on putting marks and mouths everywhere, fingers filling where they can’t go.