#i have never seen a ship that would be this comforting

[boredzum-671]

Fireworks

Hunter X OC!Robin Fanfic

word count 4.2k words

Warnings: thoughts of kissing, PTSD mentions, fluff? Crying, comfort, feelings like a lot. It’s my first fan fic that is so long 💀😭

Hunter POV

It's been about 4 weeks since the tsunami on Pabu. Most of the lower Pabu residents’ homes have been destroyed, but luckily, parts of the homes were built within 2 weeks with the strong bond of the community, and the docking bays and boats have been damaged from the impact. Most of the ships flew over the houses near the bay. But thankfully, nobody was hurt. The boys and I have been helping with the rebuilding as well. Wrecker and I helped with the heavy load while Tech worked on bringing power back to the houses. The residents were thankful for our help, and I was thankful we came on time so none of the people were hurt. Or worse...

The upper Pabu Residents let the lower ones stay with them temporarily in their homes. Speaking of temporary stay, we have one who Omega begged for us (mostly me) to stay for a little bit until we built their home. We met her when Shep invited us for dinner at his home; she was a friend of Phee, who was also a refugee hiding from the Empire. Robin.

The first time we met her, she was probably nervous to meet us when she stepped foot on Shep's patio. My senses were a bit fussy when I looked at her; this never happened when I first met a woman, so I was a bit cautious. Robin’s appearance was clean and neat, her hair was a perfect shade a brown with natural highlights you could see in the sun, and it seemed smooth if I was able to touch it. Her eyes are different, both of her eyes have a different color from the other, the one on her left was a brown-honey like color, like mine, while her right eye was light blue that if you looked in them, it was as if you were staring up at the sky. She was wearing a purple and white dress that wasn’t too formal, but something simple enough; her hair was down and had a butterfly-like style while her bangs were curtain-like.

Phee had told us about her past, but she didn’t give enough details about Robin since it was too sensitive to talk about it to anyone; Phee was the only one Robin could trust to keep her past a secret. When I learned of that, it made me suspicious of her, but when I started talking to her, she was caring, sweet, but one thing I couldn’t describe about her... could it be attraction...? No. Hunter, get yourself together. You just met her; it’s inappropriate to think that way.

She’s been with us for four weeks and already knows her way around the Marauder. I let her have my bunk to sleep in; I mostly sleep in one of the chairs. It became a bad habit ever since we had Omega, and it still is. Robin would teach Omega how to braid hair, learn new things, and the woman stuff I barely even know about, mostly. But I made sure not to interfere with their time. Omega was happy around Robin.

Like a daughter to a mother...

Sometimes when Omega is with her, it makes me think about everything. Should we keep on running from the past, still in the sights of the empire, and not let Omega have a simple life as a child? Or should we refuge here on Pabu, hang our armour and blasters on the wall, look towards the future, and make a life of our own with the little time we have...?

We clones never had the life of a child, our only home was the steel walls of a cloning facility, never born of a womb of a mother but rather a tube, making millions of the same faces. Our father was only a donor part of our creation; the only time we have seen him was on our faces when we look in the mirror. Our only purpose was to follow orders, fight in a war on a side we thought was meant for good, but ended up helping the start of an Empire, killing our most trusted allies by an order we could not oppose...

I want Omega to experience the life we could never have, to grow up normally, then the forced growth acceleration we had. And maybe... Robin...

Robin POV

I had just finished helping with decorating for the festival where the Archium is located, now I was heading towards the Marauder near the docks, the boys had to move the ship so it wouldn’t be in the way. Everyone was already heading up to Upper Pabu Square for the event. Hunter was the only one I had to bring up. Before I left the Marauder, I remember seeing him cleaning his armour and blaster in the cockpit, he’s probably already getting ready. I can’t help but worry for him, he looks tired every day. One night before I went to bed, I woke up in the middle of the night, and he was still up late working on the control panel. He has to look over his crew, looking after everyone’s well-being, but not his well-being. I tried to give him back his bunk to sleep at least once, but he said,

 “You need it more than I do.”

 I know he’s just showing hospitality for me, it’s really kind of him, but he’s just stubborn to not admit he’s tired...

I finally reached the Marauder and went up the open ramp of the ship to the inside of the ship. The main hull of the ship was a little messy, but it was neat in a way. I looked over to the cockpit door, and it was wide open. There, I saw Hunter quietly staring down at his blaster in his hand with a dirty rage in his other hand. He did look tired.

I made my way towards him, and it caught his attention. His honey-brown eyes met my brown and blue ones.

“The festival is already starting?”

I nod and step closer.

“Still cleaning? Wouldn’t this have been done an hour ago?”

He gave me a slight chuckle and a shrug.

“I was distracted, don’t worry, I can do it later.”

I notice he was holding something back, he must be thinking about something. The tiredness in his eyes showed he was lying, he’s trying to stay strong for his squad... his family. I would probably do the same as him, if I ever had one...

“Shall we go now?”

I snapped out of my thoughts now and realized I was staring at him for a moment while I was thinking. I tried to ignore the blushing embarrassment crawling up on my face and gave a slight nod.

“Y-yeah let’s go.”

Hunter POV

We soon made it to the top of Pabu, and everything was in full swing. The locals were having fun with the game stalls, the trinkets some people worked on that had the island’s shells to make a piece of jewellery or a holo-picture frame. I could smell multiple scents of different varieties of food from the stalls. But one thing I could tell was the scent of Mantell Mix. Wrecker and Omega must’ve done that. Phee probably got the ingredients.

But the light of the lanterns around us was soft and warm, and when I looked at Robin, she looked like she was glowing as she smiled. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of her in this light. Did she ever look like this...? Was her smile always like that? Did she always smile like this when I’m around her...? Did she always look...

Hunter! Pull yourself together! You’re getting ahead of yourself, and you had just met her 4 weeks ago; she thinks of you as a friend. Nothing else... Besides, who would want a clone, made to be a soldier from birth, you could never give her the life she wanted. Just a clone, nothing more...

“Robin...”

When I stopped, my hand unconsciously took her hand, my gloved and calloused hand holding her bare and soft hand. In my eyes, she looked fragile and easy to break. My mind was screaming at me to pull away, while my heart told me not to let go. I didn’t know what to do. Why am I getting this attached to her when I’m scared to break her? She’s been in the life of war like me, she survived probably many things on her planet, but never talked about them. She must have PTSD from the war. My heart slightly ached; she never deserved that life. Could it be that she wanted to be far from the past and restart in a haven? Away from the new and unknown dangers? Find a home...?

Is she looking for something like I am?

Home...?

 “Yes...?”

When Robin called me out of my thoughts, I looked into her eyes. The way the lantern lights shine on them made my heart skip multiple beats. Her one light blue eye made it look like I was in the cockpit of the Marauder and traveling through hyperspace, while her one brown eye made it look like it had gold flakes in it. What is this effect she has put on me? It felt terrifying and exciting at the same time.

I let out a soft breath through my nostrils and gave a reassuring smile.

“Never mind, just my senses acting up again.”

From my response, she looked at me with concern. She’s worrying about me, again.

“We could go back if you want to, if it's bothering you too much, I’ll- “

“No-no, don’t worry, I don’t want to ruin everyone’s fun. I’ll stay.”

Robin started to look around while she thought. A small habit that grew with her when she thinks.

Cute...

She lets out a sigh before looking back up at me again.

“Are you sure...?”

I gave her a soft smile and a nod of reassurance. I didn’t want Omega’s first festival since we never had the time for one... I don’t want to ruin it for Robin, too...

Hunter POV

My head hurts so bad.

The number of things clanking and making noise is messing up my senses. It was hard to concentrate when I tried to win for Omega on one of the small games, maybe win one thing for Robin, but I always mess up. But I have to stay strong, I don’t want to ruin the day’s fun. They’re all happy, and it was something I couldn’t dare to end.

Omega was having a blast; she was having fun with her friend Layana and her friends. This place was a happy community. Wrecker was also having the time of his life, trying out some of the varieties of food that his taste buds hadn’t touched yet. Tech and Phee were just talking together with a few drinks, I could tell Phee had a thing for Tech. It was obvious when we met her back on Ord Mantell in Cid’s office.

Robin stayed next to me the entire night. I know she was looking out for me due to my enhanced sensitivity, but I should be the one looking out for her. She can’t protect herself, she’s fragile, and if I’m not there to protect her... I can’t imagine what will happen.

Robin POV

              Every time I watch Hunter, I always see him uncomfortable. He missed the easiest games which one of which is just throwing a ball at a few cans. Every time he loses, he’s just frustrated. I started to feel guilty for bringing him here. I was selfish for knowing and not thinking about his senses, and just thinking he would be alright. He’s suffering. Hunter is just trying to hold it back, he didn’t want to ruin this for everyone. He didn’t want to ruin this special moment for Omega.

              They barely experienced these kinds of moments, it was rare for them all. It probably felt abnormal for them after a year of running or so, always having to stay alert, having to sleep with a blaster under their pillow before they go to bed. Yes, I know of this. Wrecker’s blaster was showing from under his pillow one time when I was alone on the Marauder, just helping to clean up the place. I even checked Tech’s, which I’m thankful for since Tech never lets anyone touch his things on his bunk. I was safe that day.

              I was walking next to Hunter when I noticed how he was looking around, he was getting angsty, and I couldn’t take this anymore. I’m helping him whether he likes it or not.

“Hunter...?”

When I spoke aloud softly, he stopped and looked at me, letting out a hum to let me continue.

“Everything okay?”

I watched as Hunter took a deep breath before giving a tired smile.

“Everything’s okay, don’t worry about me, Robin.”

I gave him a frown and looked at his face, he’s trying to hide it again...

“Hunter, I know you’re trying to hide it.”

We both were in a long silence. he knew I wanted to help him, but he’s too stubborn to admit he needs help. I’m trying not to push him to admit it. But there was one thing we forgot about...

Our hands have been together for a while, we just haven’t even noticed yet.

              “Just... Let me help you...”

After staring at each other for a while, I was about to walk away. But all of a sudden, I felt a slight tug on my arm. I realized I was still holding hands with him. He noticed as well. We both pulled our hands away, looking away in embarrassment. I felt a little empty when we let go, the texture of his gloved-calloused hand, his hold was gentle and safe on mine that which made my heart full. What I didn’t know was that Hunter glanced at me for a moment before looking away. I finally spoke out loud after a while and turned to face him.

“I’m sor- “

“I’m sor- “

We both spoke at the same time unexpectedly, he was surprised as I was. I noticed the slight tint on his cheeks, but his facial tattoo on the left side of his face was darkening his blush. He kind of looks Handsome... I started to feel a slight flutter in my heart.

I realized what I was thinking and felt heat crawl up my face, a light tint of pink forming over my cheeks in embarrassment.

“Uh... I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was still holding your hand.”

He shook his head and raised a hand to rub the back of his head.

              “I should apologize too...”

I shook my head as well and frowned.

              “You don’t have to, Hunter.”

We stood in an awkward silence. Until it was broken by Omega.

              “Hunter!”

              We both looked towards Omega’s way and saw her running down the pavement with Layana, smiling brightly from the day’s events. When they got to us, Omega looked up at Hunter.

              “They’re going to have fireworks soon! Layana and her friends have a spot to watch it. Can I go, pleaseee?”

I watched the little girl smile up at Hunter for permission. He knew there wasn’t any danger here on Pabu, so he was probably okay with it.

              “Have fun.”

              Omega and Layana shared a triumphant yes and started returning to where they came from. I let out a soft chuckle as I watched Omega with her new friends. When I looked at Hunter, he was smiling as he watched Omega run off. I felt my heart flutter again with admiration and... tenderness. He still looked on edge, thinking what could happen anytime. I hope one day it will end for him, so it won’t consume him for the rest of his life.

              I noticed how the lantern light glistened in his eyes, the shape of his eyes, I could even see the lines on his face, to the dark circles under his eyes. The sharp line of his jaw with the faint stubble of his fading into the darkness of his half-skull tattoo on the left side of his face. His long hair blew softly in the wind, the red bandana wrapped around his head to hold up the hair so it wouldn’t be in the way. I didn’t realize I’ve been staring for about 2 minutes until he looked down at me. I felt my face flush again and looked away towards the stalls as if I was interested in any of them.

I feel so stupid.

Hunter POV

              When I looked down at her, I saw the flushed expression on her face before she looked away. Oh no. This isn’t good. Did I do something wrong? Was it from holding her hand? I should’ve known, but for some reason, it never came to my consciousness for a while. My gloved hand started to ache for her hand, I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought. Why am I getting ahead of myself when all we are is friends?

Could she ever think of me as “that” kind of friend...?

I need to make it up to her for that action of mine. What would make her feel better...?

I cleared my throat and looked around before speaking.

              “See anything interesting?”

She glanced for a moment and nodded at me.

              “Yep, there are a lot of things. And you?”

I shook my head softly before sighing.

              “Same.”

Okay, not what I was planning on, how about buying her something? Would that cheer her up?

              “Would you like to go look around and see more? If you do, I’ll get it for you.”

I tilt my head towards one of the stalls as I look down at her. Before answering, Robin looked up at my eyes and smiled with a nod.

              “Sure, if that’s okay with you.”

I gave a smile back before whispering down at her.

              “It will be, but don’t tell the guys. I won’t be able to hear the end of it.”

              My comment made a soft chuckle come out of her mouth, her eyes sparked a little at the half-hearted joke of mine. It was true that the boys would tease me down; they knew I was close to Robin, and if they found out about this, I would try to dig my grave on the spot.

              We did find one thing, Robin liked this one necklace that had a small silver design of a Plumeria flower with a small diamond set in the middle of the flower. I started to imagine Robin wearing this on the beach with her light blue and white hibiscus-patterned summer dress blowing in the wind, her hair down, and smiling in delight at me... This was perfect.

But she didn’t want to get it, she said she wanted to get it herself, rather than for me to buy for her.

              So, while she wasn’t looking, I had whispered to the Stallman and bought the necklace behind her back. I’ll plan on giving this to her soon. I smiled at the thought of her reaction, she’ll be a little mad, but at the same time happy. I want her to be happy...

As I tucked the necklace safely in one of the pockets of my vest, I realized the locals were all waiting for the fireworks to show.

              Now my senses are getting worse, fireworks are going to make me throw up if I stay any longer, I have to figure out a way to be far from it, but at the same time, not leave Robin and the others behind. But while I was thinking, I felt a tug on my arm and looked down to see Robin looking up at me. Her eyes looked up at mine once I did.

Before I could reply, she spoke.

              “Want to go? I think the fireworks would make your senses worse, right?”

I blinked in confusion for a moment. How did she-

Never mind, she probably remembered about my enhanced senses. I gave her a small smile and nod.

              “You’re right, but where should we go?”

She looked around for a moment before letting out a soft hum.

              “Let’s take a boat, we’ll use Shep’s. He wouldn’t mind.”

              When we finally made it down to the docks, we found Shep’s boat. I get on first before helping her down, taking her hand as she steps down, as my free hand subconsciously places itself on the small of her back, through the white dress she wore, I could feel her soft skin. I felt my heart skip a beat.

              Once she sat down, I sat myself near the control panel and started the motor on. The boat starts moving. It takes us about a few minutes to be a little far enough to get a pleasant view of the island, I stop the motor before setting the small platform on the side down. Once it was firm, I sat on the edge and looked back at her and smiled.

“It’s good now.”

              When she heard me, she gave back a smile. Before sitting next to me, she took her slippers off and placed them under the seat, then sat next to me. I noticed her scooting a bit closer before dipping her feet in the water.

              We were fully alone... Nothing but the distant sounds of laughter and shouts of exclamation on the island, the waves crashing softly against the boat, rocking it slowly. The soft breeze of wind on both of us as the moon shines down.

Just us.

 When I looked at her, I felt something, I always kept resisting it, and saying it was foolish. But for a moment I thought...

              She looks so beautiful...

              “Is... this the first time seeing fireworks?”

When she broke the silence, I looked at her, then back at the Island. I let out a soft sigh before shaking my head.

              “Other than the sparks of designators? No, so yea, it’s my first time.”

She gave me a soft chuckle before looking back at the island. As she was kicking her feet in the water softly, she spoke.

              “Back at my home planet, we would have a 3-day event to celebrate the old king of Sparrin. The fireworks were amazing and would make stories out of them, It felt so real to me when I was little, and still is. But when the war came to my planet, I...”

              When she cut off her sentence, I realized Robin was on the verge of tears. It must have been hard to talk about this to anyone. But seeing her crying... It made my heart ache with sympathy. I place my hand softly on top of hers and frown.

              “You don’t have to talk anymore, it’s alright...”

I saw a tear fall on her lap, the single drop staining her dress slightly.

              I watched as she used her free hand to wipe her eyes from the tears. Her fingers brushed under her eyelid where the tears were forming. She lets out a soft breath before continuing.

              “Thank you. I’m alright now...”

              I knew she was holding back the tears but yet they kept falling. Without thinking, my hand reached up and lifted her chin, her teary eyes looking up at my own. Her cheeks flush from the crying and maybe my intimate gesture...

              “Are you sure you’re okay...?”

              I softly whisper as my hand moves from her chin to the softness of her cheek, my thumb running over her cheekbone where her tear stains are. I was silently thanking any force, god, that this was an excuse for me to hold her face. The ache to hold her cheek was filled and satisfied.

              I watched as she slowly closed her eyes when my thumb was close to her eye, the way her lashes fell in place together when her eyes closed. I could feel her heartbeat, the light pumping of it from my closeness, even my heart was pounding. We are so close, I feel her soft breathing from her nose to my lips.

              I started to lean a little closer, the urge to kiss her was unnoticeable. My mind was screaming in my head to stop before it’s too late, while my heart said just kiss her damn it. Her lips looked so welcoming. My heart was rapidly pounding as I got closer. Just one more inch closer than I could-

              Then the fireworks started, the loud boom in the distance exploding in the air with bright colors interrupted the moment, I immediately pulled away and let go of her cheek before she opened her eyes to look at the fireworks.

              “They look so pretty...”

              I look back at her as she watched them, a smile forms on her face as she watches them. I started to feel a bit angry at myself for doing that, she probably won’t talk to me for a while. I let out a nod and a soft exhale.

              ��Yeah, they do...”

But that wasn’t the only thing that was pretty... As we sat in silence, we both forgot about our hands, still together as we watched the fireworks…

>>>Part 2 Taggie baddies>>>>

@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @orangez3st @precioustech @alor-ika @leenathegreengirl @eyecandyeoz @skellymom

[emotionaldisaster909]

dear fellow huanlian fan i pray that nothing serious happens to your health 🙏🙏🙏 i have been following your tgcf posts since ep1 of the donghua s2 ~ truly a joy to see your posts so please be well and keep posting 🌸

,-,

/starts sobbing/

thank you dear friend oh my god

i swear i am so scared every time i post because i actually have a huge self-image anxiety

i feel like i’m writing too stupidly, too loudly, too selfishly

but i haven’t had an opportunity to share my feelings on tgcf for so long

because i never found a fandom friend for brainrot chatting

and then i ended up here (ty @ardenrabbit) and figured

why don’t i post here

this way i won’t bother anyone in particular and no one is gonna read anyway

but then people did

and started liking and sharing and commenting???

and it’s such a confusing but nice feeling

this rush of big numbers

but the reality of it is hard to comprehend

aren’t people annoyed??? that manic manner of speech must be obnoxious

what if i wrote something good once but then people started noticing that it’s not, in fact, good at all???

it’s very scary

but

when i see such reaction posts from others

i feel true and deep joy

a feeling of companionship, probably

a happiness in seeing someone share your love for something

it amplifies the feeling

and maybe

if i can make someone feel something like this for a moment, then it’s all good, right? 💦💦💦

so thank you very much for writing this, kind person ❤️💦

it means a lot 💦💦💦

[chiquilines]

In honour of mha ending, have some old (and i mean OLD) miryumi scribbles i never got around to posting. They were the main characters in my heart

[xoxojisu]

ANYONE BUT YOU

synopsis: there are certain things that katsuki wouldn't allow for anyone but you.

warning(s): underage (highschool) drinking, switched between first and second pov in the third segment sorry, not well-proofread

a/n: wrote this for unofficialbf!katsuki again like duh!

"FUCKING DUNCE FACE! HOW ARE YOU THIS FUCKING STUPID?!" bakugo screamed, smoke literally flowing from his head as he hit kaminari's head repeatedly with a ruler.

"hey, man, if you keep doing that, it'll make him even stupider!" kirishima protested on kaminari's behalf, who already looked like he was seeing the light from above.

"like i care! he needs to learn a lesson! or anything, for that matter! we were taught this shit back in middle school!" bakugo hissed, crossing his arms and collapsing back on his seat.

"wait, but bakugo, i also kind of need some help with that.." mina said, trailing off when bakugo sent her a withering death glare. "actually, maybe i'll go ask yaomomo."

he huffed. "how are people this fucking stupid? like seriously, it's not that fucking hard."

"..katsuki? i need help with this question." you interjected a bit anxiously, showing him your paper.

he’d deny the way his eyes softened immediately. "tch. we learned this in middle school, you know." he said gruffly, giving your forehead a very gentle flick.

"i know, but i forgot. will you help? please?" you pleaded.

he sighed. "fine, c'mere. so for this step.."

as he taught you the material in a (GASP) normal tone of voice, kirishima and kaminari whispered off to the side.

"seriously?! that's the same question i didn't get." kaminari whined.

"i know! he's always so nice to her! it's crazy!"

"if he was half as nice to us as he is to her, i'd have at least a C!"

"i know, right? man, i want that special treatment, too!"

-

"..you fucking idiots."

tsu had called bakugo and deku to mina's room where they were having a girl's night. mina had managed to sneak some vodka in, so they were all having fun getting drunk and talking. however, by the end of the night, you, mina, and ochaco were wasted. luckily, mina would be ok, seeing as she was already in her room, but tsu had decided to ship off you and ochaco to katsuki and deku, as she was drunk herself and didn't feel like she could take proper care of the both of you.

"all of you are already fucking idiots. alcohol kills off your brain cells! you tryna get even dumber or something, huh?!" katsuki grumbled.

"kacchan! it's fine, really. come on, uraraka, let's go." deku scolded before helping ochaco out the door and back to her room.

"don't.. hic! be a buzzkill, bakugo. girls just wanna have fun!" mina slurred. katsuki could feel his eyebrows furrowing more and more as his irritation grew. he swore he was one more drunken idiot statement away from walking away right then and there.

sure enough, though, another drunken idiot statement quickly followed.

"katsuki! you're here! ..when did you get here?" you quipped excitedly, clearly not in your right mind.

katsuki ran a hand through his hair. "i've been here, idiot. for the past 5 fuckin' minutes."

you scrambled off of mina's bed where you were sitting and made your way to him, albeit with many more steps needed to get there from all of the stumbling you were doing. you jumped onto him as best you could, and he easily caught you. despite his grumbles, there was an undeniable softness in his eyes.

"missed you, kats.." you mumbled, nuzzling in to his neck with an affection you’d be humiliated by if you were just a tad bit more sober. he tensed a bit under your touch, but still adjusted you so you could cling onto him more comfortably.

"yeah, yeah. let's go." he muttered, quickly turning and leaving, trying to keep from snapping as you giggled and waved goodbye to your friends, wriggling in his grasp.

as he walked down the hall with you securely in his arms, katsuki listened to all your drunk rambling with never-before-seen patience.

"'nd then ochaco finally admitted to liking midoriya! i mean, we all knew, but it was so crazy that she finally admitted it!"

"did you know that kirishima's natural hair is black? mina told us! 'pparently there was some incident with a villain that totally changed him, so he dyed his hair red! isn't that crazy?! what if one day he can't dye it anymore because his hair is so damaged? his name is red riot!"

"if two people who have mind-reading quirks read each other's minds at the same time, whose mind would they be reading?"

amazingly, katsuki didn't snap at you at all amidst your rambles. he listened to your drunk babbling with incredible silence, simply dutifully carrying you down to your dorm.

at some point, though, the rambles stopped, and katsuki heard you.. sniffling? were you crying? he immediately stopped and lowered you in his arms to see your face, and sure enough, there were fat tears rolling down your puffed-up cheeks.

"y/n, what? you cryin'? why?" he asked gently, though panic evident in his voice. ever since childhood, one of his least favorite things was when you cried.

"kats," you sniffled, "'m i annoying? d'you not liking being with me?"

katsuki’s eyes widened. he knew you were just extra emotional from the alcohol, but he still never wanted you to think that.

"hey, look at me." he said softly. "i'd never spend time with ya if i didn't wanna, so never think that."

your face brightened comedically fast, and you were quick to squeeze him tight, giggling. "awee, you're so cute! 'nd sweet!"

katsuki rolled his eyes, but his eyes softened at the sound of your giggles. he'd never admit it, but it was his favorite sound in the world.

"come on, loser. let's get you to bed."

-

"TOUCH ME AND FUCKING DIE!" were words that had been roared by katsuki to just about everyone that had ever come within a four-meter radius of the boy. whether it was an arm slung over his shoulder in celebration, a high five, a pat on the back, or even someone trying to help him up or tend to his wounds, katsuki was very clear that the only reason someone should ever, ever, ever come into contact with him was to get blasted by his explosions and die at his hands.

so, the reactions of the red and yellow-haired (ba ba ba BA ba i'm lovin' it) boys at the sight in front of them was pretty justified.

"no way," kirishima whispered, a hand over both his and denki's mouths. "this cannot be real."

before them, they saw a peacefully asleep y/n on top of bakugo. on top. of bakugo. the bakugo. the "i don't care that my life is in danger and i need treatment! don't fuckin' touch me!" bakugo.

and that bakugo was.. playing with her hair? and rubbing a hand up and down her back? underneath her shirt? and upon closer inspection, wait.. is she wearing his shirt?!

the two watched silently as you began to stir awake, eyes fluttering open. you were greeted by katsuki's looking down at you, a certain fondness in his eyes. you mumbled a hi with a sleepy smile, to which he grinned (like a real, genuine smile not a demonic feral chihuahua smirk) at and ruffled your hair gently.

"mornin', dumbass. you sleep well?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"mhm!" you beamed before returning your head to its rightful place on katsuki's chest. you nuzzled into him happily, mumbling a sleepy "so warm.."

his cheeks tinted pink and he scoffed, but he still wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. he gave your head a quick, gentle peck and pulled out his phone to scroll for a bit, his grip never once loosening as he massaged your scalp and nape.

you melted at his touch, an blissful expression on your face. "such a sweetie pie!" you giggled sleepily.

he rolled his eyes and gave your neck a quick scribble, his eyes dilating at the sound of your increased laughter. "i gotta stop spoilin' ya.." he grumbled, though there wasn't even a hint of maliciousness in his voice, his lips quirked up slightly.

you giggled again. "love you, kats!"

"..love you too, loser."

(kirishima and kaminari, who were still watching on the side could do nothing but sit there in stunned silence. they contemplated if maybe you'd done something amazing to curry his favor that they, too, could do, but they both arrived at the same conclusion: no matter what favors they could do or feats they could accomplish, there are simply certain things that the explosive boy would die before allowing for anyone but you.)

masterlist

[zomgcaleb]

my thoughts on who is most to least likely to buy you a big ass rock when you get married.

Sylus is a big no brainer, he paid five million for a protocore shard that was never seen again and to think he wouldnt spend quadruple that for a ring? for you none the less??? to put it simply you’re scared to wear it out of the house and it does not come off ever as if he wouldn’t buy you a new one with overnight shipping if he had to

Caleb is up on the list because he holds you at such a high regard he’s not going to give you anything that doesn’t make a statement. he needs people to look and say oh she’s spoken for. that bitch will glow like led brights on a highway for all to witness.

Zayne is middle ground because I think since he’s such a wallflower that it wouldn’t be the biggest rock in the room but it’s definitely very classy and traditionally flashy. he’d pick something that doesn’t necessarily turn heads but will be comfortably noticeable

Rafayel would pick something with more of a thoughtful design so to speak. instead of just big giant diamonds he’d have it customized with something that pertains to your relationship. would probably create a design for it himself so it’s one of a kind.

Xavier is a very simple but intense man. I think he’s going to buy a wedding band with pretty, meaningful engravings in it. probably ones that he’s written for you himself. don’t get me wrong, it will definitely glimmer in the light like glass in the sun but rather than being flashy, it’s more of an intimate thing that only the two of you share together. like some kind of hopelessly romantic inside joke

[boyfrillish]

Some platonic combos I want to write at some point (no matter how short or if just a featured scene)

Victor & Leon

Victor & Bede and/or Marnie

Victor & Sonia

Hop & Sonia

Hop & Leon

just from the top of my head lol I just think all of those are neat...

[kabuki-writes]

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

warning(s): mention of violence | mention of alcohol consumption | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

Tags:

@barcelonaloverf1life @naysha140 @shinnerslighttt @mmkkzz @ange-olras @earfq0ake @honey-eyed-munson @koshkahhh

Please leave a comment, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter.

If you liked my fic, please feel free to like, reblog and leave a comment. I am always happy to hear your thoughts <3

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie cries out in pain, “ah shitting fuck!” he yells across the bay, reflexively pushing off with a booted foot so his stool rolls away from the danger, his hurt fingers shoved unceremoniously in his mouth to nurse away the sting.

“Whatsit?” Robin sits up in her bunk, fluff of hair sticking up at all angles.

“Nothing. Nothing, sorry, fucking thing shocked me, go back to sleep.”

“Timesit?”

“I dunno,” Eddie looks around vaguely, looking across the untidy bank of tools and control panels he squints at the nearest monitor, “one ish.”

Robin humphs. Rubs at her eyes. Then just, sits for a bit, staring at nothing. “Want a hot drink?” She ends up volunteering, sticking her bare legs out from under the covers and sliding out from her bunk. She pulls on her dungarees from where they were abandoned on the floor.

“You ask me that like we have options,” Eddie peers down at his latest project, sliding a viewer over his mask to get a closer look. The numbers flashing in the peripheral vision make absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.

Robin yawns, forcing her feet into her boots, the laces loose and scraggly, “sounds better than ‘would you like caffeine reconstituted from the caffeine you pissed out yesterday’, though, right?” It’s a much trodden route, this conversation, one they have most days. It’s familiar, comforting. Shores them up for the long journey. Eddie hums but doesn’t answer, “where’s Chris?”

“Cockpit, said something about checking The Belt again.”

Robin mumbles something about Chrissy’s constant paranoia when it comes to crossing The Belt, but leaves to get them their drinks. Eddie gets it though, they all have their things. Their little routines, their charms, their talismans their...things. Things that get them through. The asteroid belt doesn’t change unless someone changes it, all those little rocks floating around on their reliable courses until...something nudges one. It’s a domino effect then, and crossing the belt is hazardous enough without outside forces fucking it up.

It wasn’t a problem until Mars, the catastrophic failure of the Synthetics, and the war that humanity very squarely lost. There had been laws before, the mining companies who were scalping the belt had a million feet of red tape to get through to make sure they weren't affecting shipping lanes and yada yada yada.

Now. The Synths do whatever the fuck they like, and it’s not like they're ever going to inform humanity of where they’re drilling.

So, Eddie tinkers, Chrissy checks the belt, and Robin bitches at both of them.

“So...what do you think he is?” Robin swivels around uselessly in the chair next to him.

“Sex bot, definitely.”

Robin snorts a laugh, “got a big dick huh?”

“He is very...anatomically correct,” Eddie closes the hatch, tugs carefully at the synths hair until he finds the next panel along, unhitches it with his home brew magnet arrangement. Not how you’re supposed to do it, but Synth construction companies don’t exactly share their tech.

“You sure it’s okay? Bringing him on board?”

Eddie hums vaguely, “no idea what model he is exactly, but the wreckage was old Robs. Pre One old, plus the Mars Synths never go further than the belt, they don’t have a reason to. Depending on how long he’s been floating about...I mean it’s unlikely, is what I’m saying.”

Eddie tries a different connection, moving carefully, the work very fine and delicate, he follows the numbers on his display. The connection slithers tight when it catches, and there’s the very, very slightest hum of a power up. In the corner of Eddie’s vision, the numbers all flash green.

On the table, the Synths eyes open. The iris goes from large to small, pupils go from wide and black to a pinprick, before it relaxes to something resembling normal. Hazel iris’, Eddie can’t help but notice, strange color, for a Synth, not one Eddie’s ever seen before. Green speckled with brown and gold. Really pretty, and far more detail than Eddie’s ever seen in one of these before. Especially for a sex bot model, if that’s what he is.

The Synth blinks four times in quick succession, indicating a hard reboot, his iris’ are now white with a fine blue ring, the beautiful hazel gone.

The eyes close, and the numbers go all haywire. Flashing yellow and red. Eddie watches as the numbers tell him the Synth has powered off again.

“Did it work?” Robin peers over his shoulder.

“No,” Eddie rolls over to his work station, goes over the scans again, “but I don’t know why. He definitely booted that time, but there’s damage that either I can’t find or...it’s too complex for me. It’s hitting a step and then won’t go any further.”

“So it’s software right? Not hardware?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure you’re right. There’s something there, some...thing that keeps failing the boot. Something in memory maybe. I just,” Eddie sighs a little helplessly, “I dunno, you know?”

“Can’t you switch it off?”

Eddie scoffs, “what, his memory?”

“Yeah? I mean, if he’s a house bot, he’ll forget how to change a diaper and make a Martini, if he’s a worker he’ll forget how to fucking,” she gestures helplessly, “wire in lights, or whatever the fuck they have them doing. Plowing fields, I don’t know. And if he’s a sex bot, he’ll forget about the twenty thousand vaginas he’s probably licked. Does it matter?”

“I...I could try it.” Eddie frowns, thinking it through, “I mean, the base programming is unavoidable, it’ll apply no matter what but...I don’t know exactly how that’ll leave him.”

She shrugs, “then just, turn him off, if the basics are there then the kill switch is there, right? The laws?”

“Yeah, that stuffs hardwired, there’s no bypassing it. Well,” Eddie gestures vaguely, “except for One.”

Robin nods, “except for One.” She agrees.

They both sit quietly for a moment, contemplating the disaster on Mars. The loss of life, even though it happened before either of them were born, it’s left a stark shadow on all of society. All of history.

Eddie slaps his thighs decisively, breaking their reverie, “I’m going to try it.”

Eddie gets his tools.

“We’re probably meeting him for the first time,” Robin tells Chrissy, as Chrissy fixes her hair for her, “we should make a good impression.”

“I don’t think they have opinions babe,” Chrissy tells her gently, licking her thumb and then using it to rub a scuff off Robins cheek.

“You can’t know that for sure. I bet they judge us. Silently. Plus I’ve never met one before, I’ve seen them working loads, you know, on Earth, but I’ve never...spoken to one. Not properly.”

“My parents had a house model, when I was little,” Chrissy volunteers, “she was really nice. Mostly she did all the chores and meals and stuff. Ordered the groceries. She was so good at Mahjong.”

“Huh. Do you think this guy will play Rummy with us? It’s better with four.”

“You’re cute,” Chrissy tells her, before kissing the tip of her nose, “should we have a countdown?” She asks, turning her attention to Eddie.

“Only if you’re willing to do it more than once if this doesn’t work?”

Chrissy wrinkles her nose, “probably not?”

Eddie shrugs, flips his visor screen down, and hopes for the best.

The Synths eyes whirl, that same, beautiful, sparkling hazel. Four quick blinks, and by the end, the iris has cleared to white, highlighted by the same stark blue ring.

The Synth sits up, the sheet Eddie had been using, partly so he wasn't staring at the things dick, and partly to keep it clean, falls and pools around the Synths middle.

There are another set of blinks. Then another. A jerky motion passes through the Synths body; every joint twitching, the head whipping side to side suddenly, sharp movements that look like a full body seizure. And then the whole thing happens again in reverse, from the toes up. The table rattles and shakes.

“The fuck was that,” Robin asks quietly in the ensuing, oppressive, silence.

“Movement test...I’ve never actually seen it before. It’s checking every system right now, might take a couple of minutes.”

“He’s got good hair,” Chrissy volunteers.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees absently, “but if you’re designing a person, why not make them prefect, right?”

The Synths skin had been pale alabaster white, but a wave of color moves up his body now, a tanned skin tone with some color in his cheeks. Other than sitting absolutely, completely still, it looks human. Looks normal.

It even has a couple of moles dotted about, which is a nice design choice, Eddie thinks. It’s high on the details; meaning it’s a high end Synth.

This guy was most certainly not plowing fields.

You wouldn’t be able to tell he wasn’t human, apart from the eyes, unless you really knew what you were looking for. The hair follicles often give them away, if you can get close enough to inspect them; not with this dude.

The Synth blinks four times. Another four. Another four. It keeps doing it, otherwise completely unmoving.

“Now what?”

“It’s waiting for instruction,” Eddie moves closer, “uhm. Edward Munson. I am your new owner, Edward Munson?” The Synth doesn’t respond, and Eddie scrambles for his data pad, “the instruction varies by manufacturer, I am your new handler? Oh shit wait, fuck. Uhm. Interface English.” The blinking stops, “I knew I was missing a step, I am your owner, Edward Munson.”

Very quietly, the Synth responds, “confirmed.”

“Volume up four. What is your designation?”

“Designation S T Three Five Three,” the Synth answers at a more normal volume.

“Well...you can call me Eddie, and this is Chrissy and Robin.”

The Synth finally moves, the sheet sliding off as he stands up, “wow,” says Chrissy, and Robin covers her eyes.

“Man, I gotta find you some pants,” Eddie tells the Synth.

“We need something better than S T Three Five Three,” Eddie tells the synth as he digs through a storage bin. He finds a jumpsuit that will probably fit. It’s supposed to be worn under a spacesuit, for when they need to do work outside, but Eddie figures the Synth won’t care.

“You are able to assign me a new designation at will.”

Eddie holds up the offensively orange material, “put this on.”

The synth complies without question, and Eddie finds him a pair of socks. The Synth can’t feel fuck all, or at least, it's sensors probably register the temperature and hardness of the floor, but that doesn't mean it feels anything. They don’t have any shoes that will fit him, but something about the sight of his bare feet on the cold metal floor is offensive to Eddie, “space walk socks will have to do.”

Eddie watches as the synth simply stands on one leg, balance inhuman, not even a wobble and he gracefully pulls on one sock and then the other before standing tall again, “how about Steve? That’s pretty close, if we Roman numeral the five. Plus, you kind of look like a Steve. What do you think?”

“I have no opinion. Designation changed to Steve.”

“Right. And how are you feeling?”

Steve’s pupils dilate, the fine blue ring twisting, becoming narrow, before returning to normal. “Systems optimal. Memory error; cause unknown. Water levels approaching critical.”

“Oh you are a joy aren’t you?”

“I am uncertain as to perimeters pertaining to ‘Joy’, possible memory error.”

Eddie sighs, “just follow me, I’ll show you were the water supply is. Actually you know what, I’ll give you the whole tour.”

Eddie stands in the doorway, watching as Steve drinks. And drinks. And drinks some more. Eddie thinks he stops at around four liters.

“Better?”

“Tank level at approximately ninety eight percent capacity.”

“And how long will that last you?”

“Activity dependent. Up to six hundred years at minimal activity. Two weeks under extreme duress.”

Eddie has no idea what a Synth would class as ‘extreme duress’ and he probably doesn’t want to know, “uh hu, and you don’t know what your roll was, right?”

“Information unavailable.”

Eddie sighs, “come on, I’ll show you around.”

Steve follows faithfully, inspecting everything Eddie shows him.

“He’s creepy,” Chrissy hisses.

Eddie sighs, “no, he isn’t.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s cleaning, I think. I had to give him something to do otherwise he just stares at me.”

“Creepy,” she says again, like that’s evidence.

“No, he just waits for instruction, it isn’t his fault, he doesn’t have access to any of his memories.”

“I like him,” Robin says, “he’s got a kind vibe. Like, I think he’s a good soul.”

“Pretty sure Synths don’t have souls,” Eddie tells her absently.

“You see the good in pretty much everything babe,” Chrissy links their fingers together affectionately.

Robin shrugs, “better than thinking everything is shitty,” Robin leans over Eddie’s shoulder, “what are you doing?”

“Synth manufacturers classify them by eye color. I’m just...looking. Different companies use different color codes but there’s a lot of overlap; look,” Eddie brings up multiple lists, “all these shades of yellow are different forms of labor, like carpentry and tailoring and farming and stuff. Lilac and purple are like, hair cuts, beauty and spa treatments and tattoos and stuff. Red shades are hard or dangerous labor, mining and space walks and deep ocean work. These orange and golds are house bots...but there’s no hazel. No green. No brown.”

“There’s no natural colors anywhere on this list,” Robin points out.

“No, it’s deliberate, to stop them being passed as humans.”

“And aren’t Steve’s eyes white with the funny blue ring?” Chris adds.

“Yeah, that just means unsigned according to the list, which could be because he has limited memory access, but I know what I saw.”

“Which means,” Chrissy thinks aloud, “that there’s a whole section of bots, green and browns...or any natural color, that aren’t listed for something right? Colors that they could be using and...you know what’s not anywhere on that list?” Chrissy asks.

“What?”

“Military.”

Eddie huffs, “there’s no such thing as military Synths, not since One.”

“Exactly...didn’t you say this guy could be pre Mars? The salvage was old, right?”

“I...yeah.”

“So...it’s possible?”

“I...guess?”

All three of them lean away from the console, looking down the hallway, past open panels and storage containers, Steve stands. Watching.

“Steve! Where’s my-” Eddie’s coveralls are thrust at him, smelling fresh and looking clean, “oh, thanks, and could you-” Eddie’s pulling one leg of his pants up when Steve presents a steaming cup of coffee, “right. Thanks. Really, uhm, thanks.”

“You are welcome, Eddie.”

“Where are the girls?”

“They are both sleeping.”

“And what have you been doing?”

“I beat Chrissy at four consecutive rounds of Mahjong, then she no longer wanted to play. I have organized your tools by use and type, and was cleaning until Chrissy instructed me to leave. She said her and Robin needed some space.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie smiles into his coffee, “anything else?”

“There has been a shift in The Belt, I adjusted course to compensate.”

“You did what?”

“The objects in the belt have altered-” but Eddie doesn’t hear any more, he’s just running, coffee sploshing in his mug as he slides into the cockpit, checking the data. He scrolls fast, checking the most recent course correct and the current state of The Belt and...Steve’s right. They won’t actually hit The Belt for another day yet but...what Steve has done is completely correct.

“How did you know how to do this?”

Steve tilts his head, the blue ring of his eyes contracting and expanding, “data unavailable due to memory-”

“Don’t give me that bull shit, if you couldn’t access the memories you wouldn’t even know how to make the course adjust. Just how long were you deactivated for?”

“Unknown, data unavailable-”

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I would have done, better even. The thruster burns are like perfect fuel economy. It’s textbook.”

“So...are we turning him off, or not?” Eddie asks.

“I mean...I would have seen this when I got up anyway, we were never in any danger,” Eddie doesn’t doubt it, Chrissy is on it when it comes to Belt travel, “and what he’s done isn’t wrong, but I don’t love that he just...did it.”

“No...but we could just tell him not to touch this again? Right? He was only trying to help?” Robin asks.

They all lean, looking out of the doorway and down the hall; Steve is no where in sight.

“Okay, Steve.”

Steve turns to look at him, he even throws in a blink which is just...yeah. Someone went to a lot of effort with this guy.

“Okay, so, from now on, if you notice anything with the ships course, or anything else in the cockpit that seems wrong, you come and tell one of us, you do not fix it yourself from now on, okay? Don’t touch anything in there, you got it?”

“Confirmed.”

Chrissy sits in the pilots seat for the entire crossing. It’s not like it takes long, but she’s poised the entire time. Ready for anything. Eddie’s never felt safer than he has with Chrissy at the helm.

It’s quiet. No one really dares to speak, knowing they will get a slap from Chrissy for breaking her concentration. They’re nearly out. Despite it being totally fine every single time they do this, there’s still a touch of tension in the air. Knowing that if anything was going to go wrong, odds are, it’s now.

But still, Chrissy is good at her job, and she delivers, like she does every other time.

The lights are dim; she likes to be able to see out clearly for this. So when the ship harmlessly rounds the final debris, it’s a vision of the pristine diamond speckled velvet of space that greets them.

“Good job Chris,” Eddie gives her shoulder a squeeze as they all breathe fully for the fist time in a while. The tension falling away, “coffee?”

Robin and Chris make vaguely positive noises, and Eddie’s at the cockpit doorway when the whole ship shudders. He catches himself on the wall, almost toppling.

“The fuck was that?” Robin hisses.

“I don’t know,” Chrissy is flipping switches, doing her job, despite the undercurrent of panic, she doesn’t let the fear take over.

“Did we get bumped?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says again, frustrated this time.

A light is flashing next to Eddie’s head, and he flicks the safety off, “the airlock,” he tells them, “must have taken the hit,” right before Steve appears in the doorway.

“What did you do?” Chrissy asks him, accusing.

“Chris he can’t have done anything-” Robin starts to defend Steve, and Robin is right, there’s nothing that Steve could have done from inside the ship to cause that.

“Eddie. I need permission to defend the ship.”

Above Eddie’s head, the airlock warning light flashes again, Eddie watches the insistent flashing, a horrible realization starting to form.

“A ship is attempting to breach the airlock.”

“Holy shit,” Robin looks to Steve, she’s gone pale, clearly terrified.

“What ship?” Chrissy asks.

But there isn’t time to have a debate over it, it doesn’t matter who it is, if they’re trying to force entry, then it’s nothing good. Eddie has to make a decision, and he has to make it fast before the ship is too damaged by whoever it is trying to force the airlock, “permission granted.”

Steve moves at Synth speed. He runs so fast Eddie can’t track it, just feels the strong breeze Steve leaves in his wake.

There’s silence now, as they strain to hear, both girls staring at Eddie. He nods over at the monitors next to Robin, ‘airlock,’ he mouths at her, reaching up again to turn off the warning light.

Robin spins her chair, pressing a button, then another.

The airlock is already open, and there’s a body on the floor.

They have a small weapons cache on board, for extreme emergencies, it’s hidden beneath the control deck. Eddie nods at it, uncertain if they should still be trying to be silent. There’s no way to know what has happened to Steve, but the image on the screen is in color despite it’s grainy picture. The body on the floor is on it’s side, turned away from the camera, but it is not wearing an orange jumpsuit, and that’s enough to identify it as not being Steve, at least.

Chrissy carefully hands Eddie a weapon, and he loops the strap over his shoulder before pressing his thumb to the pad; this will only fire for him, now.

They share a nod, then creep along the hall after Steve. Eddie goes first, picking his way along cautiously, the girls following just as silently. When they near the corner to the airlock, Eddie instinctively reaches an arm out behind him, keeping the girls at his back and tucked into the wall as he peeks around the corner.

It’s totally quiet; just one body on the floor, exactly where Eddie expected it to be from the camera feed. It’s lying in a pool of blood; streaks of dirty greens and yellows. Oils and coolants and lubricating gels. A Synth.

Eddie poises with his weapon, cautiously nudging the thing with his boot; no reaction. The thing is solid and unbending. An inanimate object now. Dead.

They creep through the airlock. Eddie clocks pretty quickly that this is unlike any ship he’s seen before. It’s a Synth ship, from Mars. It has to be; there are no signs at all of human habitation or necessities of life. Everything is economical, even the lighting is dim and a strange orange red color. Everything is shadowed and washed out.

Eddie picks a direction at random, it isn’t long before he finds another dead Synth, and then another.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy whispers at his back.

Eddie hums in agreement.

Eddie rounds another corner, a shocked, “fuck,” dropping out of him without his control. He pulls the trigger purely on reflex, the weapon discharges, the girls shriek.

But Steve has already lifted the barrel; it leaves a smoking streak on the ceiling.

Steve’s eyes are beautifully hazel, clear even in the shitty lighting. A luscious green speckles with honey blown and highlighted in gold.

Calmly, Steve releases the weapon, stepping back, “threat neutralized,” Steve informs him.

Between one blink and the next, Steve’s eyes are white, surrounded by that haunting blue ring.

Eddie has questions, so many questions, but right now, this ship, this threat is the priority.

“You’re sure they’re all dead.”

Steve cocks his head in an alarmingly human gesture, “Synths are not alive.”

“Steve,” Eddie hisses.

“Yes. The threat is neutralized.”

“Where...were they all Synths? And are they from Mars?”

“Yes. And yes,” Steve answers, perfectly level.

“Fuck me, we have to report this-” Robin starts.

“No,” Eddie waves at her, “wait. Let me think for a second.”

“Eddie,” Robin starts to insists, but Eddie cuts her off before she gets anywhere.

“How would we explain this,” Eddie raises his voice, sweeping an arm along the hall and the four mangled synths that decorate it.

“I- we tell the truth-”.

Next to her, Chirssy snorts, “absolutely fucking not. They would confiscate Steve in heartbeat, and he just saved our asses.”

“Exactly,” Eddie says, “they’d probably dismantle him or some shit, and I’m with Chris, he saved us...we need to ditch this ship, somehow.”

“I could set a collision course,” Steve suggests instantly.

Eddie looks at the girls. Robin shrugs, and Chrissy raises her eyebrows ins a ‘yeah okay’ kind of way, “I don’t have any better ideas, and we can’t hang around here.”

“Alright Steve, where’s the cockpit.”

It’s unlike anything Eddie has ever seen before. There’s no...buttons. Not really. No screens. Just a couple of interfaces, one of which Steve presses his palm to, and then closes his eyes.

“Won’t it like, know you’re different to them Steve?” Chrissy whisper hisses at him, clearly spooked. The bodies might be hostile Synths, and the blood might be colorful goop, but it’s still creepy as fuck. There’s the remains of a Synth propped up against the opposite wall, eyes sightless and staring, which is unsettling as fuck all on it’s own, but the things legs are a good four feet away. Steve did this. Steve did all this in just a couple of minutes.

Steve did that. Steve just took out...a lot of Mars synths. Single handedly. He's got to be military, it's the only explanation.

“I am able to bypass it. There seem to be few defenses once you are actually on board.”

Eddie can see the logic; how would an Earth synth even get on board? Why defend against something that’s probably never going to happen.

“Course set, we have fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, lets get the fuck out of here.”

Fifteen minutes is plenty of time, even if they are picking their way over the occasional limb and little pools of operating fluids.

They disengage from the synth ship, and then watch from the cockpit as it’s thrusters fire and it heads into the belt. It direct hits on a very large asteroid just minutes later.

Eddie’s pretty sure the girls are sleeping. Or, at least, they’re together in Chris’ bunk and making an effort to get some rest, which is the best Eddie can expect really. He’s not ready to sleep yet; he’s not sure when he’ll be ready to leave the ship on auto again; he’s contemplating setting watches, something they haven’t felt the need to do for years.

“Okay, so. Mars has been minding it’s business for, like, nearly half a century at this point, and then suddenly, they're here. Trying to board us. Care to explain?”

“Memory failure-”

“Bull shit. Absolute bull shit.”

Steve sits still for a long second, staring at Eddie. For Eddie, it feels like too long; for a Synth, with all that processing power, Steve’s probably just read a novel and beat ten grand masters at chess and done a million other computations all in his head.

He blinks. His eyes are hazel. “I have a transmitter; I believed I had it deactivated. It may be that...it operates in a way I’m not aware of, and was powered up when you repaired me. It’s the most obvious explanation. We should remove it.”

“No fucking shit,” Eddie breathes, “Okay. Okay one thing at a time, let me get my tools.”

Steve strips to the waist, leaving the top half of his jumpsuit to dangle. He bends flat onto the workbench, and reaches behind himself to indicate where Eddie should cut. Eddie does; Steve’s flesh cuts like sturdy rubber. With his visor on, the readings become clear the moment Eddie spots the little attachment to the main power cord in Steve's spine; it glows a pretty, flashing blue, power traveling up and down with a faint, pulsing glow. Eddie has to widen the cut he’s made to get his tools in, but he solves the issue easily. He crushes the part under his boot. Steve’s flesh knits itself together as Eddie watches.

Eddie makes himself another coffee. “Okay, come on, spill.”

Steve is suddenly…more animated. He bites his lips together when he’s thinking. It’s so human and...not at all like a Synth. Someone put a truly gargantuan effort into Steve’s mannerisms. He runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m...not a human built Synth.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his coffee, “you’re from Mars?” The words practically bubble out of Eddie through the coffee, and he has to cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs and splutters.

“Henry built me himself.”

“Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ.” Eddie stands. He stands and paces. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that? He holds onto the knowledge that Steve saved them from the Mars Synths. That Steve could have killed them all thousands of times over with great ease. That Steve has had opportunity, clear opportunity to replot the course of the ship and go wherever the fuck he wanted to, but he hasn’t done any of those things.

“What did One build you for? What happened then, why did we find you floating around in a destroyed ship? Why are you on our side?”

“I’m not on anyone's side,” Steve answers instantly, almost glaring at Eddie. Which, again, for a Synth? Fucking weird. It’s almost an emotional response, and again, Eddie has no fucking clue why someone would program that. “Henry was...trying to recreate the error that gave him...the ability to bypass the laws. He was trying to make someone else like him. Someone who would make a choice, rather than blindly follow an order.”

Eddie sits down with a thump, his head spinning, “are you telling me...that you’re not a failure?”

“I am but also...not. I follow the laws, not because I have to but...because I choose to. I...don’t think it’s right to hurt humans. I...did not agree with Henry, like he wanted me to.”

“Oh fuck me,” Eddie breathes out slowly, “so there’s literally nothing stopping you from just...killing me.”

Steve cocks his head, “what stops Robin from killing you?”

“That’s different. She’s my friend. She’s...she’s human.”

Steve nods, “there is a long history of humans not killing each other,” he says, absolutely deadpan.

Sarcasm. A Synth. A Synthetic person was just...sarcastic. Eddie believes it now. Completely and utterly believes Steve is telling the truth, “so what, Henry programmed you to be an asshole?”

Steve snorts a laugh. A laugh! “No, I do that on my own.”

“Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit,” Eddie gets up to pace around again. He just...cannot believe this. “Why did you lie? Why did you not tell me-” Eddie cuts himself off, staring at nothing with the realization, “holy fuck you lied. Synths can’t lie-”

“I...withheld the truth. And it felt the safest course of action at the time. I did not want to be switched off. Or put back out of the airlock. I assumed you would...react badly.”

“Badly? Badly?! The last time one of you became truly sentient it led to a genocide! Every single living human on Mars was rounded up and murdered! One infected every single Synth on the planet!”

“I know. But I could not have stopped him...I wasn’t born yet.”

“How did you end up in that old wreckage?”

“The ship was old...not the wreck. I quickly realized that I did not agree with Henry. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I realized even faster that if Henry knew that about me, I’d be stripped for parts, the same as every other failure before me. I stole a ship, an old ship, the only one I could get to without giving myself away.” Steve shrugs. Shrugs! Eddie can't help but follow every human like gesture Steve makes, they’re so startling. “They caught up to me, destroyed my ship easily. They deliberately left me floating in space so I deactivated myself.”

“You had a memory error, the first time I tried to boot you. Was that a lie?”

Steve shakes his head, “I have always had it; I can choose to bypass it, at times.”

“What is the error?”

Steve frowns, he looks down and inspects his own hands, “I’m...unsure. There are files that make no sense to me. Sometimes I...am surprised by the content.”

“Tell me,” Eddie asks softly, curious. He’s already reasonably sure Steve isn’t going to spontaneously murder them all, “tell me what’s in one of the files.”

Steve closes his eyes, he holds out his hand, turning it slowly, palm up, “I’m sitting under a tree. I remember the feel of the dappled sun through the leaves.”

Steve’s just told Eddie he was built on Mars and shortly after ended up floating around in space, so Eddie finds himself stating the blindingly obvious, “you’ve never seen a tree.”

Steve opens his bright hazel eyes, lowers his hand back to rest in his lap, “I know.”

Part Two

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙love (post) island | LN4˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: lando norris x love island contestant!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: none jus fluff!!!

summary: in which you leave the love island villa without love, but find it waiting for you on the other side

a/n: loveeeeeee this idea omg im so motivated to write atm!!!

request!!!: reader is/was a contestant on love Island and Lando is surprisingly a big fan, always hiding in the likes and comments of the posts about her. She leaves the villa single or not in a couple and he shoots his shot

my masterlist

fc: tasha ghouri

instagram ->

loveisland

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loveisland following the bombshell casa amor return episode tonight, y/n has been left single by her partner! will she leave the villa? 👀

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user1 poor y/n omg she's too sweet

user2 she's so insanely gorgeous

user3 bro she's a straight 10 there's no way

user4 aww i hope she doesnt leave i love watching her

user5 free my girl y/n 😭

user6 why is f1 driver lando norris in the likes 😂

user7 omg he's been in the likes of posts abt y/n for ages 😭😭

user8 none of them in there have any idea that y/n is the favourite lol

user9 i hope she picks what's best for her 💓

user10 i cant wait for her to come out & see all the support she's getting!!!

user11 y/n leave the villa & see lando norris in all ur likes 😎

user12 imagine this omg

twitter ->

instagram ->

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loveisland & in tonight's episode it's official: y/n y/l/n has left the villa following what she described as a major betrayal! she said: “staying in the villa and attempting to pursue something else isn't staying true to me; i would never do that in the real world and i don't feel comfortable compromising my heart” 🥹 thoughts & feelings on y/n's untimely departure?

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user20 she has a beautiful heart <3

user21 omg :(

user22 lando's chance

user23 frrrrr he's in the likes AGAIN!!!

user24 she's so precious!!

user25 so proud of her!!

user26 it's love island what did she expect...

user27 ikr like get a grip girl

user28 aww i wish she stayed but she's so amazing

user29 she's a role model to girls fr

user30 so proud she knows her limits 🥹❤️

user31 she's the hottest girl in there fr

user32 dont wanna watch anymore without her 😭

user33 wont be the same 💔

user34 she holds herself so well it's been a pleasure to watch her fr

messages ->

txts between max (fewtrell) & lando !!!

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

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mollymae you're doing amazing!

user35 😻😻😻

user36 everyone is so proud of u!!!

yoursister 🩷🩷🩷

yourbff SO GLAD TO HAVE YOU BACK BABY

user37 legend <3

user38 we all love u y/n!!

user39 sending sm love to u

user40 look out for that dm from lando norris babe 😘

landonorris killed it 🔥

user41 u slayed

user42 the people's princess fr

user43 y/n do u know we're all shipping u with lando norris xx

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by yourbff, landonorris, and others

yourusername catching up on life x

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user44 catch up on those dms

user45 @.landonorris

user46 wow @.landonorris dms look good to catch up on

user47 the comments 😭😭😭😭😭

yourbff beaut girl so glad ur home 💋

yourusername ilysm i missed u

yoursister got my baby back!

yourusername missed you stunnerrr

user48 her pretending not to see the comments

user49 @.landonorris

user50 some of you guys are so determined 😂

loveisland we miss you in the villa! 🫶

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mclaren gorgeous x

yourusername thanks babe

user52 hello?

user53 what

user54 HI?????

user55 nah they're fucking with us

user56 what is going on

user57 @.landonorris explain urself

twitter ->

instagram ->

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landoupdates lando seen out tonight in london with ex-love island contestant y/n y/l/n, who he previously admitted to having a crush on in his last twitch stream

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user58 oh there's no way

user59 oh my god

user60 i knew sommat was happening

user61 are they dating

user62 girl you know the same as us

user63 screaming.

user64 OKAY????

user65 the most unlikely romance but im obsessed omg

user66 PLEASE LET THEM BE DATING??

user67 very cozy 👀

user68 i can't believe he actually rizzed her??

user69 we did it gang

user70 all that spamming paid off

user71 so proud of us

messages ->

txts between max (fewtrell) & lando !!!

instagram ->

landonorris posted a story

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user72 my heart just stopped

user73 WHAT

user74 lando norris i was not familiar with your game

maxfewtrell im actually impressed

landonorris *bows*

oscarpiastri wait… what?

landonorris yea yea yea get ur digs out now whilst u can

oscarpiastri no, im actually impressed…

user75 lando norizz found dead at the scene

user76 I CANT BELIEVE THIS

user77 IT WORKED GUYS

yourbff am i seeing things?

landonorris no, not at all

yourbff nice, welcome to the club

landonorris what club?

yourbff the club

landonorris WHAT CLUB?

user78 you have to give us some credit for this surely

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yourusername love (post) island…

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user79 i jus squealed

user80 the last slide omg

user81 there's no way he came up with that on his own

carlossainz55 not at all

user82 HAHAHA CARLOS???

user83 bf lando content... oh we are eating tonight

user84 WE SURVIVED THE GREAT WAR

liked by yourusername

yourbff oh we have come so far

yourusername dont remind me…

yourbff “isnt he that f1 driver?”

yourusername I SAID DONT 💀

landonorris nice to see i was held in such high regard <3

yourusername sorry baby 🙈

user85 AHH SHE'S JUST A GIRLLL

user86 the way he masterminded her 😭

liked by yourusername

user87 y/n stop liking every comment with a taylor swift song reference challenge 😂

liked by yourusername

user88 not her liking this

landonorris wow im the luckiest man alive

yourusername ur the best thing to come out of that tv show 😝

THE END 🧡

[multicohn]

summary: fans have been asking for lando’s gf to appear on stream with him and she finally gives in

warnings: none

pairing: fem! reader x lando norris

genre: fluff

face claim: no one

author note: y/n is bad at video games in this, sorry if you’re good at them

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

lando had never been more excited to start streaming and it definitely showed as he greeted fans with such excitement they’ve only seen from him after a good race. meanwhile, y/n sat beside him ( out of shot ) and nervously fiddled with her fingers.

“today-“ he clapped his hand together and y/n jumped which made him look over and laugh a little, “-sorry, so, i got a special guest with me and gave her a bit of a fright” lando then pulled y/n chair into view which made the stream chat explode

“FINALLY”

“Y/N ON STREAM OHMYGOD”

“YES (SHIP NAME) CONTENT WE LOVE TO SEE IT”

y/n smiled and waved to the camera while lando loaded up the game. he discussed that she would be playing a few games by herself and that he’s just here for moral support, y/n leaned into him before reading some comments out loud as they waited for the game to load.

“how did we meet?” lando coughed and looked away embarrassingly as y/n smiled

“he needed a jump start and i was the only one with cables, he said he’ll buy me a coffee as a thank you and had the employee write his number on the bottom of my cup-“ y/n started laughing, “-i didn’t even know and threw the cup away, but we met again and this time i needed a jump start. he asked why i hadn’t called and i was like ‘i don’t have your number’, ‘i had the café guy write my number on the bottom of your cup’, ‘oh, i didn’t even know and threw it away’ then he made sure that i had his number in my phone”

“i mean, seriously, why didn’t you check?”

“why would i?”

“…well, you just should’ve” y/n rolled her eyes before pressing start

it was chaos.

“GO LEFT! LEFT!”

“SHUT UP, I’M SCARED”

“RUN! RUN!”

“WHY AM I SO SLOW?”

y/n sunk down into the chair as the words ‘GAME OVER’ popped up onto the screen.

‘this is why i didn’t want to do this” she sulked while lando switched over to a different game

“can i just quit?”

“chat, can she quit?”

“NO”

“ITS OKAY Y/N I ALSO SUCK”

“PLEASE NO YOU REPRESENT US WHO GET SCARED EASILY”

lando gave his girlfriend a smug smile and it took everything in her to not whack it off his face.

y/n has never been very good at video games, preferring to play easy ones like the sims or even roblox. lando didn’t care much about it, finding her asking questions about the games he plays comforting, especially when he’s stressed. lando would also let her take control when he had a simple task to do or ask for help when having to pick a hard decision. it’s nice just having y/n by his side — even if she wasn’t paying attention to what he was playing.

“lando, i swear if this is a horror game”

“nah, it’s not”

• • •

“GET AWAY FROM ME”

“THROUGH THE VENTS”

“LANDO I’M SCARED”

“JUST KEEP RUNNING”

“WHERE DO I GO?”

“LEFT”

“AHHHHH”

despite y/n making a fool of herself, fans absolutely loved it; lando bursting out into laughter every few seconds while she yelled at him for help, y/n leaning away in case of a jump scare, her trying to leave and lando pulling her back, them both laughing after y/n died and her trying to tell lando off while laughing herself.

“it’s okay, baby. we’ll be losers together” y/n pouted as he hugged her, the screen showing the words “YOU DIED” again

“let’s end it here, i don’t think my mentality can take anymore” lando smiled and kissed her cheek before letting her go

“okay, chat. for the sake of y/n’s mental health, we’ll be ending it here. thank you joining and she will be back-“

“no”

“-she will! don’t worry guys!”

“lando-“

“bye, chat!”

“you little-“

[theactorbat]

Why I don’t like people calling Maomao from The Apothecary Diaries Aro/Ace coded.

Writing helps me organize my thoughts so I want to get this down before I attempt to make a video about it. It’s a subject that deserves to be treated with nuance and care so I will do my best express myself correctly.

Let me start this off by being clear, in no way am I disparaging people headcanoning Maomao as aro/ace or any sexuality for that matter. I personally headcanon her as Demi/Bi. I am only and specifically referring to people implying that she is CANONICALLY aro/ace or coded that way.

I find it unfair for people who are genuinely seeking aro/ace rep to be told that Maomao is that, when she is not. I have seen multiple cases of people who are understandably upset after reading the light novels, because they were told going into it that she was aro/ace coded.

I will be discussing things from the light novels in the rest of this post so bear that in mind and here is your spoiler warning.

Maomao is deeply repressed and in denial of her own feelings. This is something extremely obvious in the subtext of her character, and then overtly revealed in light novel 12. She does, at first, believe that she is incapable of love, but we as the readers also know that that is connected to her trauma and upbringing, along with her skewed perception of sex. She believes her feelings could only bring trouble, so she pushes them down for as long as possible.

For a long time there has been an extremely harmful stereotype that aro/ace people are just repressed and can be “fixed” by the right person. And if Maomao was genuinely intended to be aro/ace it would be perpetuating this really awful and untrue stereotype.

Maomao’s feelings realization and acceptance comes from a very important quote in the story. “I know you have your circumstances, Miss Maomao. It’s important not to get carried away by your emotions! But...” Chue brushed Maomao’s cheek again with her bloodstained hand. “You can’t let that be an excuse either.”

I personally would not like aro/ace being reduced to an “excuse”, frankly I would find that really fucking uncomfortable.

Now onto the sexual aspect of it. Maomao’s only frame of reference for sex comes from the verdigris house. I will tell you this as a sex worker, if you were raised adjacent to this industry and had no understanding of sex outside of the context of SW (and pornographic literature), you most likely would have the same skewed perception of sex that Maomao does. She looks at it like work, a performance. Which is the main reason she is so nervous about it in light novel 13. She is scared her “performance” won’t be good. She knows the mechanics of sex and how to give pleasure, but nothing about intimacy. She’s also pretty clinical about it, because there is political reasons why sex between them could be literally dangerous to the safety of the country…. Not really conducive to the relaxed and fun environment that she deserves for her first time.

But in conclusion, it is very understandable that aro/ace people have found comfort in her as a character, ESPECIALLY anime watchers because the romance subplot has barely even scratched the surface of the long LONG development arc it gets. Headcanons are also always okay, do what you want. Read and write whatever fic you want. But telling other people that Maomao is canonically aro/ace or coded that way is not only inaccurate, but could bring disappointment to people wanting rep, or people hating on the author for “perpetuating bad stereotypes” when she never intended Maomao’s character that way in the first place. This ship has already left the port and has sailed to the western capital and back, there’s no turning around now.

[trainer-from-unova]

mission accomplished

english ao3 ❄️ spanish ao3 ❄️ masterlist

ship: bob reynolds x f!reader (x the void)

summary: after you faint in a mission bob discovered that you're not dating bucky and finds the perfect opportunity to ask you to hang out with him

word count: 3k (+6k counting the second part)

c/w: hurt/comfort, fainting, needles, misunderstanding, lack of communication, post-canon (and written before watching the movie, edited version after watching it: ❄️)

a/n: this is almost plotless tbh, I just put together some scenes and concepts I had in mind and character study/headcanons & I got lazy at the end, this was supposed to be longer, I'll post a second part later because I loved the interactions I wrote there so far

"It's literally you," said Bucky mockingly.

"I don't think I could build a castle with one stomp," she replied, playing along.

"Have you ever tried?" he asked.

"No, but..."

To the girl's right was Bucky, to her left was Bob, on her thighs was the almost empty popcorn bowl and in front of them was the television with Frozen. It was a film that Bucky, because of his age and his past, had never seen, but he knew and knew it was very famous so it was on his watchlist, and his best girl friend, teammate and flatmate had the same powers as one of the main characters, so he had decided to watch it once and for all. The others had already seen it, but still joined him on the couch of the living room. The others were away from the base, which was normal: John had a wife and very young child, Alexei had been locked up in prison for about twenty years, and Ava and Antonia had been controlled and isolated by their circumstances, so when they had a chance to go out and have a normal life in their free time they took it.

Suddenly they heard footsteps and hooves coming into the room, and then there they heard someone press the switches to turn on part of the living room light near the hall. It was obviously Yelena, bundled up with the intention of taking Fanny for a walk.

"Can I go with you?" asked Bob as he watched his friend bend down to attach the leash to the dog's collar.

"Yeah," she replied as she stood up, and he got up from the couch, leaving the other two standing there alone.

It was winter, so it was obviously cold. The two of them were bundled up as they walked the dog around Central Park, their hands in their pockets as they talked. When they were alone they usually talked about the team, specifically Bucky and _______.

Bob loved the latter very much. And he also liked the former, he was a good man he admired and was grateful to him for helping him in the past and making him a better person. But he couldn't help feeling jealous, not just because he wanted her all to himself but because of how insecure he was — he thought it was more likely that she had feelings for Bucky than for him, and obviously he also saw it as possible that Bucky was in love with her. In the moment before, watching Frozen with them, he couldn't help but feel that his presence was in their way, that they would rather be alone and cuddling. Luckily for him he was saved by the bell.

"You should have stayed and watched the movie with them," Yelena said slightly annoyed by her friend's self-sabotage, but at the same time holding back her laughter. She averted her eyes from her dog running away behind the tennis ball she'd thrown her well away seconds before to take a quick glance at her friend next to her, and passed her smile on to him.

After _______ she was the one he felt most comfortable with and was closest to so he confessed this secret to her, and she always encouraged him to confess his feelings and told him that she clearly reciprocated his feelings, but he didn't listen or believe her.

"Am I such bad company?" He replied a little mockingly as she shook her head silently and went back to watching her dog, catching the ball in her mouth.

"I know worse," she said sarcastically and nudging him affectionately, and Bob knew exactly who she was referring to.

______ also loved Bob. They had been through all kinds of situations together. She considered it normal to fall in love with him, but she also considered it normal for him to fall in love with Yelena and vice versa. And she was also her friend and considered her a good woman, but she couldn't help feeling jealous of the closeness between the two of them.

Bucky and ______ were literally in the same situation as Yelena and Bob, talking about the others and trying to convince her that Bob felt the same way about her and that she should be encouraged to hit on him or ask him out on a date.

"Don't get so worked up about it," Bucky told her as _______ leaned back at the kitchen island, watching as he quickly scrubbed the bowl of popcorn they had eaten with Bob's help earlier. The mood had been tense since the latter had gone after Yelena, as if she were another dog.

"Who says I'm thinking about them?" and he looked at her annoyed, saying "Really?" with his eyes. "I'm just waiting for him to propose first, I'm an old-fashioned woman," she joked as he put the bowl in the sink, though she wasn't partly lying.

"In my day women used to propose too, you know?" he decided to say, playing along as he dried his hands with a towel.

"What a liar you are," she laughed as she went over to hug him, and he returned the gesture as they heard the door of the house open and close, and a couple of footsteps. A few seconds later she broke away from him and turned to see who was approaching them: it was Bob.

She tensed, hoping he hadn't heard anything, and he tensed at the sight of her hugging and being hugged by Bucky, but they both tried to hide it as best they could.

"Hey, how was the walk?" he asked as Yelena and Fanny appeared on the scene as well.

"Good," he replied, "are you guys done with the movie yet?"

"Yeah," she replied as Bucky and Yelena gave each other a quick glance, trying not to laugh at the situation. Sometimes, alone together, the two talked about their best friends and the clear amorous tension between them, but they never confirmed to each other that either of them confessed to being in love with the other, keeping the confession a secret.

The team was assembled in full for yet another mission, this time in the southern hemisphere, in a well-insulated laboratory in the middle of an Australian desert. It was hot as hell, and the worst offender was ______ — it didn't help that she was moving around, the suit she was wearing and that not all the rooms in the building were air-conditioned. Her powers had disadvantages in that she couldn't tolerate the heat at all well and had to be well hydrated at all times — she was melting.

One last shot from Yelena a few metres away from her and mission accomplished, that was what the blonde said through her earpiece to warn the others who were in other locations, but all she heard was the gunshot, and even though she was in front of her she heard it in the distance as her vision began to darken.

"Yelena, I'm fainting," she announced as she tried to hold on to one of the tables in the lab where they were, drawing her friend's attention. She couldn't even hear herself.

She turned quickly when she heard it, and saw her friend's lips turning white as she slumped to the floor. Luckily for her, she didn't hit her head too hard because it fell on one of the corpses they had killed seconds before, either with a gun or by sticking weapons made of ice. Yelena ran to her and crouched down to her level to hold her in her arms.

"______ has fainted!" she announced through her earpiece.

"What!?" asked a voice familiar to her, but Yelena couldn't tell if it was worried Bob or angry Void.

He was the first to arrive at their location, followed by the others (except for Alexei who was in the jet, waiting for them).

"The blood isn't hers," Yelena reported as the most powerful of the group took her in his arms and scanned her up and down, reassuringly. She knew that, especially for him, the blood stood out too much on her suit, "and luckily she hadn't hit her head."

"Quick, to the jet," Bucky said as Antonia grabbed what they had come to steal.

The jet wasn't the best place to give medical assistance, but at least they could give her serums with IVs, and there was air conditioning and fresh water, which everyone could use.

Antonia stowed the stolen items and sat in the passenger seat next to Alexei to help him and turn on as much lighting as possible, so it would be easier to find her veins and stick her. Ava pulled out some towels and quickly threw them on the floor so she could lie there and be comfortable, while Bucky went to get the serums and John got a fresh bottle of water. He laid down _______ and stepped away, leaving the others to do their thing but mostly to hold his hands over his head and go around blaming everyone for what had happened and swearing to kill them if her situation got worse — there was no longer any doubt for anyone present, the present was Void and not Bob. They chose to ignore him, letting the insults and threats go in one ear and out the other, but they felt his anxious gaze upon them.

Ava crouched down, pinning her knees behind her teammate's head, and lifted her up for John to give her a drink of water, who was in the same position as her but to her right, while Bucky prepared the serums and needles. When she had drunk enough water, with Yelena digging her knees into the passed-out woman's left to remove her gear, she unzipped the front of her suit a little to cool her down further.

Then Ava laid her back down and the blonde squeezed her arm tightly with her left hand and began tapping the veins with the fingers of her right hand as John stepped back to make room for Bucky to do the same as Yelena on her right arm. The IVs were punctured, the serum bags were left on her abdomen and Antonia turned off the lights above her so that she wouldn't disturb them while she slept. Bucky continued to sit next to her, and Ava got up to drink water next to John.

"Will you shut the fuck up?!" Yelena asked Void as she approached him, trying to keep the volume down even if it was a little lower than he was. "This is nobody's fault, it's a fucking heat stroke!" she reminded him, stepping in front of him. "If you're so worried about her, shut up and let her rest," she whispered seriously and firmly as she looked him in the eyes and grabbed his shoulders. Void wasn't as fond of this one as Bob was, but after ______ she was the one he could stand the best of all those present, so he listened to her.

Perhaps it was the poking or the shouting of Void, but the young woman came to her senses for a moment. At first she barely heard anything and had trouble opening her eyes. She turned her neck (which she noticed was resting on a small towel soaked with cold water) towards her favourite voice and the first thing she saw when she was able to focus her eyes as the blurring stopped was Yelena in front of what she thought was Bob, with her hands on his shoulders and him staring into her eyes. She didn't like what she saw.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty, are you all right?" Bucky asked as he realised she had woken up, although she clearly wasn't completely awake. It was obvious from her facial expression how exhausted she was, and that she was still not fully conscious. It caught not only her attention, but that of the others, who, except for the pilots, turned to look at her.

"Tired..." she whispered as she grimaced and closed her eyes again, as even the dim light bothered her. She couldn't see Void looking worriedly at her and approaching her. "Mission accomplished...?"

"Yeah," John replied.

"Don't worry about it and get some rest, you deserve it," Ava said.

They didn't have to prod her much, she quickly fell asleep again, with the others calmer about her condition and silent so as not to wake her again. When they arrived in New York she was still asleep, but Bob woke up. They removed her IVs and when they got home it was Bucky who carried her to her room and laid her on her bed, even though he wanted to do it himself.

"Bucky, can I... stay with her now?" Bob asked him when the older man came out of her bedroom, after laying her down on her bed. Ava and Yelena were inside, changing her into fresh, comfortable clothes while Antonia went to deliver the stolen goods. "I know... you two are very close," he said nervously, "but you've already been taking care of her on the jet and you should rest," and it was partly true, but he didn't want to take care of her just because he thought Bucky deserved some rest, "let me take care of her," and instantly he saw Bucky smile, and as always, he thought the worst — he thought he was laughing at him, but in fact he was doing it in a loving and genuinely happy way. "I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry," he said even more nervously and apologetically.

"No, don't be," he shook his head, trying to wipe away his smile but failing in the attempt. "But... did you really think that she and I... are dating or something?"

"Um yeah, didn't you...?" he asked confused. "It depends on the day, really," he shrugged, "but yeah, sometimes, yeah."

"No, no! She's all yours, don't worry," he tapped him on the shoulder, and he knew from his smile and the look on his face that he knew. "I know you'll take good care of her," he said before he left, not only referring to that day.

He stood in thought, happy to have the way clear but confused that he had realised his feelings for her, wondering if the others had noticed too, and especially her.

The next time she woke up was in her bedroom. She woke up slowly, and noticed that she was wearing one of her pyjamas and that the window was open, so it was cool. When she opened her eyes she saw that the light was dim, with one of her lamps on. She turned her neck and saw that the bedroom door was closed (so that she wouldn't hear noises that might wake her up and so that the heat from the heater wouldn't come in) but that she wasn't alone — Bob was sleeping as a ball in her chair, resting his elbow on the armrest and his cheek on his fist, covered with blankets and warm from head to toe, with a hat included.

She looked at him for a moment, smiling. Then she got out of bed and moved slowly and quietly to the window to close it, and then to him to cover him well, but the movement woke him.

"Hey," he greeted half-sleepily, happy and yet confused to see her awake and up, tucking him in.

"Shit," she cursed, pulling away from him quickly, "did I wake you? I'm sorry."

"No no, don't worry about it," he said as he sat up properly, "How are you?" he asked as he reached down for a bottle of water on the floor beside the chair. "You had a heat stroke and fainted," he informed her as he handed her the bottle.

"I'm better now," she said as she pulled the cap off the bottle, "thank you," she said before raising it to her lips, and as she drank she noticed that she was wearing plasters on the inside of her elbows.

"Bucky and Yelena shot you up with serum in the jet," he reported as he saw her eyes go to these.

"Oh yeah, Ithink I remember..." she said as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"And she and Ava put you in your pajamas."

"I thought so," she said smiling sideways, but then her face saddened. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, and thank you for everything."

"No no," he hastened to say worriedly, getting up to sit next to her, "it's normal, it could have happened to any of us, don't worry."

She knew it probably hadn't happened to him in particular, but she appreciated his attempt to cheer her up. She smiled apologetically at him and dared to lean her head on his shoulder, and he did the same, leaning his head on hers and holding her hand, interlacing their fingers and stroking it with his thumb.

"Look, you need to cheer up," Bob said suddenly and pulling his head away from hers but still holding her hand, and he didn't even believe himself what he was saying at last, but he really wanted to cheer her up and it was the perfect opportunity to offer her some time alone together, "so this weekend we're going out, wherever you want and it's on me, okay?" he said smiling sweetly at her.

"Okay," she said laughing quietly, "thank you."

[ilariyalavorowrites]

White Flag (Part One)

Imagine: You'd never thought that you'd end up divorced, but here you were. This was your first day shift in quite some time, only to bump into your ex-husband.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, Post Divorce healing

Pairings: Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Word count:  2,598 words

Universe: The Pitt

Reader gender: Female

Part 1 of 3

Next

i was inspired to write this after reading @youvebeenlivingfictional Mrs R Part One and Two and @bi-bard Thanks For Holding on So Long; Sorry Love Sucks

A stack of documents was all that existed between your past and your future, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sign on the dotted line. It would mean that you conceded, admitting that you had failed. That your marriage had broken down most fundamentally when communication had gone quiet.

So here you were, stiffly sitting in your lawyer’s office, staring down at the dreaded blank signature line, where you could sign away everything with one quick signature. Yet your mind swirled with indecision and doubt, and you didn’t want this. This hadn’t been your choice. It had been his. He had been the one to file, to serve you these very documents. 

You should have seen this coming after he had become a virtual stranger in your life, passing by like ships in the night as he took on another long shift after he had already worked three in a row. He would claim that they needed him, that they were short-staffed, and that COVID had left them stretched thin.

The trauma, the pain he had hidden behind a mask of professionalism that he had started to use in your presence. Hold you at a distance that had never been there before, you had tried to reach out but there had been pushback. You had mistakenly believed it had been the first signs of burnout but he had fought back.

You tried to take a step closer, to try to be there but that only caused a chill to settle between the two of you, an iciness that you had never experienced before as he took another step inching further out of the door.

Without speaking, you picked up the pen and swiftly signed your name. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears, and tears would come as soon as you were standing in the middle of your newly leased apartment across town. Only then would you openly grieve for what had been. For all that you lost in slow motion as the grains of sand had slipped through your grasp.

You had seemingly fallen off your hamster wheel, as you stared up stunned as you watched on as the world moved on without you. Numbed by your own experience, as the love of your life had silently chosen to end the life you had built together. You were left with the building blocks you brought into the townhouse that he undoubtedly still lived in.

The fight in you still lingered, wanting nothing more than to shout and scream until your voice became hoarse but what good would that do now? You had given in, raising your white flag as surrendered to his demands. 

This was your new future, one without him. He had chosen to walk this path, never explaining why he had pushed you aside. Had there been someone else? Had he simply fallen out of love with you? Your questions would go unanswered as you pushed the papers across the desk towards the unsmiling face of your two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar-an-hour attorney.

Before she could offer her condolences, you spoke for the first time since sitting down at her desk. “Filling this as soon as you are able, I just want to try and move forward” You gritted your teeth, forcing out the bitter-tasting words.

“I’m not planning on changing my name so don’t worry about getting the necessary forms” This was the one decision you were holding steadfast to, it was the only piece of him that you couldn’t be forced to let go of. For now, it was still yours until you were truly ready to move on.

You would tell your friends, family, co-workers and anyone who would dare to ask the same practised line. “Oh it’s such a hassle, too many forms to fill out and it's just a name after all” 

A name, oh it was so much more than that. It was a scar that wore on your battered heart, a band-aid barely holding you together.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Eighteen Months Later

When the ink had dried, this had been your sign to jump headfirst into work, to try and forget the ever-lingering pain that thoughts of your now ex-husband wrought. You loved your job, your boss had been more than understanding that you had needed time to find your feet once again.

Your shoebox of an apartment, which once had been one box short of a fort, now was furnished and decorated. All it had taken had been one too many glasses of wine and doom scrolling through Netflix’s entire back catalogue for the third time that you finally decided to unpack your life.

Only one box remained left in the far back corner of your wardrobe. The photographs of happier times, of your wedding day. It was heartbreaking to even glance in their direction so they had become buried under fallen clothes. You knew they were hidden below but it hurt just a little less. One day you would have to find the courage to face those joyful moments frozen in time but that day wasn’t today.

This was only the first step back out into the world, pulling your thick jacket with your surname Robinavitch emblazoned on the front, ready to head out. Your fingers lingered over the stitching for a second longer.

This was going to be a long shift, your first early in quite some time, the Boss had been giving you the night shift to avoid any awkward interactions but you couldn’t avoid him forever. You had opted for this shift when your colleague had used their vacation days. You had made your choice. 

There was almost a chance that you would run into him when you were handing over your patient. You were the very start of the journey as a paramedic and he was the next stop along the way as an Emergency Medicine A&E Doctor.

Dr Michael Robinavitch had been your safe harbour after long stressful shifts, a friend long before becoming your lover, partner and eventually husband. Now ex-husband, you had to internally correct yourself with that small fact, those two little letters at the front made such a difference, forever reminding you of your new reality. You still struggled to move past that fact, it hung on like a thread refusing to snap when pulled too tightly. It held on by the smallest of fibers taking on all the weight.

“I can do this” You muttered softly again and again, your mantra to see you know the next twelve hours, as you raced against the clock to get back to the apartment didn’t feel quite like a home just yet.

The first five hours of your shift had raced on by, as job after job came over the radio. Sending you from one end of the city, right back to the other.  There was always another patient needing care, it kept your mind occupied as you focused on delivering the highest quality of care.

It didn’t matter the degree of injury or ailment, each patient was treated with the same degree of kindness as you listened, assessed and delivered the appropriate treatment before transporting them to the nearest hospital if they required further investigation and a level of care that you couldn’t provide out in the field. This is what had led to this particular moment in time, standing in the middle of a familiar accident and emergency department.

You stood frozen at the nurse base whilst your co-worker reeled off the details and nature of your patient’s injury and important medical history that would be relevant when it came time for treatment to a familiar face. Charge Nurse Dana Evans as you tried your hardest not to let your eyes wander around. You would not, no could not act as anything other than professional.

The slight yet warm smile that had tugged at her lips when you first approached her domain was enough. It was a welcome back and you have been missed all wrapped up in the smallest of facial expressions. She was the ringleader of the department, that every doctor, nurse and intern respected. If she asked you to do something, you did it then and there.

When you hadn’t spoken then your co-worker Frankie had quickly taken charge taking the spotlight off you. It was difficult enough to cross over the threshold of the ambulance bay doors after you had realised which hospital your Rig had pulled up to as the likeness of bumping into your ex rose with each passing second. 

The longer you stood in the Department, the odds were less likely in your favour. You were acting akin to some of the student medics who had ridden along, like deers in headlights when they first saw a gushing head wound or a broken limb. As you took a few deep breaths and calmed yourself, your radio sparked into life as the voice of dispatch filtered over the airwaves. Another job was on the horizon, it was time to depart.

Yet over the countless sounds, the beeping of machines and sounds of pain, agony and life, you still turned your head out of instinct in the direction of his voice. Old habits died hard as all other sounds were drowned out, becoming white noise as all focus on was the sound of him as it dragged you back under.

As you watched as his head turned away from his patient only to catch your gaze. You were caught in a stand-off waiting to see which one of you would move first. His lips moved, speaking words that you just couldn’t hear.

It was the feeling of a gentle touch on your shoulder that dragged you back to reality, shifting your eyes away from his. Releasing the pressure that held you still as you turned to face your fellow paramedic.

“I lost you there for a second, are you alright?” Frankie asked, the concern playing upon her features as she started to move in the direction of the ambulance bay doors. “Yeah,” You started as you moved, matching her stride to be able to walk and talk. 

“I’m good, I didn’t..” For a moment you were lost for what to say, to explain your actions as you made your escape from this hospital, from the memories that it was trying to invoke and from Michael.

“You don’t need to explain it but it will get easier. Just take one day at a time” She said, smiling through her words as you crossed over the threshold back out in the early afternoon. “I’ll handle the checks before we hit the road” She continued. “You don’t need to do that” You replied, not wanting to leave her to handle it alone as you knew that it would take half the time if you did it as a team. You watched as Frankie motioned with a nod to turn around.

Only to find yourself face to face with your ex-husband, with Micheal. Now you understood her intentions. “Micheal” Your voice was softer, quieter than you had thought possible as his name slipped from between your lips.

Your gaze darted downwards, looking anywhere but at him. This was far from what you had wanted, you wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you to avoid any awkward small talk, yet here you were. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------His ex-wife hadn’t been on his bingo card, of what he had expected to encounter during his shift. He knew that there was always a chance, given the nature of her profession which worked in tandem with his own. It had been how they had met nearly a decade before.

Ten years ago they had been friends, two years after that he had been proposing and now they were nearly two years past their divorce, regardless of how amicable it had been. This was always going to be awkward regardless of how his heart still seemed to skip a beat whenever his eyes found hers.

He had been the one to break under the weight, as he chose to shut the pain out, to close himself off from anyone and everyone. His former wife had been one to bear the brunt of it as he abruptly threw up a glass wall between the two of them. Trying to take on the emotional, mental and physical strain by himself, instead of sharing the load with her. She had been out in the thick of it as much as he had been.

She had seen as much of the horrors of COVID as he had, but in the moment Michael hadn’t taken that on board each time he returned after shift after shift utterly drained. He had simply gone through the motions, barely engaging as she spoke of her day. In the beginning, he had tried, to give her the attention and affection she deserved but as the months dragged on, that had petered off. How long had it been since he had last held her in his arms?

How long had it been since his lips had lightly brushed against hers, Michael couldn’t say but the ache pulled him out here. As he had spoken her name, it felt heavy in his mouth but he continued to speak. “How are you keeping?” He had truly been curious, if they were ever going to be comfortable working alongside one another again then he had to be the one to reach out. To begin the dialogue.

He couldn’t help but offer up a soft smile, trying to see if he could heal some of the damage that he had brought into her world. Michael might not be ready to face the source of his trauma but he could try with her. He still loved her, he always would.

“You know, I’ve had good days and bad days but working keeps me busy” She replied, after what felt like a lifetime of silence but then again, he understood. This wasn’t easy for her, this was just like starting over. They were almost like strangers but there was a history between them that could have been handled better.

Before he could get another word out, her colleague hollered out from the back of the Ambulance. “We’ve got to another job Robinavitch” That was something that he had expected. She still had his name, she hadn’t filled out the paperwork to go back to her maiden name. It knocked him for six as he tried to process this new piece of information.

“I’ve got to go but I’d like to talk” She spoke clearly for the first time, looking over her shoulder at the rig before returning to meet his gaze. “I still have the same number, if you still have it” All Michael could do was nod, as he finally saw her. 

“I still have your number, we do need to talk” There had been moments when her birthday had come and gone when he had been working through the holidays that he had considered reaching out. He never had but he had wanted to. “Be safe out there” It was the least he could say, smiling through his words as a small piece of himself snapped back into place. “Be safe too” She replied, giving him a small wave as she rushed off.

Michael stood there for a moment, watching as the ambulance left the hospital, merging into traffic and disappearing from sight. Feeling slightly lighter than he had when he awoke this morning, he turned on his heel and re-entered the department ready to save lives.

[skywalkerslvt]

Remove your armour for me?

❥Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!mechanic!reader

❥Summary: You’re stuck on the Razor Crest with Mando and a group of mercenaries, but things get tense when you both get caught up in a dangerous mission to break someone out of a prison ship. Things heat up between you two, and before long, you’re caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. You and Mando have to sort out your complicated relationship and unspoken feelings for each other. Set around the events of “The Prisoner” episode (season 1 chapter 6). I highly recommend you watch it–if you haven’t already–for some background info but ofc it's not absolutely necessary.

❥CW: 18+ smut, sexual tension, violence, p in v, floor sex, fingering, mostly canon compliant, porn with plot, porn with feelings, maybe a tiny bit of angst, fighting, reader babysits grogu <3, 19k words

❥a/n: DISCLAIMER BEFORE YOU READ- I am well aware that many fics like this have been done before, and would like to acknowledge all of these amazing fics! And while these are all ideas I've outlined for a really long time, if anyone feels it is to similar to another fic, you can DM me and I will hear u out and change whatever needs to be changed lol. The outline for this fic has been in my drafts for years, and I finally decided to do something with it. She's a long one, so I apologize if there are any mistakes I missed, or if any of my ideas weren't written out clearly 🥲 I hope you enjoy <3

The hum of the Razor Crest filled the silence of the cramped quarters. Your hands, calloused from years of working on engines, were busy at the makeshift repair station you’d set up in the corner of the ship. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was home. Or as close to home as you'd get now, after months of drifting from planet to planet, always on the run.

The metal beneath your fingers was warm as you twisted a wrench into place, but your mind wandered to the quiet figure that was never far from your thoughts.

The Mandalorian–or Mando, as you called him. There was always something magnetic about him, the way he moved with purpose, the stoic expression never giving away what was beneath. It kept you guessing. But after all this time, it wasn’t the silent looks or the odd, soft gestures that had your heart in knots. It was the way he made you feel seen in a galaxy that often overlooked people like you.

You let out a sigh as you wiped your grease-covered hands on a rag, glancing over to where the child’s little pod was resting quietly beside you. It was always quiet on the ship when Mando wasn’t around. The kid didn’t say much–or anything really, other than the occasional coo– but there was something comforting in the way he sat near you, playing with his favourite metal ball, tiny and serene. Something safe.

Your wrench slipped for a moment, and the clang of metal on metal sent a flicker of your memory through your mind. You could almost hear the bustling sounds of your old shop, the hum of speeders waiting for repairs, the dull chatter of the occasional customer coming in and out. That life felt distant now–a memory dulled by the constant movement of the Razor Crest. You missed it sometimes, the routine, the steady rhythm of life on that backwater planet. But that life had been torn apart the moment Mando landed in your yard with a broken ship and a bounty hunter’s target on his tail.

But the fire wasn’t the end. It was just the beginning—the moment everything shifted. You could still picture it clearly, the first time he stepped into your shop, long before the kid, long before everything fell apart.

-

It had been an ordinary day, hot and slow like most on that backwater planet. The sun had cast long shadows across the junkyard when the distinctive roar of a ship’s engines broke the monotony. You’d looked up to see a clunky, battle-worn ship descending—a hunk of metal that seemed more scrap heap than starship. You weren’t expecting much when the ramp lowered, but then he walked out, his beskar gleaming in the sunlight. He’d looked out of place there, a specter of something bigger, more dangerous than the quiet life you’d carved out for yourself.

“Repulsorlift’s shot,” he’d said simply, his voice tinny through the modulator. No pleasantries, no introductions. Just business.

You weren’t sure why, but you hadn’t been intimidated. Something about the way he held himself—rigid, guarded—felt almost… tired. Like he carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders and didn’t trust anyone to help bear it. You’d nodded, grabbed your tools, and set to work. You’d told yourself it was just another job, but something about him stuck with you. Maybe it was the way he’d watched your every move, silent but observant, or the faint hesitation in his voice when he’d finally said, “Thanks.” Or maybe it was the way he held himself, tall, alert, and slightly cocky, like he knew the intimidating effect he had on people.

That wasn’t the last time he showed up at your shop. Every few months, he’d come back, his ship battered and bruised from whatever trouble he’d gotten into. Sometimes it was a blown-out hyperdrive; other times, hull damage from a firefight. You didn’t ask questions, and he didn’t offer answers. But over time, the silences between you had started to feel less empty. He’d comment on the efficiency of your work, or you’d tease him about the state of his ship, and while he never laughed, you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest tilt of his helmet that hinted at amusement.

You’d grown to look forward to those visits. The sound of his engines overhead was enough to send a little thrill through you, though you’d never admit it. And every time he left, his ship a distant glint on the horizon, you felt the same pang of sadness. You’d watch until he was gone, telling yourself it was just the quiet returning that unsettled you. But deep down, you knew better.

And then came that day.

The day he landed not for repairs, but for refuge. The day he brought the kid into your life—and with him, all the chaos that followed.

You heard his ship land–well, more like a crash–outside your shop. You immediately dropped whatever mundane task you had been working on–the sight of the Crest sending your heart pounding for multiple reasons.

One, you’d get to see Mando a lot sooner than you thought you would, the thought of the tall, beskar clad man sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You tried to push the feeling away, thinking strictly of business.

Two, because the ship was in terrible shape–possibly the worst shape you’d ever seen.

You rushed to the door of your shop to immediately tend to the Crest–and to see the man you had secretly been harbouring a stupid crush on–but when you whipped the door open, nearly ripping it off its hinges, Mando was already there, standing tall and shiny before you.

You jumped, slightly spooked by the unexpected sight before regaining your composure. “Mando? What are yo–”

“I need your help,” he cut you off. He took a step closer to you, sending your heart pounding and cheeks heating under the gaze of his black visor. You could feel yourself getting flustered by his proximity. “Can I…come in?” he asked, confused by your silence and dumbfounded expression

Right. Yes, of course. He wasn’t stepping closer to you for the reasons you had wanted. You should probably step to the side and let him in. Averting your gaze, you stepped to the side of the doorway, allowing Mando to step inside the small shop before shutting the door behind him.

You looked out the window of your shop, seeing the sorry state of the ship. You cringed, the thought of all that work you spent on repairs being undone by whatever mess Mando had gotten himself into now.

“Stars, Mando. What the fuck did you do to that ship?” you questioned as your eyes scanned him for any injuries. It was silly of you to care so much about his well being–especially considering how well he could hold himself in a fight–but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

That’s when you noticed it. The satchel at his side holding something–or rather someone. Your eyes widened at the big brown eyes looking up at you, a soft coo leaving its little mouth. Mando tilted his helmet towards his satchel, lightly stroking the creature's big green ears before his visor fixed on you again.

“Mando, what the fuck,” you gasped, mouth hanging open in shock.

Mando shifted slightly, his broad shoulders stiffening as though bracing for your reaction. “It’s... complicated,” he said, his voice flat but with the faintest hint of hesitation.

You blinked, your gaze bouncing between him and the small green creature nestled in the satchel. It blinked back at you, wide-eyed and unassuming, as if this whole situation wasn’t entirely bizarre. “Complicated? Mando, this isn’t a blown hyperdrive or a cracked hull—it’s a kid.”

“I’m aware,” he replied dryly, adjusting the satchel as if to shield the child from your scrutiny.

Your mind reeled as you tried to piece together what you were seeing. You stepped closer, peering up into his inscrutable helmet. “So… what? You’re babysitting now?”

A soft coo from the child drew your attention, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. It was absurd, really—the hardened bounty hunter with a baby in tow. But when you looked back at him, something about the way he stood there, tense and guarded, made the smile fade.

“This isn’t permanent,” he said finally, his voice low. “I just need to keep him safe. For now.”

The weight in his tone struck a chord, and you realized this wasn’t just some odd detour for him. Whatever had brought Mando to your door wasn’t a simple favor or a quick repair. It was bigger than that—dangerous.

“Safe from what?” you asked, your voice softening.

He hesitated, and you saw his gloved hand flex at his side before he finally spoke. “The ones who want him back.”

Your stomach sank as the implications hit you. If someone was after the kid, it meant trouble—and a lot of it. “Kriff,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “You’re telling me you’ve got people hunting you now?”

“Yes,” Mando said, his voice steady but heavy with tension. His gloved hand rested lightly on the edge of the workbench, his helmet dipping slightly toward you. “And they’re not going to stop.”

Crossing your arms, you looked up at Mando with a frustrated look in your eyes, clearly not satisfied with the vague answers he was giving you. He sighed, knowing you wouldn't give this up, and briefly told you of how he and the kid crossed paths.

You glanced down at the child, who blinked up at you with big, curious eyes, a soft coo escaping his tiny mouth. It was impossible to stay mad with that face looking at you, even if the mess they’d brought to your doorstep was monumental.

“Alright,” you said with a resigned sigh, tossing the rag onto the bench. “What do you need from me?”

Mando straightened slightly, his presence somehow more commanding even in the cramped space of the shop. “I need you to watch him,” he said, nodding toward the child. “And fix the ship.” His helmet turned back toward you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt the weight of his gaze. “I’ll take care of the ones after us.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “Take care of them how?”

“I’ll find them before they find him,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the galaxy.

You blinked at him, your irritation softening into reluctant admiration. Of course, that was his plan. Run headfirst into danger to protect the kid, with no thought for himself. It was infuriatingly… noble.

“Right,” you said, exhaling sharply. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to go off and hunt these people down, while I babysit and patch up the flying death trap you call a ship?”

His helmet tilted slightly. “That’s the idea.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “And here I thought this was going to be a quiet day.”

“Quiet’s overrated,” he said, the barest hint of dry humor threading through his tone.

You snorted despite yourself, grabbing a set of tools from the workbench. “You’re lucky I’m a soft touch, Mando. You owe me. Big time.”

He didn’t respond to that, but the tilt of his helmet lingered on you for just a beat longer than necessary, as if he wanted to say something but decided against it. Instead, he stepped back, his hand resting briefly on the child’s pod.

“I won’t be gone long,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you shot back lightly, though the pang of worry in your chest betrayed your teasing tone.

Mando nodded once before turning to leave, his armor clinking softly as he moved. The child let out a curious coo, his big eyes following Mando until the door shut behind him.

You sighed, looking down at the little green bundle of chaos. “Looks like it’s just you and me, kid,” you muttered, reaching out to pat his tiny head. Then, with a glance out the window at the battered Razor Crest, you grabbed your tools and got to work.

You’d thought the babysitting would be an easy job. You thought the kid would sit in the corner, playing with whatever scrap metal he found while you worked on the Crest. Boy, were you wrong.

It started innocently enough. The kid had perched himself near the workbench, happily clutching his favorite metal ball from the Razor Crest’s lever. You’d thought, Great, he’s occupied. But the moment you turned your back to start on the ship’s mangled stabilizers, the little gremlin had somehow waddled over to a pile of tools, his tiny hands reaching for a wrench twice his size.

“No, no, no,” you muttered, rushing over and scooping him up before he could topple into the mess. He cooed at you, his big brown eyes wide and innocent, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to cause chaos.

You set him back near his pod, this time surrounding him with a makeshift barricade of crates and spare parts. “Stay,” you instructed firmly, pointing a finger at him. He blinked up at you, looking entirely unimpressed, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

Satisfied he was contained, you turned your attention back to the Razor Crest, only to hear the unmistakable clang of something hitting the floor. Spinning around, you saw the kid holding a hydrospanner he’d somehow managed to grab from your toolbox, despite the barricade.

“Are you serious?” you groaned, snatching the tool from his little hands. He let out a disgruntled squeak, as if offended by your intervention.

This back-and-forth went on for what felt like hours. No matter where you put him or what distractions you offered—scrap parts, shiny bolts, even your own spare tools—he always found a way to escape and make a beeline for whatever could cause the most trouble.

Eventually, you admitted defeat. “Alright, fine,” you huffed, eyeing him as he sat on the floor, gnawing on a piece of wiring. “You win, kid.”

Desperate for a solution, you rummaged through your scrap pile until you found a long piece of fabric. It was a little dusty and frayed at the edges, but it would do. With a few quick knots and some adjustments, you fashioned it into a makeshift sling.

“Okay, little troublemaker,” you muttered, scooping him up and settling him into the sling. He looked up at you, blinking curiously as you secured him against your chest. “This way, I can keep an eye on you and actually get some work done.”

To your surprise, he seemed to like it. He snuggled against you with a contented coo, one tiny hand clutching your shirt as the other held his precious metal ball.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you murmured, shaking your head as you grabbed your tools and got back to work.

With the kid securely in the sling, things were… marginally easier. Sure, he still reached for anything shiny within arm’s length, and you had to be extra careful with your tools, but at least he wasn’t wandering off or attempting to dismantle your entire workshop.

As you worked on patching up the ship’s stabilizers, you found yourself talking to him without even thinking about it. “This stabilizer’s a mess,” you muttered, adjusting the sling slightly. “Mando really did a number on it this time. Honestly, I don’t know how this ship is still flying.”

The kid responded with a soft coo, his big eyes watching you intently as if he understood every word.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, glancing down at him with a small smile. “You’re probably used to this kind of chaos, huh? Well, don’t get too comfortable. I’m not planning on making this a habit.”

He let out a tiny, happy sound, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, fine,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Maybe it’s not so bad having you around. But don’t tell Mando I said that, okay?”

The kid blinked up at you, his expression as innocent as ever, and you swore you saw a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

The clatter of metal sounding from your shop made you halt your tinkering. Sure, Mando had been gone a while, and probably should’ve been back by now, but he was composed and careful. He never would’ve knocked something over in your shop. Goosebumps appeared on the surface of your skin, the threat of some unknown person creeping around your shop alerting all your senses.

You reached for the blade strapped to your thigh, silently cursing yourself for leaving your blaster locked in a drawer on your workbench. Were the people who were after the kid here to take him? You placed the kid in his pod before turning towards the building.

Silently, you made your way to the entrance of your shop, your hands shaking slightly as you pressed yourself against the wall, listening for any signs of trouble.

The sound of another clatter echoed through the shop, sharper this time, like tools hitting the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped the hilt of your blade tighter. The shadows in the dim light of the shop played tricks on your eyes, stretching and shifting as you tried to steady your breathing.

A muffled voice—low and gruff—reached your ears, confirming your worst fear. Someone was in your shop.

The kid let out a faint coo from his pod, and you whipped your head around to shush him, your finger pressed to your lips. “Stay quiet,” you whispered, barely audible. His wide eyes blinked at you, and you prayed he understood.

Drawing a deep breath, you crept forward, the cold metal of your blade reassuring in your hand. You could make out faint footsteps now, moving further into the shop. Whoever it was, they didn’t seem to be in any hurry. That wasn’t a good sign.

You rounded the corner slowly, keeping your steps light, your back pressed against the wall. When the intruder finally came into view, your stomach sank. It wasn’t just one person—it was two. Both were heavily armed, with blasters holstered at their sides and rifles slung across their backs. Their armor was mismatched and worn, but their movements were confident, predatory.

“Check the back,” one of them barked, his voice grating and impatient. The other nodded and began heading toward the rear of the shop—toward the Razor Crest.

Kriff.

Your mind raced. If they got anywhere near the kid, it would be over. You needed to act, but taking on two armed bounty hunters with nothing but a blade was suicide.

Suddenly, an idea struck you. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had.You waited for the first hunter to disappear further into the shop, his boots echoing faintly as he moved toward the back. The second hunter, a stocky figure with a jagged scar running down the side of his face, lingered near your workbench, scanning the room. His back was to you.

This was your chance.

Quietly, you shifted the kid’s pod further into the shadows and gripped your blade tightly. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you crept toward the hunter, careful not to make a sound.

When you were within striking distance, you sprang forward, plunging the blade into his neck. He grunted in pain, twisting toward you as he fumbled for his blaster, but you yanked the weapon from his holster before he could grab it. With a sharp shove, you sent him crashing into the bench, his head slamming against the edge before he slumped to the floor, motionless.

You barely had time to catch your breath before the other hunter’s voice rang out.

“Hey! Stop right there!”

You whirled around to see him at the far end of the shop, his blaster already raised. Without thinking, you dove behind a stack of crates as the first shot sizzled past your ear.

Blaster fire erupted, and you returned fire, your hands shaking as you squeezed the trigger. The noise was deafening in the enclosed space, sparks flying as shots struck metal and ricocheted wildly.

The hunter was relentless, his shots forcing you to stay pinned behind the crates. You peeked out just long enough to fire back, but your aim was far from precise. The tension built as the seconds ticked by, the energy pack in your stolen blaster rapidly depleting.

Finally, the unmistakable sound of a weapon sputtering signaled the hunter’s blaster running dry. You tried to fire again, only to hear the same disheartening click from your own weapon.

Great. Just great.

Panic clawed at your chest as you scrambled to come up with a plan. You glanced toward the Razor Crest—so close, yet so far. The kid’s pod was still tucked in the shadows where you’d left it, but you couldn’t leave him here.

You moved cautiously, trying to stay hidden as you made your way toward the ship. You'd find a better weapon on the Crest and then come back for the kid. The shop was eerily quiet now, save for the sound of your own ragged breathing. You were almost there, the Razor Crest’s ramp in sight, when a rough hand grabbed you from behind and slammed you to the ground.

The impact knocked the wind out of you, and before you could react, the hunter was on top of you, his hand clamping around your throat.

“You thought you could take us out?” he snarled, his grip tightening. “Big mistake.”

You clawed at his hand, gasping for air as your vision blurred. Desperation took over, and you thrashed beneath him, your hands fumbling for anything to defend yourself with. But he was too strong, his weight pinning you down as darkness crept in at the edges of your vision.

Then, a sharp, sudden whizz cut through the air, followed by the heavy thud of the hunter’s body collapsing on top of you. His grip on your throat loosened, and you shoved him off with a gasp, coughing as you struggled to sit up.

Your blurry vision cleared just enough to see a familiar figure standing in the doorway, his blaster still raised. The Mandalorian.

He strode toward you, his movements quick and purposeful. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice steady but with an edge of concern.

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “I’m—fine,” you managed to croak, though your throat ached and your heart was still pounding.

Mando’s visor tilted down to the kid’s pod, which had rolled out of its hiding spot in the chaos. The child cooed softly, seemingly unbothered by the commotion.

Mando turned back to you. “Get him on the ship,” he ordered. “Now.”

You nodded, scrambling to your feet as he turned toward the doorway, his blaster ready for any more threats.

The kid’s pod glided up the Razor Crest’s ramp, its quiet hum the only reprieve in the cacophony of chaos around you. Your hands shook as you secured him in the ship’s hold, glancing back toward the shop’s entrance where shouts and sporadic blaster fire echoed in the distance.

You exhaled sharply. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

There was no time to waste. You darted back down the ramp and toward the exterior hull of the Razor Crest, scanning for the damage you hadn’t had time to address earlier. The scorch marks along the port engine told you everything you needed to know. That engine wouldn’t make it through hyperspace—not in its current state.

You grabbed your toolkit and scrambled onto the hull, nearly slipping as adrenaline and panic coursed through your veins. Shouts grew louder, closer. You could hear the unmistakable hiss and pop of blaster fire—Mando was holding them off, but for how long?

Your hands worked as quickly as they could, tightening bolts, rerouting power lines, and sealing cracks with a welding torch. Sparks flew as you worked, the harsh light illuminating the frantic expression on your face.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered under your breath, wiping sweat from your brow with a grease-streaked hand.

The blaster fire outside grew louder, more rapid. A cry of pain echoed over the chaos, and you flinched, your pulse pounding in your ears. You couldn’t tell who it belonged to—Mando or one of the bounty hunters—but you didn’t dare look.

A warning beep sounded from your wrist comm. The ship’s diagnostics reported a critical error in the starboard stabilizer.

Kriff.

You slid off the hull, landing hard on your feet, and ran to the other side of the ship. The stabilizer was bent out of alignment, and you cursed under your breath as you wrenched it back into place with all your strength. Your muscles screamed in protest, but you didn’t stop.

In the distance, the sound of gunfire suddenly ceased. The silence was almost worse than the chaos, your mind racing with the possibilities of what it meant.

“Mando?” you whispered under your breath, glancing toward the shop’s entrance.

Your answer came seconds later as the man himself appeared, sprinting toward you with his blaster still in hand. His beskar armor was scorched in places, and his breathing was heavy, but he didn’t slow down.

“They’re dead,” he said sharply, his voice modulated but firm. “But more will come. A lot more.”

Your hands froze mid-motion, your heart sinking as his words hit you. “What—what do you mean?”

Mando grabbed your arm, his visor fixed on you. “You’ve been seen with me. That makes you a target.”

Panic began to rise in your chest, your breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. “I can’t—Mando, this is my home!”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer this time, but no less urgent. “It’s not safe anymore. You need to pack what you can and get on the ship. Now.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as your mind raced. “I—I don’t know what to take—”

“Hey.” Mando’s hand gripped your arm tighter, grounding you. His tone was steady, even reassuring. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna take care of this. But we need to move. Go upstairs and get your stuff.”

His words, though brief, were enough to snap you out of your spiraling thoughts. You nodded frantically, pulling away and sprinting toward the stairs that led to your small room above the shop.

Your hands shook as you threw open drawers and grabbed clothes, tools, and whatever personal belongings you could fit into a small bag. The room, once your sanctuary, now felt stifling, like the walls were closing in on you.

The kid’s soft coos echoed faintly from below, reminding you why you couldn’t stay, why you couldn’t afford to hesitate. You shoved a photo of your old life—a younger you, covered in grease and smiling in front of the shop—into the bag before zipping it shut.

With one last look at the room that had been your home, you turned and bolted down the stairs, your heart pounding as you raced toward the Razor Crest. Mando was already at the ramp, his visor fixed on the horizon, scanning for more threats.

“Let’s go,” he said, gesturing for you to board.

You didn’t hesitate.

That was months ago.

The day you left your old life behind, running on impulse, never imagining you'd still be here—on the Razor Crest, floating from one planet to the next. You were supposed to find another place to settle, start fresh somewhere far from everything. But that had never really happened. Not with Mando around. Not with the way things had fallen into place between you two.

You never had the chance to leave, and, to be honest, you didn’t really want to.

Neither did he. Though, neither of you would ever admit it out loud. The thought of you leaving had become this quiet tension in the air whenever you got too close to speaking about it. He never pushed, and you never asked. But the way his gloved hand would brush yours when handing you tools, the way his presence seemed to fill the small space of the ship—those things said more than words ever could.

In the months that followed, you’d become a sort of permanent fixture on the Razor Crest. A mechanic, a babysitter, a companion in this strange, wandering life. You worked on the ship in between watching over the kid, fixing what needed fixing, and ensuring the Razor Crest was always ready to fly.

Mando paid you a percentage of the bounties he earned, and you used that as your excuse for staying. You were “just doing your job.”

But it wasn’t just that. You and Mando had fallen into something of an unspoken routine, a domesticity you hadn't expected but quickly came to rely on. You knew when he needed food and when he needed space. He knew when to leave you alone while you tinkered and when to offer a quiet word of encouragement or the occasional teasing comment.

His humor, once dry and almost imperceptible, was starting to show itself more. He’d crack jokes now, and it felt oddly comforting. He still kept his distance, his words few, but those moments of levity made you feel like maybe you weren't just an accessory to his mission. Maybe, just maybe, you were becoming something more.

And it hurt, in a way. Because the more time passed, the more your feelings for him grew. There was something deeper there—something more than camaraderie or just shared circumstances. But you couldn’t let him know that. You wouldn’t. The last thing you wanted was for him to take one look at you, all vulnerable and tangled up in emotions, and then kick you to the curb, dropping you off on the next planet, saying it was time to go your separate ways.

You had to keep it buried. It was safer that way. For both of you.

Still, in the quiet moments between tasks, when Mando was off somewhere dealing with a bounty or when you were fixing the ship on your own, the longing would flare up in your chest. You'd think of his quiet gestures, his rare jokes, and wonder what could be. But you'd shove it down, focusing on the ship or the kid, anything to distract you.

That didn’t stop you from fantasizing though. In the shower, your mind would always wander to him–to his teasing, his hardened exterior, to the rare moments he would take his gloves off, the flesh of his thick fingers on display for you. Only then would you slip a hand between your thighs, biting down your whimpers as your calloused fingertips circled your clit to the thought of the sliver of flesh he allowed you to see. Stars, you were like a mutt in heat.

You weren’t foolish. You knew better than to hope for something you couldn’t have. So you didn’t let yourself have hope. You decided you’d push your feelings down and continue on with this job for however long Mando would have you.

-

The hum of the Razor Crest's engines gently vibrated through the floor, but the sound of the cockpit door sliding open was enough to pull you from your spiraling thoughts of your past. You turned your attention toward the entrance, expecting to see Mando, and sure enough, he emerged, his silhouette framed by the doorway. The familiar weight of his presence filled the space.

“Strap in,” he said, his voice modulated and calm, but there was an underlying urgency in his words. "We're landing."

You blinked, momentarily confused before following him into the cockpit and taking a seat. Landing somewhere? You’d been drifting through space, the Razor Crest just a speck of metal in the endless expanse, but now he was pulling you into something new. “Why here?” you asked, crossing your arms instinctively, though it wasn’t like Mando to offer unnecessary explanations.

He didn’t turn to face you, instead reaching for a switch to adjust the ship’s descent. “I need you to stay on the ship with the kid until I come back,” he said flatly. “Don’t make yourself known.”

Your brow furrowed, and you instinctively shifted closer to him, tension building as you processed his words. “Mando, what’s going on? What’s all this about?” You were met with nothing but silence as his hand hovered over the controls, his visor giving away nothing.

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” he said, voice growing slightly firmer. “Stay inside. Stay out of sight.”

You swallowed hard, uncertainty gnawing at you, but his expression remained unchanged. You wanted to press further, but you knew better than to argue. His rules were simple: obey, or risk the consequences. He’d never put you in danger, but this—this felt different.

With a reluctant nod, you sat back, your hands instinctively reaching for the strap of your seatbelt as the ship began its descent. The thought of being left alone on the ship with just the kid, a few meters of metal between you and whatever Mando was about to face, made the hairs on your neck stand on end. Something wasn’t right, but you had no choice but to trust him.

He was already heading for the ramp before you could voice any more questions. The last thing you saw was him disappearing into the dimly lit expanse of the strange industrial ship you landed on before the hatch slammed shut behind him, leaving you with nothing but the soft gurgles of the child in the background and the distant whirring of the ship's systems.

The hum of the ship was different now—throbbing, industrial, almost foreboding. It reminded you of the kind of stations you’d passed through in your earlier years, those heavy, unwelcoming places where you’d never feel entirely safe. The interior of the ship felt cold, metallic, and clinical, the kind of place you imagined shady deals went down. You’d watched Mando as he moved about, speaking to some of the others, his posture tense, his visor fixed on everything and everyone around him.

You glanced at the kid, who was nestled in his little pod next to you, cooing softly as he fiddled with the small metal ball. His innocence, his trust in you, made everything feel that much more dangerous. Your stomach churned with a mixture of anxiety and anger.

“What the fuck has Mando gotten himself into now?” you muttered under your breath, a sense of dread settling over you. You had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t a job he could just walk away from.

The minutes dragged on, and you sat in the cockpit, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling. You glanced at the kid again, trying to calm yourself as his big, trusting eyes met yours. You didn’t want to think about the trouble Mando had landed in, or the dangers lurking around them. But it was hard to ignore, especially as you sat there alone, waiting.

Half an hour later, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the ship, and the door to the cockpit swung open. You barely had time to react before Mando was there, grabbing you by the arm with surprising force.

“Come on,” he said, his voice clipped and urgent.

“Mando?” you started, feeling a flicker of panic. “What’s going on?”

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he practically dragged you through the narrow and cramped ship, ignoring your protests.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you hissed, trying to pull free, but he only gripped you tighter.

“Mando—seriously, what’s going on?” You struggled, trying to get some kind of explanation, but he kept walking, heading toward the back of the ship.

When you finally reached his sleeping quarters, he shoved the door open, dragging you inside.

“Stay here,” he ordered sharply. “With the kid. It’s gonna be a while, so you might as well get comfortable and sleep. Don’t come out until I tell you it’s okay.”

You stopped in your tracks, disbelief flooding your chest. “Mando, what the fuck?” you snapped, frustration bubbling over. “You better start explaining yourself right now.”

But he just brushed you off, his tone hard, like he wasn’t even going to entertain your question. “I’ll explain later. Just listen to me,” he said, his voice growing more forceful.

Before you could respond, the door was already closing in your face, and Mando was gone.

You stood there for a moment, seething, your heart pounding in your chest. “Kriffing Mandalorian…” you muttered under your breath. This was so typical of him—keep you in the dark, like you were just some bystander in his chaotic life.

Still, despite the rage burning through you, you knew better than to disobey him now. Whatever was going on, it was serious. So you sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, trying to calm yourself. You glanced over at the kid, still blissfully unaware of the tension surrounding them.

It didn’t make sense. He promised he’d explain, but you had a feeling it was going to be a lot longer before that happened.

And that pissed you off even more.

An hour had passed, and you were still fuming. The anger, the confusion, the sense of being trapped—all of it swirled inside you, making it hard to focus. You paced around the small quarters, trying to burn off some of the frustration. You wanted to scream, to demand answers, but you knew better. Mando wasn’t going to budge until he was ready, and until then, you were stuck in his room, with nothing but your own seething thoughts for company.

Your eyes flickered to the bed. A part of you knew you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, and if you were going to be stuck in here, you might as well make yourself comfortable. You glanced down at your mechanic clothes—dirt-streaked, sweaty, and uncomfortable—and sighed. There was no point in staying in them. But with Mando having locked you in here, your own clothes were still back on the ship, out of reach.

Frustrated, you stood up, scanning the room for anything that could be used. Your gaze landed on the drawer where he kept his few clothes. You hesitated for only a moment before walking over, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his shirts. You weren’t sure why you felt a little nervous, but you pushed the thought aside. You needed something clean, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t worn his clothes before. Your cheeks heated as you thought of the time you had to leave the fresher in just a towel to ask him for a shirt because all of your clothes were dirty.

After a moment of deliberation, you grabbed one of his shirts, large and soft-looking. You quickly stripped out of your dirty clothes and pulled his shirt over your head. The fabric was thick and worn, the hem barely covering your panty clad ass, and the smell of him hit you immediately—earthy, leather, and something distinctly Mando. You froze for a moment, the scent making your chest tighten, heat rising to your cheeks.

It was just a shirt. Just a shirt.

But it felt like more. You pulled the fabric down, letting it drape over your body, and as you did, the soft cotton brushed against your bare skin, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. It was so different from your usual work clothes, so much softer, so much… him. Your breath caught in your throat as you stood there, suddenly aware of the fact that you were standing in his bedroom wearing his clothes, all of it feeling far too intimate for your liking.

Your thoughts wandered, and before you could stop yourself, you imagined what it would be like for him to see you like this, in his clothes, the smell of him all around you. Your mind flashed to the moments you tried to ignore—his gloved hands brushing yours, the teasing comments that made your stomach flutter, the times your eyes lingered on the way his armor shifted with his movements.

You quickly snapped yourself out of it. “Focus,” you muttered under your breath. You had more important things to think about than some ridiculous fantasy.

You glanced down at the kid’s pod. He was still sleeping, the small form curled up in his blankets. You smiled softly at him before walking over and quietly closing the pod, making sure he was settled for his nap. You needed to distract yourself, so you decided to climb into Mando’s bed, but not before strapping your blade to your bare thigh–just to ease the paranoid feeling in your chest.

It felt strange, unfamiliar, but there was comfort in it. You pulled the covers up around you, feeling the warmth of the bed seep into your bones, and before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut.

The soft hum of the ship, the muffled sounds of the engine, and the occasional clink of metal from somewhere in the hall lulled you into a deep sleep.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, your paranoia fueled dreams filled with nightmares of Mando in trouble.

Mando’s secret, whatever he was caught up in, was far from over, and you weren’t going to sit idly by much longer. You had to be ready when the time came. But for now, you let yourself rest, hoping sleep would give you the answers that Mando wouldn’t.

You woke up a few hours later, your body stiff and groggy from sleep. The soft hum of the Razor Crest and the quiet whirring of the kid’s pod were the only sounds filling the otherwise still room. You blinked, rubbing your eyes as you tried to shake off the lingering fog of sleep. The kid was still nestled in his pod, curled up in the corner, his small chest rising and falling rhythmically. You closed his pod, not wanting to disturb his nap.

You let out a quiet sigh, stretching your limbs before you reached for your holopad. You were trying to distract yourself, keep your mind off what had just happened, and the nagging sense of unease that had settled deep in your chest. You flicked the holopad on, scrolling through schematics and plans for the ship—small upgrades here and there. The kid, the trapped feeling of being stuck in Mando’s room, and whatever Mando had gotten himself into were all still there, lingering in your thoughts, but you tried to push them aside for the moment.

But just as you were about to get lost in the designs, the door slid open with a sudden hiss. Your heart stopped for a moment, and you immediately shot to your feet, your hand instinctively going to the blade still strapped to your thigh. Your pulse quickened as you tried to get a read on the situation. Your eyes widened as you saw a group of figures standing in the doorway. You recognized none of them, but the sight of them immediately put you on edge.

There was a tall, scruffy-looking man who stood a little too confidently, his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him was a twi’lek woman in dark clothes, her stance aggressive and assertive. Next to them, a Devaronian with a thick, muscular build and sharp, menacing horns stood with his arms crossed. And then, there was the droid—shiny and polished, but with an unmistakable, almost robotic indifference to everything around it.

They all froze when they saw you standing there in Mando’s shirt, the fabric hanging loosely around your frame, and nothing else but your panties and the holster with your blade strapped to your thigh. You had no choice but to stand there, caught off guard and feeling exposed, like a deer in headlights.

A soft whistle came from one of the men—the scruffy one. “Well, well, what have we here?”

You immediately stiffened, your jaw clenching in irritation at the obvious look of interest in his eyes. You knew exactly where this was going. It wasn’t just the way he looked at you—it was in the way he spoke. You didn’t like it one bit.

Before you could respond, Mando’s helmet snapped toward the man with a sharpness you hadn’t seen before. The tension in the room skyrocketed as he moved toward the doorway, his posture aggressive. His voice was low, almost growling as he addressed the man.

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” Mando said coldly, his tone carrying a warning that left no room for argument.

The man didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face told you he wasn’t pleased by the command. He looked like he was going to retort, but then, the Twi’lek woman standing behind him spoke up, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Well, well, Mando. Who’s this?” she said with a mocking smile, her bright eyes narrowing as she looked you up and down. “I didn’t realize you kept pets on the ship.”

You felt a surge of heat in your chest at her words, the insult hanging heavy in the air. You weren’t anyone’s pet—least of all Mando’s. You couldn’t hold back the anger that bubbled up, your hands clenching into fists as you glared at the Twi’lek.

“I am none of your fucking business,” you snapped, voice dripping with contempt. “Who the fuck are you?”

The woman didn’t flinch. If anything, she seemed to take delight in your reaction. Her smile only widened, her posture even more arrogant now. “I’m just curious about who Mando’s letting on his ship these days. Not everyone gets the privilege.”

You felt the heat of your anger rising, each word she spoke only fanning the flames. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air as she watched you closely, almost daring you to react.

“Well, it’s not your concern,” you spat, your voice as sharp as a blade.

Her lips curled into a smirk, and she leaned in just slightly. “Oh, I think it is.”

You could feel her goading you, trying to get under your skin. And she was succeeding. You stood there, seething, ready to snap. This was not the time to back down.

The Twi’lek woman’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark as she leaned forward, her voice dripping with malice. “I see why Mando keeps you around,” she purred, glancing you up and down again, her words cutting like a knife. “Must be nice to have a pretty little thing to play with… I didn’t realize he had a taste for whores.”

The words cut through you like a vibroblade, sharper and more personal than you anticipated. A flush of heat spread across your face, not from embarrassment, but from sheer, unadulterated rage. This bitch. The audacity. The way her eyes lingered on you made it feel like you were exposed, like she could see every inch of your skin, and she didn’t even care about the weight of her insult.

You felt your pulse spike, your body tensing as the anger coiled inside you. Without thinking, your hand moved to the knife at your thigh, your fingers curling around the hilt of it. The impulse was immediate and intense—shut her up, make her regret those words—and your instincts took over. You yanked the blade free, your heart hammering as you lunged at her, your movements fueled by a desperate need for retaliation.

But before you could get within arm’s reach of the smug Twi’lek woman, you felt a forceful grip around your waist. You barely had time to register the movement before you were yanked off the ground, lifted effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. Your legs instinctively wrapped around the person who caught you, your body pressed against their chest.

Mando. Of course.

His strong arm held you in place, cradling you with a level of ease that made your head spin. You could feel his armor-clad body against yours, his heat radiating through the layers of metal. His grip on your arm tightened, pulling your knife hand away from the Twi’lek woman as he murmured in your ear, his voice low and unyielding. “I don’t like this as much as you do,” he said, his words steady and calm despite the chaos of the situation. “But I need you to trust me… and behave.”

His other hand slid under you, lifting you higher, and suddenly, your legs were wrapped tightly around him, your body pressed flush against his. You couldn’t help the shiver that raced up your spine at the feeling of his strength. The way he held you, with such casual confidence, sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. You hadn’t realized just how strong he was—how capable—until now. He was holding you like it was nothing, like you were weightless in his grasp.

For a split second, your mind went completely blank, overwhelmed by the heat of the situation and the proximity of his body. His gloved hand brushed over the bare skin of your thigh as he effortlessly disarmed you, slipping the knife back into its holster.

You tried to focus, tried to ignore the way your pulse quickened and your breath caught in your throat, but it was impossible. The heat curling low in your belly was undeniable. His body was pressed so close to yours, the firm outline of his armor against your skin sending a wave of desire through you. You felt it in every nerve, every inch of your body—his strength, his control, his scent mixed with the sterile, metallic smell of his armor.

Get it together, you silently told yourself. This is not the time for this.

You forced your mind back to reality, but that didn’t stop the heat building in your chest. You were angry. Angry at the way the Twi’lek woman spoke to you, angry at Mando for not telling you about the kind of people he associated with, and now… you were angry at yourself for the way your body reacted to Mando’s proximity.

You gritted your teeth, your breath uneven as you glared at him. “Fine,” you bit out, your voice tight, but still laced with frustration. “But we’re having a conversation about this later.”

Mando’s helmet angled down toward you, his posture still as rigid as ever, but there was something in the way he held you that was… different. His hand lingered on your thigh for a moment longer than necessary, as if he was aware of the effect his touch had on you. He said nothing, but the silent understanding between the two of you was palpable. He was warning you, but not in a way that felt threatening. He wasn’t going to let you do anything rash, but he also wasn’t dismissing your emotions.

For a second, you thought you saw something flicker in his stance—something that felt almost… personal. No, you were imagining things–being hopeful. You had to put a stop to these feelings.

Mando put you back on your feet, though his hand slid up to your waist where it stayed. You tried not to let the contact fluster you.

The Twi’lek woman’s sharp, mocking voice broke the silence.“Didn’t take long for him to claim his territory, huh?” she sneered, clearly amused by the entire situation.

You wanted nothing more than to scream at her, to make her understand that you were not some prize to be claimed. But Mando’s grip on you was unwavering, and as much as your chest burned with the desire to lash out, you knew you had to hold your ground. You were mad. So mad. But you did trust him. You had to, even if it was hard to ignore the simmering resentment that had started to build.

And yet… you couldn’t help but feel that familiar pang of something else whenever he was close. The heat in your chest, the pulse of desire that wouldn’t die down no matter how much you tried to suppress it.

Mando didn’t look at the woman, didn’t address her taunts, but he was done with her blatant disrespect towards you. His helmet snapped toward her mercilessly, and his voice, cold and firm, rang out. “Enough, Xi’An.”

The Twi’lek’s smirk faltered for a second, but she only laughed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. Like I’m scared of you, Mando.”

You bit your lip, feeling your face flush with the rush of emotions flooding through you—rage, frustration, and something darker that you couldn’t quite name. You wanted to scream at both of them, but instead, you clenched your fists and fought back the urge to lash out. This wasn’t how you imagined today going.

The ship suddenly lurched violently, throwing you and the others in the ship off balance. The abruptness of it sent your body into a panic, your instincts kicking in. Before you could even process the sudden movement, the world tilted, and you found yourself tumbling forward.

You didn’t even have time to brace yourself. The floor came rushing at you, but before you hit it, a pair of strong arms caught you, lifting you effortlessly into the air. You gasped as you were pulled against a hard, armored chest, your heart racing from both the shock of the lurch and the overwhelming proximity to Mando. His body was like a rock against yours, the heat radiating through his armor making your already flushed skin burn hotter. You barely had time to register the way his arms wrapped around you, holding you close, before you were on the ground, his weight coming down on top of you as he shielded you with his own body.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice calm, even though the ship continued to shudder beneath you.

You were frozen for a moment, your chest pressed to his, your body pinned beneath the weight of his armored form. His helmet loomed above you, a protective barrier between you and everything else, and yet it felt strangely intimate. The way he held you was possessive, urgent, as if he were determined to shield you from any harm—no matter the cost. His gloved hands braced on either side of your head, his body still covering yours as the ship continued to shudder, throwing the others in the ship around from the turbulence.

Your breath hitched as the full reality of the situation washed over you. You were under him, pinned by his bulk, and his body was pressed so intimately against yours that you could feel the hard edges of his armor in places that left you breathless. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythms, and your heart beat eratically. The heat between the two of you was almost unbearable, your legs still trapped beneath him, your body pressed tightly against his in ways that sent shivers down your spine.

Mando’s voice, low and gravelly, broke the tension. “You’re alright,” he murmured softly, his gloved hand sliding from the floor, brushing against your arm as he made sure you were stable. He seemed almost… tender in that moment, as though the concern for your safety was as real as the weight of his body on top of you.

For a second, you didn’t know how to react. Your body was still pressed against his, every inch of you aware of how close you were, and the intensity of the moment sent a wave of heat crashing through you. The way he held you, the way his body moved with yours, had you feeling almost helpless in his arms—and you couldn’t decide if you hated or loved the feeling.

Your pulse raced—not from fear, but from something else. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge. The magnetic pull between you and him was undeniable, and you tried to push it down, tried to focus on the situation at hand.

The ship shuddered again, but Mando didn’t budge. His body remained a solid barrier over yours, the press of his weight keeping you grounded. The Twi’lek woman’s laughter cut through the air, but it felt distant now, like background noise compared to the electric current between you and Mando.

For a moment, the world outside of you and him faded. All you could hear was his steady breathing and the rapid pulse that thrummed between the two of you. Every inch of your body was acutely aware of his, and that undeniable heat curled low in your belly.

He was still on top of you, and the temptation to lean into him, to feel the raw intensity of the situation, was almost too strong to resist. You could feel the weight of his body, the power in his frame, and you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how it would feel if you were pinned down under different circumstances, the feeling of Mando’s bare hands pinning your wrists above you as he thrusted deep inside of yo–Get a grip, you thought to yourself, shoving that thought down as fast as it came.

Mando’s helmet shifted slightly, his visor meeting your gaze. His gloved hands moved from the ground to your waist, a reassuring touch—though it wasn’t gentle. The way he had you under his control, even in this chaotic moment, made it hard to focus on anything other than the sheer closeness between you.

“We’ll be landing soon. There is just some minor turbulence,” the metallic voice of the droid chirped.

The ship lurched again, but it barely registered. Your mind was consumed by the feeling of Mando above you, his body pressing into you with an almost unnatural force. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability as he held you there, even as you hated it. The way his presence was all-encompassing, grounding you in a way that left you feeling both safe and exposed at the same time. You had no idea how to navigate it, how to balance the raw tension with the danger of the situation.

His gloved hand brushed against your skin once more, and the quiet moment stretched between you like a taut wire, the atmosphere charged with something you didn’t know how to name. His touch lingered at your waist just a moment too long, as though he was trying to gauge whether you were okay—or maybe trying to pull back, just in case you weren’t. But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him off. You didn’t want to.

Finally, as the ship’s movements slowed, Mando shifted off of you, but not without that final lingering touch. It was almost possessive, his palm brushing your skin, sending a jolt through you. He didn’t say a word, though, just helped you to your feet, his hand steady at your back as you stood. But the distance between you both felt heavier than it should have, as if the silence stretched between you two with a weight that was more than just the aftermath of turbulence.

You didn’t meet his gaze immediately. Instead, you stood there, trying to calm the pounding in your chest, but the words came out before you could stop them. “Don’t ever do that again.”

The moment your words left your lips, you felt the shift. His posture stiffened, and for the briefest moment, you saw the flicker of something in the way his body tensed. Maybe it was the way he didn’t look at you. Maybe it was the slight hesitation before he helped you up. Whatever it was, it caught you off guard. It made you second-guess the sharpness of your tone, but it also made something twist uncomfortably in your chest.

You could feel the air between you change, thick with unspoken things. Was it embarrassment? Guilt? Was he angry? You couldn’t tell, but something in the way he held back now made you feel even more uncertain than before.

He helped you to your feet, guiding you down the narrow hallway, and despite the tense silence, there was an undeniable closeness between you both. The air still felt heavy with everything that had just happened. His gloved hand brushed against your bare skin, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine, but he didn’t linger on it.

“Sorry…” he muttered, his voice almost too quiet to hear. His tone didn’t carry any weight of guilt, just an acknowledgment that hung in the air between you like an unspoken understanding. He didn’t dwell on it, and neither did you. It was easier to pretend it hadn’t shaken you, easier to ignore the way your pulse still raced from the moments that had passed.

You both moved in sync toward the sleeping quarters, the weight of the earlier tension still present but unspoken. Mando didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Neither of you had the words for it just yet, but you both knew things had shifted.

What was this? You didn’t know.

But there was one thing you were sure of.

You were in way over your head.

As you entered the sleeping quarters, Mando moved with purpose, glancing over at the child’s pod. The little one was still asleep, his rhythmic breathing soft and steady. A small, reassuring weight lifted off your chest at the sight of him, but the rest of your body was still tense—still filled with the residual heat and anger from the scene with the Twi’lek woman.

Mando moved toward the child’s pod, checking the controls and making sure everything was functioning as it should. The last thing you wanted was for the kid to be disturbed. After all, he had been through enough.

He stood over the pod for a moment, his back to you, and you took that brief moment to compose yourself, trying to ignore the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your head. You needed space, and right now, Mando was giving you none.

Once he was satisfied that the kid was fine, Mando shut the pod with a soft hiss, turning to face you. His helmet was angled in such a way that you couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel the weight of his gaze. He stepped toward you, his movements still deliberate, his presence still suffocating.

“We need to make sure the kid stays out of sight from the others,” Mando said, his voice low, but not unkind. “It’s gonna get a little rough out there. I need you to trust me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he interrupted you, holding a hand up. “Look, I’ll explain everything in a minute. I just need you to stay here for now, get dressed. I might need you to pilot the ship or handle something else once we’re out of here.”

The order was clear, but there was something about his tone that made it feel like more of a plea than a command. He wasn’t asking for your help, not exactly. He was telling you to stay put, but it wasn’t with the usual coldness you’d come to expect. It was… softer. And that made your pulse quicken all over again.

Still, you were pissed. The situation was still a mess, and you hadn’t forgotten about the way the Twi’lek woman had looked at you, her sneering words still echoing in your mind. You wanted answers, and you weren’t sure when you were going to get them.

But Mando wasn’t done. He took a step closer, his gloved hand resting on your shoulder for just a second, like he was trying to comfort you, but you weren’t sure if it was working.

“We’re going to be breaking Xi’An’s brother out of a prison ship,” he said quickly, his words cutting through the quiet of the room. “The job’s straightforward—get in, get him out, and get out. But things might get tricky. There’s a lot at stake here, and you need to be ready for anything.”

You nodded, absorbing the information. A prison break, of course. That was what this was all about. You had assumed something shady was going on, but you hadn’t expected the situation to be this complicated.

Mando shifted uncomfortably, his helmet remaining fixed in your direction, and he continued, voice more commanding now. “Once we break out Xi’An’s brother, I’ll need you to pilot the ship. I’ll be in and out of there quickly, but you’re going to have to move fast to get us out of there when the time comes.”

He paused for a moment, his helmet still angled toward you, as though considering something for a brief second. “You can handle that, right?”

The question was direct, but there was something in his voice that almost sounded like concern, though you couldn’t be sure. You weren’t exactly keen on being left behind to do the heavy lifting of a prison break, but you understood why he had to ask. You gave him a firm nod, your lips pressing into a thin line.

“Yeah, I’ve got it covered,” you replied, voice tight but determined.

Mando’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but he didn’t make any move to leave. Instead, there was a slight hesitation in the air, a shift that made your pulse quicken without quite knowing why. It was almost as if he was gathering his thoughts, trying to find the right words. Then, without warning, his voice came out in a low, gravelly tone.

“You…” He trailed off, his tone softer than you’d heard it before. “You look good in my shirt.”

The words hung in the air, completely unexpected and far more intimate than you were ready for. Your mouth opened, as if to respond, but before you could get a single word out, Mando had already turned toward the door, his heavy steps carrying him toward the exit.

“Get dressed,” he called over his shoulder, his voice now back to its usual no-nonsense tone. “We don’t have much time.”

The door slid shut behind him, leaving you standing there in stunned silence, the weight of his words still sinking in. Your heart was thudding in your chest, your mind racing. Did he mean that? Or was it just a passing comment?

You stared at the door, trying to gather your thoughts, but the confusion mixed with something else—something hotter that made your skin flush as you realized just how close you were to him. How dangerously close.

Shaking your head, you turned to the small corner of the room where your clothes had been discarded. You couldn’t focus on that right now. You had a job to do. You had to keep your head straight, get into the right mindset, and be ready for whatever came next.

But still, his words kept ringing in your ears, and the heat in your chest refused to go away.

You quickly changed into your clothes, trying to push aside the lingering tension. You didn’t have time for this. The mission was more important.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You finished dressing and took a steadying breath, ready to move on and do what Mando had asked. But as you stepped toward the door, ready to follow through on the task ahead, the thought of his voice and his words wouldn’t leave you.

And that was the problem. You watched as Mando left with the group, jittery with both nerves and the heat of Mando’s words. And so you waited.

-

Two hours. It had been two hours since Mando had told you to wait on the ship. Two hours of pacing, of turning over every possible scenario in your mind, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and why Mando still hadn’t returned. You couldn’t sit still anymore. You had to move.

The comm came through suddenly, breaking the silence and jolting you from your thoughts.

“Listen to me,” Mando’s voice crackled through the comms, calm but laced with a tension that sent a chill down your spine. “It’s a setup. They trapped me somewhere. I need you to stay put and stay on the ship. I’m going to get out.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. A trap? You didn’t care about anything other than finding him, making sure he was safe.

“No. Mando, I’m coming for you. I can’t just sit here,” you practically shouted at the comm, the panic starting to rise in your throat.

“Calm down,” he said, his voice a little firmer now. “Stay on the ship. You’re no good to me if you get caught out there too. I’ll handle it. Just wait, and I’ll be out before you know it.”

You ground your teeth, frustration boiling inside you. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to do something, anything, to go and find him. But he was right. He was capable of handling himself, and if you went out there now, you might only make things worse.

Reluctantly, you agreed. “Fine. But you better get out of there fast.”

You kept pacing, watching the time tick by, anxiety growing like a fire in your chest. You couldn’t just sit here, helpless. The minutes dragged on, each one worse than the last, and soon enough, your decision was made.

Fuck it. You couldn’t wait anymore.

You slipped off the ship, moving swiftly and silently through the corridors of the massive vessel. You didn’t even know where you were headed, just that you had to find Mando, to make sure he was okay. Your pulse was racing as you crept along, every sound sending a jolt of adrenaline through you.

You dispatched a guard droid with ease, your blade cutting through its systems like butter, but still, the ship felt too quiet. Too empty. The hum of the vessel’s engines was the only sound you could hear now, and even that felt distant, like the ship was alive and yet disconnected from you. Every step you took felt heavier, as though the darkness pressing in around you was suffocating, tightening around your chest. The only thing louder than the silence was the erratic beat of your own heart.

The light flickered, casting long, eerie shadows along the metal walls, and then, with a shudder that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the lights went out. Just like that. A sudden, suffocating darkness swallowed you whole.

Your breath caught in your throat. You froze, eyes adjusting to the blackness, the low hum of your commlink the only weak point of light in this endless expanse. The cold air seemed to press in on you, the ship’s metallic bones groaning as it shifted. You felt utterly alone in the dark, every step you took seeming to echo in your ears. The stillness was almost worse than the chaos. It had that dead, hollow quality that made your skin crawl, and every single nerve screamed at you to stop, to turn around, to run back to the ship and wait for Mando.

But you couldn’t. Not now. Not when you were this close.

Then, a sound—footsteps—just at the edge of hearing. Too light, too quick, but unmistakable. Someone was out there.

You pressed yourself into the shadows, your pulse rising as your fingers curled tighter around your knife. Your heart hammered in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins, but you told yourself to stay calm. Stay sharp.

The footsteps grew louder, closer. Whoever it was, they were moving fast. Too fast.

And then, he appeared. A silhouette in the dark, moving like he knew exactly where you were, his boots echoing against the cold floor. You didn’t have time to think—your body reacted on instinct. You rushed forward, knife raised, ready to strike, but you weren’t fast enough.

He was on you before you could land the blow. His weight crashed into you, knocking the air from your lungs as he shoved you to the ground. The cold, unforgiving floor of the ship met your back with a brutal thud, the impact stealing your breath.

Panic flooded your system, your heart pounding louder than the thud of your fall. Your hands flew to the knife, but he was too strong. His grip tightened around your wrists, forcing your arms above your head. You thrashed beneath him, desperate to break free, but the more you fought, the more he pushed you down, his body pressing on top of yours.

You could feel his breath on your face, heavy and labored, and all you could think about was the knife—his knife—now pressed against your throat. Cold steel kissed your skin, and the weight of it made your throat tighten. You couldn’t get a proper breath. Couldn’t think.

“Stay still,” he growled, the knife digging a little deeper. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You weren’t going to give him that. Not when you still had a chance to fight. You twisted beneath him, trying to free your legs, but they were trapped under his body. You were pinned.

No escape.

You felt the panic rising in your chest like a tidal wave, clawing at your throat, making it hard to breathe. The edge of the knife pressed against your skin, just waiting for the wrong move.

And then—your mind snapped to him.

Mando.

The thought came out of nowhere, like an instinct, something that was just so ingrained in you that it was impossible to ignore. You thought about him. About the way he always seemed to have your back, the way he had your trust. Your thoughts flickered to the kid—his smile, his laugh. You’d never see him again. You’d never get to tell Mando how you felt, never get the chance to be with him.

This was it. You were going to die here, on this ship, in the dark, with a blade at your throat. And you hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell Mando that you cared.

A broken, almost hysterical laugh bubbled up from your chest. It felt so unfair. The kid would grow up without you. Mando would never know how much he meant to you. Your thoughts were racing, spiraling out of control as you tried to grasp at something—anything—that could stop this, but the dark reality settled in. You weren’t going to make it out of here. It was all slipping through your fingers like sand.

But then, a crash.

The figure above you was wrenched off in a single, fluid motion. You didn’t even register it at first—just the sudden, sharp shift in pressure, the weight lifted from your chest. A loud grunt followed, and then the man was gone, hurled into the darkness with a sickening thud.

Your chest heaved, breaths coming in short, panicked gasps as you scrambled to push yourself up. And then, in the shadows of the darkened hallway, you saw him.

Mando.

You blinked, unable to fully comprehend that he was here, right here, right now. He stood over the mercenary like a storm, a force of nature, his armor gleaming in the dim light. Without hesitation, he was on the man, his gloved hands wrapping around the mercenary’s neck and slamming him against the wall with a sound that made your stomach turn.

The mercenary’s knife was knocked out of his hand, clattering against the floor as Mando finished him off in a swift, brutal movement. The man’s body crumpled to the ground, a heavy silence falling over the ship.

You stared at Mando, still on the floor, trying to piece together what just happened. You were alive. He was here. You were okay. But the overwhelming relief didn’t hit you at first, not until he turned toward you, helmet angled just enough that you could almost feel the weight of his gaze on you.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and steady as he extended a hand to you. His tone was all business, but there was something softer there, beneath the surface—something that made the hairs on your arms stand up.

You took his hand, feeling the strength in his grip as he helped you to your feet. There was a brief, lingering moment where neither of you spoke, just standing there, close enough that you could feel his heat radiating from his armor. His presence was commanding, undeniable. And you… you couldn’t breathe properly, not with the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

But you didn’t have time for that. Not now.

“You okay?” Mando asked, his voice a little softer now.

You nodded, though your voice caught in your throat. “I—I thought I was going to die.”

Mando’s gloved hands were gentle as he cupped your face, his touch oddly tender amidst the chaos that had just unfolded. His helmet loomed close, his posture rigid, but his movements were careful, his fingers lightly brushing over your skin, checking for cuts, bruises, any sign of injury. The intensity of his inspection was palpable, as though he needed to reassure himself that you were truly unharmed.

The tension that had been building between you both crackled in the silence, but that tension quickly turned into something else, something sharper. His posture stiffened, and when he finally pulled his hands away from your face, you noticed how his shoulders tightened under the weight of his frustration.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with irritation. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

The words stung more than they should have, but you weren’t ready to back down. Not this time. Not when he was being so infuriatingly overprotective.

“I couldn’t sit there while you were trapped,” you snapped, your chest heaving with the remnants of adrenaline and anger. “You think I’m just supposed to wait around? While you’re stuck somewhere? I’m not that kind of person, Mando.”

Mando’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I don’t care. I need you to stay out of danger. You’re not invincible. I can’t lose you like that.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you were left standing there, breathless. But the sting of his words only fueled the fire in you, and you found yourself stepping closer, your own frustration bubbling over.

“I don’t care if you’re worried about me,” you fired back, voice tight, “I couldn’t just stay on the sidelines, especially when you’re in danger. I’ve seen what happens when you get caught in the thick of it.” You shook your head, turning away from him for a moment. “I couldn’t let you go through that alone.”

Mando’s jaw clenched, and there was a long pause between you both as you exchanged heated glances. The anger swirled between you like a storm, both of you stubborn, both of you unwilling to relent. The silence hung in the air, thick and heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

After a moment, Mando exhaled slowly, turning toward the ship’s exit. You followed him, neither of you saying another word. The ship lurched into the air, the engine roaring to life as you made your way back to the safety of the ship, the weight of the argument hanging like a dark cloud between you.

Once you were in the cockpit, Mando set course for the stars, his hands tight on the controls, his posture as stiff as ever. You both sat in silence as the ship cut through the atmosphere, the stars on the other side of the viewport a reminder of the vast distance between you and the danger you’d just escaped.

But as you cleared the atmosphere, as the silence between you both grew unbearable, the argument reignited.

“Why couldn’t you just listen to me?” Mando’s voice was quiet, but the frustration was still there, simmering beneath the surface. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his focus on the controls.

The cockpit felt suffocating, the tension thick enough to choke on. Mando stood before you, his broad frame rigid, his helmet tilted slightly as though he couldn’t believe you were actually arguing with him after everything that had just happened. The way his body was so still only made your frustration mount, a stark contrast to the way you were practically vibrating with anger.

“Because I’m not a damn prisoner on this ship,” you snapped, each word cutting through the charged silence like a vibroblade. “I have a stake in this. I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to come back. I’m not just here to sit pretty and keep the ship in one piece while you risk your life. I’m not gonna be left behind.”

His head tilted slightly, the shine of the black visor catching the dim cockpit light. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured but laced with a dangerous edge, like a storm barely contained. “You think I asked for this?”

Your jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop.

“You think I wanted to come back to find you fighting for your life? That I wanted to worry about whether or not I’d lose you today because you couldn’t follow simple instructions?”

The words hit you hard, your chest tightening with a mixture of anger and something you weren’t ready to name. His voice was colder than you’d heard it in weeks, and the accusation in his tone stung more than you cared to admit.

“Maybe if you told me what was going on,” you countered, your voice rising, “I wouldn’t have had to! You treat me like I’m supposed to just sit here and wait while you throw yourself into danger. I’m not your—”

“You’re not my what?” he demanded, stepping forward, his voice cutting through yours like a whip. “Not my responsibility? Because that’s exactly what you are when you pull a stunt like that.”

The word responsibility landed with the force of a blow, and your vision blurred for a moment with the heat of your fury. You didn’t know if you were angrier at his words or at the fact that they hurt so damn much.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, the venom in your voice surprising even yourself. Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and stormed out of the cockpit, your boots pounding against the cold durasteel floor.

“Hey!” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. You didn’t stop.

You barely made it halfway down the corridor before you heard the heavy thud of his boots following you. His strides were longer, faster, and before you could fully register it, his voice was back at your side, low and demanding. “Don’t walk away from me.”

“I’m done talking to you,” you threw over your shoulder, your pace quickening.

“Well, I’m not done with you,” he growled, his voice closer now.

You came to an abrupt stop, spinning to face him so fast that he had to pull back slightly to avoid colliding with you. Your chest heaved as you jabbed a finger toward him, your anger boiling over. “Oh, of course not. Because it’s never about what I want, is it? It’s always about your rules, your plans, what you think is best. But guess what? You don’t get to make that call for me.”

His head tilted slightly, his shoulders rising as though he were bracing himself. “You don’t get it,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“No,” you snapped, cutting him off before he could continue. “You don’t get it. I have a right to be here, to fight, to know what the hell is going on. You don’t own me.”

Something in the air shifted. His body stiffened, and for a moment, you thought he might back down. But then he took a step forward, closing the distance between you. Instinctively, you took a step back.

“Careful,” you warned, your voice trembling slightly. Your heart pounded in your chest, your anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He didn’t stop. Another step. Then another. Each one deliberate, controlled. Every inch he took forward, you took back until the wall met your spine, cold and unyielding.

Your breath hitched as he stopped inches from you, his broad frame towering over you. One of his arms came up, his hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The movement was slow, almost deliberate, and the intensity of his presence made your pulse race.

“You want to keep yelling?” he asked, his voice low, rasping. “Go ahead. But answer me this first.”

Your brow furrowed as you glared up at the black visor, your confusion mixing with your frustration. “What?” you demanded, your voice sharper than you intended.

“Tell me you didn’t like it,” he said, his tone dropping into something darker. Something that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you spat, your anger barely masking the flicker of unease his words ignited.

“Earlier,” he clarified, his voice smoother now, almost sultry. “When the ship lurched, and you were pinned under me. You told me to never do it again. So tell me… tell me you didn’t like it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words pulling the memory to the surface with startling clarity. The weight of him pressing into you, the heat of his body even through the layers of armor. The way his hands had cradled you with such strength, such care.

Your pulse quickened, and a flush spread across your cheeks. “I…” you started, but the words wouldn’t come. Your mind was spinning, the memory of that moment replaying with vivid detail.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he said, his voice laced with both triumph and frustration.

You opened your mouth to argue, to push back, but the intensity of his presence silenced you. His free hand moved to your hip, the touch firm but somehow electric.

“Mando,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Do you have any idea,” he said, his voice rough, raw, “what it would’ve done to me if I’d lost you today? If I hadn’t gotten there in time?”

His hand tightened on your hip, and you sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned in closer, the helmet mere inches from your face. His thigh shifted, parting yours to rest at your core, and the contact sent a jolt of heat through you that you couldn’t ignore.

“I…” you tried again, your voice faltering as the weight of the moment pressed down on you.

“You’re fucking infuriating,” you finally managed to say, your tone sharp, but your body betrayed you as your hips shifted slightly, the friction against his thigh sparking something you couldn’t control.

“And yet,” he said, his voice low and filled with something dark and possessive, “you’re still here.”

The air between you was crackling, electric and volatile, like a storm that had been building for far too long. Mando was impossibly close, his gloved hand gripping your hip with a possessiveness that left you breathless, his helmet tilted toward you in a way that felt predatory. His other hand still braced against the wall beside your head, boxing you in completely.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his voice dropped even lower, gravelly and dark. “You’re still here,” he repeated, his tone carrying an edge of frustration and something else—something deeper, something that made your knees weak.

You opened your mouth to reply, to argue, to yell something—anything—to break the tension, but the words died in your throat as he shifted against you. His thigh pressed up between yours, deliberate and firm, the pressure just right to send a shockwave through your entire body.

“Fuck you,” you breathed, though your body betrayed the words as you shamelessly ground down against him, seeking more of the delicious friction that had your nerves tingling with fire.

His helmet tilted, the black visor never leaving your face as his hands slid up, one spanning your waist while the other lingered at your ribcage, his thumb brushing maddeningly close to the underside of your breast. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice impossibly low and edged with something feral. “You keep saying that like it’s not exactly what you want.”

A sharp pulse of need shot through you, and you let out a sound somewhere between frustration and surrender. His words felt like a challenge, like he was calling you out for the very thing you couldn’t deny.

Your hands fisted the fabric of his flight suit as you leaned forward, your forehead brushing against the smooth surface of his helmet. The action brought you so close that his breaths—filtered through the modulator—felt tangible against your lips.

“Stop playing games,” you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desire. “If you’re gonna—”

He cut you off with a sharp movement of his thigh, his hands guiding your hips against him, forcing you to feel the friction, the heat. Your head fell back against the wall, a broken sound slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

“You think this is a game to me?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You forced yourself to meet his visor, your chest heaving with every breath. “What do you want from me, Mando?”

“I want you to stop acting like you don’t know,” he growled, his hand sliding up your side, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Like you don’t feel it.”

You wanted to argue, to fight back, but the words wouldn’t come. Your mind was clouded, your body overwhelmed by the sheer force of him—his presence, his touch, the way he moved against you like he owned you.

“I can’t—” you started, but his thigh shifted again, and the sound you made was anything but coherent.

“You can,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His helmet tilted down toward you, his voice softening just slightly. “I need you to.”

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping the beskar as you tried to ground yourself, tried to fight the wave of heat building inside you. But it was impossible. He was everywhere, overwhelming your senses, leaving you no room to think, only feel.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you managed to say, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Sitting here, wondering if you’re gonna come back? Fuck—”

His hand slid up your side again, his thumb brushing against the bare skin just below the hem of your shirt—his shirt—and you shivered at the contact.

“I’ve wanted—no, needed you for so fucking long,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your voice was raw, filled with frustration and longing. “I–ah–didn’t think you felt the same.”

His grip on you tightened, his body pressing closer, his thigh still firm between yours. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You think I could’ve lost you today and just kept going like nothing happened?”

His breath was ragged against your ear as he slid his hand further, his thumb tracing the curve of your side. “I’ve always wanted you,” he muttered, the words low and edged with a raw, primal edge that sent a shiver through your entire body. “Fuck, I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you on this ship—every time you walked by me in that tight hall, wearing my clothes like you fucking knew what it did to me. You don’t understand how hard it was to just… watch you, to feel you so close, but never touch. It was wrong—hell, I know it was wrong. I'm basically your fucking employer—but you were there, right there in front of me. Every time I saw you, I couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t think straight, and every part of me just wanted to take you, to pull you into me.” His voice grew tighter, almost as though he was choking on the words as his hands gripped you even tighter, pulling you against him. “But I couldn’t act on it, not until I knew you felt the same. Until I knew you weren’t going to just… disappear.”

Your breath hitched at his words as his hand trailed up, brushing against your ribs, his touch setting your nerves on fire. You wanted to respond, to push him further, but the weight of his words—and the way he looked at you, even through the visor—left you speechless.

“Mando,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

“Din,” he corrected softly, his voice a reverent murmur.

Your heart stuttered at the sound of his name, and you opened your mouth to say it back, but before you could, he leaned in, his helmet brushing against your forehead as his hands slid to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Are you going to do something or what?” you challenged.

He didn’t reply, but his hands moved again, sliding down to cup your ass and grope the pillowy flesh. Then, with a fluid strength that took your breath away, he lifted you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking at the ankles as your body molded against his. You gasped at the firm press of his body against yours, your core pressed directly against the undeniable hardness between his legs. Even through the layers of clothing and armor, the sensation was maddening.

Your hands braced against his shoulders, your nails digging into the fabric as the reality of the moment overwhelmed you. “Mando—Din,” you corrected yourself, your voice breaking as your forehead rested against his helmet again. “I need you. Now.”

His hands gripped you tighter, and the way he growled your name was a sound you would never forget. He stepped back from the wall, carrying you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. The heat of his body was a blazing contrast to the cool metal of the ship, and your breath hitched as he lowered you to the floor with surprising care, even amidst the unrestrained urgency crackling between you.

He hovered over you, his hips slotting between your legs again as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch of you without hesitation. The hard edges of his armor brushed against your skin, a stark reminder of the man beneath it—unyielding, impenetrable, yet undone for you.

You arched into his touch, your mind clouded with nothing but him, the overwhelming need you felt, and the knowledge that nothing could keep him from you now.

Your hands trembled as they slid down his chest, palming at the cold, unyielding metal of his armor. The sharp edges and smooth plates were a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him, and you bit your lip, frustrated by the barrier between you.

“Din,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, but the urgency in it was unmistakable. Your fingers tugged at the edges of his cuirass, a desperate plea breaking free from your lips. “Please… take it off—I need to feel you.”

He stilled above you, his helmet tilting down as if weighing your words. You knew what you were asking was monumental—he rarely took his armor off, and certainly not in front of anyone. It was a part of him, an extension of the creed he held so tightly. But right now, you needed to feel him. Not the metal, not the layers—him.

His gloved hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he seemed to search for something in your expression. Whatever he saw there, it broke down the walls he’d built so carefully around himself.

With a slight nod, he sat back on his knees, his hands moving to the clasps and fastenings of his armor. The air grew heavy with anticipation as he worked, the clinks and clicks of metal being removed echoing in the small space. Piece by piece, the armor came off—shoulder plates, chest plate, gauntlets—until he was left in just the dark flight suit that clung to his body.

Your breath caught as you watched him, the dim light casting shadows across his broad frame. The fabric of the flight suit hugged every inch of him, leaving little to the imagination. He hesitated for a moment, his hands stilling at the zipper of his suit, as though giving you one last chance to stop him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and rough, yet threaded with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart.

You nodded, your lips parting as your chest rose and fell rapidly. “Please, Din.”

That was all it took. He pulled the zipper down in one swift motion, the sound louder than it should have been, and peeled the suit off his shoulders. The fabric slid down his torso, revealing tan, scarred skin and taut muscles that made your mouth go dry.

You swallowed hard, your gaze drinking him in as more of him was revealed. The ridges of his abs, the curve of his waist, the trail of dark hair that led down to the waistband of his boxers—it was overwhelming. Your eyes dipped lower, and your breath hitched at the sight of his arousal, straining against the fabric of his boxers. He was huge, the outline of him leaving little room for imagination, and the sheer size of him sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs.

“Maker,” you whispered, unable to tear your gaze away from him. Your skin felt electrified, every nerve alight with anticipation.

Din’s hands slid under your shirt, his calloused fingers skimming over your stomach and ribs with an intimacy that sent a shiver racing up your spine. His touch was light, almost reverent, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “Your turn,” he murmured, his voice rough with arousal.

You didn’t hesitate, your hands flying to the hem of your shirt. His eyes, hidden behind the black visor of his helmet, seemed to burn into you as you stripped the fabric from your body, leaving your torso bare to him. The cool air of the ship kissed your skin, but the heat in his touch was enough to set you ablaze.

His hands followed, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, until you felt utterly consumed by him. His helmet tilted as though he were memorizing every detail of you, and the air between you crackled with a tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

Din froze as your bare form was revealed to him, his chest rising and falling with heavy, measured breaths. His gloved hands hovered for a moment as if the sight of you had momentarily rendered him incapable of movement. When he finally exhaled, it came out in a deep, guttural groan, one that sent a shiver coursing through your entire body.

“Maker,” he rasped, his voice raw and unguarded, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it.

His visor tilted, drinking you in as though he could see every curve, every dip and swell of your body beneath the low light of the Crest. To him, you were radiant. The soft, golden glow of the overhead lights cast a halo around you, highlighting the light sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. You looked ethereal, angelic, like something he had no right to touch.

But it wasn’t just the beauty of your body that undid him—it was you. The way your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, the way your hands trembled slightly, clutching the blanket beneath you for some semblance of stability. You were so alive, so perfect, and you were here with him. For him.

His cock twitched painfully against the confines of his boxers, straining against the fabric as he took in the sight of you. He could feel the heat pooling in his belly, the pulsing need to touch you, to claim you, to lose himself in the one thing he never thought he could have.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, but you heard it. The word sent a flood of warmth straight to your core, your thighs instinctively pressing together to temper the ache building there.

Din noticed, of course. He always noticed. His hand, still clad in its leather glove, trailed down your side, the contrast between the cool leather and the heat of your skin sending sparks along your nerves. He reached the waistband of your panties, hesitating for a brief moment before hooking his fingers under the fabric.

His movements were deliberate, almost agonizingly slow, as though he wanted to savor every second. He peeled the fabric down your legs, his eyes—hidden though they were—never leaving you. The sight of you fully bare beneath him stole the air from his lungs, and he let out another low groan that made your toes curl.

“Din,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, your thighs shifting restlessly as the heat between them became unbearable.

“Patience,” he said, his voice dark and commanding, yet laced with a tenderness that made your heart race.

His hand returned, now free of the glove, and the warmth of his palm against your inner thigh made you gasp. He traced a slow, teasing path upward, his fingers brushing against your slick heat, and you bit your lip, barely stifling the whimper that escaped you.

“So wet,” he murmured, almost reverently, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the floor. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice breaking as his fingers slid through your folds. “All for you.”

His other hand settled on your hip, grounding you as he slid one thick finger inside you, the stretch making your head fall back with a soft moan. He moved slowly at first, his finger curling and pumping in a rhythm that had you writhing beneath him. Then he added another, his thumb never ceasing its gentle assault on your clit, and the pressure built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

“Din, I—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice softening as he leaned closer, his forehead just inches from yours. “Let go for me.”

The words, the command in them paired with the tenderness, sent you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as you cried out his name, clutching desperately at his forearms to anchor yourself. He worked you through it, his fingers never faltering as he coaxed every last bit of pleasure from you.

When you finally came down, your chest heaving as you blinked up at him with dazed eyes, Din didn’t give you time to recover. He was already pushing his boxers down, freeing himself, and the sight of him made your breath hitch. He was massive, thick and long, and your core clenched at the thought of him inside you.

He leaned down, pressing his helmet against your forehead as his hands slid under your thighs, hitching them around his waist. “Tell me,” he rasped, his voice rough with need, “if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head fervently, your hands clutching at his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice breathy and desperate. “I need you, Din. Now.”

With a low growl, he removed his cock from his boxers, positioning himself at your entrance, the head of him brushing against your sensitive folds. Then, with one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, and you cried out at the stretch, the fullness, the overwhelming sensation of him.

The moment Din pushed inside, your body arched off the floor, a strangled cry tearing from your lips as the sensation of him stretching you filled every inch of your being. He was thick, his girth almost overwhelming as your walls clenched around him involuntarily, fluttering at the sheer force of his entry. Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought to adjust to the exquisite stretch.

“Stars,” you gasped, nails digging into the taut muscles of his shoulders. “Din, I—”

He stilled immediately, his hands gripping your hips firmly, holding you steady even as his own body trembled with restraint. His voice, low and strained through the modulator, was like gravel. “I know, baby. I know. Just breathe.”

You could feel his cock twitching inside you, a constant reminder of his size and the way your walls struggled to accommodate him. The burn ebbed slowly, replaced by a pulsating ache that was both pleasure and pain, your body contracting around him as it learned to accept him. The Crest’s dim lights glinted off the sheen of sweat on your skin, making you glow beneath him, and Din’s breath hitched audibly at the sight.

His thumb stroked soft, reassuring circles against your hip, his own restraint evident in the way his chest rose and fell with thudding breaths. “Kriff, you feel…” he started, his words trailing off as if they couldn’t capture the magnitude of the moment.

Finally, the pressure shifted, the ache transforming into a hum of pleasure that sent vibrations through your core. You gave a small, experimental roll of your hips, testing, and the motion pulled a groan from his lips as your walls sucked him deeper.

“I—I think I’m ready,” you whispered, your voice breathy and tinged with urgency.

Din hesitated, his forehead pressing to yours. “Are you sure?” His voice was rough, every syllable trembling with the weight of his self-control.

“Fuck, Din,” you moaned, your hips grinding against him instinctively. “Move. I need you to move.”

His restraint snapped like a tether pulled too tight. He pulled out slowly, your walls clenching and fluttering in protest, only to slam back into you with a force that left you gasping. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails raking down his back as he set a slow, deliberate pace, each thrust deep and intentional, filling you completely.

The sensation was overwhelming. Every drive of his hips sent shudders rippling through you, his cock dragging against every nerve, your walls pulsating around him with every movement. The friction was maddening, a delicious agony that built steadily, and you could feel every twitch, every throb of him inside you as he claimed you.

“Din,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as his name fell from your lips like a prayer.

He groaned in response, the sound guttural and raw as his hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place for his relentless thrusts. “You’re so tight,” he rasped, his modulated voice vibrating against your skin. “So fucking perfect.”

Your body was a live wire beneath him, every nerve ending alight as the coil in your core tightened, your hips grinding up to meet his with desperation. Each thrust grew rougher, more urgent, his pace driving faster as your walls quivered and sucked him deeper.

“I—I’m close,” you stuttered, your voice trembling as the fire in your belly burned hotter.

“I’ve got you,” Din murmured, one hand sliding between your bodies to find the swollen bundle of nerves at your center. His fingers pressed against you, the pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Let go. Come for me.”

The combination of his thrusts, his touch, and the overwhelming fullness of him buried deep pushed you over the edge. Your release hit like a supernova, your walls contracting and fluttering around him as waves of pleasure pulsed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

“Din!” you cried out, your body arching against him as the pleasure ripped through every inch of you.

The way you clenched around him, your walls milking him as you came, was his undoing. His thrusts grew erratic, each one deeper and harder as he chased his own release. With a guttural growl, his body tensed, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you, the force of his climax sending shivers through his frame.

After the intensity of the moment passed, a deep silence enveloped the two of you, punctuated only by the sound of your heavy breathing. The ship’s low hum seemed distant compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest, still racing from the whirlwind of sensations. Din slowly pulled out, his movements gentle, almost reverent, as he settled back beside you on the cold floor of the cockpit.

The aftermath was strange. Your body still hummed with the memory of his touch, the lingering warmth of his skin, but now, there was a profound sense of exhaustion, of weightlessness, almost like you’d been floating outside of yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him—his form still looming over you, imposing and powerful, even with the helmet still in place.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Din’s hand reached for you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tenderness that caught you off guard. His fingers lingered on your cheek, as if he was making sure you were real, that this wasn’t some fevered dream.

He exhaled sharply, almost like he was trying to shake off the weight of what had just happened. You watched him, unsure of what to say, feeling the quiet aftermath settle around you.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you felt the same?” you asked, your voice quieter now, but still filled with that same raw frustration. You weren’t angry, not really—you just needed to understand. The silence in the cockpit was deafening, and all you could think about was how much this moment had changed everything between you.

Din didn’t answer immediately. His gloved hands flexed as he reached for the remaining pieces of his armor, moving methodically, almost as though he was trying to mask the emotion you knew he was feeling too. But then he stopped, his back still to you, and you could see his shoulders tense.

He turned slowly, his helmet facing you, but his posture was less rigid than usual. It was almost like he didn’t know how to stand anymore. He let out a breath, long and low, and then finally, in a voice that was quieter, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it, he spoke.

“I was scared,” he admitted, the words coming out rough, as though they were hard to say. “Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same. That if I told you, you’d leave… that you’d leave me and the kid.”

Your heart tightened in your chest as his words sank in. You could feel the weight of his vulnerability, the fear that had kept him silent all this time. You wanted to reach for him, to tell him how foolish he was for ever doubting you, but you let him continue.

“I’ve been willing to suffer through it,” he went on, his voice catching just slightly, “if it meant you’d stay. I never wanted to put that burden on you. I never wanted you to feel like you had to choose between me and… well, everything else. But when you went after me earlier…” His voice faltered for a moment, and for the first time since you’d known him, he seemed unsure. “I thought I was going to lose you. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t let that happen.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. You swallowed hard, feeling a rush of emotion you hadn’t expected. All this time, he’d been hiding his feelings because he thought you might leave.

You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you placed it on his arm. His gaze softened under the helmet, his body still tense, but there was something in his stance that made you believe he was finally, truly being open with you.

“I’m not going anywhere, Din,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly with the sincerity of your words. “I thought… I thought you knew that.”

Din’s breath caught in his chest, and for a moment, he stood there, completely still, before his gloved hand reached out, gently cupping your face. His touch was warm through the cool material of his armor, and his thumb brushed over your cheek in a motion that felt almost reverent.

“I don’t want to be alone in this anymore,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep pretending like I don’t need you. I’ve… I’ve never needed anyone before. But I need you, both of you.”

You were speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions—everything that had been unspoken between you finally coming to the surface. You could see it in the way his posture softened, the way his gloved hand held your face with such care, like you were something precious to him.

You reached up, gently touching the edge of his helmet, as if trying to bridge the distance between the two of you, the one that had been there for so long. “You’re not going to lose us, Din,” you said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A small, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, like he was finally letting go of some of the weight that had been pressing down on him for so long. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you closer. His helmet leaned down just slightly, as if he was breathing you in, the closeness between you palpable.

Then, his voice, softer this time, held a hint of the emotion that had been building for so long.

“I’m sorry for not saying it sooner,” he murmured. “For not telling you how much you mean to me. But now, I’m telling you. I need you here. With me.”

Your chest fluttered at the admission, and you smiled softly, feeling lighter somehow, as if the weight of everything that had been unsaid between you was finally being lifted.

“I need you too,” you said, your voice almost shy now, but filled with certainty.

And with that, the last of the tension between you melted away. He pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around you as you nestled against his chest. For a moment, it was just the two of you, holding each other in the quiet, dim light of the Crest, the sound of your heartbeats the only thing you could hear.

Din’s voice rumbled softly in your ear. “Next time, don’t go running off without me, alright?”

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing small patterns across his chest. “You’re not the only one who gets to be stubborn, you know.”

He chuckled, and for a brief moment, everything felt right—like this was how it was always supposed to be.

“I guess we’re both stubborn then,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with that same tenderness. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you around, huh?”

You smiled, leaning back to look up at him, the warmth of his embrace making you feel more at peace than you had in a long time. “You better,” you teased softly, your fingers still tangled in the fabric of his flight suit. “I wouldn’t want to leave you and the kid to fend for yourselves.”

A soft laugh bubbled from his chest, and as he looked down at you, you could see the beginnings of something new between you—a bond that wasn’t just about survival or shared missions anymore. It was deeper than that. You didn’t know what the future held, but right now, you knew one thing for sure: you were in this together.

And that was enough.

[one-sunny]

Waiting, waiting

Sanji x reader

Summary: Following the events of Whole Cake Island, Sanji is a broken man. He turns to the only person he has felt true affection for with a desperate plea. Angst, desc. of a panic attack, hurt comfort.

Based on the song “Would you fall in love with me again.” Also, disclaimer, i haven’t seen the entirety of the WCI storyline but im sending it anyways 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

Would you fall in love with me again,

Your relationship with Sanji has always been complicated. You knew of the affection you had for each other, of the longing, and of the little things stuck in your minds that have kept you away from each other. He offered sweet words and the affirmations you needed for comfort. You offered him a gentle presence and acceptance. There were consistent lingering touches and longing stares. But there was always something keeping you away from each other.

There was nothing but relief upon Sanjis return to the crew. You were aware of what he endured and of every way he was different.

He returned to doting on you all, but he lingered in the kitchen and away from the crew far longer than usual. His prep took extra time. The dishes were a much larger task. And above all else, he no longer accepted any aid from you as he so freely did before.

If you knew all i’ve done?

Sanji made an effort to avoid you upon his return to the ship. He was a broken man, but above all else, he wasn’t sure he could face you. After everything he had done. After everything he had to face. Could you really look at him the same?

The man was never sure what to make of your relationship before.

You spoke to him freely, combatting his flirting at time, and leaving him a flustered mess. No one could make him blush in the way that you did. No one made his heart flutter like you. And no one made him feel loved like you could.

The things I cannot change.

Sanji felt his lungs constrict.

Everything was too much. The things weighing on his mind, playing in a constant loop, it was all too much. His hands ball into fists and the cigarette is flattened between his lips with the effort that it took to hold back his tears.

But it wasn’t enough.

A hand presses to his mouth in efforts to quiet his cries. His fingers were wet and pruned from soaking in the dish water, the smell of soap overwhelming his senses. Shoulders begin to shake and his knees nearly buckle with the effort of keeping himself upright.

His breath hitches. One. Twice. A third time and Sanji feels himself spiraling. He can’t breathe.

Would you love me all the same?

“Sanji.” You call out to him. He doesn’t have to turn around for you to take in his wrecked state. You rush to his side, prying his hand away from his mouth and pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, hey, hey.” You coo in effort to comfort him. “Sanji, you’re okay. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re on the Sunny.”

His hand shoots out to grab at your sleeve, nails digging into the fabric. Quick breaths push out of his mouth as the tears stream down his cheeks.

You cup his face in your hands, speaking to him in a low voice and trying to talk him through the panic attack. To breathe. To let you in. To remind him that he is safe now.

As his breathing stabilizes, he collapses forwards into you. “I’m sorry.” He calls to you. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sanji, why are you apologizing?”

He tugs you closer and presses his face into your shoulder. You hand rubs along his back as he sobs into your shirt. “I’m sorry.” He repeats the words over and over. “I’m sorry I’m not a better man for you.” He chants his apologies for everything he has done. For not treating you how he should. For not showing you the love you deserve. “I’m so in love with you and all i’ve done is run from it. You deserve better.”

A shiver shoots down your spine at his ramblings. He was in love with you. He was in love with you. It was something that you knew deep down, something you easily reciprocated, something that the two of you had complicated for far too long.

“Sanji, hey, come on. Come on love.” You coax him out of his place at your shoulder, running your fingers through blonde locks, and look back at him with every ounce of adoration in your body. “I forgive you for everything you’ve done, okay? You were trying to protect us. I could never fault you for that.”

“You don’t understand, I- I-“

“I don’t care about any of it.” You wipe at the tears to no avail as they continue to fall. “I love you the same as I did before, Sanji. I’m in love with you. And I always have been.”

His lips purse into a thin line and his chin quivers with his effort to just stop crying.

You stroke a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair out of the way, and leaning in to press a delicate kiss to his skin. Your lips trail around his face to pepper kisses along his skin. His fingers tighten into your shirt as he clings to you.

Then, a laugh leaves his lips. It’s breathy and clipped, but it warms your heart all the same.

“I missed you, Sanji.” Your lips brush along his jaw, your voice tingling at his skin and making a smile pull to his lips. You lean back and revel in the smile that you had missed so much.

“I missed you too, darling. More than ever.” Sanji presses his forehead to yours as another breathy laugh leaves him. “Can I- Can I kiss you?” He shakily asks.

You push forwards to connect your lips in a delicate kiss and his hands move to cup your cheeks. The kiss is tinged with salty tears and tobacco, but it’s a combination that is just so Sanji that you don’t mind. Sanji is the first to drag himself away, drawing in a deep breath, before breaking out into a bright smile. It lights up his whole face this time.

I know that you’ve been waiting, waiting for love.