#no shade though i understand a lot of you have been burned by ships not becoming canon in the past

[coolcoolwithyou]

[sinisterexaggerator]

Hello there!

I am here to ease ya'll into my favorite ship:

Banaka (Cad Bane x Hondo Ohnaka)

Best in the Bunch.

I have so much planned for these two in a fanfic I am only just beginning to write (that spans Cad Bane's entire life), but conversations with @allsystemsblue led me to write this fluff scenario and I could not stop myself.

Pretend that what you are reading is based on an already well-established relationship. Bane shows affection by acts of service and gift giving, as his feelings are something he has trouble with expressing. The rest is self-indulgent garbage.

I should mention this is not how the rest of said fic will go. This is a one-off just for fun. You can expect angst, drama, hurt, comfort, toxic relationships, violence and smut in the future.

Credit goes to Teeth for the idea that Hondo, while not believing in the God Quay, still finds comfort in performing magicks for his own peace of mind.

Word count: 1.4k+

Warnings: None. Fluff, a kiss, and a lot of negativity on Bane's part.

He didn’t know a thing about them, flowers, only that they might come in useful for a certain predicament he had found himself in, as it seemed most sentient beings thought the seed-bearing parts of plants—consisting of its reproductive organs, mind you—were somehow beautiful.

He supposed he could see it, what with their bright-colored corollas, petals coming in all shapes and sizes, typically paired with a calyx as green as his own blood. That was only on some planets. On others, they were red, or blue. Purple. Indigo.

On Florrum, they came in various shades of orange, or yellow, a rarity after an even rarer desert downpour.

Fragile is what they were, and a waste of money. The resources used to farm them could be utilized in more efficient ways. Perhaps he would like the wild ones better, though to pull weeds as a manner of apology didn’t seem good enough. Didn’t seem thoughtful enough. He was sure the Weequay would run him out.

Then again, apologizing wasn’t something he often did, as Bane rarely meant not to do something he had set his mind to. Only this time, he had hurt Ohnaka’s feelings.

Feelings. Hondo had too many, and maybe Bane had too few. Callous one might call him, insensitive another. Cynical was more like it; tired; disillusioned. Yet rare was the man who could crack him open to show him what lay beneath; like a geode, Ohnaka exposed his insides, revealing to Bane all the pretty bits he never would have known existed.

And Bane did care, if only when it suited him. If only on his terms. But this time, he cared because Hondo did. It was partially anathema, this caring, yet he did it anyway, unable to coax his mind to let their little squabble go.

To the pirate, it had been more than that, Bane insulting his very heritage. He didn’t understand the tiny dolls he kept, the archaic sources of illumination that were made of wax and smelled like things Bane could not identify, nor the bits and scraps of flimsi that had been burned to cinders.

These things decorated a small table, resting atop an ornate cloth; Bane had touched it much to the pirate’s chagrin, then disrespected his arcane practice, ridiculing his efforts to appease some nonexistent deity in order to bring about Bane’s good luck.

His job was dangerous, but the hunter was unaware he was being prayed for behind closed doors. Somehow, that had irritated him, more so as he didn’t understand it, thinking Hondo must be attempting to commit himself to witchcraft like those little ladies that lived on Dathomir.

“What’s with dhis nonsense. Ain’t no use in doin’ dhat,” he remembered saying; a poor choice of words to one who meant no ill will.

He understood that now, if nothing else. So what if Hondo lit a candle for him. Who was he to say he hadn’t lived to hunt another day because of it? It was possible the only thing keeping Bane alive besides his street smarts and good aim was the Weequay’s magicks; Bane shuddered to think that was the case.

Even so, here he was, holding a bouquet tightly in one hand and his hat’s brim in the other, deigning to do what he felt might be ignored. This was nothing more than a gesture to barter passage into the pirate king’s good graces—an act of service on his part, the buying of them—for in the here and now, there was nothing more he wished to accomplish in this life. Had you told him he would be doing this a year ago, he would have laughed himself hoarse, or worse yet, right into an early grave.

Yes, flowers. Expensive, frail, and pointless. He had chosen the prettiest of those assembled according to his tastes, selecting a color he assumed was the dummy’s favorite: red.

Ladalums were scarce and imported from Alderaan, a fact he’d learned upon their purchase. They would only bloom if pollinated on their homeworld; these were fresh off the cargo freight, able to last months if given the right treatment.

That was one good thing about them—once out of his hands, the rest was up to the pirate to take care of. He was good at that, Bane mused—caring for things.

Eyes and heads—not dissimilar from all the others that populated this chamber of sorts—turned to look at this bounty hunter who relunctantly proceeded with his walk of shame. Bane would bite back all his nasty words, even as members of Hondo's gang jeered and snickered at his expense.

What he wouldn’t give to kill them on the spot. Somehow, he imagined, that would not do him any favors.

Seated on a low dais, in a throne fit for a king no less, his disgruntled paramour still fumed, swoop-goggles purposefully removed to rest upon the front of his worn helmet. Those expressive gray eyes were the Duros’ weakness, finding that he could not meet his narrowed gaze. Already oblique, Hondo’s stormy depths had gathered further into slits, leaving Bane to swallow down his spit.

Still, he approached, feeling naked and vulnerable as he stood there like a scolded child without his hat to shield him. He did his best, fathomless red ellipses meeting Hondo’s glare head-on, Bane saying the only thing he could think to say.

“Brought some flowers.”

Nothin'. There was no reaction, not even a change in his demeanor or a brightening of mood. Bane overtly frowned, taking a step back for his boots to echo lightly against the duracrete floor of Hondo’s beloved fortress home.

Supposin’ this didn’t work, Bane planned for his retreat, hoping to retain some dignity among those present. He lowered his head, his hat rightfully returned to where it belonged by a flat palm, Bane ready to drop the bouquet like so much trash at his feet; it was difficult to care when you didn’t know how to fix the wrong you’d done. Trying wasn’t as good as doing. Doing was the hard part.

“Are dose for me?”

Four little words that set Bane’s heart to thumping, the hunter wisely keeping his eyes averted as he saw the pirate stand out of his periphery. He would only nod, an infinitesimal movement of his head, up and down, affirming what Hondo already knew—those flowers were for him.

His spark descended, that charming scoundrel who kept him going on a dark night of the soul; he strode down the short flight of stairs that would bring him nearly to his level, Bane taller than Ohnaka, though the man was bigger in some ways; his heart for one, Bane thought.

“Dey are beautiful, my Moon,” his bit of sunshine said, Bane’s sorrowful eyes rising out from the shade of his bolero.

“Picked de best in de bunch,” he humbly offered, words bordering a whisper, eerily heard as the hall was quiet, grim faces and furrowed brows sparing him none of his embarrassment. "Same could be said, fer ye,” he added.

It was then the Weequay smiled, a dazzling thing, brighter than dual suns. Bane relaxed openly as he expelled a breath from between his teeth; it was a slow, heavy sigh of relief.

“Flatterer,” Hondo teased, his smile spreading wider, gold amidst pearl and oh-so satisfying to witness should Bane be the sole cause of it. “Dey need water, hm?”

The shuffling of a crimson coat and an idle toss of a braid signaled to Bane that Hondo would exit, the hunter grateful his gift had been accepted. However, the Weequay would pause, turning about face, reflecting on the shrinking Duros as he had been tempted to follow in his footsteps.

“Just… one more ting,” he announced, his expression hardening back to a look previously sported as his voice lowered an octave, Bane’s heart sinking toward his belly as he did not wish to incur any more reprimands.

Hondo took him by his coat’s lapel, jerking him forward. Bane held onto his hat as dusky lips brushed across his, pinpricks of electricity teeming along his scales like minuscule lightning bolts. The Duros would slump his shoulders to sink to Ohnaka’s height, a warm, black tongue invading his mouth to skirt one that was cool and pink.

This must be what it felt like to be forgiven, he assumed, some invisible weight lifting from off his conscience.

“Take it ye like flowers,” Bane remarked once free of his kiss, wanting to fill the now awkward silence with something to lighten whatever tension might be left between them.

For Hondo, there was none. He could just as easily forget as he could forgive. A rough thumb smoothed down the bit of Bane’s flesh left assailable, brazenly descending to aid in the tweaking of one sharp fang.

“Yes,” Hondo harmoniously agreed, “you might say dat.”

[cyberrat]

68th Batch Of Fics: 8th Fill

Lucius/Izzy – cont B67F10 – Part 9/? – Edward finally tells Izzy what the whole ship has been thinking.

---

So explaining his situation has apparently not yielded the desired results of Edward and Bonnet understanding him any more. In fact, Bonnet has flushed an almost alarming shade of red and started clutching his blanket to his chest while exchanging looks with Edward.

When Izzy is done regaling his tale of how Lucius keeps haunting him and trying to seduce him, he has to just sit there for a moment and catch his breath. His head feels like it is about to explode, lungs burning as he has seemingly used a single breath to get out his sordid tale.

The quiet that suffuses the room and the wide-eyed stares he gets from both Bonnet and Teach do not help in calming him down. He can practically smell them not understanding a single word that he is trying to tell them and it is driving him even more up a wall.

Finally, Teach breaks the silence that has otherwise only been filled by Izzy’s heavy breathing. He leans over and puts his hand on Izzy’s tightly clenched fist, his brows lowered as he looks him straight in the eyes and says in a conspiratorial tone: “Izzy. Do you wanna fuck Lucius?”

Izzy opens and closes his mouth like a fish, insides roiling with disgust and disbelief that after all that he has told them, this would be what Teach takes away from it all.

He might look suspiciously like he is about to kill someone because before his overheating brain manages to send out an order to his hands to grab his dagger, Bonnet suddenly speaks up.

His voice is pitched low much like Teach’s had been, gaze wandering between Izzy and Edward: “I think we should all calm down for a moment and just… think on what Mister Hands has just told us. It is a lot to uhm… digest, and I wouldn’t want to just dismiss his concerns. You know? Edward?”

It is the first sensible thing Izzy has heard coming out of the posh idiot’s mouth… which makes him suspicious all on its own. He squints his eyes at Bonnet, looking him up and down. He’s unsure what to think about this development.

“Uhhh…” Edward doesn’t sound too sure either, though probably because of different reasons. He too starts looking between Izzy and Bonnet.

Just when Izzy starts to get fed up with them hem-hawing around and staring at him as if he were a wild animal, Bonnet throws his blanket off and swings his disconcertingly naked legs out of the bed. He stands up, his stupid sleep shirt falling down to his shins.

“Edward! If you would step outside with me? For just a moment? I would like to talk to you.”

Izzy watches with narrowed eyes as the both of them hurry out of the door, cutting off Izzy’s escape route since he doesn’t want to crawl out of the windows. He gets up from the chair and storms along the walls of the captain’s cabin, chewing on the utter lack of reaction from Teach and Bonnet.

How can it be that even when directly confronted with the machinations of the… the siren, they still can’t see what is happening all around them?

He comes to a halt in front of the door and tries to listen in on what they are muttering about outside. All he can hear are snippets of a heated discussion. Something about ‘denial’ and ‘suppression’ and all that fancy frilly crap that he’s come to expect from Bonnet, the absolute lunatic.

The forced break has at least one good outcome; Izzy does feel marginally calmer once the door opens again and Bonnet waltzes in like he owned the place, followed by a mildly confused looking Teach.

Izzy comes to a halt and looks at the both of them expectantly. Teach looks expectantly at Bonnet.

Bonnet just looks like the satisfied, pink-cheeked, wavy-haired idiot that he is in his little sleep robe and with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Mister Hands. Thank you for waiting.”

Izzy can feel a twitch coming up on one eye and barely manages not to spit out that he didn’t have any other choice, now, did he? He slowly balls his hands into fists and relaxes them again so he will have the urge to wrap them around Bonnet’s neck under control.

Bonnet briefly glances down and, probably realizing the precarious situation that he is in, shoots him a nervous, jerky smile and says: “Edward and I have talked about the problem you find yourself in. It is quite severe and we don’t want to just dismiss it.”

Izzy exhales, the muscles in his shoulders, perpetually tense, relax. Somewhat. A tiny little bit. He nods, eyes flicking to Teach who stands behind Bonnet and keeps nodding along with what he is saying, his dark eyes suspiciously blank; like he has no idea what’s going on but he’s just going along with it. Which does sound about right.

“Would you be fine with us talking to the boy and bringing the whole situation up with him?”

Izzy physically recoils – and so does Bonnet who lifts his arms to shield his face, obviously anticipating Izzy to propel himself toward him and deck him in the face. Something Izzy has been fantasizing at lengths but has never acted upon. Yet.

“Izzy. We’re just trying to help,” Teach says with the cadence of a disappointed parent. As if Izzy had done anything yet to warrant him looking at him like that.

Izzy tries to breathe deeply while Bonnet clears his throat and takes his arms back down again with a nervous little laugh.

“Truly, Mister Hands, I think it might be for the best? In any case, out of all the literature I’ve been reading-” Teach looks proud at that, and for the first time Izzy can’t help but think you dolt, glaring at him before shifting his attention back to Bonnet, “-they suggest that dreams are… omens, if you will. They show you the future of what is to come.”

Izzy can feel his skin breaking out in goosebumps, his thoughts snapping back to that infernal dream of Lucius crouching on the floor and sucking his cock greedily like it were the sweetest candy he’s had in years.

He shudders and reaches up, rubbing his hands over his face a few times. He can feel his resolve starting to crumble. After everything he went through, the steadfast believe of these two idiots is starting to honestly give him the rest.

“You rather have this sea demon take over the whole ship than believe me and put an end to this madness,” he grinds out finally.

Bonnet looks very worried at that point, so Teach jumps in with a roll of the eyes. “Oh for God’s sake, Izzy! Just go and fuck the boy and you’ll be happier for it, yes? We all will be. Believe me, we’re all done with watching you try to muscle yourself out of spreading your legs for him. It’s not working. You want it even more than he does. Just get your damn dick wet and get it out of your system, alright?”

The silence in the room after that is deafening.

[arduadastra]

69’ing with din but with him on top??? Yes??

This ran away with me because, this prompt? DELICIOUS. It starts real smutty but it ended softly. I have no regrets. It's been a while since I wrote smut so enjoy my filth fest!

Warnings: Slight Dom/Sub, Oral (F and M receiving) swearing, reader being bratty and after sex fluff.

Want something? Ask me here! I write Din, Javi, Ezra, Max P, Frankie, Oberyn and Whiskey.

1.6K - I mean...who knew I was such a hoe for dom Din?

MAJOR NSFW

What an awful fucking day.

Din had sent you out to the local market to pick up food for the next hyperspace jump and somehow you had come back with less than you started with.

When you got there, which took an hour because your speeder had broken down, you realised you had half the credits you actually needed because the other half was still on the ship.

To make matters worse, some twi'lek asshole decided to run into you which made you drop half the fruit you had bought and smash it on the ground below.

As you trekked back, indignant and defeated, you were seething. How can one person royally fuck up that bad? At a simple task nonetheless?

God, Mando was gonna be pissed.

As the ramp lowered you stood, shouldering the few remaining items you could actually buy and you see him waiting for you. He’s got the child cradled in one arm and another on his hip.

You’d almost laugh at the posture if you weren’t so pissed off.

“What took you so long?”

You laughed humourlessly and shoved past him, he grunts and plants his feet, “Hey!”

You swing around, dropping your bag on the floor and point at him, finger hitting his chest plate, “It’s your fault! You said you’d fixed the speeder.”

He says nothing, just drops the child to the ground and stands up straight. “It fucking broke within ten minutes, I had to walk the rest of the way.” You continue, voice rising, “THEN this asshole ran into me and I dropped everything. Didn’t even get much in the first place because I left half the fucking credits here!”

You curse and tug at your hair, walking away from him now, “Fuck, I didn’t even get those cookies you wanted!" You kicked the crest wall and winced at the pain that shot up your leg.

Mando, as always, was a silent observer of your meltdown. He never spoke unless he had to and in all the years you had known him, you’re not sure he’s ever witnessed an outburst from you.

It had just been a shitty day.

“And!” You continue, pointing at him, “You decided that landing on a planet that’s 1000 degrees in the shade was somehow a good plan. I could barely breathe out there, you didn’t think to check the ground temperature, idiot?!”

That got his attention. Immediately you knew you’d fucked up. 

It’s one thing to yell at him but to insult his planning skills? His intelligence? Yeah, that’s game over.

He tilts his head slightly before pressing his vambrace, closing the ramp. He then takes three very measured steps towards you as you back away, your legs hitting the bunk. He stares at you for a long time. His chest barely moves and you suddenly understand why so many cower in the face of him.

His voice is deadly, “Is that anyway to speak to me, adika?”

You sit, “No.” You don’t apologise though, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

He nods once, noting your lack of apology. He is a wall of beskar and silent rage. His voice continues, deeper even through the helmet’s filter “You think I can’t fix a speeder?"

You shake your head.

He crosses his arms, even from a distance he’s an imposing force and you feel yourself heat at the display of dominance, “You think can speak to me like that? Call me an idiot?”

You look down, loving the heat of his gaze on you. You squeeze your thighs together “I was angry. I didn’t mean it."

He leans in at that, a hand bracing on the bed beside you and another coming up to rest at the back of your neck, tilting it and baring you to him. 

He rumbles in your ear, “So how are you gonna make it up to me?"

You whimper and grab at his bicep, “Anything, I’ll do anything. I’ll be good.”

You hear him chuckle darkly, “You better be.”

You lie back, hair fanning across the bed as you undo your shirt and drop it to the floor. You see his helmet tilt down at your exposed breasts and you groan, “Touch me, please.” Your hands reach for him but he shakes his head, his eyes still focused on your chest. “That would be rewarding you Mesh'la, you haven’t earn't me yet.”

He does begin to take off his beskar though, standing above you as he slowly strips and helpless to do anything but watch. He removes the lower half of his flight suit and you feel yourself flood at the sight of his hard cock.

He takes himself in his hand and groans, tilting his head back and exposing the olive-skinned line of his throat. You can’t help but move your hand downwards at the sight but he catches you.

Quickly, he grips your hand and pins it above your head, the other still running against his dick, “uh uh…good girls listen to orders. So strip, but don’t you dare touch yourself.” 

Maker, you loved it when he told you what to do. 

You pulled down the rest of your clothing and couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine as you saw his cock glisten at the action.

“Please, please let me-“

“What? What do you want?”

You whine, “Your cock, please Mando.”

He stops, and brackets himself above you, hand hovering on the light switch, “Say my name.”

You moan, “Din.” 

He clicks the switch.

You gasp at the sudden loss of sight and feel Din moving above you. You also hear the familiar hiss of a helmet being removed and you crane yourself upwards for a kiss. You feel him graze his stubbled jaw across your face, you ache to feel his lips. Din kissed like a man crazed and you needed it.

It never comes.

Instead, you feel him smile against your cheek before flipping himself over, his cock suddenly slipping between your lips. You groan as he thrusts downwards and you suck hard, “You said you wanted my cock mesh’la.”

You feel his hair fall forward against your mound and you whimper around the thickness in your mouth. You feel his hot breath fan your wet clit and you rise your hips to feel more but he lifts away. You grip his waist.

He pushes further into your mouth and you exhale harshly as he starts his rhythm. It's punishing and bruising and you feel him in your throat. You’re powerless below him.

You love it. 

And you know he does too.

He grunts above you, hand fisting in the sheets while the other runs up your thigh, he teases the apex and you kick your leg out.

He grips your ankle with a firm hand and groans as you swirl your tongue around his head, precum bursting out as you do, “Maker. Good girl, such a good girl for me.”

His finger enters you suddenly and you release him from your mouth with a cry, absolutely soaking his fingers in the process. You hear him suck on them when he takes them out and you moan at the image. 

It’s moments like this you wished you could see his face. You wonder what he would look like with your arousal all over his chin, how his eyes would darken as he entered you. You imagine him with dark eyes, there’s no way a man like Din doesn’t have dark eyes. You run your hands up and down his chest, flight suit still covering most of him but your feel the hard planes of muscle under your fingertips and you just wish he would fucking touch you already.

No sooner did you think that he speaks roughly, “I think you’ve apologised enough Cyar’ika.” and spears your pussy with his tongue.

You cry again and he thrusts his cock in your mouth to shut you up. Din is relentless, all those years with a helmet would make you think he would be timid when it came to eating you out.

You couldn’t be more wrong. He was a man possessed as he gripped your thighs and spread you below him and you feel the heat sear in your gut at the hungry display.

He turns his head and sucks a bruise into your thigh, nose brushing your folds and you whine at the burn of his moustache against your sensitive core, “that’s it, cum for me. Cum for your riduur.”

You hadn’t heard that last word before but it sets you off as he laps at your release, moaning around his cock in the process.

“Shit, Shit I-I” Din gasps and you feel his own orgasm fill your mouth, swallowing it down and letting him go with a loud 'pop.’

You gasp and hear him flop next to you, head still down by your feet. After a few minutes catching your breath you lean up on your forearms, looking down at where you assume his face to be, “What did that mean?”

Din stays silent a fraction too long and you raise an eyebrow, “Din?”

“Mhmm.”

You roll your eyes and prod him in the leg, “That word! What did it mean?”

You hear him shuffle around and soon his head is next to yours. While you can’t see him you can tell he’s stalling, “Means a lot of things.”

You wait, turning your head ever so slightly towards him and you feel his breath fan your face, “tell me.”

His hand comes up and grazes your cheek as he softly presses a kiss to your lips and murmurs, “it can mean partner but...” He kisses you again, “I’d like it to mean spouse .”

Your heart soars, “As in?”

“Husband and wife. If you’d like that.”

You kiss him back, hard and press him onto his back, “I’d definitely like that. Riduur”

Din smiles.

---------------------------

Tagged: @evyiione

[wintervvidow]

apricity

part one.

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, blood mention, violence

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 2,364

A/N: hi! welcome to part one of apricity! set in mid-captain america: the winter soldier. this idea has been in my head for a very long time and I am super excited to finally get it out. in this story I use the term “winter widow” , similar to the “winter soldier”, it has no correlation to bucky and natasha here. prolonged italics indicate a flashback.�� friendly feedback is appreciated! thank you! <3

ALSO: please know that future parts will take a WHILE. I just want to get the first part out to get the ball rolling.

MASTERLIST 

The silence is what breaks her. She swears she would have been fine if it weren't for the silence, the screams of innocent bystanders no longer existed, the smell of gunpowder burning her nose and stinging her eyes. Aside from the erratic breaths coming from both their lips, you could hear a pin drop as their eyes stared at each other in a blinding intensity as Steve Rogers called out to him, “Bucky?”

The gun feels entirely too heavy in her hands as her lungs expand rapidly, eyes unmoving from the ghost of a man in front of her. Except he isn't a ghost anymore. He's here, alive. James Buchanan Barnes, her Bucky, alive.

He’s clad in all-black tactical gear, metal arm glinting blindingly in the sun. His eyes are a stormy shade of blue, same as the ones that haunt her in her nightmares, not the kind blue she wishes she could have back. The Winter Soldier is the shell of the man she was in love with, the man in front of her was the man she learned to love all the same. He protected her even when he didn’t remember her, even the brainwashing couldn’t fully get rid of the love they both had for one another. Although HYDRA fought like hell to make them both forget. It never worked though, fragments of memory always littered their conscience. 

His brows furrow, overgrown hair in his eyes, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Deep down in her bones, she knew he was alive. The last time she saw him he was being wiped by HYDRA, his screams masking her disappearance into the winter weather. HYDRA searched high and low for her, yet they forgot that they were the ones to train her. HYDRA perfected her, taught her how to disappear into thin air, and that's just what she did. They went as far as to send the Winter Soldier to find her, but even he couldn’t track her. Florence was a ghost. 

Florence Morozov was many things before she was an assassin; she was an immigrant daughter, a friend, a nurse, and her greatest title of all, the love of Bucky Barnes' life, his fiancée. The couple, along with the third wheel Steve, were inseparable in their younger days before the second war. Where there was one, the other two were usually not far behind. 

The trio had gone to the Stark Expo the night before Bucky got shipped off to the war. That night Bucky had proposed with a small emerald ring, promising her that when he got back they'd get married, move into a little white picket fence house, and settle down. They dreamed of growing old together surrounded by their kids and grandchildren. Only that dream had been crushed under the heel of HYDRA, not long after Florence enlisted as a nurse and Steve became Captain America, notably leading the Howling Commandos. Florence worked closely along with them, acting as a medic when needed. 

When Steve woke up from his 70-year slumber on ice, Florence had a lot of explaining to do. How she was alive, what she had been doing, where she had been. She told Steve what he needed to know, leaving Bucky out of the answers. She had to protect him, even if it meant lying to their shared best friend. She would do anything to protect Bucky. 

Florence explained to Steve that when she fell off the train with Bucky, she had been captured by HYDRA and experimented on. She was sent to the Red Room to be trained and then sent back to HYDRA in the ‘50s. She was their puppet for 46 years, coined the name the Winter Widow before she disappeared in late December of 1991. Florence was on the run for 17 years before she was taken in by Clint Barton, joining S.H.I.E.L.D along with Natasha Romanoff. 

Natasha and Florence grew to be very close over the years, the trauma they both shared bonded them. Natasha was the only one to know the full story of Bucky, every nitty-gritty detail that haunted Florence in her dreams. When Nick Fury had been killed, both Florence and Natasha immediately recognized the ballistics information, a silent agreement between the two redheads to only tell Steve what he needed to know, no more than that. Florence only told Steve that she knew the Winter Soldier, nothing more. Natasha understood her secrets, she had them herself, her response of, "That's not my story to tell, we all have secrets for a reason."

Florence quickly tracked everything up to this moment. Fury being attacked, Steve's description of the shooter, the Winter Soldier attacking them on the highway only minutes ago. And then there was the chase between the soldier and Florence, trying to divert him. And it worked, Florence had managed to distract him until he got too close, the pair of lovers engaging in hand-to-hand combat until Steve intervened.

And now here she was standing in the middle of the street with a bullet in her shoulder from none other than the Winter Soldier. Flashes of the mission in Odessa running through her mind, he had shot her in the thigh then, Natasha in the abdomen. Steve stood in shock as the ghost disappeared, leaving Steve, Natasha, Sam, and Florence to be surrounded by HYDRA agents and arrested. 

Blood trickled down Florence’s shoulder as she was seated between Sam and Natasha in the back of the truck. Her shoulder felt white-hot as she grits her teeth, Sam nervously glancing at her every second. Steve sat across from them, visibly upset, lifting his head to glare at Florence, eyes cold, "You said you knew the Winter Soldier, that you two had a history, not that it was Bucky!" Steve felt betrayed, his oldest friend lying to his face for years about his best friend.  

Sam angrily glared at Steve as Florence rasped her response with a shaky breath, "Steve, I'm kind of bleeding out right now. This is going to have to wait, just know I had my reasons. I did it to protect him. And you." 

Florence knew this day would come. Bucky wouldn’t be a ghost forever. She fought herself internally every night, dreaming of him. It was always him; the good and bad, the Red Room, what happened after the Red Room, their mission in Romania, and every second in between. She was permanently trapped in her own personal hell.

Steve continued on, “It was him. He looked right at me and he didn’t even know me.”

Florence knew the feeling. Every time Bucky was reprogrammed, she had to convince him to loosen his grip around her throat, begging him to recognize her before he killed her. And every time he did, his eyes flashing in recognition and guilt. And then he would hold her shivering body against his in the confines of their shared cell, murmuring in her ear that he was sorry. And she knew he meant it. Even if his mind barely recognized her, his heart always did.

Sam questioned Steve loudly, causing Florence to flinch as she fell back down to reality, “How is that even possible, that was 70 years ago.” Florence felt bad for Sam, he just jumped headfirst into a dark world with more questions than answers. 

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. Florence, how are you even alive? Zola didn’t get to you before the fall?” Steve just asked the golden question.

Florence took a deep breath in, “I don’t know. There are gaps in time, I don’t remember much from it. They all said that the fall should have killed me but it didn’t. Then I became a lab rat. The end.”

Steve looked her directly in the eye for the first time the entire day, “They must have found him and…”

Natasha interrupted him, she knew where this conversation could lead, “None of that’s your fault, Steve.”

Florence shifted slightly, sharing a look with Natasha, silently thanking her for diverting the conversation. 

Sam shifted beside her as another wave of blood oozed out from her shoulder, he turned to the guards, "We need to get a doctor here. If we don't put pressure on that wound, she's gonna bleed out here in the truck." Florence appreciated Sam’s protective and caring nature as Steve continued glaring daggers her way. Florence knew Steve wouldn’t understand her reasoning, too set in his ways of complete honesty all of the time. He didn’t understand what it meant to lie to keep those you loved safe.

The nearest guard flinched forward, flashing the taser at Sam before turning the taser on the second guard and kicking him unconscious. The guard pulled the helmet off of themselves, revealing Maria Hill, “God, that thing was squeezing my brain.” She motioned at Sam, “Who is this guy?” Everyone shared a collective sigh of relief at the sight of Maria. 

After ditching the car, the team arrived at an undisclosed location. The doors of the truck opened, allowing sunlight to flood in. Steve helped Florence down from the truck, supporting her weight with ease. Blood continued to trickle from her shoulder as she leaned against him for support as Steve spoke while he half carried her forward into the building, “I’m not mad. I get why you didn’t tell me.”

Florence laughed slightly, her body weak, “Are you just saying that because I got shot and I’m currently bleeding out all over you?”

Steve scoffed, his body vibrating with the action, arm tightening around her, “No, Flo.”

Behind her and Steve, Sam called out for a doctor. People ran towards them from the opposite end of the hall, Maria Hill speaking over the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall, "Natasha, there's something you're going to wanna see. Steve, get Florence patched up."

The group broke apart for a short period of time, Natasha reappearing with a hopeful expression on her face as Florence grimaced in pain next to the doctor stitching her up, "Fury is alive."

All eyes remained on Natasha as she explained how Fury was alive, a medication Bruce Banner had come up with did the trick to fake his death. Florence looked to Sam as he digested this information, he didn’t know what he got himself into. She could feel Steve's eyes boring into her head, but she didn't dare look. Her mind was a constant loop of Bucky. 

Flashback: 

His calloused hand led her through the crowd of people, Steve trailing far behind. The trio had just gotten finished dancing and now they were wandering aimlessly through the busy streets of Queens. The air was brisk as it blew through Florence’s auburn hair, her dress fluttering around her calves. Bucky stopped in front of a movie theater, the lights casting a warm glow over his face as he turned to face the girl. Her cheeks were blushed pink from the chill of the air and a smile had been permanently etched on her face all night.

 The news that Bucky was being shipped off in the morning loomed over them like a rain cloud but Bucky was determined to keep her smiling; at least until the morning. His hand abandoned hers, reaching down to fish in his pocket. He found what he was looking for quickly, the velvet box small in his hand. Florence gasped at soon as the box came into the light, tears welling up in her eyes. She knew what this was, she accidentally stumbled upon it when she was putting away clothes last week. A small emerald ring.

Bucky knelt down on one knee, flipping the box open, “Flo, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’re my best girl, always there keeping me in line. I love you more than words can say. I know I leave tomorrow and I should have done this years ago, but will you make me that luckiest man on earth and marry me?”

Florence flew into Bucky’s arms in a flurry of kisses and agreements, Bucky lifting her up and twirling her. He gently set her back on the ground, slipping the ring on her finger as she giggled. Bucky met her eyes, tears glimmering in them, “I promise you, when I get back you and I will get married, we’ll buy a house and we’ll make it a happy home; kids, dogs, a garden, all of it. I promise you.” By the end of Bucky’s promise, both he and Florence were crying in each other’s arms, each one clutching the other tightly, both hyper-aware that the future wasn’t promised. 

Steve stumbled his way through the large crowd, catching sight of his two best friends hugging each other. He didn’t have the heart to break them up at the moment, so he watched on with a smile. It would all be okay.

Bucky sat in the test chair underneath the bank piecing the remnants of his memories together. He knew them. The man knew his name, or at least what he thought was his name. And he knew the girl he shot, memories of her smiling flickered through his mind. Yet they were complete strangers, their faces foreign yet home all at the same time. 

Alexander Pierce was terrified of this day, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He knew of the attachment Bucky had to the Winter Widow, ever since she disappeared in ‘91, the soldier was harder to control, more agitated and violent. He screamed her name in his sleep and when they wiped him he was always mumbling about her when he became coherent. They tried to program it out of him, and when that didn’t work, they tried to beat it out of him, hoping she would vanish from his memories the way his blood washed down the drain. Nothing ever worked. The Winter Soldier was irrevocably in love with Florence Morozov and Alexander was going to use that against him.

The Winter Soldier’s mission was to kill Steve Rogers and Florence Morozov.

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED. IF YOU ENJOYED, PLEASE REBLOG.

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse​ @overheardatthecontinental​ @meshlababy​ @ataraxydreams​ @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread​​ @savsselfinserts​ @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @donakamark

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[willthecleric]

I wanna say I understand that you find byler will be canon proof and stuff but I've already been through a ship having all the proof ever ending up not being canon despite all the logic and signs, and I'm scared that having so much faith in byler will end badly for you cause like I've been there ( no shade at byler, it's a good ship)

I appreciate the concern and saying you hope I am right. :)

I do think that this is different though. Over all the Byler evidences, there is evidence that the Duffers never wanted M**even endgame and hate the ship. There is a massive post on here that is full of M**even burns. They planned El to die initially, they have paralleled M**even with ET and Elliot since S1, Millie had to convince them to add the S2 kiss in (and they had it done to a song about a stalking ex and paralleled Dustin and Nancy). They even bsed about the love at first sight thing

I really do not think M**even will be endgame. Not only is there a lot of evidence supporting Byler and Mike being gay, but there is a lot to suggest that they also will never do M**even and that they actually hate it. They even inserted a random telemarketing joke just so that Mike could say ‘El? Sorry, not interested’. I don’t think they even expected anyone to ship M**even in the first place tbh.

[elthadriel]

Boosting Morale

It's been too long since Rex and Cody were together to let sharing a room with a dozen other men stop them from having sex.

And if their men want to watch, well maybe that can just be part of the fun.

Tags: Public Sex, Exhibitionism,   Begging, Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, sub Cody, bottom Cody, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Roleplay-ish, SubCody Week 2021 

Read on Ao3

It hadn’t even occurred to Cody to not to give up his quarters when Kenobi had mentioned there were going to be a total of six Jedi and twice as many Senators on the Negotiator for a couple of nights. It was sensible even if it hadn’t been proper procedure. He could find an empty bunk in the Trooper barracks easily enough, an event he doubted a non-clone would ever recover from.

Still, he was disappointed to be on the same ship as Rex and not have the privacy to enjoy it. At least they could still curl up in the same bunk, which was a whole lot better than being light years apart for weeks at time.

And, well, Cody hadn’t realised he’d missed sharing a room with his brothers. Private quarters once he had left Kamino were a luxury he could never have imagined and not one he wanted to give up, but there was something oddly nostalgic about being in barracks with a couple dozen other clones, a near even mix of the 212th and the 501st who had been invited to double up. He’d even missed the unashamed sounds of loud sex happening all around him as everyone settled in for the evening. The only thing that had really changed from when he shared a room with other CCs was that he wasn’t able to pick out exactly who was fucking who based on the precise sounds they were making.

That was probably a good thing; he didn’t need to know any of his men that well, or any of Rex’s for that matter.

And it turned out his frustration at not being able to enjoy one of the rare nights he had Rex got to spend together had been unfounded. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get so handsy in front of men they were expected to lead into battle, but if their vode had no concerns about getting off in front of them, it seemed only fair they got off too.

Rex kissed him like he was trying to drag Cody’s soul out through his mouth, hard and unrelenting. He was in a rough mood, teeth catching on Cody’s lower lip, tugging and sucking, drawing soft noises from Cody.

He was on his back, Rex above him, one leg pressed between Cody’s, rubbing up against him with any movement. Cody still resisted actively rutting against it, but he was more than aware the opportunity was there if he wanted it. Rex had an elbow either side of Cody’s head holding just enough of Rex’s weight to get the angle Rex wanted, the rest of Rex’s bulk heavy across Cody’s body.

Cody sighed into the demanding kisses, holding the front of Rex’s shirt to stop any chance of him pulling away; not that it was a risk he was particularly concerned about.

“Hey, Captain, nice of you to slum it down with the rest of us. Who’s your hot piece of ass?” A Trooper called out across the room with the confidence of a man who had just earned his paint.

Rex broke the kiss and Cody opened his eyes, getting a good look at him before he turned to address the Trooper. Rex was a little flushed, eyes dark, mouth quirked up in amusement.

“That would be Marshal Commander Cody,” Rex said. “Something you’d like to say to him?”

Cody turned to catch the man’s expression, the added bonus being that twisting his head displayed his distinctive scar. The Trooper went a rather dramatic shade of white.

“No Sir. Sorry Sir- Sirs,” the kid said, snapping his heels together and saluting. Around him his friends seemed torn between laughing at his misfortune and being appropriately deferential. It probably wasn’t the sort of thing they were going to let him forget anytime soon. It was an important lesson in being overly familiar with officers.

Not that it was always a bad thing for soldiers to be familiar with their COs. Cody tugged Rex’s attention back to him before the poor boy combusted. He liked how familiar Rex was with him.

“You’re a fucking moron, Vector,” one of the clones said, voice not quite low enough to prevent it from carrying.

“Gonna get your shebs sent for reconditioning. Gonna have to tell the Kaminoans you said a Superior officer could get it,” another said, Blue, a 212th man on a list in Cody’s office for potential officer training. He went a little pinker realising he was going to know exactly which of his people had watched Rex feel him up.

“Nah, the Commander’s always in a good mood when Rex is around, no rewards for guessing why. He’ll probably just put you on cleaning detail until you die.”

“It is a hell of a show though,” Blue said, and Cody knew he wasn’t supposed to have heard that part. He let it pass unchallenged. Rex’s hand was slipping under his shirt, warm even against his heated skin, and everything else seemed unimportant.

“He’s right,” Rex mumbled, breaking the kiss to suck at Cody’s neck instead. “You are a hot piece of ass.”

Cody rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. Their kisses were growing more heated, and the leg sandwiched between his own a more distracting presence. It was one thing to make out in a shared space, full of subordinates who were already paying more attention to them than they would any Troopers fooling around, it was quite another have sex with another officer right in front of them.

They could probably get away with frotting against each other at least. Except-

“Force, I want to fuck you so bad.” Rex said, mouth hot against Cody’s neck.

Cody groaned, shifting his hips, rubbing his semi-erect cock against the thick meat of Rex’s thigh. The muscles in his groin clenched at the suggestion, pre-come leaking from the tip of his cock, staining the front of his blacks. It had been almost two months since they’d had the time for penetrative sex, and now the idea was in his head he wasn’t sure he could settle for anything else.

Rex nipped at his jaw.

“You’d like that, huh? I could strip you out of your blacks in front of our men and fuck you while they watch,” Rex shifted from his elbows up onto his hands, looming over Cody.

“Rex,” Cody moaned, his hips twitching without his permission.

“What do you think they’d make of that? Watching the great Commander Cody spreading his legs and begging for it like a slut?

“Please.” He could already picture it, how he would look to them, reduced to a needy mess by the promise of a hard cock in him. He had such a carefully built reputation of control and unbending professionalism and there was something deliciously filthy at revealing to the men who respected him that he was as human as the rest of them, throwing all propriety aside in exchange for good hard fucking.

“Please what?” Rex asked, smirking ever so slightly. The only saving grace for Cody’s pride was the flush rising on Rex’s neck, making it clear he was as turned on at the thought as Cody was.

“Fuck me in front of them. Show them who I belong to.”

Rex’s breath caught in his throat. He pressed his thigh more firmly between Cody’s legs and Cody failed to muffle his cry. He buried his burning face into Rex’s shoulder. Fuck. The silence in the room was palpable, and he could feel the eyes of what must be everyone in the room turn to him.

He wanted this, the tent in his blacks made that more than clear, but the sharp embarrassment was dancing between exciting and too much.

Cody wrapped his arms around Rex’s back, holding him close as he decided where he was going to land on this. They’d played with this sort of fantasy before, toying with the intoxicating mix of humiliation and excitement of being watched, but fantasy and reality were two very different beasts.

Rex kissed the point just under his ear, voice more breath than sound. “We can go find a supply closet if you want?”

It certainly would be easier. They could steal from the room and find a private little corner of the ship, it wouldn’t even be the first time. But he wanted to do it here. He wanted everyone to know exactly how well Rex took care of him. He wanted the burn of humiliation fuelling his arousal.

“No. I want to do it here.”

“You sure?” Rex asked, because he worried like that.

“Positive.”

Rex bit the shell of his ear, giving a tug just the right side of painful. “You’ll let me know if it becomes too much?”

Cody nodded.

Satisfied, Rex sat back on his haunches, pulling his upper black up off over the top of his head, dropping them onto the floor by the bed. He had mostly healed burn from a too close for comfort blaster bolt along his shoulder where there was a narrow gap in their armour. Cody sat up, pressing a kiss just by the edge of it.

Before he could enjoy the rest of Rex’s newly exposed skin, Rex was tugging insistently on Cody’s own blacks, his shirt quickly joining Rex’s on the floor. Rex did exactly what he had just denied Cody, pushing him back into the mattress and ducking his head to suck a dark mark into Cody’s collarbone. Cody closed his eyes, sinking into the pillows, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Rex’s mouth was hot against his skin, and a deep satisfaction curled around his chest knowing how marked up he was going to be by the time Rex was done with him. He’d have fading bruises to trace long after Rex was gone.

Pleased with his work, Rex abandoned Cody’s collarbone in search of somewhere else to mark him only to be very quickly distracted by Cody’s left nipple. He licked a stripe over it before sucking it into his mouth, while Cody made a soft, pleased sound. Rex’s teeth teased the nub, a sharp pain that had him clutching at the back of Rex’s head to keep him in place.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” said one of the troopers said from a bunk over. They were slowly gathering closer, even those that had been actively fucking each other suddenly more interested in what Cody and Rex were up to. It was understandable, it wasn’t the sort of show that happened very often, if ever. “The Commander looks good all messed up.”

Cody wondered what Fox would have to say if he knew about this, Fox who claimed he intended to fuck his way through the entire GAR but wouldn’t so much as be seen in a state of undress more scandalous than removing his helmet by the men he directly commanded. If he and Ponds had ever managed to agree about anything it was that it was an officer’s responsibility to maintain an unshakable sense of integrity to his men. Cody somewhat doubted they would consider letting Rex fuck him as meeting that standard. This was going to make it back to the other CCs, it was inevitable, and the promise of their judgement did filthy things to Cody’s insides.

He hadn’t known this about himself, how hot he would find this.

“Check in with me?” Rex said, removing his mouth from Cody and leaving the wet skin to cool against the air.

“They think I’m hot,” he said voice already a little rough.

“You like that?” Rex asked.

Cody wanted to hide his face, somehow more embarrassed to admit that he liked being watched than in the being watched itself. There was nowhere for him to hide from how well Rex knew him however, so he just nodded.

Rex looked at him like Cody had hung the stars and planets beside. He kissed Cody with bruising force, before taking full advantage of Cody’s confession.

“They’re jealous,” Rex said. “They would do anything to be in my position right now. You spread out under them, desperate for their touch. If I wasn’t here, would you let them? Would you offer up your tight ass to your men?”

Cody whined, fisting the sheets under him.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Rex was back at his throat, pausing his verbal torment to add another bruise to Cody’s growing collection. Only when he was satisfied with the angry mark did he continue. “Face down on the bed, ass in the air, let them take turns with you until you’re fat with their come. You think a single one of them could resist an offer like that?”

“Fuck, Rex.” He tried to grind his ass against Rex but he had no leverage flat on his back, Rex’s hands holding him in place.

“Ask me for it,” Rex ordered. “ Nicely.”

Cody let out a breathless laugh. Like he was in any state to be rude to Rex right now.

“Please, Rex.”

Rex rolled his hips, the hard line of his erection rubbing up against Cody and his thigh pressing teasingly down against Cody’s, but he made no other move to progress things.

“Louder. So our men can hear you.”

Heat throbbed sharply in Cody’s crotch.

“Please,” he said, barely any louder than the first time. Rex kissed him, mouth closed, surprisingly chaste considering the filth he had been talking only moments before. Cody squeezed his eyes shut and tried again.

“Rex, please. I need you in me. Stop teasing. Please. ” There was a tremble to his voice, but it carried across the room, and he heard someone off to the side let out a low groan accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a hand working slicked up flesh.

Force, they were jerking themselves off to this. To him.

Rex let out a low moan of his own, kissing Cody again with more force.

“You’re amazing,” Rex breathed. “I love you.”

He smiled, bright and warm, made braver by Rex’s words.

“Fuck me, please, please, Rex. ” He shifted his own leg, deciding it was only fair Rex experienced the delicious friction he’d been teasing Cody with, pressing his leg up against Rex’s bulge. Rex gasped, arms almost buckling in surprise, but while a couple of Troopers moved to sit on closer bunks for a better view, Rex wasn’t taunted into returning to their game just yet.

“I want them to see how perfect you are for me. I want them to hate me for being lucky enough to have you.” He said, voice low, speaking just for Cody. Rex threaded the fingers of one hand through Cody’s, holding his face with a gentleness that didn’t match bite marks littering Cody’s body.

They looked at each other for a moment, Rex smiling fondly, running his thumb down the scar on Cody’s face. Cody wanted him far more deeply than physically, wanted to whisper terrible vulnerable things to him, but while he was learning all sorts of new things about himself in that moment, like his apparent kink for being dommed with an audience, that was something he wasn’t willing to share with anyone but Rex.

Instead he kissed Rex’s palm and hoped that he knew.

Rex closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them his smile widened and turned more mischievous.

“If we don’t move this along I’m going to come in my blacks like a shiny,” Rex said. He released Cody’s face to trace a line over Cody’s ass through his blacks instead.

Shit.

“We don’t have any lube,” Cody realised. He’d left it in his room, hidden among his clean underwear. He hadn’t considered this as an option.

Rex hesitated for only a moment, before his expression turned smug. He dug his fingers into the flesh of Cody’s ass, teasing the waistband of his blacks lower on hips. “I’m sure one of our roommates would be happy to donate some to the cause if we ask.”

Cody was more than aware it should be embarrassing to have to publicly ask one of their subordinates for lube but with Rex’s obvious arousal at the idea pressing against him it was impossible to care.

He nodded his consent to the suggestion and was rewarded with a playful slap to his ass, though the angle was wrong for any real force.

“Hey, Fives,” Rex called across the room. “You got any lube?”

Five’s reply came quickly enough to make it clear his attention, seemingly like every other clone in the room, was already on Rex and Cody. “I thought being prepared for all eventualities was what separated good leaders from great ones?” He asked, in what Cody was positive was a reference to something he’d said. It sounded like the sort of bullshit he sprouted around shinies. Making that kid an ARC had been a mistake, that much recognition had given him a dangerous amount of confidence.

“Delegation is an important part of efficient leadership,” Cody said, which was perfectly true, but this was probably not what anyone had had in mind when he’d been taught that. There was a smattering of laughter across the room and Cody had to imagine it was less because they suddenly found him so very witty and more because his attempt at his officer voice was rather undone by his riled up state.

“Enough with the lip,” Rex said, with a hint of his own officer voice slipping through. “Do you have some or are you going to be the reason Marshal Commander Cody doesn’t get fucked tonight?”

Cody was absently surprised that he was even able to maintain an erection with how much blood was rushing to his face. Rex made him sound like he was gagging for it. It wasn’t inaccurate, but having it shared with so many people twisted his insides in delicious ways.

“I’ve got some, give me a second.”

Cody didn’t pay any attention to Fives trying to fish out the lube, his attention suddenly taken by how Rex’s pecs looked from this angle. He wanted to lick them. Rex had a head start on marking him up, but Cody would make sure he returned the favour, if not tonight tomorrow. Rex’s chest was beautiful, but it would look even better covered in dark bruises.

There was the sound of bare feet on the hard floor and a shadow fell across the bed. Fives could have thrown it from where he was sitting, but Cody had to admit that if it had been his superior officer in this position, if it had been Alpha-17, he probably wouldn't have turned down the opportunity to get a closer look either. Fives stared down at him, lube held loosely in his hand, largely forgotten. He hardly seemed to notice when Rex reached out and took it from him, placing it down beside Cody’s hip.

Rex twisted Cody’s nipple sharply, pain blurring with pleasure and Cody arched off the bed with a hiss.

“Say thank you,” he said, before dipping his head to press an apologetic kiss to Cody’s chest.

“Thank you, Fives,” he said, turning only enough that he could see Fives out of the corner of his eye. Fives didn’t meet his gaze, his eyes locked on where Rex’s hips were flush against Cody’s, between Cody’s spread thighs.

“You’re welcome, Sir.” Fives wanted to touch him, it was clear in the tension in his hands the effect it was taking to hold himself back. Cody wished he would try. It was impossible in that moment to have any interest in anyone’s hands but Rex’s, but Rex could play the possessive partner when the scene called for it, and Cody wanted to see Rex remind Fives of his place.

He rolled his hips fruitless up against nothing, the drag of his blacks against his cock nowhere near close to enough.

Fives had just enough self-preservation not to try, but he also didn’t leave. He sat on the bed next to theirs, his dick tenting in his blacks, hands in white knuckled fists on his lap. For a second Cody considered asking him to join them, he could take Fives in his mouth while Rex fucked his ass.

“Eyes on me, Cody,” Rex said. He’d sat back up, one hand down the front of his blacks, stroking himself, the material clinging to the outline of his dick. All thoughts of Fives slipped from his head.

Rex gave him an almost bashful smile, dropping his voice again. Fives might be close enough to hear, but it was enough to mark the conversation as not part of the game. “Last chance to think better of this,” Rex said, though of course it wasn’t. Cody had no doubt he could end this at any time. He had no intention of ending anything.

For all the bluster Rex was putting on for the role, he was far from unaffected. The paper thin skin at Rex’s throat fluttered with his rapid pulse and Cody pushed himself up onto his elbows to kiss it. Rex lifted his head, giving Cody easy access, sighing happily as Cody pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to his skin.

“If you weren’t so pretty flustered and on display I might be the one thinking better of this,” The teasing tone was back, Rex’s throat rumbling under Cody’s mouth. “You’re so beautiful, I almost can’t stand the thought of sharing you.”

“You can’t get us all riled up and leave us hanging, Sir.” Steel said, ignoring the elbows from his brothers.

Rex shot Steel a look that made it very clear how little he thought of Steel’s commentary.

“He’s right, Rex, bad for morale.” Cody nudged Rex’s side with his knee. He was aroused and excited, and wanted suddenly to goad Rex into action, face the consequences of a little cheek.

Rex caught on immediately, and there was a dangerous edge to his voice and Cody was abruptly shoved back down flat to the bed. “Want to make this a regular thing? We can have bi-weekly showings? Send holovids to the other battalions of me reducing you to a needy mess, begging for cock. See how good morale is when they have regular access to Marshal Commander Cody being fucked like he was built for it. They haven’t even seen how prettily you suck dick.”

“Big word for a man who still hasn’t fucked me.”

Rex grinned, wide and excited, before he pulled himself back into his role. He grabbed Cody’s balls firmly through his blacks, enough to tumble over the line from pleasurable into uncomfortable, boarding on painful. Cody scrambled at the sheets, arching up into the touch, the air punched out of him.

He loved it when Rex was rough with him.

“What was that, Sir?” Rex asked. “If you’re unhappy with how I’m doing things I’m sure someone else would be happy to take over. Get a little Trooper over here who’ll fuck you exactly how you ask. Do you think that would satisfy you?”

“ Rex, ” he croaked, barely managing to make a sound at all. His lungs were empty and he couldn’t pull in more air. Rex’s grip on him seared like a brand and he squirmed, desperate to be released and desperate to be held tighter. No one had ever been able to ride his limits the way Rex could.

“We both know that I know what you want more than you do, don’t we?” Rex eased up, just enough that Cody remembered how to breathe.

“You do, Sir.” The title spilt from his mouth without his consent, the scene getting twisted in his head, forgetting what game they were playing. He was going to come if Rex wasn’t careful, make a mess of his blacks and their plans.

“Then would you like to apologise, Cody?” Rex’s voice was perfectly level and it made Cody’s toes curl.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I need you, Rex. Just you.” It was more of a whine than words but it was apparently enough.

Rex released Cody’s balls and he could think again. He was achingly hard, throbbing painfully already pressed up against the point of no return. He had to hope the foreplay was turning Rex on as much as it was turning him on, because he felt he wasn’t going to last long when Rex started fucking him.

Rex ran his hands over Cody’s thighs soothingly.

“ Fuck.” Fives sounded almost as ruined as Cody felt.

“Something to say?” Rex asked, returning to the game at hand.

“The fucking noises he makes, Rex. Do you mind if I…?” Cody couldn’t see what Fives gestured to, but he could imagine. There was something almost comical about Fives asking for permission to do what half the other men in the room were already doing.

“Would you like that?” Rex asked Cody, and perhaps Fives just understood the scene a little better than the others. Cody didn’t know what to do with that information.

Cody nodded, probably too eagerly.

“I don’t think he heard you,” Rex said, conversationally, but he had that same ability that all officers had, to make his voice fill a room.

“Yes,” Cody said, trying to use his officer voice too, but there was a tremble to it that he couldn’t quite bring under control.

Rex took hold of Cody’s hips, applying just enough pressure to make sure Cody wouldn’t be able to forget Rex was in control.

“Yes he can masturbate to the noises you’re making while I fuck you?”

Cody’s pulse pounded in his ears, almost enough to drown out everything else. “Yes he can wank to the sounds I’m making.”

“Him or all of them?” Rex asked, still not done forcing Cody to admit exactly what he wanted.

“All of them.” Cody couldn’t get his voice steady but no one could fault his volume. “Fuck, Rex, every fucking clone in the GAR.”

Rex’s hands tightened on him, betraying his own need.

“Well if you’re the entertainment, we really should give them something to see. Wouldn’t want to lower morale.”

Sometimes when Rex took control like this Cody was left feeling like he was floating but this time he felt grounded, hyper-aware of every sensation he was experiencing. The sheets, damp with his own sweat, sticking to his back, the too tight cling of his blacks around his crotch, the achingly familiar calluses of Rex’s hands on his skin, the way the room was already filled with the distinct smell of sex, the scattered noises from their men pleasuring themselves.

He was on the brink of drowning in it, trusting Rex to keep him from sinking completely.

“Going to get you out of the rest of your clothes, show our boys how pretty you are. Bet they already fantasise about your thighs, I know I did while you were still playing hard to get. I think you owe them a proper look after flaunting yourself around for so long.” He dug his fingers into the muscles of Cody’s thighs to prove his point, squeezing once before he shuffled back a little and pulled at the waist of Cody’s trousers.Cody lifted his hips to help and Rex pulled his blacks out from under his ass and down his legs. The air wasn’t particularly cold, but being suddenly so exposed caused goosebumps to raise across his skin. Rex’s hands returned to his bare thighs, running his fingers lightly up the inside and despite applying almost no pressure, Cody spread his legs wide under the touch, lifting his hips, drawing attention to his erect cock.

For a moment he was at the edge of genuine embarrassment at displaying himself so thoroughly, at being so visibly desperate for Rex’s touch, but while the approving noises from the troopers did nothing to soothe him, he was also successful in gaining Rex’s complete attention.

Rex took Cody’s cock in his hand, and Cody moaned, falling back into the pillow, eyes closed, and any risk of shame was consumed by the heat of Rex’s hand. No one should be ashamed of wanting this. He wrapped his legs around Rex’s back, knowing full well he would have to release him almost immediately so Rex could finish undressing, but in that moment needing Rex to be flush against him too much to care.

It was hard to care about much with Rex slowly jerking his dick, rubbing up against his ass, and giving him a look like he was the most beautiful thing Rex had ever seen.

His focus fixated on where the skin just above the waist of Rex’s blacks met the sensitive skin of the inside of Cody’s thighs. He needed more of Rex’s skin against him. He reached up, touching Rex wherever he could, running his hands over Rex’s throat, chest, waist, any part he could reach.

“You’re wearing too much,” he mumbled. “It’s not fair.”

Rex grinned cheekily at him.

“What was that, Cody?” He was still stroking Cody, with slow deliberate strokes that caused heat to pulse through him in encompassing waves. But it wasn’t what he wanted.

“Take your blacks off. Promised them a show,” he said, and then because he’d learned his lesson, added, “Please, Rex. I want to feel you, it’s been too long.”

Rex lent forward to kiss him again, hooking an arm under Cody’s knee, pulling it up with him as he moved, spreading him obscenely open, pressing their cocks together, only a thin layer of material still separating them. It was pressure that had no risk of having him shoot off early, like Rex’s careful handjob had, but the physical proof that Rex was as turned on as he was pressing against him was at least just as arousing.

It was also a deliberate denial of what Cody wanted and caught himself pouting into Rex’s kiss.

“I think the Commander gave you an order, Captain.” It was a 501st boy, one Cody thought he should recognise but couldn’t put a name to. He would have to learn it, give the little shit a medal.

“Don’t think the Commander is in any position to give orders right now,” Rex said, grinning as Cody sulked.

“Think that qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment, Sir. Blue-balling a senior officer.”

“Forget cruel to him, what about us? Gonna get a kriffing friction burn on my dick,” another 501st Trooper added.

“Your boys are as desperate as I am,” Cody said, awed.

Rex shook his head, not even really able to argue with that, but he was always one to recognise an opportunity when it presented itself.

“The 212th have been very shy,” Rex said, sitting back up, “What do you think, Clover. Want to see me fuck your CO? Want to see him squeal?”

Clover let out a sound that was more squeak than word.

Rex let Cody’s leg fall heavily back to the bed.

“Look at him, he’s desperate for it, wants to know how pretty you think he is like this, how pretty the highest ranked clone in the whole damned army is when his subordinate makes him beg,” Rex wore his achievements humbly, but smug pride at how wound up he had Cody was oozing off him in waves and Cody couldn’t get enough of it.

Rex rolled his hips again, pressing their cocks hard against each other and Cody choked out a desperate please. His head felt light, the excitement of the role catching up with him. It was so easy to let everything but his clawing need for Rex to fall away, shove any lingering sense of shame from his head. He needed Rex like he needed air, and he found it hard to care if everyone knew it.

He wanted them to tell him how gorgeous he was like this, not because their opinions mattered, but he needed to hear how perfect he looked to Rex, how jealous they were of what he provided to his partner.

“You’re keeping him waiting, Clover.”

“Yeah, I want to hear him beg, he’s so kriffing beautiful, Sir. Think they built him differently from the rest of us,” the trooper finally managed, without the confidence of his 501st brothers, but lacking none of the eagerness. “Give him your cock, Sir. He’s earned it.”

Rex pressed a finger up against Cody’s entrance, teasing the rim but refusing to push into him.

“You have been very good,” Rex mused, and then his hand was gone. “Seems to me your boys want to see you get fucked just as much as mine, yours are just politer about it”

He lent in very close, mouth brushing against Cody’s ear. “I’m desperate too. The things you do to me, Codes.”

Cody keened, twisting and catching Rex in the briefest of kisses before Rex pulled away.

Rex stood from the bed, kicking off his trousers before in record time before he was back between Cody’s legs, his cock rubbing up against the cleft of Cody’s ass, finally a promise rather than a tease.

He was gone for only a moment, but for those handful of seconds, alone without Rex’s body to shield him from the room Cody took a proper look around, and fuck, they really were being watched by everyone. His heart clenched in that perfect mix of nerves and excitement, the same feeling he got the moment between jumping from a LAAT/i and his jet-pack kicking in. He spread his legs a little wider, rolling his hip up into the air, delighting in how wanton he looked.

His eyes locked with Janad who had shed his own blacks entirely, shamelessly jerking himself off with one hand, the other wrapped around the dick of the vod next to him.

He winked and Cody blushed furiously, heat spreading quickly up his neck, but didn’t look away, not until the second Rex was back between his legs and demanding his full attention. He collected the almost forgotten lube, pouring a liberal amount out onto his fingers, some slipping off and landing on Cody, offensively cold against his heated skin.

“You know that’s the good stuff right?” Fives asked, almost disguising the shudder to his breathing. “Please don’t waste it.”

“Consider it the cost of entry.” Rex grinned, his fingers back at Cody’s ass, trailing his slicked up fingers down between Cody’s cheeks over his hole. “He likes it messy, likes it leaking out of him and down his thighs. Don’t you, Cody?”

He paused his exploring, touching the tips of his fingers against Cody’s entrance, a promise of what the correct answer would bring.

“Yes, Force. I love it when you make a mess of me. Fuck me hard and then send me off to a briefing, leaking slick and come, staining up my blacks.” They’d only done that once, and the discomfort had only just been outweighed by how hot it had made Cody feel. Rex however had been very taken with it, and fucked him again the moment he had returned to his quarters.

Rex made a choked off sound that was almost a curse and finally, finally , pushed two fingers into Cody. He let out a low moan, reaching blindly to hold whatever part of Rex was closest. His cock jumped against his belly as Rex gave him almost no time to adjust to the intrusion, pulling his fingers out to the first knuckle barely as heartbeat after he had pushed them in, only to shove them right back in again. It was a far cry from the stretch of Rex’s cock, but Cody was worked up to a point where he felt he could have fucked himself to completion on a single finger if it was all Rex was offering.

It felt so good to have something filling him.

Rex’s other hand rested on the inside of Cody’s thigh, keeping his legs parted as if Cody would close his legs for anything other than a Sep warship at this point.

Cody was up for a lot in bed, and liked to think he was flexible to whatever his partner wanted, but there was nothing that got him going in quite the same way as being fucked. He’d been utterly taken with the sensation from the very first time he’d pushed his own fingers into himself, face down in his pod back on Kamino, with medical jelly he’d stolen from the medbay as lube. He’d been so caught up in the thrill of this new way of pulling pleasure from his body he’d forgotten to catch his orgasm in the napkins he’d taken from dinner and he’d had to sleep in stained sheets for the next three days.

His own clumsy attempts had nothing on Rex’s fingers stroking against his insides.  

“Love doing this to you,” Rex said, Rex found Cody’s prostate with practised ease, curling the ends of his fingers up into it, pulling punched out gasps from Cody. He wanted to fucked, craved the fullness of it, but with Rex’s clever fingers working him open, he almost forgot that, ready to be brought off just like this. He groaned, struggling to keep himself still under Rex’s attention; he wanted to buck into that hand no matter how fruitless.

“That’s it, let them hear you.” Rex said, continuing his careful massage of Cody’s prostate, dragging more noises from him.

Cody wanted to hear them too, he wanted to know if their thoughts were as filthy as he imagined they must be. But they’d fallen silent again and Rex's efforts were making it hard to think straight.

“Rex,” he gasped.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t- fuck, I don’t know.” He forced out between desperate breaths.

“Need more?” Rex asked. He could have let up, let Cody get his thoughts in order but instead he redoubled his efforts, moving his hand from Cody’s thigh to tease his balls, heavy and full beneath his straining cock.

Cody made an inhuman noise. “Please .”

“From me or them?” Rex sounded so calm, and it was driving Cody wild.

“Both, please, Rex, more.”

“Fives?” Rex asked, trusting their resident ARC to be able to run his mouth.

“Sir?” Fives was less successful in sounding unaffected.

“Is this the first time you’ve gotten off to Cody?”

Cody sucked in air sharply at the thought, Fives making the exact same noise across from him.

“No, Sir. Not the first time,” Fives admitted.

“When was the first?”

“Couple weeks after  Rishi. Echo and I got each other off and all we talked about was the Commander. How fucking hot he looked fighting those droids, his voice, his kriffing legs.”

Cody made a noise he didn’t have a name for, something desperate and eager.

“Look at him,” Rex said, and Cody could only obey.

Fives had pushed his blacks down his thighs, stroking his dick with slow deliberate movements, eyes fixed on Cody. Pre-come leaked from the head and trickled down his cock and over the back of his hand. He grinned at Cody, twisting his hand up over the top of the head of his cock, pulling most moisture from the tip.

“You want to taste it, Commander? I’m sure if you asked nicely the Captain would let you.”

“Careful, mir'sheb ,” Rex said, twisting his hand inside Cody in that particular way that sent a jolt of pleasure though Cody’s lower half. “Not sure that’s what the Commander-”

“No,” Cody cut him off. “I want to hear more.”

Fives finally looked away from Cody, but only to look at Rex, checking everyone was on board.

Rex seemed amused more than anything else. “You heard the Commander, Fives.”

Fives’ gaze snapped back to Cody, eyes darkened with lust at being permission to continue.

“You want to lap at my cock, Sir? I bet you look so pretty stuffed from both ends, can’t imagine one man is enough to satisfy you.”

Cody laughed. He’d been on some strong ass painkillers in his time and none of them had left him feeling as high as this. “Rex is.”

He shot Rex a smile, who managed to look almost bashful, ducking his head to kiss the inside of Cody’s knee. Funny that was what made him blush.

“He never shares?” Fives asked. He was getting close, jerking his hips up into his hand, his coordination abandoning him. Cody wanted to push him over that edge.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Sometimes he invites the other CCs into bed with us, see how much I can take. Last time- Ah!”

Rex pulled his hand almost all the way out only to shove them roughly back into Cody, taking his cock in his other hand. The sudden sensations were enough to short circuit Cody’s brain, any hope of coherent sentences forced out of his head in favour of the dual pleasure of being filled and held.

If Rex wasn’t careful he was going to abandon the game entirely. He could flip them, pin Rex to the bed instead, ride him until his legs gave out. He could have Rex in him that very second. Waiting would be better; the tease was half the fun, and Rex always knew exactly how long to make him wait, but if Rex didn’t start something soon he was going to be too horny for something that required as much brain power as delayed gratification.

“Sharing all our secrets, huh?” Rex asked. The hand around Cody was lax, and Rex kept it perfectly still even while he continued to work at his passage.

“You tell him then,” Cody said. He bucked his hips up against the loose grip, desperate for any friction he was allowed, even if it was far too little. “It’s better when you say it.”

Rex smirked and pulled his fingers out with a wet sound that seemed impossibly loud to Cody’s ears. He allowed Cody one firm jerk of his dick before that hand too was removed. Cody whined at the loss, his attention well and truly back on Rex.

Rex however was still looking at Fives.

“The last time I was generous enough to let someone else touch him,” Rex said, picking up where Cody had left off, “we worked him open until he could fit both of us in him. He could barely keep himself upright, even pressed between both of us. It took ages to make him loose enough, and he was so fucking proud of himself when we were both inside. Came all up himself.”

Fives wasn’t looking anymore, his eyes closed, fucking frantically into his hand, consumed by the image Rex was painting for him. Rex picked up the lube from the bed, dripping more down his crack and then slicking up his cock.

“I fucked him again the next morning, he was still wet from the night before, and so loose I just slipped right in.”

Fives swore, hunching over on himself, ropes of come messing up his hand and the floor at his feet.

“And after all that talk.” Rex made a dismissive huff. “You couldn’t keep up, ARC.”

Cody wanted to kiss Rex, would have if he could have done it without distracted Rex from were he was finally getting ready to fuck him. His blood burned in anticipation, hot and pulsing under his skin. Fives panted to the side, seemingly run out of things to say.

Back on mission, Rex rearranged Cody to his liking, pulling him down the bed, lifting his thighs up onto Rex’s lap, forcing all weight up on his shoulders. It lined him up nicely, and deliberately denied Cody any angle to push back against Rex from, leaving Rex in control. Cody was spread completely open, entirely at Rex’s mercy and his heart pounded.

Rex gave him a hungry once over, eyes dilated. Cody wished he felt suave enough to smirk up at Rex, but with anticipation heavy in his chest, it was all he could manage not to start begging again. Rex traced a line down the v of Cody’s hip, his cock pressed hard up against Cody. If Cody had even a little leverage all it would have taken was the slightest shift to have Rex sliding into him.

Rex apparently had one last game in mind before he allowed that. “Vector, you wanted to see the Commander’s ass, come over here.”

Vector made a startled sound, jumping to feet in surprise. He shared a nervous look with his vode before stepping closer, wearily like he was expecting the offer to be withdrawn if he drew too much attention to himself. He wet his lips, eyes raking across Cody. He was hard in his blacks, the line of his cock obvious through the material and the seal of his blacks wasn’t lined up correctly, like he had had his hand shoved down them only a moment before and hadn’t had the time to lay them flat when he had hurriedly pulled it out.

Vector edged closer, until his knees were up against the bunk, looking over Rex, directly down Cody’s spread legs. One of the 212th boys, Sunny, if Cody remembered right, cautiously followed him, staring at Cody over Vector’s shoulder with an equally appreciative gaze.

Cody squirmed under their scrutiny, feeling a primal urge to cover himself. His cock pulsed with each beat of heart, a small pool of his pre come collecting on his abs. Rex moved, his cock head nudged against his entrance, but Rex seemed content just to tease him and Cody was in no position to do anything about it.

Well, almost no position.

“Please, Rex,” he whined, giving Rex the most heated look he could manage.

Rex gives Cody an unimpressed look, completely aware of what Cody’s game was. That didn’t mean he was immune.

“Please,” Cody said again, and Rex couldn’t hide how his dick twitched at the pleading. “It’s been weeks, Rex, please. ”

“He’s gorgeous,” Vector said, awed.

“Don’t talk about him like he’s not here, Vector,” Rex warned.

“You’re gorgeous, Sir,” Sunny said, before Vector had a chance to correct himself. “Never knew you were hiding all this under your armour.”

Cody was going to split into pieces if Rex didn’t fuck him that very second.

“Ready?” Rex asked. He was looking at Vector and Sunny, but Cody nodded anyway, squirming in Rex’s lap.

The head of Rex’s cock pressed up against his rim, until his body gave up its futile resistance and Rex breached him. He pushed into him in one smooth stroke, a motion that managed to be as breathtaking no matter how familiar it became. His mouth parted and his head fell back, exposing the long line of his neck. The only sound that escaped him was a shaky, extended exhale. So much of Rex’s bare skin was against his own, and he still wanted more, even filled to his limit he ached for more.

There was always something so utterly overwhelming about knowing Rex was inside him, touching him places he couldn’t touch himself even if he tried. Rex’s cock filled him in a way his fingers couldn’t, a perfect heat stretching him open and he didn’t think he would ever have enough of the feeling.

Were Vector and Sunny looking at where Rex’s body met his, where he stretched tight around Rex’s cock, his most intimate parts on complete display for them. Or would they have stared at his face, wanting to know exactly what expression Cody made when he was penetrated. Force, these men had to follow him into battle, trust their lives to his judgement and strategy. And now they would have to do it with the image of him being thoroughly fucked burned into their memories.

He wondered if he would be able to live it down if he came all over himself right then and there.

He could feel the weight of all the eyes on him, but couldn’t look away from Rex, and the way he was biting his lip to hold in his own groan, and the way his eyes had fallen shut, overwhelmed by the pleasure Cody’s body could give him. Cody was becoming rapidly addicted to how hot his men found him like this, but he wondered then how many of them wished they could be in his place instead of Rex’s, could be the person causing that expression on his face.

Anyone who wasn’t was an idiot; Cody was convinced he was getting the better end of the deal here.

“You feel so good, Codes,” Rex said, voice a little thin. “Fuck, you’re always so good.”

He pulled back slowly, dragging his cock against Cody’s insides until the head was catching on his rim. He thrust back in with a grunt and Cody arched up off the bed, keening high and frantic, clutching at the sheets with one hand and tugging hard at his own hair with the other, needing the bite of pain to make the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked open bearable.

“So tight,” Rex managed, between uneven breathing as he began a punishing pace with his hips, shoving deep into Cody each time.

“Rex,” Cody whimpered, “please.”

“Are you always this needy?” One of the troopers asked, and Cody couldn’t look away from Rex to check who. It didn’t matter much at this point.

“Yes,” he gasped. Rex slammed back into Cody, and Cody let out a choked off groan. “Every time.”

And he was, he supposed. Even over a year into their relationship, the fire Rex lit in his chest every time they fucked hadn’t faded. Every time they were together Cody was as eager for him as the last.

“Fucking desperate for me,” Rex said somehow making it sound dirty and sweet all at the same time. Cody reached out blindly, grasping at Rex’s hand on his hip, squeezing it firmly before Rex pulled it away. Before he could complain the hand circled his cock again and all possible complaints were consumed by the burning heat in his groin.

“More, Rex, harder, please.” Cody was only vaguely aware he was babbling, every passing thought that crossed his mind leaving his mouth. He wanted Rex to fuck him so hard he would feel it for weeks and something to that affect tumbled from his lips.

“You will, Cody, I promise.” Rex pressed deep into him, stretching him to his limit, making it abundantly clear he intended to follow through. “And everyone here is going to know why you’re walking funny.”

Cody moaned, deep in his chest.

“Harder” he demanded. “I want more, please. I can take it. Don’t hold out on me.”

Rex laughed, voice hitching every time he plunged into the tight heat of Cody. “I know you can.”

Rex shifted, putting his arms under Cody’s legs, pushing himself up onto his knees, lifting Cody’s lower half completely up and off the bed, folding him almost in half. The new angle was perfect.

Rex fucked into him with fresh force allowed by the position, dragging over his sensitive prostate with each thrust. His whole body felt taught, his orgasm building each time Rex bottomed out into him and each time Rex’s hand twisted over the head of his straining cock.

“Gonna make you come all over yourself,” Rex promised. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t stand. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, Rex,” he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t imagine anything beyond Rex.

“You ever get bored of him Commander and I’ll be happy to give you what you need. Trade him in for a younger model, ya know?”

Cody had almost forgotten Fives was even there and if he had any breath left in his lungs he would have laughed at the very possibility of what Fives was offering. The goading wasn’t meant for his reaction however, even if it was ultimately for his benefit. Rex snarled, slamming his cock back into Cody with an aggressive jerk of his hips.

Words abandoned Cody completely and he let out a wordless cry.

“Didn’t we already prove you couldn’t handle him, Fives?” Rex was setting the sort of relentless pace he would normally never be able to maintain but he was as encouraged by their audience as much as Cody was and seemed to have found new depths to himself.

In the very corner of Cody’s vision Fives gestured at his cock, already erect again. That man didn’t know when to quit; it was going to get him in trouble one of these days.

“Maybe you can’t go twice this quick, but they gave me a little extra.”

Rex laughed, sharp and mocking. “He has the entire Command batch to pick from, and he still picked me, what do you think that says about how well I fuck him? But you, three months out of ARC training thing you could satisfy Commander Fucking Cody? He’d eat you alive.”

“Rex,” Cody said, it felt like the first conscious choice he’d made about what left his mouth in a while. Rex was getting distracted, and Cody was feeling greedy; he wanted all of Rex’s attention for himself, he wanted the attention of every man in this room, but he needed Rex’s.

“I’d help,” Vector said suddenly, apparently rediscovering the conference he’d had at the start of the night. “Hold him down while Fives fucks him. Sunny could suck him off.”

Sunny made a pleased noise that made it very clear what he made of that idea.

Rex growled, fixing Vector with a glare, one he had learnt from Cody himself, that was normally enough to scare anyone with an ounce of self-preservation into silence; Cody was almost honoured that the desire to fuck him was enough to make that include almost no one in the room as the increasingly detailed mutterings of how they would take him apart didn’t pause even for a second.

“Can you imagine the sounds he’d make if you edged him? He was begging almost before Rex touched him, imagine if you denied him for hours. He’s be so fucking pretty that desperate,” a 501st man said.

“Forget that, I want to see how he looks three orgasms in and being worked up to another one, so thoroughly fucked he can’t even hold himself upright.” And that was definitely Lieutenant Janad.

Rex pushed deep into Cody, balls resting up against Cody’s ass, abandoning the promised hard fucking to grind deep inside Cody while he put their increasingly bold audience in their place.

Cody bit back a grin, everything felt so good, Rex surrounding him, Fives posturing, the impossible mix of reverence and debasement from his men. But he wanted to come, and Rex needed to be brought back to task. Di'kut the lot of them.

“Hardly a brag that you need three men to do the job I do alone. If you thin-”

Cody clenched hard  around Rex’s cock and he interrupted his monologue with a shocked gasp, curling forward, almost losing his balance and toppling onto Cody. Fives failed to fully stifle his laugh and Rex gave Cody a betrayed look.

Cody laughed breathily, pulling Rex down to kiss him.

“I was doing a thing,” Rex grumbled, but accepted the kiss.

“You’re an idiot.” Cody kissed him again. “I love you.”

Rex huffed out a laugh of his own. He held Cody’s face between his hands, their audience momentarily forgotten. The warmth in Rex’s eyes, and the fond curl to his lip affected Cody more than perhaps anything else Rex had given him that evening.

“That’s kinda  sweet actually,” Janad said to some murmured agreement.

“Show them,” Cody said, hands roaming across Rex’s shoulders and down his chest, touching him everywhere he could reach. “Show them how well you fuck me, please, Rex, I’m close.”

Rex bit at Cody’s mouth, catching his lip between sharp teeth and tugging before pulling back to give him the best angle. Rex had brought him close a couple of times already, each time backing off before Cody could come, but there was a determination that made it clear Cody wasn’t going to have to wait much longer.

“I want to see him break,” Nebula said. He had stood from his bunk, him and a couple others joining Vector and Sunny crowding the bottom of the bed, leering at Cody over Rex’s shoulder. Cody glanced at each of them but his gaze was pulled back to Rex as his partner hiked his hips even higher.

It was barely even a stretch now when Rex pulled most of the way out of him only to slid that burning heat deep back inside. There was lube leaking out around Rex’s cock and coating the inside of Cody’s thighs and a line of pre-come sliding down from his cock towards his chest, more pumped out with each thrust of Rex’s hips and slide of his hand.

It didn’t take much before he was right on the cusp of coming again, each time Rex moved inside him punching a sound out of Cody’s throat. He felt like he had been hard for hours. He jerked up into Rex’s hand, muscles tightening as his orgasm grew, his thighs trembling with the strain of it. Rex was close too, could feel it in the way Rex was holding him and see it in the set of his jaw. Cody tightened around Rex’s cock, his own dick twitching at the low groan it pulled from Rex.

“Just like that, Cody,” Rex said, “You feel so good.”

“Rex,” he managed, the tension throughout his body growing to almost too much. He was already past the point of no return, caught between the heat of Rex inside him, and the heat of Rex’s hand around him. He grabbed at Rex’s shoulders as he came with a wordless moan, the building heat and strain across his body hitting the edge he’d been chasing all night. He tumbled over it, his muscles relaxing all at once as his orgasm hit him, an intoxicating mix of relief and intensity. Pleasure coiled outward, his whole body suddenly warm and lax.

One of the watching clones swore colourfully.

Rex’s pace stuttered, as Cody broke underneath him, the scene all but forgotten. He managed only a couple more thrusts into Cody before he hit own limit and came with a choked off cry of Cody’s name. He spilt deep inside Cody, hips flush together, dropping Cody’s legs as he was overtaken by his own pleasure.

Come streaked up Cody’s chest almost to his neck, hands dropping from Rex, eyes closed as he rode out the aftershocks. He collapsed into the damp sheets, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Rex hunched over him, his own breathing equally laboured, head resting on Cody’s shoulder. They were still for a moment, the room either finally stunned to silence or Cody was just too out of it to hear. Rex pressed a clumsy open mouthed kiss to the side of Cody’s neck, the strength in his hold on Cody evaporating in post-orgasm bonelessness.

Cody clutched at Rex’s shoulders, to ground himself, a reminder that he was flesh and blood and not about to slip away into nothing. It had been a long time since he’d come like that.

The noise of the room around them slipped back in, the familiar sound of masturbating and men following their example and finding someone to help them get off.  Cody felt lightheaded.

He clasped his hands behind Rex’s head pulling him out from his neck to kiss him, as uncoordinated and lazy as Rex’s own attempts.

“Love you,” he mumbled into Rex’s mouth, feeling Rex’s lips curl against his.

“Love you too.” Rex paused, and made a face. “But I’m also going to cramp, hold on.”

Cody grinned, laughter bubbling in chest.

Rex pulled out of him, bringing lube and come with him, dipping out down the inside of Cody’s legs and onto the bed below. One of Rex’s favourite tricks was to turn Cody over and eat his own mess out of Cody’s sloppy hole, but even after sharing far more of his sex life with his men than he had ever intended Cody felt he would rather that habit remain between just them. The sheets were already filthy with sweat anyway, what was a little more bodily fluid?

Rex didn’t seem up it either way, as immediately upon extracting himself from Cody flopped back down on top of him. Cody stroked the softness of his buzzed hair. Rex hummed happily.

Someone came with a loud groan of what Cody suspected was his own name. He had assumed that once he had come, and he was no longer thinking more with his cock than his head he would feel embarrassed by his actions - real embarrassment, the sort that tied his stomach in knots, not the embarrassment they had played with in the scene, where the scandal was half of the fun - but despite his concern he was still utterly relaxed. He was going to get shit for this once the CCs found out, and they would, they always did, but he felt like he would be able to shrug it off and very honestly say it had been worth it.

It might even be better for how annoyed Fox would be.

“You good, Cody?” Rex asked.

He nodded.

“Yeah, just, uh, it was a lot.” Cody said. “You?”

Rex hummed again, a deep, satisfied noise. “I’m fantastic.”

There was the sound of footsteps and Blue was standing over him, normally messy hair even messier.  Rex propped himself up on one elbow, glaring at the man who had dared interrupt their post-orgasm bliss. He was mollified almost immediately.

“Here, Sir.” Blue handed Rex a damp cloth and Cody remembered exactly why this man was being considered for a promotion. Cody decided to pretend he was imagining the dark spot on the groin of Blue’s blacks.

“Vector and Sunny look like they are doubling up if you want a clean bunk.” Blue gestured to a bed across the room.

“Thank you,” Rex said, also seemingly a little lost on how he should interact with everyone now the scene had ended.

Blue had no such reservations and saluted Rex, rotated just enough so that he was facing Cody’s straight on and clicked his heels in a second salute, as though Cody wasn’t still naked on his back, lube and come dribbling from his asshole.

Utterly unflappable.

And he would rather like to take Blue up on that offer of the bunk; he had outgrown sleeping on dirty sheets.

The cloth was cool against his overheated skin as Rex wiped up first the mess he’d made on his stomach and then down between Cody’s legs. He inhaled sharply as the cloth passed between his checks and over his sensitive rim, but even the most insatiable parts of him agreed that they were done for the night. Finally, folding the cloth over on itself to find a still clean section Rex gave his own crotch a once over. It wasn’t really enough, they were both still covered in a fine sheen of sweat, but Cody didn’t think his legs would hold him long enough to shower, even if he could face the communal freshers.

He’d been naked around enough of his men for one night.

“You want some water, Commander?” Fives asked, because apparently everyone was desperate to be helpful now. It was reassuring in a lot of ways, he wouldn’t know if he’d completely fucked up the chain of command until later, but now the scene had ended everyone seemed to be falling back into something that resembled polite interaction.

“Thank you.” He pushed himself upright, untangling himself from Rex only after reminding himself it would only be for a minute before he could cuddle up against him again, all the better for a clean bed and a cold drink.

Rex didn’t let him go very fair anyway, shifting to sit up against him, pressed together from thigh to shoulder.

Cody took the offered water bottle, noting absently that his hands were shaking just a little. He drank the cold water gratefully, very aware of his body’s needs now that they had finished. He wouldn’t have said no to something to eat either but sleep, and crawling back on top of Rex felt more immediately pressing.

He passed the bottle over to Rex who took a grateful couple of mouthfuls of his own.

“Something to be said for delegating the aftercare,” Rex said, nudging Cody’s shoulder with his own.

Cody snorted. “Maybe we should always have a shiny on hand to bring us fresh bedding and hand feed us fruit after sex.”

Fives opened his mouth to say something, but Cody shot him a look and he wisely snapped his mouth shut. Wordlessly, Fives took the empty water bottle back. It was nice to know publicly begging for cock hadn’t robbed him of his ability to glare men into silence.

“Fresh blacks for both of you on Vector’s bunk, Sir,” Janad called from across the room.

“Not sure about morale, but it certainly seems to have improved inter-battalion coordination,” Rex said, sounding genuinely impressed.

Cody rolled his eyes, painfully fond. “The 212th and 501st worked together just fine before I got my dick out.”

Rex laughed and stood, pulling Cody after him by his hand as he crossed the room over to Vector’s bunk

“I don’t know, I certainly feel like the inter-battalion coordination of certain officers is improved when you get your dick out.”

Cody groaned but didn’t try to hide is smile

Passing Rex the bottom half of one of the sets of clean blacks before climbing into his own, struggling with sluggish limbs that didn’t want to work the way he expected them to. He left the shirts folded at the bottom of the bed, sinking down into what passed as a mattress, tugging Rex impatiently after him. It only took them a second to arrange themselves how they wanted, cuddled up against each other.

“That was good,” Rex said, tracing aimless shapes onto the skin of Cody’s back. “Didn’t expect to get so into it.”

“If they don’t keep us up all night with their attempts to recreate our best hits, maybe we can give them another show in the morning,” Cody teased.

Rex’s chest rumbled under Cody’s head as he laughed. “Don’t say that too loud, they’ll get ideas.”

Cody grinned. He could think of worse outcomes.

[therealvinelle]

“By contrast, I can think of characters who resemble most other Twilight characters with a relative amount of ease.”

You put this at the end of an ask and was just wondering if you would please elaborate? Have a lovely day

(Anon is referring to this post.) Do you ever look at two characters, realize they have a few things in common, then blink, take a step back, and realize that they really do have an awful lot in common? That they're more or less the same person, only in different circumstances? The same archetype, at the very least.

I'm open to the possibility that you'll say no, @thecarnivorousmuffinmeta and I are strange people who see strange things.

All the same, here are a few examples.

Also, this contains spoilers for the animes Fate/Zero, Puella Magi Madoka Magica, and Revolutionary Girl Utena, as well as the play Vildanden, the book Candide, and the show I, Claudius.

Aro: Kiritsugu Emiya from Fate/Zero.

Kiritsugu is a highly effective assassin whose defining trait, and curse, is his willingness to commit any atrocity in the name of the greater good. His ambition is to save the world. Over the course of the series he sacrifices his father, surrogate mother, best friend, wife, and daughter, and treats everybody else like chess pieces. It will all be worth it when he has saved the world.

He is the opposite of Bella, who would let anything burn for the sake of her loved ones. Kiritsugu loves fiercely, but he will sacrifice that which is most precious to him with a steady hand.

Aro has that same ruthlessness combined with idealism. He sacrifices his sister and is willing to kill his only friend as well, to say nothing of the many other things he has done. He creates child vampires and will kill anyone who stands in his way. This is what he must do to gain and maintain power.

Aro and Kiritsugu will sacrifice anything and anybody if they perceive it to be beneficial to their goal, a goal they happen to share.

Also Aro: Claudius from I, Claudius.

Cladius is the emperor of Rome not because he wishes to be, but because the moment he steps off the throne, Rome will fall to pieces.

Aro did seek out the throne, Claudius very much did not. However, both are in the precarious situation where they can never leave their respective thrones. Rome would fall to pieces without Claudius, and the world would burn without Aro.

Also Aro: Voldemort in an AU where he won.

We're deep in la la AU land now.

But, Aro had to commit atrocities to get to the throne, we only meet him millennia later when his rule is secure. A post-victory Voldemort (and I here mean years and years and years have passed) would be a figure quite similar to Aro. A harsh, uncompromising leader, yet he’s been around for long enough to shape the world into what he wants it to be, people don’t remember that it was once different, and he is regarded as the distant, yet necessary leader.

Bella: Hedda Gabler from Vildanden.

Hedda finds out she's a child born of infidelity, and that her father no longer loves her. Wanting to win back his love she kills herself. Bella, too, has that utter lack of self-love, that willingness to sacrifice herself, and it’s all too easy for her to believe Edward never loved her. Both Hedda and Bella fail to understand there are people who love and would miss them

Also Bella: Homura Akemi from Puella Magi Madoka Magica.

This is not an obvious one.

But they both have that uncompromising drive to do anything and everything for the one they love, and by love I mean the one they fixate everything they are or have ever been upon. Homura, over the course of P3M, goes from wanting to use time travel to save everybody, to being content with saving only Madoka. She will destroy herself for Madoka in a very literal sense, seeing no worth at all in her own survival.

Give Bella a time machine and a timeloop where Edward always dies at the end, and she will go down Homura’s path.

Caius: Every warrior king ever. Ooh and he and Iskandar (again from Fate/Zero) have very similar vibes, although they're far from the same character.

Iskandar believes that kingship and leadership is not about being noble or virtuous or showing a good example to your people, it's about strength, conquest, and glorious victory.

Caius, I imagine, would heartily agree with that.

Carlisle: I love Carlisle, but there are Carlisles everywhere, especially in anime. Utena Tenjou from Revolutionary Girl Utena comes to mind in particular, though.

Utena begins her story as a righteous and brave girl who wants to be a prince. She wants this without quite understanding what it truly means to be noble, nor does she know what it means to save a person.

Her desire to save Anthy is especially this. Anthy is a traditional damsel in distress at the beginning of the story, and Utena is so eager to save her that she never takes what Anthy herself into account. She judges herself harshly for this failure, but comes to understand what it truly means to save Anthy in the end.

Carlisle has that same nobility and willingness to do good, he is the moral compass of those around him, but all the same he is hoodwinked and does not always know where best to thread. His rescue of Rosalie is a good example of this, he saw a young woman who’d been raped to death, and did the only thing he could to help her, only to learn this wasn’t what she wanted.

Also Carlisle: god, so many characters.

Shirou from Now and Then, Here and There. Suffers a ridiculous amount, but never loses his goodness and insists even in the most extreme circumstances upon the inalienable worth of human life.

Duck from Princess Tutu. Never uses violence or even powers to win against her opponents. She talks to them, finds out why they're unhappy, and wins through healing them. They become friends with her after.

Akane Tsunemori from Psycho-Pass. In a world where people’s souls can be calculated mathematically, Akane Tsunemori is objectively a good person, empirically proven to be incorruptible. That’s her defining trait, no matter what she endures she never loses her upstanding morals. The kind of person who wouldn’t succumb to the lure of human blood.

Just gonna drop the fact that Carlisle’s hair and eyes are the same color, Edward with his vampire sight notes that they’re only one shade apart. The guy is a misplaced anime character.

Oh, and Candide from Voltaire’s Candide. This is just a loose association, but “beautiful blond man travels the world, meets people who are over the top cartoonishly miserable (just... multiply Meyer’s backstories with each other and add 10. Victoria’s life + Rosalie’s life + Esme’s life + their mother is pushed off a cliff by dalmatians) but he carries on with a big smile, and eventually settles down with his found family of hilariously wretched people” gives me Carlisle vibes.

Edward: He's so many people and in so many different ways, oh my god.

He's a mommy's boy who cries because I'M A MONSTER - Buster Bluth. Arrested Development.

He thinks too highly of himself - Gilderoy Lockhart from Harry Potter.

He GOBs - George Oscar "GOB" Bluth. Again Arrested Development.

He appears normal to the outside world, yet there's a complete meltdown with incoherent rants, strong opinions about music, and strong disturbing tendencies towards violence he may or may not act on - Patrick Bateman from American Psycho.

He's weird about women, mother figures, himself, and violent. Creepy yet undeniably charming - Norman Bates from Psycho.

The way he regards Bella - strong Humbert Humbert from Lolia vibes. Replace "nymphet" with "singer" and there you go.

Really, though, with Edward, he is like these yet unlike them all. He’s... he’s a lot.

Emmett: Much like how Caius is a warrior king, Emmett is Frat Bro™.

Jasper: Clint Eastwood for reasons outlined in this post.

Marcus: Arwen after Aragorn inevitably dies.

A sad sad elf who's fading away.

Rosalie: Cordelia Chase from Buffy

Speaks her mind, no matter how brutal it is or how little people want to hear it. She does not forgive those who wrong her, she is proud, and most importantly, she is misjudged. Her beautiful appearance and bitchy veneer make her easy to dismiss, but once the going gets tough she is a deeply good person. She’ll make bitchy comments about watching your back, but watch it she does.

-

I also do this with ships. Aro/Carlisle are a great match for Dorian Gray and Lord Henry, if Lord Henry had failed to corrupt Dorian Gray and been delighted by that fact.

I have other examples, but they go weird places so let’s not.

TL;DR: I'm Miss Marple.

[rodeo-boots]

Tear me down and Take me Home

Rating: Teen and Up 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Javier Escuella

Tags: Alternate Universe - Pirates, Fantasy, Merman Javier, Hurt/Comfort 

Warnings: mentioned Character Death

[check it out on AO3]

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Arthur was long used to silence, to nights that were deeper and darker than they had any right to be. He's been sailing his whole life, had seen more than most men his age ever would. But he's only believed half the things he's laid eyes on in his time.

This night, the sky was pitch black like he's never seen it before, the moon standing high upon the firmament, hidden by thin and harmless clouds. He used the stars for orientation, alone on his ship as he's been for a long time, abandoned by the people he's once called his family. They had left him, one after the other, had succumbed to illness or madness, had been taken from this life by force or misfortune.

It might be his influence that had tainted them all this time, that had cut so many existences short, and maybe, he was better off living in damnation as he did now.

He didn't mind it. Far from it. Arthur treasured the silence, found solace in the swaying of his ship and the movement of the waves. His entire life he's known nothing else, the ocean the only thing that stuck with him without fail.

Believe it or not, sometimes he left his ship behind, went ashore to stock up on provisions he couldn't obtain in the middle of nowhere, showing his weathered face to people who'd forget it in a heartbeat. He didn't have the luxury to linger, the blood in his veins telling him he needed to go back, itching and aching for the soothing motions of a hull above the bottomless sea.

There was a time he's been terrified of it, though Arthur couldn't remember much of that period. Back when he's been picked up, merely a dirtied and starving kid from the streets. He had despised the ocean then, had asked to return to shore even though Dutch reassured him of his safety, spending the nights crying and wailing because he was scared of what lurked beneath his feet.

Arthur had gone on land not too long ago, walking up the same path he's once known by heart, entering the dingy tavern Dutch and Hosea had frequented most. It had been almost comforting, the stench of the drink and of heavy tobacco smoke, the music filtering into his ears.

He had met a man, gray and scarred and grumpy, little different from himself. The stranger had lots of stories to tell, had nursed a drink in his hand while glancing up at Arthur with his one healthy eye, the other focused on a place up on the ceiling.

"You know the most dangerous of 'em all, boy?" He had asked, well into his tales already, though Arthur hadn't paid too close attention. The man's voice was hardly audible above the overall noise. Arthur had given him a grunt, almost curiously, looking up from the rum in his own hands. "Mermaids." The way he'd voiced it sure made it seem like the man has never met anything more repulsive and despicable in his life. But Arthur knew that his story was nothing but balderdash in the first place.

For some reason, he could remember the conversation still. The words never having left his mind entirely.

Soulless, heartless monsters these are. Luring sailors to the riffs, takin' pleasure in watching 'em crash and drown.

He hadn't bought into it before, his many strange encounters never having involved mythical fairy-tale creatures. The only dangers in the world were man-made. The only monster man himself.

It had been Dutch's philosophy, but Arthur still lived by it. He had never forgotten the things the man had taught him, even if he had left him a long time ago. Even though he'd exchanged his loyalty for gold.

Arthur stepped towards the wheel, glancing up at the stars to make sure he stayed on trail, though where it led him, he wasn't too sure about. There was no place he wanted to be, nothing he really wanted to see, craving the loneliness and emptiness in the middle of the ocean more than anything.

As he slightly changed course, however, an unexpected tune made him slow in his movements. Usually, the nights at sea remained quieter than the days, both fish and seagulls disappearing the moment the sun sunk below the line of the horizon.

It was odd to hear anything other than the rushing of the waves, more so when it sounded like a person was making those mournful sounds.

His legs led him closer to the railing, Arthur squinting his eyes to see through the darkness. He was getting closer to the sound, to the singing, or wailing or crying, words shaped in a language he couldn't understand, in a voice that sounded more like a harp than anything human.

Oh, they're pretty, make no mistake. Angelic, some call 'em. But that only makes them more dangerous.

He couldn't believe his eyes. A sliver of moonlight illuminated a rock within the water, and atop that rock – sat a creature.

Arthur had never bought into the many fairy-tales, into the fiddle-faddle even Hosea had used to like so much. Stories of the many wonders in life had never interested him, the magic of it lost when it came to things he couldn't understand nor grasp. He had experienced his share of suffering, of misery and pain, unwilling to believe that it could co-exist with the likes of fairies, angels, mermaids.

Right now, he wasn't sure if he was waking or sleeping, if maybe he would awaken in a cold sweat minutes from now, staring up at the ceiling of his empty cabin. It had to be his imagination, the loneliness finally getting to him and inducing images that simply weren't there. He had always thought such tales to come of crazed men after all and maybe finally, his own mind was starting to break from the long days and nights he'd been on his own – but the singing... he was sure his brain could never think up anything like it.

The creature was nestled on top of the stone, a naked human torso with two arms, a head upon it's shoulders with long dark hair. It appeared so much like a person, though Arthur had no way to ignore the tail, the shimmering scales that reflected the moonlight in colors he couldn't describe, colors he had no name for.

Silence soon spread over the area. And all Arthur could think about were the reverberations of that ethereal voice.

Why did they stop? He thought, unable to voice his words as his eyes tried to find the creature's – the man's, he had to remind himself. This wasn't some magical being.

"Are you lost?" the stranger didn't open his mouth to speak, the sound of his voice dancing through Arthur's brain.

Is it that obvious? he thought to himself, earning himself a laugh, clear and chiming like a bell, a startled breath escaping his chest. His tongue darted out to lick his cracked lips, dry from the salt-water splashing upwards constantly, from the sun burning down on him day in and out.

"Don't be afraid," the voice was in his head again, Arthur taking a step away from the railing, moving back to the wheel to hold it, to hold something. It had began turning all on it's own before, seemingly bringing him closer to the cliffs. Though he didn't know if it might've been him who's given it that impulse.

They get into your head, and infest it like a disease. They know what you fear, what you need to hear. Believin' a single word they say would be your downfall.

But Arthur was falling already, had been for a long time, yearning for nothing else but a comfortable place to land. "You deserve a break." He heard water splashing and as soon as he turned his head, the creature was gone from it's place – the man nowhere to be seen, Arthur rushing over to the railing almost desperately.

He shook his head, trying to snap out of it, rubbing at his eyes before taking a deep breath. The water glistened innocently under the illumination of the moon.

For years, he's been alone without feeling lonely, has lived on despite the emptiness that had taken over him. He had done well in forgetting Dutch and Hosea, his family, his brothers, his own father and the woman he had once loved. Neither of them had needed him and now, he didn't need them anymore. There was a certain heaviness to his heart, either way, a weight that seemed to pull him down, melancholy overcoming him like never before.

His eyes focused, and the man was back, closer this time. Arthur caught a glimpse of his tail moving beneath the pitch black water, the scales glinting in violet and blue – in many more shades he couldn't decipher.

"What's– your name?" He asked, dumbly, seeing eye to eye with this creature that was more beautiful than any human he's laid eyes on before. His skin was dark, bronze, his eyes deep as the ocean he was living in. He had scars, pain behind the depth of his gaze. Just like Arthur did.

He didn't want to remember the old pirate's words but he couldn't help himself.

Once they got their eyes on you, you've lost. 'Cause they see inside you, and find that weak little soul you keep locked away - and they suck it outta you with one look alone.

How could that be true if the man in front of him was looking at him like this? So honestly, affectionately... like no one else ever had.

"Javier," this time he'd opened his mouth to speak, Arthur's hands clinging tighter to the railing. The man smiled at him, reaching up and out of the water. His fingers were cold where they held onto Arthur's. But they were undeniably human; freezing like the ocean, but without claws or webbing between them.

"Aren't you– afraid of me?" Was what left Arthur's mouth next, his voice in disbelief that a creature as fragile and beautiful would be willing to touch him. His hands had been drenched in too much blood already, had killed and hurt, had broken families apart for his own benefit.

Big brown and bottomless eyes focused on him, and he felt ready to drown within them. "Why would I need to be afraid?" It seemed as though the man couldn't see into his soul after all, unaware of the rottenness within. "You won't hurt me," he continued, certain of that fact, his fingers clasping Arthur's a little tighter.

No, I wouldn't do that, he thought, catching the quirk of Javier's lips at his unspoken words.

Don't think they'd show mercy. All they want is to pull you down into the depths.

But maybe, he didn't deserve mercy in the first place. Since Arthur's purpose in this world was long forgotten, what difference would it make where he was? The presence of this man made him feel safe, warm, at home. And whether he believed in him or not, he couldn't deny that he was right in front of him now. Offering him a way out.

He gazed down at him, the melody from before flooding his ears again, turning his lids heavy and tired. His limbs started to feel like they weren't one with his body, though he still couldn't let go of the railing.

"Don't leave me again," he whispered, unsure where the words had come from, the song in his head reawakening the sadness of his mind. "I want–" he wanted to stay with him, with this fairy-tale creature, wanted to fall with him and let go of the pain he's caused before.

Yet again, he didn't need to open his mouth for Javier to understand, his cold hands lifting to hold onto Arthur's face, pulling him down. "I'm not gonna leave." He brought their lips together, and Arthur could feel himself turning lighter, weightless, drifting for a moment until his body broke through the surface of the pitch black water.

Arthur didn't hear the splashing, didn't feel the cold or how his clothes grew soaked. His guns would be useless by the time he resurfaced, but it didn't matter, because he was kissing this man and they were falling together – deeper and deeper into the darkness of the sea.

Faintly, he remembered the old sailor again, though his image swam before his eyes.

And no matter what they make you believe, they aren't capable of love. They'll mourn after they've drowned you, but no grief is strong enough to keep them from doin' it again.

[joezworld]

Bismuth

Bismuth - a harmless metal when consumed by humans, is known to have significant hallucinatory effects when introduced to a mechanobiological system such as a locomotive. 

Due to its non-fuel state, non-intentional bismuth contamination is rare, but has been known to occur, especially in instances when impurities from lead refining, which include bismuth, are introduced to locomotive fuel sources such as open coal bins or wood piles. 

Introduction to diesel locomotives is more complicated, and typically involves being within close proximity to steam locomotive that is burning bismuth-contaminated fuels, at which point the aerosolized mineral can enter their air intake systems. In some cases, fuel contamination can occur, however most known instances of fuel contamination have involved intentional dosing of fuel stocks with either bismuth or bismuth-derived pharmaceuticals (BDP). 

The stomach-settling use of bismuth in humans has meant that most locomotive contaminations occur after a well meaning relative or friend introduces a BDP such as Pepto-Bismol into the locomotive’s fuel or water system. 

Of course, intentional/recreational ingestion is a known activity, however all reputable sources (J. Small Berries et al) indicate that the hallucinatory events are notable in their inconsistency. The resulting "bad trips" often deter repeat usage.

- An excerpt from: The ABCs of Locomotive Health Care (10th ed., 1984) - J. Bigbooté, J. Whorfin; Yoyodyne Publishing Laboratories, Grover’s Mill, New Jersey. 

------------------------

April, 2000

Nobody’s quite sure how the bismuth got into Sodor - presumably it arrived in the shipment of coal from the mainland. The railway bought coal from a broker in London, and their usual shipment of high-quality coal had been lost - quite literally, as nobody could find it -  and therefore the broker had scrambled to find more. A Polish metal refinery was found to have some surplus coal, and it was sent on without informing anyone on Sodor of the change. 

It arrived at Tidmouth docks on a cargo ship and was promptly sent out to the big stations across the network - Wellsworth, Knapford, Tidmouth, Barrow, and Crovan’s Gate. 

The coal trains ran late at night so as to not be in the way, and it meant that most engines would take on the new coal around midday, as the last of the old stocks in the coaling stages was used up. 

It took about an hour or so for the last of the old coal in the engine’s tenders to be used up if they were working hard. 

This meant that, as the engines rested in the yards after their noon trains, a lot of things started happening...

--

Tidmouth

Mid-sentence, Gordon’s eyes began to roll into the back of his smokebox. He was still speaking, but he slowly began to stop producing any intelligible sounds. His words turned into a mushy babel of slurred syllables and stuttering clicks as the men began frantically wondering if a locomotive could have a stroke. 

Nearby, Thomas giggled dreamily. The pretty pink unicorns that had suddenly appeared on his bufferbeam were prancing about in a most amusing fashion. 

---------

Crovan’s Gate

Percy had been undergoing a pressure test when his smoke started turning yellow. 

The men had dropped his fire and immediately began an inspection, but not before Wendell was totally enveloped in the thick yellow cloud.

Percy felt like his boiler was inflating and inflating, as though the pressure test would never stop. The men eventually stopped what they were doing as he began ranting and raving about being turned into a zeppelin. 

On the other side of the workshop, Wendell was speaking in hushed, manic tones to no-one. Whoever this “Lion” was seemed to be quite concerned for his wellbeing, even if he thought that they were overreacting. 

--------

Arlesburgh

The evil diesels were after him, he was sure of it. Look! There was one there! And another! And another! 

Well not today! Try and catch this example of Great Western Metal!

The men slowly backed away as Oliver ranted and raved at absolutely nothing. Duck and the Scottish twins watched from a safe distance, and decided not to get involved. 

-------

Barrow Sheds

James was past being concerned about the yellow smoke - the little pixies fluttering around his smokebox said that he didn’t have anything to worry about at all. 

Delta, sitting next to him in the cloud of yellow smoke, was much more concerned, but not about the smoke itself. 

"Jamie, something's wrong."

"What makes you say that?

"I can hear Jefferson Airplane.”

"What's Jefferson Airplane?"

"I don’t know."

-------

Barrow Yards

“Why are you not fixing this?! Don’t just stand there! DO SOMETHING YOU MEATBAGS!” Bear roared at the workmen from within the yellow cloud. He’d woken up deeply congested, and didn’t understand why they were saying he needed to be out of the cloud of yellow smoke - it wasn’t like he could breathe much to begin with, and Henry was in trouble and he clearly needed help and these men wouldn’t do anything!

“Holy shit Bear I can swim” Henry said from whatever la-la-land state he was in. 

“That’s nice dear, NOW ONE OF YOU FIX HIM OR I’LL KILL ALL YOU STARTING WITH THE WEAK ONES!”

On the other side of the yard, the men stared at the Hymek, which was bellowing and screaming at a staffing agency billboard on the side of the tracks while Henry belched yellow smoke over the both of them. 

-------

Wellsworth

The rails had turned to jelly some time ago. The crossties had begun speaking in the language of the beast. The sky was a deep blood-gray, and the clouds wept for their lost raindrops. The engine watched as his smoke curled away into letters of an unknown alphabet. He was concerned as to how the menaces had managed this, but he wasn’t going to let them win by acknowledging that anything was wrong. 

If he concentrated hard enough, he could just make out the signal aspects behind a curtain of iridescent sounds. That was a little bit too dangerous in his opinion, and he resolved to inform the twins that their pranks should not involve signals. 

Across the yard, Bill, Ben, and BoCo watched in horror as Edward puffed out of the yard. His pupils were two different sizes, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, he was mumbling and chittering in an indescribable fashion, and his smoke was thick and turning a worrying shade of yellow. 

But he was still pulling his train as though nothing was wrong. 

-------

Farquhar

The apocalyptic wasteland spread out on all sides. The sun burned and burned until the land was scorched to a godforsaken ash. The river Els was filled with blood. Roving gangs of madmen patrolled the ruins - their war machines littered with the bones of their victims.

Mad Tobias the Brown, last of the North Shed, protector of the Anopha Stone, keeper of the soul of Saint Pedroc, guardian of the survivors, rattled through the wastes with his precious cargo of human lives.

A cry rose up from his faithful warrior bride Henrietta as she sighted a roving gang approach from the south. Their war wagon was the converted husk of an old railcar that he once called a friend, but that was long ago. Now she was merely a convenient vessel for the beasts.

The war music sounded in the distance, and he set off - a confrontation was inadvisable with his charges aboard. His smoke scudded off to one side in the stiff wind as he charged - he would have to pass them at the old loop if he wished to be avoid being trapped in the Stone Mountain, and speed was key to avoid their wicked bone hand-and-a-halves.

As he approached, he bellowed a warning cry to intimate his foe. The corpse of the railcar stared back at him in a rictus grin, but its crew recoiled - as one should when facing off against him.

-

Daisy and her crew watched in amazement as Toby and Henrietta, wreathed in sickly yellow smoke, roared towards them with the midday workmen's train. They screamed through the passing loop and disappeared into the distance, incomprehensible epithets trailing in their wake.

-

Inside his cab, Toby's driver had long since given up trying to stop his engine, and was now trying to reign him in so that he didn’t come off the tracks before the fireman could finish dumping the fire.

-

Inside Henrietta, the guard pulled back on the handbrake so hard that the lever came off in his hand. It didn't work.

Terrified workmen bashed at the radio with their lunch pails, trying to make the Norwegian Death Metal stop playing, but it was no use. The radio kept bellowing out tunes even after its faceplate was smashed in, and began to get even louder.

-

Toby was eventually brought to a stop near the Kyndley family's home, but Mad Tobias the Brown didn't stop yelling until the last of the coal ash was cleared from his smoke box three hours later.

------------------

It took most of the day for the bismuth to work itself out of everyone's systems. Nobody at the railroad was quite sure what was wrong, but considering the dull yellow smoke, it was easy to guess that the coal was bad.

The broker was summoned to the island, and when he admitted that the coal was from a random colliery in Poland instead of the high quality American anthracite that the railroad had paid for, he was quickly sent packing - along with the coal!

A new coal merchant was found, and an emergency supply was bought locally to cover the gap, bringing the saga to an end.

Nobody likes to talk about it - except Daisy, who has no trouble mentioning the tale of Mad Tobias the Brown whenever she wants to bring Toby down a peg!

[joel-millerr]

It All Makes Sense Now

Chapter Five of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.8K

Summary: The three of you land on Corvus to find a Jedi, but what starts out as a simple job is quickly turned into a truth you definitely weren’t prepared to face

A/N: okay sorry peeps but no smut in this one...I did say slow burn, right? hahahahaha. there's a bit of fluff towards the end, but this chapter focuses more on the reader's relationship with the force and their conflicting feelings, but it's not all bad, we have a special guest in the next two chapters! besides that... this basically a shit ton of angst. also, I split this chapter in two so the next update should be within the next week? 

Warnings: ummmm there’s a small mention of torture? (like in the ep the Jedi with the prisoners strung up outside the magistrate’s gate but other than that... I don't think there’s anything but pls tell me if there’s something I missed!)

-----

Your body jolts awake to the sudden drop out of hyperspace. Panic quickly sets into your blood as you try to get your bearings, but once you see Mando sitting quietly in his chair along with the Child sitting on the control panel just to his right, your heartbeat steadies, and a wave of relief washes over you. Using the heels of your palms to rub at your eyes and clear your vision, you catch sight of the planet Mando had mentioned just before takeoff on Tatooine through the transparisteel.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” He addresses as he hears you stir, still keeping the visor glued to the view in front of him.

“Mmm,” You groan back, still somewhat asleep and unable to use your words to answer him properly.

“Corvus, this is the place,” Mando’s voice cuts through the gentle hum of the ship. “I’ve detected a beacon.” You’re about to answer him when you realize that he wasn’t even talking to you to begin with. He was talking to the kid.

The Child looks up at him, and coos as if they’re having a conversation with each other even though they clearly don’t speak the same language, and don’t understand what the other is saying.

“I’m gonna start the landing cycle. You better get back in your seat.”

He looks up again at Mando, but doesn’t budge from where he’s currently seated. Turning his gaze to one of the levers on the control panel, he stares at the durasteel ball just atop of the handle. You’re not sure why the kid loves that ball so much, but it clearly means a lot to him because you’ve seen the way he gets upset or fussy whenever Mando tries to take it away from him.

“Hey,” He warns—not in an aggressive way, but a stern way like a child being scolded by their parent. “What did I tell you? Back in your seat.”

This time the kid listens, letting out a chuff of air before crawling down the little ledge he was seated on previously and gently scuttling back to the seat to your left.  

Maker, your body aches. Sleeping in the chair every night has seriously done a number on your bones and muscles. Twisting your upper body and using the back of the chair to hold yourself in place, a series of smalls cracks echo through the cockpit, and it somewhat releases a bit of the tautness in your back and along your spine. Suddenly becoming aware that you haven’t taken a sanisteam in…well you’re not sure exactly how long it’s been since you left Tatooine, but it’s definitely been long enough; you could seriously benefit from one right now.

Using your palms to push yourself up to your feet by your knees, you inform Mando you’ll be heading down to clean yourself up. “I’ll be ready to go once we land.”

“All right.” He says matter-of-factly.

You wait a couple of seconds before moving, elongating your arms above your head before bringing one of them behind you and stretching out your bicep, holding your elbow with your other arm. You repeat the process with the opposite arm and feel your body slowly coming back to life. A sanisteam is starting to sound better and better with every second. Your feet guide you to the ladder and take two rungs at a time, feet hitting the ground in record time. Not even bothering to wait until you reach the fresher, you strip out of your clothes and gather them together in a small pile atop one of the crates lingering around in the hull.

Once in the fresher, you turn on the water to almost the hottest setting possible. It stings your skin at first, but your body quickly acclimates to the heat, muscles slowly relaxing in response to the gentle massage the showerhead exudes as it hits you, releasing the stiffness from your body. Truthfully, you could stay in this tiny space for hours and just let the water continue to cascade down your skin until your fingertips were wrinkled like a Dressellian prune, but you don’t want to use up all of the hot water since you’re not the only one on this ship who needs to sanisteam. The longer the water pressure falls onto your upper body, you begin to feel a sharp pain on your left shoulder, and you’re forced to recoil from the water in an effort to stop the throbbing ache. Inspecting your naked form to find the source of the discomfort, you notice a large, plump purple bruise nestled between the crook of your neck and the top of your shoulder. It’s a dark shade of purple, with swirls of yellow and forest green surrounding it. When the Kriff—

Oh.

It suddenly comes back to you.

The firm grip on your shoulder.

The feeling of Mando’s cock on your tongue.

His moans.

Fuck, it’s enough to make your own groan echo through the walls of the refresher.

Maker, pull yourself together!

Giving yourself a gentle slap on the cheek in an effort to knock those filthy thoughts out of your mind and knowing the Crest will be landing in the next couple of minutes, you quickly wash the grime off your body while trying to be mindful of your bruise, and rinse yourself off before grabbing your only remaining clean pair of clothes left, dressing hurriedly just as you hear his footsteps reach the top of the ladder. Your clothes stick to your wet skin, and it’s slightly uncomfortable, but you try not to pay too much attention to it; you’ll dry up eventually.

The Mandalorian descends the ladder, the Child burrowed in one arm, then hands him off to you as he heads to the armory to grab his pulse rifle.

“Hey,” He says before calling your name to get your attention. Turning his body towards you, his arm extends out in your direction, a blaster in his hand. Your eyes shift down to the gun, taking notice of it before your brows pull together tightly, shifting your gaze back up to him in confusion.

“You should probably take this back. Just in case,” He gestures the gun at you, holding the barrel of it so you can grab the handle. It’s a small act, giving you back your blaster, but there’s an unspoken message as he hands you your gun. He now trusts you enough not to shoot him and run off, and at the same time, this gives you the reassurance you needed that he no longer views you as just a quarry, but as his partner.

Putting the kid down for a moment to grab your bag and ruffle through it to retrieve your thigh holster, you strap it around your leg and plop the blaster into the pouch. Once you turn around to pick the Kid back up, you notice he’s already by the back ramp with Mando, both waiting for you to catch up with them.

You head down the ramp first, walking a few feet away from the Crest and taking an immediate scan of the area, as you always do whenever you’re in new territory. It comes at almost as a shock to you that Mando doesn’t instantly head down after you. Instead, he stays at the top of the ramp with the kid, waiting for you to give them the ‘okay’. The sun can barely penetrate the dense amount of cloud here, the area is covered in fog as far as the eye can see, making you shift anxiously. The faint cry of the native beasts’ boom in the distance, making your skin crawl.

Mando’s landed the Crest in a small clearing. The trees appear to be snags—lifeless due to its climate and the lack of sunlight, making the whole planet even more eerie. The quicker you meet the Jedi, the quicker you can get off this planet.

“Not much to see here,” You announce, slightly disappointed by the scenery. When you don’t immediately see a threat, you gesture with your hand that it’s safe to come down, and so he does. The fact that Mando now acknowledges the routine you’ve created isn’t lost on you. In truth, it makes your heart swoon because you both know that he doesn’t needto wait for you. Mando’s more than capable of checking for threats himself, and defending you both if someone tries to ambush you, but he knows it puts you at ease to check for yourself, and the fact that he’s indulging you in this small service shows you he’s more of a softy than he lets on.

As Mando walks towards you, he hears the kid huffing behind him and turns his body to face the little baby waddling down the ramp before falling back on his bum. You make out a small sphere in his hands and realize it’s the knob from the lever in the cockpit. When did he snatch that and how did Mando not see him take it?

“What did I say about that?” He disciplines, taking the ball from his hands and holding it out in front of him. “This needs to stay in the ship.” The Child looks up at him fondly, chattering incoherently as he watches Mando place the ball in his utility belt.

“Never had dealings with a Jedi before,” He admits before leaning down to pick up the Child and placing him in the makeshift pouch he designed for the baby that’s strapped across his cuirass. “Let’s head into town. See if we can pick up a lead.”

He walks ahead of you just by a couple feet. Your hand hovers over your blaster the entire time, body on edge as you both make your way through the forest. The air is hot and humid, almost suffocating—you can only imagine how hot Mando must feel under all that armor. Your clothes stick to you like glue, a mix of water from the sanisteam as well as from the damp air. Every now and then, the Child babbles nonsense and Mando answers him like he knows exactly what the kid is saying. “Don’t worry, Kid. We’re okay.”

It’s quite endearing, seeing such a gentle side to the Mandalorian. You know not many people have had the opportunity to see these little moments, making this that much more special. Watching two beings, appearing to have nothing in common, and clearly coming from two very different upbringings, but having such a deep connection you’re not sure you’ll ever fully understand is quite a beautiful sight. It makes you appreciate these moments so much more. Mando’s letting you in on these precious exchanges, and you’ll cherish them for as long as you live.

After walking for what feels like hours, off in the distance you catch sight of a giant wall made of duracrete, and can faintly make out little blobs at the top of the wall; soldiers by the looks of it.

“A fortified city?” You ask him.

“Seems like it.” He answers as you draw closer to the gates. “Let me do the talking, all right?” He says, more of an order than an actual statement, but you choose not to argue. Mando usually knows better than you, and you’ve shown that you have a tendency to lose your temper, therefore he’s definitely the better mediator between you two.

As you both appear from the edge of the forest, the guards atop the parapet flock to the front gate, their rifles pointed at you. Mando stops just a few metres shy of the gate, waiting. A man suddenly appears, studying you both.

“State your business.” He shouts, standoffish.

“Been tracking for a few days,” The Mandalorian begins to say. You continue studying the gunslinger as well as the other soldiers whose rifles are still pointed at you. Hand continuing to hover merely inches above your blaster, your body fighting the urge to turn this into a fight. “Looking for a layover.”

The man shifts his gaze between you and Mando, clearly debating whether or not to shoot you both where you stand.

“Nice armor.” He jests.

Kriff, you don’t like the look of this. You’re both severely outgunned, and despite the beskar amour Mando wears, that doesn’t guarantee that you’ll live through this if a fight ensues.

The man to your left doesn’t answer, opting to gauge the gunslinger’s demeanor, waiting for him to press you again. “You a hunter, then?”

“That’s right.”

“Both of you?” His stare turns to you, so you glare back at him, refusing to back down and cower under his own piercing scowl.

“Yes.” You hiss through gritted teeth.

The helmet turns slightly in your direction as if warning you to watch your tone. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you straighten out your shoulders and let your arm drop to your side, no longer hovering over your blaster.

“Guild?”

“Last I checked.” Mando answers, a glint of annoyance is hidden under the deepness of his baritone.

The man studies you two for a couple more seconds, then orders the guards to open the gate. Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you start to feel like this will be the beginning of a very tense day. Better to keep quiet and let Mando handle this, since you tend to shoot first then ask questions later. Your partner is much more of the level-headed one—who would have thought that?

The city itself is small, and very quiet—way too quiet for any normal city. Every city and village you’ve visited have been vibrant and loud, with native villagers and visitors mingling together, but here? The residents walk silently, keeping their heads down, and only peeking at you both through the corners of their eyes. The guards walk around, hands planted firmly on their rifles, as if to be looking for trouble. Immediately, your bones tense and that anger you have trouble controlling begins to bubble up inside you. These villagers seem trapped—Maker, even the kids aren’t running around. They’re stuck to their parents like glue, never taking a single step away from them. This is a city under a gruesome Magistrate.

As you make your way down the main road, Mando catches sight of a vendor and heads for their stand. “Pardon me, vendor, have you heard of anyone…” But as he draws closer to the elderly woman behind the table, they quickly turn their back to you and disappear down a quiet alley.

Eyebrows pulling tightly, your jaw clenches, completely astounded at how these people are too afraid to even talk to you. What kind of monster forces its citizens to live in constant fear to the point of being too afraid to speak to travelers?

Before you know it, you’re following the vendor down the alley when you see another elderly man bending down and whispering to some younglings. Your neck cranes to the side, and you walk over to him cautiously, hoping you won’t startle him.

“Excuse me,”

Once he catches you in his peripherals, he ushers the kids away before rising to his feet and turning his body to you.

“We need some information.” You announce, trying to keep your voice as gentle as you can despite the white-hot rage cooking up in your veins. “We’re looking for someone. Could you help—”

“Please,” he pleads as he holds a palm out in front of him to stop you from elaborating, voice quiet as to not draw any attention to himself. “Do not speak to any of us.”

“Look,” Mando interjects, his attitude becoming less patient as time ebbs on. “I just need to know—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’re approached by two armed guards. Your hand flies to your holster, and Mando quickly shoots his hand out to stop you.

“The Magistrate wants to see you.” Their voices come out heavily distorted by their voice-box. It’s deep and frightening—no wonder these villagers are terrified. Even you are somewhat taken aback by their aggressive inflection, you can only imagine how these people must feel. Completely helpless and cut off from the anyone else, they don’t have a fighting chance even if they wanted to overthrow their government.

The old man leans over and takes a step back as one of the guards takes a step towards him. Your body cuts the droid off, putting yourself between the both of you. They’re wearing what appears to be a gas mask, but you stare at him, imagining where his eyes would be and continue to burn your own eyes into him, full of poison and anger. Inside, you’re begging him to make a move; to give you an excuse to shoot him right where he stands, but Mando’s visor snaps towards you, shooting you a warning as to not do something stupid. “Let’s go.” He says to you.

You follow Mando and the first guard down the main street, keeping an eye out on that other guard that treads behind you. The soldier leads you to another gate and kriff, you’re completely dumbfounded by what’s in front of you.

Along the cobblestoned street just ahead of the second gate are…prisoners. Prisoners strung up on various poles with a tiny podium to stand on, surrounded by what looks to be some kind of electrical barrier around them. The hostages are disturbingly frail, with many of them scarred with markings of fresh and old burn wounds you assume are from the bars circling around them. One man nearly doubles over and is electrocuted, its power so strong you can see the outline of their bones when the voltage hits their skin. You shudder at the sight of them, feeling your heart drop to your stomach.

They whisper desperately, begging for help but Mando continues walking, only offering one of the prisoners a quick glance. You stop in front of one of the hostages, eyes looking up at him as he cries, pleading over and over again for your help. Your jaw slacks, wanting to say something, but knowing nothing you say will matter. You can’t help them, at least not right now. Making a mental note to tell Mando once you head back to the Crest that you will free these prisoners, your eyes meet with the man’s own droopy, hooded lids, and hope they somehow can understand.

“Hey, girl,” A guard yells out. Looking down at the ground, you hear his heavy footsteps walk towards you, each step getting louder and louder as he nears you. “Keep moving.” He warns.

Biting your tongue and white knuckling your fists at your sides, you catch up with Mando, choosing no longer to wait till you are alone to whisper, “We’re freeing these prisoners before we leave,” through gritted teeth.

Mando’s helmet dips forward just enough for you to see it. The faster you find this Jedi, the sooner these prisoners can be freed. Once the first gate closes behind you, the second one opens and your jaw downright drops.

Firstly, there’s a fucking moat in front of you. When you and Mando were walking through the woodland in search of the village, you hadn’t even come across any body of water, and here the Magistrate is living with a full-on fucking moat. If that wasn’t enough, Maker there are trees here—not just stumps or snag trees, but actual trees flourishing in her small haven. They appear to be some sort of pine tree, but you can’t be sure since you’re too far away from them. Somehow even the air feels different here. Logically, you know that makes no sense, but it must be due to the contrast between how the Magistrate lives compared to how her own people live. There are hostages strung up, and being tortured, citizens who are too scared to even talk to you, living in tiny homes with little to no resources, and this one person is living with such excess and wealth, all the while quite literally separating themselves from the city’s population. It’s disgusting, it’s totalitarian, and the thought of people living in such horrible conditions is making your head spin.

It’s not that you were naïve enough to think there weren’t people living in such awful conditions, it was just that you had never actually seen this firsthand, so it was easy to forget that not everyone was as fortunate as you. Sure, water was a luxury back when you were just a child, but you had never been oppressed or discouraged from being a child. You had the luxury of walking around the city, and not having the stress or fear that any minute now a guard could kill you for doing something as normal as talking to another person. Not knowing how many more planets are under such control, it makes you want to search this entire galaxy and save every single citizen from this kind of barbarity.

The Magistrate is standing by the edge of her moat, appearing to throw something in the water. Maker, if she has fish in this moat, you’ll be… literally fucking speechless.

She addresses Mando to come forward, so he does. You opt to stay by the gate—deciding that it’s would be too difficult to hide the anger on your face and choose to wait for him to return.

--

“So she wants you to kill the Jedi?”

“Yes.” He says before putting the Child down gingerly on a smooth boulder.

According to the Magistrate, the Jedi is hiding somewhere in the forest, so now you and Mando have been searching aimlessly through the vast amount of woodland for any sign of a Jedi—whatever what means, but after what felt like hours of searching, your feet were throbbing. After ten minutes of begging him to take a small break, he finally gave in.

Plopping yourself down next to the Child, you continue to pester Mando with more questions. “And she’ll give you that beskar staff if you kill them?”

A drawn-out sign emits from the helmet. “Yes.”

“But we’re not doing that, right?” The question coming out rhetorically.

“No.” He answers curtly.

“Okay, good.” The conversation goes silent for a few seconds, and then your lips are moving again. “I really want to head back in there and shoot that woman right between the eyes.”

A noise comes from him that you’ve never heard before. Was…was that a fucking laugh? Is he fucking laughing at you? “You wouldn’t even get that close before one of her droids would shoot you down.”

“Believe it or not, Mando, but I’m a pretty decent fi—”

All of a sudden, Mando turns his body to yours and throws a gloved hand over your mouth. A small yelp escapes you but is muffled by leather. Your own hand flies to his, struggling to remove his kriffing hand from your face, tugging and trying to pull away from him.

“Stop!” He whispers, before raising a finger to his helmet where his mouth would be, ordering you to be quiet. Giving him a nod, he lets go of you, and presses a button on the side of his helmet then pivots around, scanning the area for lifeforms. Off in the distance, a large beast trots along the forest edge and Mando’s body relaxes.

“False alarm,”

“What the hell, Mando?” You force out through jagged breaths.

“Why are you here?”

Both your bodies whip around and catch the sight of a female Togruta standing just a few metres away from you. Her blue stripped lekku are enlarged around her round face and extend all the way to her midthighs, giving an indication that she’s of a mature age, although her face is clean of wrinkles, her features still smooth, suggesting she’s still well within her prime. Thick montrals pointing towards the sky like mountain tops, her orange skin reminds you of Tatooine sunsets—warm, and deep. White pigments outlining her cheeks, forehead, and eyebrows, Maker, she is stunning, and intimidating.

In her hands, she’s holding what appears to be two beaming swords. Not unlike the electrical barrier that the Magistrate had her prisoners surrounded by, although this type of energy looks much more elegant and impressive. Its luminescent white light purrs, you can hear the humming even though you’re a couple metres away from her. You’ve never seen a weapon quite like it. It’s much more of sophisticated weapon than you’ve been privy to seeing, but it’s exceptionally beautiful.

“Ahsoka Tano?” Mando asks, holding his hands out in front of him, taking a very cautious step towards her. She tenses, one of the laser swords comes up and she holds it across her chest, keeping the other steadily by her side. Your hand placed firmly on your blaster strapped to your thigh, heart thumping in your chest, you wait for her to attack.

“Who are you?” She says cautiously, keeping that glowing spear between Mando and herself.

“Bo-Katan sent me.” He says warily.

The Togruta stares at Mando, then to you before straightening out her back, her weapons’ beaming white blades retracting into their handles.

“We need to talk.” Mando clarifies, standing up straight.

“Well, I hope it’s about them,” She answers kindly, shooting you a quick wink before taking a step towards you.

Crossing your arms and lips forming a tight line, your head jerks back when she responds.

“What do you mean, “them?”

Mando retreats to get the Child, and holds him with one arm, choosing to stand almost directly between you and Ahsoka. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Her posture changes from weary to inviting, hooking her weapons back on her hips, her back untensing and taking a step back. “Come.”

You and Mando follow her through the thick, dense woods, nearly tripping and twisting your ankle trying to avoid the roots that are nestled above the dirt, or stumps that have fallen over and are lying on the ground.

She finds a spot not too covered in trees, with a couple of boulders lying around in a circle. In the middle are embers from an old fire that you assume she made for herself. She sits down on one of the rocks, then you and Mando follow suit. He places the Child gently between himself and Ahsoka, and presses a button on his vambrace, causing a flame to shoot out from his wrist, reigniting the ashes. Instead of waiting for either of them to speak, you begin questioning Ahsoka.  

“So,” You say, head craning in her direction. “You’re a Jedi?”

Ahsoka lets out a small chuckle, eyes shifting towards the ground. You can vaguely make out the blaze in the reflection of her eyes. “No, I’m not a Jedi, not anymore.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about this little one?” Mando questions her, jerking his neck to the left where the green baby is perched between them. She turns her head towards the Child, and almost instantaneously, his giant ears perk up, big eyes peering up at her, uttering unintelligibly.

“Can I have a moment alone with him?” She asks you and Mando. He doesn’t say anything in response, but stands up straight and walks away, not once looking back. You’re a few seconds late, but finally rise to your own feet before taking one last look at Ahsoka. She smiles at you and nods. You hear her voice and at first believe she’s actually spoken to you, but quickly realize her lips haven’t moved.

It’s okay.

Surely, you’re imagining things. It’s not possible to hear someone’s voice so clearly in your mind unless they actually said something to you…right?

Pushing the thought out of your mind, you turn on your heel, and you walk over to where Mando is pacing back and forth. He’s quiet as usual, but his body language is screaming. He’s tense, boots retracing the same steps over and over, shoulders square and hands fidgeting by his thighs. The apprehension, his nervousness—it’s practically seeping from him. It’s not something you ever thought you’d see—Mando anxious about a situation, given that he’s usually a lot better at keeping his cool under pretty much every single stressful situation.

At first, you think about asking him if he’s okay, or showing him that you notice his tentativeness, but it’s quickly shoved out of your mind when you remember how little he likes to talk about himself or how he’s feeling. You know firsthand that he prefers to stay silent rather than admit what’s going on inside his head.

Choosing to sit on a tree stump that’s fallen over on the ground, you continue to study Ahsoka and the Child. They stare at each other for a couple minutes not saying anything, just offering each other a series of smiles, gazes, and tilts of the head. As you continue to watch them, it’s almost as if you can hear them, which you know logically makes no sense. It’s very faint and muffled, taking all the concentration you can muster but you swear to the Maker you can hear them speaking to each other. The harder you squint, the clearer their voices get. However, it’s when you close your eyes and pull your brows together tightly, giving them your full attention that their voices become almost as clear as day.

His name is Grogu.

He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Order 66.

What’s order 66?

Before you can make out anything else, Ahsoka’s voice pulls you out of your concentration, calling you both over. Jumping to your feet in record time, you reach out and grab hold of Mando’s vambrace. He stills at your touch.

“Come,” You say gently, motioning your head over to the two by the fire.

The deep breath he lets out pulls rough from his vocoder, you can feel the trepidation in his body spilling into his lungs. He trails behind you and when you both reach them; you sit back down on the rock you were seated on before, but Mando chooses to stand instead.

“Has he…said anything? Do you…understand him?” He asks Ahsoka curiously, but with a hint of worry in his baritone.

“In a way. Grogu and I can read each other’s thoughts.”

“Grogu?” Mando’s voice is gentle but still low, and almost immediately, the Child’s ears perk up once again, and his little head jerks to face him, a gentle noise of glee escapes him.

“Yes,” Ahsoka says, smiling. “That’s his name, but you already knew that.”

“I—” He begins to say but Ahsoka cuts him off.

“No, not you. Her.”

Both Ahsoka and Mando’s head turn to you. Leg bouncing anxiously off the ground, your jaw slacks to answer, but not entirely sure how to answer. “Uh—Yeah, I mean he didn’t exactly tell me but he…kind of did?”

“What do you mean?” Mando presses you.

One of your hands rub the back of your neck and your eyes trail away from the two people staring you down to look at your feet. Clearing your throat, you answer uncertainly. “I…don’t know how he did it or how I was able to understand it.”

“Are you both still able to wield the Force?” Ahsoka asks curiously.

“The Force?” You repeat in confusion.

“You mean, his powers?” The Mandalorian chimes in.

“The Force is what gives him his powers. It’s an energy field created by all living things. It also allows us to communicate with each other.” She clarifies, somewhat answering your question but simultaneously confusing you even more. What the hell is ‘The Force’?

“You’re saying he used ‘The Force’ to communicate with me?”

“In a way, yes. We can communicate with others who are Force-sensitive, although it takes a great deal of training and discipline to wield it properly.”

Does this mean…?

Is she saying you’re…?

Force-sensitive?

Ahsoka sighs before addressing you again. “I sense a lot of conflict in you,”

“I’m just finding all of this very hard to believe,” You admit.

Ahsoka acknowledges your stunned expression with a gentle nod, before shifting the conversation towards the real issue—Grogu. Turning her eyes away from you, she now speaks to Mando. “Grogu was raised and trained by many Masters at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. At the end of the Clone Wars, when the Jedi were deemed traitors of the Republic, they were hunted down and killed. Grogu was smuggled out of the Temple beforehand, and has been forced to hide his abilities in order to survive over the years.”

Peeking over to observe Grogu, your heart aches. How could anyone want to harm him? He’s just a child, an innocent creature. “Do you know of anyone else like him?”

“I’ve only ever known one other being like this.” Her eyes trail off to gaze into the fire once again. “A wise Jedi Master named Yoda. I didn’t know others like him existed.”

“My task was to bring him to a Jedi. Can you train him?”

Ahsoka lets out a deep breath before answering. “The Jedi Order fell a long time ago.”

“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts us.” Your voice comes out more aggressive than you intended, but you’re desperate for answers.

Ahsoka looks down to the Child once again. His eyes flutter shut, exhaustion overcoming his little body until he all but bows his head to fall asleep. “Let him rest for now, I’ll test him in the morning.”

Mando’s helmet dips forward in agreement. He moves around the fire and makes his way over to Grogu and picks him up gingerly, holding him close to his cuirass and motioning his head in the direction of the Crest. Humming in response and rising to your own feet, you make to follow behind Mando back to ship when Ahsoka places a hand on your forearm.

“A moment?”

“Uh, sure,” You answer hesitantly. “I’ll meet you back at the ship.” You call over to Mando.

He huffs in response before walking away, Grogu fast asleep in his arms. Sitting back down, you wait for Ahsoka to speak.

“You’re troubled. I can sense it.”

Jaw dropping, you look for the words to accurately describe just how confused and in disbelief you are. Gesticulating around you, your voice is soft and low. “How—how is this possible?” A laugh escapes your lips. “I’m just a mecha—smuggler.” You catch yourself, the word barely leaving your lips. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her own lips form a tight line, as if she’s seen others react the same way. “It’s unclear how the Force works, and there’s no definitive way of explaining who has the gift and who hasn’t. We’re just…burdened with it.” Her eyes look down at the ground. It’s evident there’s some unresolved regret and sadness she’s been carrying for years, and you can’t help but wonder what could have possibly happened to her for her to feel this way.

“You said ‘I’m not a Jedi, not anymore’. What did you mean by that?”

She takes a deep breath, exhaling through her nose before speaking. “I left the order when I was young. It… wasn’t what I thought it was anymore.” Her voice trails off.

“What was it supposed to be? Who were the Jedi?” You don’t mean to ask so many questions, but there are so many pieces to this puzzle that you don’t understand yet. You’re supposedly predestined to be a Jedi, but you know nothing about them. Stories of the Jedi weren’t told to you when you were a child. It was treated more like a moment in history that no one wanted to speak of—like it was a stain on the galaxy that the majority of folks wanted to forget.

“We were trained to be keepers of the peace, but that all changed when the Clone Wars began. Jedi were suddenly soldiers and thrown into battle, required to fight for the Republic and keep the Separatists from expanding.”

“You fought?”

Ahsoka’s voice is low, like your question that thrown her back into the war, reliving all the pain from her youth. “I was just a Padawan when I joined the war effort. At first it was easy to say we were fighting to maintain the peace, but after a while, it almost felt like we became the ones raging the war. All of a sudden, the Order just didn’t feel like it once was…” She goes quiet for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe her conflicting feelings. “It changed.”

Your hand reaches out to hold hers. Once your skin touches her, immense pain overwhelms you. It’s haunting, a sudden hole fills your body with anger, regret, sadness. There’s a male voice, low and threatening, taunting her as he hisses.

Why did you leave?

You abandoned me!

Do you know what I’ve become?

Hand recoiling away, your left with the same empty feeling as her. It’s unnerving, experiencing something that hasn’t even happened to you yet somehow able to feel it so deeply, as if you know who this man is, but it gives you an insight as to just how tortured she must be feeling, and why she’s alone on this planet.

“Who…who was that?” Your voice is strained, shuddering out little breaths.

“Someone who meant a great deal to me.” Ahsoka’s face softens immediately, a somber smile develops on her lips, losing that hard, stoic demeanor she’s kept up in front of you and Mando. “An incredibly skilled Jedi Knight. He was my Master.”

“What happened to him?”

Ahsoka’s lungs fill with air, and she takes her time exhaling before answering you. “He fell to the Dark Side…” Her voice breaks up at the end, and clears her throat, giving the impression that she feels guilty about it, while also trying to regain control of her emotions.

Despite hearing the term ‘Dark Side’ for the first time, you almost instantaneously know what it is. The voice that creeps into your mind, the one that feeds off your anger and emotions, the one that scratches the inside of your brain, hissing to cause harm and feed the deepest parts of yourself that you despise. It all makes sense now.

“I sense it within you.” Her voice barely above a whisper, but clear enough to make your skin crawl. It’s a truth you didn’t know you had been dreading to hear. A truth you yourself had tried to ignore. The part of you that you hated most, finally being noticed by a complete stranger, it triggers something deep inside you, almost confirming your worst fears. You’re a danger, not only to yourself but to anyone around you. It’s suddenly as clear as day why you’ve tried to keep your distance from those you loved ever since your parents’ death. Why you never allowed yourself the luxury of attachments or love. Somehow, you knew that in order to keep yourself and others safe, you needed to put a barrier up, a wall to stop yourself from hurting others.

“I…don’t know how to control it.” Desperation in your voice, it becomes obvious that you’re both struggling to find solace.

“You should get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?” Attempting to put you somewhat at ease, she offers you a smile, although her eyes show you anything but contentment. There’s a sadness in them, like she already knows your fate but is unsure of the proper way of confessing it to you.

Nodding your head slowly, you push yourself to your feet and make a beeline for the Crest. Ahsoka stands, watching you drag your feet back to the ship, then disappears through the fog, and back into the forest.

When you reach the back ramp of the ship, the lights are dimmed to the lowest setting, your legs almost collapsing once you reach the hull from all the trekking throughout the day. Leaning over to the side of the ramp, you press a button on the board by the door and the ramp creaks shut.

The Crest is deafeningly quiet. As you make your way deeper into the ship, you observe Grogu sleeping soundly in his little hammock inside Mando’s bunk. Making sure not to make too much noise on the ladder, you gently head up to the cockpit and find Mando sitting in the pilot’s chair, unsure if he’s sleeping or simply sitting there like a statue which you’ve noticed he’s does from time to time. Upon entering the cockpit, you sigh a little loudly, testing to see if he’s awake.

Practically falling into your seat, you know you should get some sleep, but the mental exhaustion is almost too intense, you can’t seem to get your mind off everything that’s happened. Continuously mulling over what Ahsoka’s said, noting how it makes perfect sense, but not wanting to accept it.

“Are you…all right?” Mando asks you timidly, the deepness of his tone cutting through the low hum of the dimmed lights.

The question bounces around in your mind.

Are you all right?

Just under a couple of hours ago, you had never even heard of ‘The Force’, let alone supposedly have a connection to this intangible entity. Of course, there are things that you’ve done that you couldn’t logically explain, but does that necessarily mean you suddenly have some greater purpose? That you’re this…peacekeeper with an obligation to protect others?

Did your parents know?

Did they keep this a secret from you in order to protect you or were they just as in the dark as you were about this?

Everything you thought you knew about yourself is once again being challenged.

Mechanic.

Smuggler.

Quarry.

Jedi?

How are you supposed to navigate through this? Ahsoka said herself the Jedi were basically wiped out right as the Empire rose to power. What does that mean for you? Is the Empire hunting you down because you’re ‘force-sensitive’?

Certainly, it would be easier to simply put this all behind you. Help Mando with Grogu and then go your separate ways, ignoring what Ahsoka’s told you about being connected to The Force.

Do what you must in order to stay alive.

Keep to yourself just as you’ve always done, and survive.  

But…is that the right thing to do? How does one know if the path they’re on is the correct one? It’s not like there’s someone all knowing that you can ask, or seek help from. The only thing you can do is trust your own instincts, go over each possibility and examine them meticulously, and pray to the Maker that you’ll be drawn to one option more than another.

Remembering that Mando’s just asked you a question but not remembering exactly what it was, you hum in your throat. “Hmm?”

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. “Are you all right?”

“It’s funny how we can here for the kid, and now I’m the one having some kind of existential crisis.” Your tone is wry, the ability to mock yourself never waving.

“Yeah.” He answers coolly, probably just because he doesn’t know what else to say. Mando’s not really one to comfort or coddle, unless it’s Grogu but that doesn’t bother you so much. Mando is the way he is, and you wouldn’t change a thing about him.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re rising to your feet, word vomit expelling from your lips.

“I’ve lived my whole life not knowing where I belong. Navigating through various routes, trying to find my purpose and what I’m supposed to be doing, and I was fine with smuggling. I know it wasn’t honorable or strictly legal, but it made me feel better about my place in the galaxy. It felt better than being a mechanic on some rotten planet because at least I was seeing what the galaxy had to offer me, right? But it still couldn’t fill this empty pit I felt in my stomach.” Your breathing is erratic, chest pumping in and out as your heartbeat races.

“And I dealt with that. I did things I regretted but I never allowed myself to dwell on those things because I knew what I had to do in order to survive. Then out of nowhere I’m being hunted by what I thought was the New Republic but oh no surprise!” Your voice becoming almost hysterical, empty laughs punching out of you through jagged breaths. “It’s actually the Empire! Because I now apparently have some connection to an entity that exists in a form that I don’t even understand and have never heard of.

“All the while, I have this voice inside my head that fucking eats away at me. ‘Do this’ and ‘Make them feel pain’, ‘Hurt them like they hurt you’. It’s fucking gnawing at my brain, and I have no fucking idea how to control it or get it to stop. I feel like a monster, like some evil being that will one day just explode and hurt anyone in my path, and it fucking terrifies me because I can’t control it. I can’t fucking control it, Mando.” Your voice is hoarse, speaking so fast your lungs can’t keep up with you, only allowing yourself quick breaths as you begin to feel yourself hyperventilate.

Mando rises to his feet ever so slowly, visor glued to you as you continue to explode.

“What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to follow down the path of being a Jedi despite not knowing a single fucking thing about them? You heard what Ahsoka said about them. They were almost all wiped out.”

Your hands fly to your face, squeezing your eyes shut so hard, you’re seeing stars, and rubbing the heels of your palms into your skin. Completely overwhelmed by everything, you just want to disappear.

Then, you feel rough, sturdy gloves wrap around your wrists, and gently pulling at them, freeing your hands away from your face. When you finally open your eyes, all you see is Mando’s helmet, the ‘T’ of his visor looking down at you. He doesn’t let go of your wrists, just continues to hold them gingerly, even pulling them towards his chest. You take a step towards him, standing merely inches away from each other. He says nothing, but truthfully, he doesn’t need to. Holding you steady is all he needs to do in order to calm you down. Your breathing is slowly starting to regulate itself, even though your mind is still shouting at you.

Hearing a soft exhale emit through the helmet, Mando speaks quietly and softly. “You’re not a monster.”

“But—”

“We’ve all done things we regret.” He tells you softly. “What matters is that you regret it, which means you’re not a monster, because they don’t regret anything they’ve done.”

Your head dips downward, letting out a deep breath through slightly parted lips, as you begin shaking your head. “What if I hurt you or the kid one day?”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know—”

“I do,” He says firmly, leaving you no more room to argue.

When you finally look up into the black eye slit of his helmet, you wish you were looking into his eyes. To see him looking back at you would be a blessing right now, but you know better than to ask him to take it off. You don’t know much about Mandalorians, but from the one you do know, he never takes his helmet off, and you wouldn’t dare ask him to break his creed just for you. So, this will have to do.

“Get some sleep.” He says then releases your wrists, letting them fall to your sides.

“I’m not tired,” You mumble.

“Yes, you are.” He argues. “Use the cot downstairs.”

“But that’s where you sleep.”

He turns away from you, sitting back in the pilot’s chair and swiveling it around so you’re facing the back of the seat. “I’ll sleep here. Now, go.”

He leaves no room for argument, and honestly? Finally being able to sleep lying down and not sitting upright in a chair does sound amazing. You head down the ladder without another word, feeling the sudden exhaustion hit you hard. Grogu’s still sound asleep in his hammock, and you wiggle into the tiny sleeping space, being mindful not to touch the hammock or make too much noise that might wake him up, gently pressing on the button on the panel near the door and hearing it woosh shut. Your nostrils fill up instantly with Mando’s smell. Notes of beskar, musk, and his soap fill your sinuses and you take a deep, burning breath, trying to inhale as much Mando as you can in one breath. The voices in your head are still chattering away, but being bundled up in Mando’s blanket and his smell is enough for you to push those noises away and fall asleep to the sound of the Child’s gentle snores.

--

Grogu’s training begins in the early morning. You’re all gathered around the same place you were last night, but there’s definitely more tension than there was the night before. For starters, you basically had a mental breakdown in front of Mando last night, and you’re feeling pretty guilty and embarrassed about it. You should have been able to keep your emotions in check and under control, but instead you blew up in front of the one person you didn’t want to blow up in front of.

Secondly, today you’ll all be seeing Grogu’s abilities firsthand, and find out just how much training he’s had and what he’s fully capable of doing, and it’s pretty easy to tell that Mando is nervous. The way he carries himself; back tense and his hands balled into fists at his sides, shifting uncomfortably as he watches Grogu stand on a rock just a few feet away from Ahsoka. You’re standing to his right, nerves and curiosity radiating off your skin.

“Let’s see what knowledge is lurking in that little mind of yours, shall we?” She says to Grogu before turning her head to you both. Clearing your throat, you nod in acknowledgement while Mando stays stiff as a board.

She reaches down and picks up a small stone off the ground and holds it out in front of her chest. Looking down at the rock and watching her eyes squint, it suddenly lifts out of her palm and stays in limbo for a moment before she uses her hand to push it towards Grogu. It flows over so slowly in his direction, his little arms reaching out and grabbing it with both hands. You stand there, completely stunned, eyes wide-shot and jaw practically hanging. It’s something you’ve been able to do as well, but only during bouts of anger or in the middle of a fight.  

“Now, return the stone to me, Grogu,” She instructs, her voice gentle but commanding all the same.

His head tilts to the side, continuing to hold it firmly with his claws.

“He doesn’t understand what you’re saying,” Mando blurts out.

“He does.” She reassures him, holding her hand out and gently coaxing Grogu once again to hand her the rock. “The stone, Grogu.”

The Child gurgles, then drops the stone in a chuff of defeat. A drawn-out sigh releases from Mando’s helmet, somewhat irritable, but not fully angry.

Ahsoka approaches Grogu, leaning down to pick up the stone he’s dropped and taking his tiny hand in hers. Her head dips forward and whispers, “I sense much fear in you, little one.”

Grogu coos in response, his big eyes blinking slowly. She flashes him a kind smile and takes a couple steps back, cocking her head to one side as she ponders her next move. Ahsoka’s eyes meet yours for a second and just when they meet, it’s almost like you both come up with the same idea. Grogu needs a different kind of enticement, a more personal incentive.

“Let’s try something else,” She says. “Come here.”

Mando looks over to the Child and motions with his head for him walk over to meet Ahsoka. When he looks over to the Mandalorian with a puzzled look, Mando sighs again. “He’s stubborn.”

Unable to hide the smile on your face, you shake your head just as Ahsoka lips curl upwards. “Not him, you.” She says, looking at him.

Mando hesitates at first, so you grab hold of his forearm and almost usher him in Ahsoka’s direction. “I want to see if he’ll listen to you,” She says curiously.

Mando scoffs, and the sound comes out scratchy and low through the vocoder. “That would be a first.”

Handing Mando the stone, she instructs him to hold it in his palm, open faced and tell Grogu to lift and take the rock. He stands there awkwardly, shifting a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but in an endearing way. You smile from ear to ear, watching Mando be so confused but approaching this in a gentle way that you know almost no one has been privy to witnessing. It tugs at your heartstrings, observing father and son.

He lets out a deep breath before following Ahsoka’s direction. “Okay, kid. Lift the stone.”

“Grogu,” You clarify, still smiling.

He whips his head to face you then back to the Child.

“Grogu,”

The Child’s ears perk up instantly hearing Mando’s voice call him, cooing excitedly. “Take the stone.”

Looking at the rock, Grogu babbles and then looks at the ground defeatedly.

“See?” Throwing the stone on the ground in annoyance, Mando looks over to where you and Ahsoka are standing. “I told you, he’s stubborn.”

You and Ahsoka turn heads to look at each other, knowing damn well it’s not because the kid is stubborn, but because Mando is stubborn. Keeping an emotional type of distance between him and every person in the galaxy, never allowing himself to make a meaningful connection.

“Try to connect with him,” Ahsoka chimes.

Mando studies Grogu, possibly trying to gauge a reaction or an insight as to what he wants. His gloved hands come up to grasp onto his utility belt and then you notice him fiddle with his belt and flesh out the metal knob from the lever of the Crest. Both you and Mando know just how much that durasteel ball means to Grogu, and if there’s one thing in this galaxy that the kid absolutely loves and wants at all times, it’s that ball.

Sure enough, as soon as he sees Mando with the ball in his hand, his ears perk up immediately and giggles of joy rush out of him. Mando bends his knees, crouching down so that he’s at eye level with him, holding the ball between his fingers, enticing the downright giddy baby just a few feet away from him.

“Grogu,” His tone is playful, and it shocks you. He’s never spoken that way around you. Mando has a monotone way of speaking, maintaining a level tone, or an annoyed tone. Never speaking in a playful or humorous manner. To see him show this kind of vulnerability must be hard for him, especially in front of Ahsoka who he’s known for half a day, but Mando knows this isn’t about him, this is for Grogu, and he’ll do whatever it takes for the kid.

“Do you want this?”

The Child fixates on the ball, arms reaching out in front of him, almost begging for it, but Mando continues to tempt him, speaking low but tender, as he urges Grogu to take it. “Well, go ahead. Go on, take it. You can do it.”

Maker, it takes everything in you not to scream. The way Mando continues to coax him, the way Grogu coos and looks at him so lovingly, it’s enough to break hearts. A relationship borne of hunter and quarry turned father and son. Something so rare, so genuine. To think that these two beings don’t even speak the same language yet have an attachment so fierce and pure.

Eyes squinting in concentration, Grogu’s hand reaches out just a little further and then the ball flies from Mando’s hand right into the Child’s little grip.

“Good job!” Mando exclaims, pure joy and full of proudness. Your mouth falls into a toothy grin as you watch him approach the Child and continue to affirm how proud he is. Looking over at Ahsoka and expecting to see her smiling, your face quickly changes when you take notice of her expression. She’s looking down at the ground, not a speck of joy on her face. In fact, she looks defeated, like she’s just witnessed something awful. Eyebrows pulling together, you give her a nudge with your elbow, asking what’s wrong without actually asking what’s wrong.

“I knew you could do it. Very good,” Mando continues to praise.

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” She says before her lips press into a thin line.

“Is that a bad thing?” You question. Taking a step towards Mando and away from Ahsoka, and crossing your arms against your chest, your head cocks to one side waiting for her to explain.

“I cannot train him.”

“What?” Mando straightens out immediately and turns his body to face her. “You’ve seen what he can do, right?” He asks curtly, a hint of underlying anger in his vibrato.

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears—his anger.”

“All the more reason to train him.”

“No,” She grits out through her teeth. “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a person. What it can do to even the best of the Jedi Knights. I will not start this child on that path. Better to let his abilities fade.”

You take a step back; a sneer escapes your lips as you try to understand what the hell she’s saying. “Let his abilities fade? Look at him. You can’t just give up on him.”

She looks down at Grogu who’s too busy examining the ball in his hands to notice the three of you arguing. Giving you both a quick glance, Ahsoka shakes her head. “I’ve delayed too long. I must head back to the village.” She turns on her heel and begins walking away from you two when Mando gets her attention.

“The Magistrate’s asked me to kill you.”

Ahsoka freezes, turning her body slowly towards you, hands making their way to the weapons strapped around her waist.

“I didn’t agree to anything.” Mando clarifies.

Uncrossing your arms, you take a tentative step towards her. “We’ll help you free the village, but at the very least, Grogu,” You point a finger in Grogu’s general direction, “needs training.”

She clamps down on her jaw, eyebrows knitting together as she mulls over the proposition.

“Fine, but we hit the city tonight.”

-------

I hope y'all liked the way I wrote ahsoka...I completely ignored how she looked in the mandalorian and based her appearance off the “Overlords” ep of tcw and changed the way her character was because I wasn't really a fan of how she was written. 

[magioftheseas]

MatsuKoma - A Meeting

I wanted to post something for mermay and ended up with this short ficlet. A merficlet. It’s MatsuKoma. Matsuda’s a mer.

Ye.

Warnings: Light gore.

He had just been trying to sleep. The sand was soft, the sunlight warm, it just seemed like a great place to sleep.

He had thought the area was remote, too, so he wouldn’t be bothered, be it by fucking Junko or anyone else.

Of course, a human stumbled across him instead, letting out a sharp gasp when they did.

Urgh. Annoying.

He was content with just keeping his eyes shut and ignoring him. After all, humans typically avoided his kind. Some shit about them casting curses on humans—although with Junko taking such delight in crashing their boats, maybe that was the right call. Either way, whatever earned him peaceful rest was fine. So what did he care as long as the human left him alone?

Except.

This human.

Wasn’t doing that.

In fact, the human was hovering, fretting even, babbling in messy, slurred syllables of their garbage language. Urgh, god, that was ridiculously annoying. He should at least shut the other up...

“Will you—!” He slapped their hand. “Stop!”

It’s supposed to be a hiss, but he’s so aggravated that it comes out much higher-pitched than intended. The human is staring at him with hopelessly wide eyes...and they’re also trembling.

Likely because of the deep gashes left in their hand from where Matsuda’s claws had unintentionally caught on the skin. Oh.

Fuck.

That was a lot of blood.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Matsuda frantically cursed, fretting over what to do. He didn’t exactly carry medicine on him, but—did he at least have something to dress the wound with? He had to dig through his scales before he found some algae. It wasn’t perfect, but he could use it as a compress—

The human was staring at him stupidly, but they offered their bloodied hand wordlessly. Matsuda pressed down on the slashes, wincing when the human hissed softly in pain.

“Sorry,” Matsuda mumbles lamely, even though the beast surely doesn’t understand him. With their similar faces, Matsuda can only hope his expression is apologetic enough. “I’m...really sorry.”

The human’s face—it’s pale. It’s so pale it wouldn’t be out of place in the deepest pits of the ocean, but his eyes... They’re a soft shade of gray and green. It’s a lovely color, at least to someone like Matsuda.

Chirping with interest, Matsuda almost wanted to reach out. The human blinked those pearly greens at him, and then—they smiled. Brightly.

“Thank you!”

It was in a garbled, unknown language, but Matsuda understood it immediately. He understood it so well that it had him recoil, his cheeks burning. The human just laughs, repeating those words before letting out a string of others. The human was definitely cooing, it was fucking cooing at him.

“Just take care of that injury,” Matsuda snapped, dragging himself away to retreat into the water. The human called after him, and Matsuda only looked back to see them grinning and waving at him frantically.

Feeling at a temperature that should’ve been impossible for his kind, Matsuda dove into the deepest depths of the ocean.

--

“Yaaaaaaasuke-kun!”

It’s annoying how much he was thinking of that human even now.

“Yas-uke-kun!”

Even though he couldn’t understand human language—what was that human’s name? He just had no idea.

“YASUKE-KUN!”

Junko screamed into his ear, making him recoil and swat at her with his tail. She laughed, drifting back with that malicious smile hidden by the long locks of pink.

“You’re so distracted,” she remarks, teasing. “I know juuuuust the thing to get you perked up! Let’s wreck some ships!”

“How the hell is that supposed to perk me up?” he snapped. “That’s your favorite activity, not mine. It’s not even in the top fifty.”

“Oh come on!” She pouts at him, lower lip jutted out. “It’s been so long since we’ve done anything together! Guess what, guess what!” In a flurry of bubbles, she was in his face. Since he was used to it, he didn’t flinch, even when she grinned so wide it split her face like a vicious gash. “There’s this cruise that’s set out to sail. It’s massive.”

“Not selling your case,” Matsuda grumbled. “I don’t exactly enjoy drowning humans, you know.”

“Even though you keep going back to that place for a glimpse of one?” Junko asked, and he’s not even surprised she knows.

He’s not surprised—but discomfort grips his heart all the same.

“You know, he’ll never be yours if you don’t drag him under,” she reminded him sweetly. “This could be your chance, Yasuke-kun.”

“You don’t even know if he’ll be on that boat,” Matsuda shot back, but that discomfort only grew heavier.

“I’ve got a good hunch.”

(Her hunches were never wrong.)

Fuck.

(He can only hope there’s some way—any way to save that human from the whirlpool that was Junko.)

[mrslittletall]

11 for Postman and Louise from Nier Reolicant please ^^

Title: Fleeting Rest Fandom: Nier Replicant Characters: The Postman, Louise Word-Count: 1.596 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33815986

Summary: Hans, the postman, isn't feeling very well, but he's the only one looking after Louise, the girl from the shipwreck. He can't make her wait any longer for food despite his poor condition.

(Author's note: I don't think that the postman would think of himself as the postman, so I looked up his name and it's Hans, so the postman is referred to as Hans. This is my first fic for Nier Replicant for characters I didn't even expect to get, but I am satisfied with how it turned out.

This is completely based on the story in the game, not on the story “The Mermaid Princess”. I am not too sure if the postman having the black scrawl is canon or a headcanon, but I went with it.)

Prompt: Bed Rest @sicktember

Even though Hans had been feeling ill for the last few days, he couldn’t postpone visiting Louise anymore. The last time he had brought her food had been more than three days ago and the way she was scarfing down any food he brought here… he couldn’t let her suffer like this again. Who knows how long she had stayed on this ship, floating through sea, before it wrecked on the Seafront shore? He had to get some food for her and see how she was doing.

His leg was hurting a lot when he left the post office. He knew it was the beginning stage of the black scrawl. He knew that his days were numbered, but he would make the most out of them. He only wished that Louise had taken up his offer on coming with him; having a daughter in the post office would make his days so much brighter. Maybe she would change her mind once she got used to seeing light again.

He limped to the tavern to get some fresh bread. When the tavern owner saw him, he expressed quite some concern.

“You know I would be glad to deliver your food to you. The post office has done so much for the town. It is only fair that we give something back.”, he said.

Hans only shook his head as he paid for the bread. “I appreciate it, but this food isn’t for me. I… have to get it to someone else.”

The tavern keeper gave him a questioning look. He probably assumed that it would be the lighthouse lady, but she had been dead for a while now. Luckily, he didn’t ask any further questions and handed Hans the package.

“Whoever you are helping out this time, I am sure they cherish it.”, he said and waved him goodbye. Hans reciprocated the greeting and limped outside, heading for the shipwreck.

Even on good days the way to the shipwreck wasn’t easy with his bad leg. It was why he so often wasn’t able to deliver the mail and was more than glad when the young man with the white hair appeared and helped him out. Still, walking to the shipwreck was a lot easier than going all the way to Popola’s village, fearing that the shades on the way would tear him apart.

He was bathed in sweat once he arrived at the shipwreck, the bag with the bread clutched to his chest. Now he only needed to enter the shipwreck and find Louise, who probably was staying in as deep as possible as always. She really was afraid of blinding herself by the daylight. It didn’t surprise the postman, he also would be reluctant to step into the daylight when he would have lived in the dark for who knows how long.

As he entered the shipwreck and made his way to Louise, Hans noticed how much worse the smell had gotten in that place. He really should talk Louise into getting used to the daylight soon, when this place was rotting from the inside, there was no guarantee it would hold up for years. Still, the smell hadn’t been that bad three days ago… could the shipwreck really rot that easily?

Whatever it was, Hans had a different thing to be concerned about. The symptoms of his illness were rapidly getting worse the longer he was up and out of bed. The bad smell didn’t help at all and soon he was coughing on his way, having to drag his bed leg behind him. He probably wouldn’t be able to stay around long and spend some time with Louise today…

In the meantime, Louise had stayed in the ship and tried to practice her writing. It was so difficult. He had shown her how to form letters to build words, which would allow her to communicate with him. Because she was a shade, he couldn’t understand her words… she wanted to speak the same language as him. Louise wished so much that she could be human to be with him. He had looked so sad when she declined his offer to come with him… if only she could walk under the sun…

She already feared that he had left her alone. He hadn’t been here for days. He used to come daily… why wasn’t he here? Had he figured out that she wasn’t human… Louise feared nothing more than being left alone again. Everyone always left her alone when they saw her real body…

“Louise? Where are you?”

It was his voice! She shot up from her chair and hurried to him, she was so glad to see him again. Her joy turned into deep concern though when she heard a heavy sound, like if something or someone had hit the ground and to downright horror when she saw him lying there, clutching a bag with food (for her, he always brought food for her), and he didn’t move or react to her at all.

He looked so ill and weak. There were sweat beads in front of his face and he was so pale, even paler than usual. She knew that he had trouble walking, he always would limp, but she didn’t know it was that bad.

Had he dragged himself here just to see her? Louise instantly had a weird feeling welling inside up her chest… how could she have thought that he abandoned her? He never would do that. He was the first one who was ever kind to her! How could she ever have doubted him?

Though, right now he needed her help… humans normally would rest in bed when they were feeling ill, right? Louise walked over to him, hesitating when she reached the light of the sun that filtered through the holes of the shipwreck.

She could take it. The sun would hurt her, yes, but she could easily heal the damage. Besides, with him being unconscious, he wouldn’t notice the true nature of her body. As Louise stepped into the light of the sun, a low hiss escaped her when her body started to burn. She walked over to him and tried to lift him up.

She couldn’t do it. This body that she was inhabiting… it was too weak. He was so much larger and heavier than that body… she despised having to do it, but…

Louise let part of her shade form take over, her arms turning into tentacles, having to pinch her eyes when the unfiltered light of the sun hit them, making the burn so much worse. Though her pain was nothing against the pain he must be in, he had come only to see her, even though he was feeling unwell. She would endure every pain for him.

With her tentacle arms, it was a piece of cake to lift him up and carry him into the sole bed she spent her time at when she didn’t have anything better to do. She sighed when she stepped back into the shadows, grateful that the burning pain of the sun wouldn’t affect her anymore. She gently lowered him down and tucked him in, stroking over his hood with one of her tentacles, before looking at it in disgust and hiding it in the shadows.

When Hans opened his eyes, he was lying down. Apparently, he also was lying somewhere soft, as opposed to the hard floor he had felt when his consciousness had left him. When he looked to the left, he could see Louise standing there, her face obscured by the shadows, like always, but that long black hair and the bow he had brought her, it was unmistakably her.

“Louise…?”, he said and pulled himself up, only to get hit with a cloud of dust which prompted another coughing fit. As he was busy coughing his lungs out of his body, he felt how Louise gently but firmly pushed him back into bed.

“Oh woah, you are pretty strong…”, Hans murmured. She looked so frail and small. How had she even been able to carry him here? As he looked at her with questioning eyes, she took a step back and began to cower away from him. She always did that when he talked about something she was afraid of.

“Hey it’s okay, I… won’t ask…”, he said. “Thank you for taking care of me, Louise. I am afraid I was a bit weaker than I thought… I should head home and rest…”

As he pulled himself up again, ready to get out of bed and limp back home, he got pushed back into bed a lot more firmly this time, with Louise stepping back into the shadows right away after he had been forced to lie back down.

“You won’t let me, hm?”, he said, a faint smile on his lips. “Alright, you won, I guess I'll rest here until I feel well enough to go back to the post office.”

Louise stayed in the shadows for a while longer. Hans already wanted to stop looking at her and close his eyes to rest up, when she stepped closer… and began singing. The tune he had hummed to her. The lighthouse lady’s tune.

She was singing in her rough, broken voice, likely from a throat too damaged to form more coherent words, but for him, it was the sweetest sound he could imagine.

He smiled as he let his eyes close and lull himself back to sleep, murmuring: “Your singing has gotten better, Louise…” (Author's note: And this was the fourth of the sicktember prompts. It was surprisingly fun to write the monster in hiding. Louise is a character that certainly should get explained more.

I have the feeling I made the replicants a bit too nice, because in canon almost all of them are kind of shitheads, but hey, canon is painful enough, let us have a little bit of kindness in fanfiction.)

[jawabear]

Believable (Din Djarin x Reader)

Not My GIF

A/N: wow, two fics in one day? The Christmas spirit is surly getting to me. Although, this one isn’t Christmas themed. I suppose this counts as a Sex Pollen fic? As you can tell, this is my first attempt at writing one so it probably sucks. But I hope you enjoy the Mando smut anyway. There kind of is no development to this story, but I kind of want to make a second part to develop it more, because I got a few ideas whilst writing it but I didn’t want this story to be too long. I don’t know, we’ll see. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: smut, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, smut, sex pollen (I guess), oral (fem receiving), roughness, fingering, all that jazz, Pedro Pascal comes with his own warning

Summary: Sacrifices have to be made in order to complete a mission.

“If you know where he is, why can’t we just go in there and get him?” Mando asked, slight impatience in his voice, but the trip from Navarro to where they were was a long and tedious one. Even though the two hunters would consider each other friends, they still needed time away from each other which was slightly impossible when you are confined in his ship.

“That’s not how things work here” she told him with the shake of her head “that won’t go the way you want it too. Trust me on this one”

“You’ve been here before?” He asked her.

“I never said that” she mumbled under her breath.

It wasn’t much longer before they came to an open tall gate with thick metal bars coloured bronze. A stone wall of what looked to be some sort of pure white marble seemed to run around the expanse of what the Mandalorian guess to be the town, in which (Y/N) had said they would find their shared bounty.

Mando was about to walk into the town when (Y/N) took a tight hold of his arm holding his back. He turned to looked her and she released his arm “when we go in there,” she began in a serious tone “you do not speak to anyone. You do not look at anyone. You stay with me and you do as I say. Do you understand? You don’t want to cause trouble here, I can assure you it will be something you have never faced in your life. Trouble here can not be solved but simply shooting a blaster”

Mando thought for a moment. Of course he wasn’t going to go against her words, he had always listened to her, perhaps out of fear or admiration. He gave he a slow nod and watched in pure confusion as she ran her hands through her hair, removing it from its styled state and making it look messy and brushing it over to the side so that it slightly covered her left eye. She then rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and threaded her fingers through his, startling him slightly.

“Do you want him or not?” She asked him. He nodded and let out a quiet sigh before letting her lead him through the street.

He was used to being looked at, it wasn’t all that often that people would see a Mandalorian roaming through their towns and villages, he didn’t mind the staring because he never took that much notice of it. But the staring here was different. Usually people would look upon him in either curiosity, hate, anger or fear, sometimes happiness or relief but those were very rare. But there’s stares were that of lust, hunger and want. Every pair of eyes the landed on him looked as if they wanted to strip him clean of all his armour and clothing and just have their way with him. Which of course was not far of the mark.

He had faced many dangers in his life and had been nearly killed many times, but this was proving to be a whole new kind of danger, one that was slightly frightening to him. He noticed too the looks everyone seemed to give (Y/N). It seemed they had swapped roles in this place. It was her who was looked at with hate, anger and fear. Whereas usually people would look upon her in desire. He understood why, there was no denying she was beautiful, incredibly beautiful. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that Mando had developed feelings for her in perhaps a more friendly way.

Soon, the pair arrived at a fancy looking building. It looked to be some sort of palace, a very grand place. (Y/N) pulled him inside and gripped his hand tighter. He wondered if it was out of fear or just to keep him close.

Inside, he was met with a sight he never thought he would see. In every corner of the room, people were all over each other. He was seeing far too much of them all. It made him uncomfortable, but (Y/N) didn’t seem to take much notice, however she did notice the shift in his body language. She was then pulling him in between the bodies of intimate people making all sorts of comments and noises that he knew he would never be able to get rid of from his mind. He wanted to know why she had brought him here. And he also didn’t want her to leave him.

She pulled him towards a woman with light pink skin and midnight black hair. She wore and long white dress that fell to the floor and golden bracelets encrusted with colourful jewels all the way up her arms and a very heavy looking gold necklace around her neck. Her eyes were a bright shade of purple.

“You came back” she spoke to (Y/N) in a language that he had never heard before ��and you brought a friend” she looked towards Mando with wanting eyes that made him take a step back.

“More then a friend” (Y/N) said using the same dialect. “I was hoping you would supply us with a room”

“Of course” the woman smiled “right this way” she began to lead them again through the mess of people scattered about the place enjoying themselves far too much. But the Mando clocked the target, sat surrounded by girls of all different kinds, looking too proud of himself as he sipped on blood red wine. It seemed (Y/N) saw him too.

The woman with pink skin pulled back a thick black curtain that revealed a small but spacious room fit with a long sofa and a comfortable looking bed. There were more than one million questions flying round in his head. “Have fun” she said before pulling the curtain back leaving him and (Y/N) alone in the room, unpleasant sounds from the next room not being dulled by the barrier of fabric.

“Why are we here?” He asked after a tense moment of silence between them.

“He’s here is he not? I told you, you’ll just have to trust me” she told him as she went about fixing her hair before taking a seat on the foot of the bed. He opted for the sofa to try not to make things awkward.

“You’ve been here before...” he murmured.

“I’d rather not talk about it” she said as she stared sadly at the ground. He respected this and didn’t push her, but he was curious though.

“What do we do now?” He asked.

“We have to wait until morning. Wait for it to die down. It usually does in the early hours, everyone will be asleep, then that will be out window to take him” she summarised as she pulled her thick black boots off her feet and setting them aside.

“What makes you so sure he’ll still be here?”

“Trust me, he will be. That wine he was drinking, it’s spiked with a sort of pollen that dials you up to eleven. It makes you uncontrollable. Makes you want to have sex with anything that moves” (Y/N) explained, she did so with such confidence that it almost intimidated him. He wasn’t very knowledgeable in the world of sex but he had done it before. But certainly not in the way that he had been witness too.

“Right...” he muttered.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. Lilia knows me from a long time ago and owes me quite a lot. Plus I knew that someone like him would have to be in a place like this. Our options were limited”

“It’s...fine” he didn’t really know what to say. It wasn’t really fine but she was right. They were running low on options. He would just have to live with it for now.

“I think it would be best if we stay in here until morning. We don’t know what other kind of trouble could be out there” he nodded at this, thinking it was a sensible suggestion.

“Will we be disturbed do you think?”

“Who knows. Someone may try and get in but it is unlikely” he nodded again and lent back on the sofa letting out a sigh. But before he could relax too much (Y/N) was walking over to him. He couldn’t get a word in before she was straddling his waist “put your hands on my waist” she told him.

“Wh-What?” He asked completely flustered, if he didn’t have his helmet on she would be seeing his face bright red and burning in embarrassment.

“Just do it” she hissed and grabbed his wrists and forced his hands onto her hips. She pressed her self further against him and began giggling at nothing as she ran her fingers seductively up his arm and across his chest plate when the curtain was drawn open slightly.

Lilia walked in with a tray that held one singular glass of the same blood red wine that their target was drinking. “In case he gets thirsty” she teased as she set the drink down on the small table next to the sofa.

(Y/N) hummed with a slightly dazed look on her face as she looked at the drink before looking back at him with eyes that were dark and full of pure lust and desire “maybe I’ll get to see what you look like when you drink it” she whispered in a language he could understand. Her finger ran around the under rim of his helmet before sliding slowly down his covered neck.

The curtain was drawn again and she was quick to remove herself from him. “I’m sorry” she said “I had to make it look believable”

He sat there completely flustered and confused. His hands were frozen in the air as if they were still pressed against her hips. His face was burning, but he was blaming that on the extraordinary heat of this planet and the fact he was covered in thick armour.

She was sat back on the bed, turned away from him and playing nervously with her hands. She was too scared to say anything back to him now. She had embarrassed both her and him.

For a while there was a thick and horrible silence that hung over the pair of bounty hunters, excluding the horrendous noises that came from outside the room. He somehow managed to regain his composure and he stood. She looked at him from the corner of her eye and watched as he walked towards the small table where the dark red drink was resting, waiting to be consumed.

“What would happen to me if I drank this?” He asked as he tapped the rim of the glass with his finger.

“Well...you would not be able to control your sexual desires. You would loose yourself in your lust and want of release. You would do anything to insure your pleasure and climax were met”

“And...how long does it last?”

“It’s hard to say. They used to think it lasted until you had completely exhausted yourself, but it varies. It can last up until exhaustion, it can last until one climax. A popular theory is that is lasts until you have had sex with the one you desire most”

She watched as he lifted the glass from the table and swirled the liquid in the glass a few times before glancing over to the curtain “Do you think anyone else will interrupt us?” He asked.

“Probably not. Why?”

“Do you have something you can cover your eyes with?”

“Um...there’s probably a piece of cloth around here that I could use. But Mando, What are you asking all this for?”

“It has to look believable right?” He asked “why pretend when we can make it real?” He said in a low voice as he looked in her direction. She felt a shiver run through her spine at the tone in which he spoke but she was concerned about his next move.

He tilted his helmet up making her look away out of respect for his code but she could hear him gulping down the liquid making her worry. She head the glass being set back on the table so she glanced back behind her to see he was teetering when he stood.

“Mando, What have you done?” She panicked as she raced over to him to hold him steady, worried he would suddenly collapse.

“Find something to cover your eyes” he ordered deeply. She found her self falling into a submissive state, wanting to do whatever he asked. So she was quick in sourcing a long black piece of fabric and handing it over to him. He placed it over her eyes and tied it semi-tightly at the back of her head. “Do not remove this”

“I won’t” she said all too quickly “I promise”

He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his gloved had and she leant into his touch. But his hand then slid down from her cheek, grazing over her neck, across her chest and landing on her hip which had now become his favourite thing to hold. “I’ve never told you how beautiful you are” he whispered. His hand was briefly removed from her as he lifted off his helmet and place it beside the empty glass.

She drew in a sharp breath when she felt his warm breath fam against her cheek as she leaned in to whisper to her “there’s a lot of things I haven’t told you” his hand was back on her hip, but it was slipping lower “how beautiful you are...” he pressed a kiss to her cheek making her bite her bottom lip “how I really feel for you...” his fingers traced over her thigh making her first clench slightly, she didn’t really know what to do with her hands in that moment “how much I...want to fuck you” his voice was low and hot directly in her ear.

His hand moved in between her legs and touch over her clothed pussy. There were many layers between him and her but the ghostly touch was enough to make her weak at the knees. “Mando...” She panted as she brought her hands to rest on the cold beskar of his chest plate.

The Mandalorian removed his mouth from her ear and pressed his lips to her in a rough and wanting kiss. His tongue wasted no time in invading her mouth and claiming each inch as his own. No one else was to ever have her now other than him. And he made sure to tell her that. His hand cupped her pussy making her thighs pressed against his hand “this and everything else is mine” he told her “you are mine” he spoke in almost a growl.

“Yes!” She whined “Yes! I’m yours. I’m only yours”

His kiss was getting deeper by the second and his other arm came to wrap around her waist to hold her firmly against him whilst he removed his other hand from between her legs and wrapped that one around her waist too. “Fuck” he growled as he began rolling his hips against her seeking some sort of friction for his dick that was growing hard with every moment that passed. “Fuck. Take your clothes off now” he ordered.

He pulled away from her and began discarding his armour and underclothes whilst he watched her undress as quickly as she could neither of them caring where their clothes ended up.

Once they were both bare, he stalked back towards her, his hands reaching out to feel every inch of her body making her whimper and moans quietly at the feeling of his rough and worn hands on her soft skin. “Mando..” she whispered.

“Din” He said quietly as he began to practically make out with her neck.

“What?” She asked followed by a gasp as her hands came to rest on his shoulders, digging her blunt nails into his skin.

“That’s my name. I want you to call me that as I fuck you” he told her. She nodded as swallowed thickly as he walked her backwards towards the bed. She found herself tumbling on to the plush mattress with him following behind her, crawling on top of her, kissing all the way up her body. Biting, sucking and licking his way up.

She moaned a little too loudly when his tongue began to circle round her nipple whilst his right hand snaked it’s way down her body. She really hoped no one would walk in. The blindfold across her eyes only added to the sensation. Her lack of sight seemed to heighten all her other sense making every touch surprising and enjoyable.

His hand found its way back between her legs and he slipped two of his rough fingers between her soaking folds making her moan. “Din!” She moaned, he loved the way his name sounded rolling off her sweet tongue. “Oh fuck Din...”

“So fucking wet” he muttered as she moved his mouth back to her neck. “I could just...” his fingers slipped into her tight hole making her back arch off the bed and her mouth fall open letting out a silent moan as her brain struggled in processing the pleasure she was receiving from such a simple move. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes!” (Y/N) cried out “Oh fuck Din!”

“Tell me how good it feels” he hummed as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of her at a steady pace. Her hips struggled to stay on the bed as she wriggled and writhed under him.

“F-Fuck...it feels so good Din!” His fingers picked up the pace all too quickly. Her hips completely rose off the bed as her toes curled and her fists clenched the bedsheets. “Fuck!” She screamed.

He moved his mouth down her body, fingers still pumping quickly in and out of her. Din nudged her legs further apart so he could slot himself between them. When he did, his tongue shot out to toy with her clit making her scream and reach down to grab his hair. He groaned against her when she tugged on his hair.

His hips began to mindlessly roll along the bed, getting himself off as best he could. The friction from the bedsheets felt amazing against his hard length but it was nothing compared to what he believed she would’ve felt around him.

Din got to his knees and pulled his fingers from her, not giving her a moment to protest, before replacing his fingers with his throbbing length. They both moaned loudly at the feeling. He was a lot bigger than what she had imagined and she was a lot tighter than he thought. But that didn’t matter. It was amazing either way for both of them.

“You feel so good” he grumbled “so wet..so tight...”

“Din! Fuck!” She cried out “oh fuck! You feel amazing!”

“Gonna make you come so hard. You’ll be screaming my name” he growled through grit teeth as he pounded into her, grabbing her hips in a vice-like grip, it was sure to leave some sort of bruise but she didn’t care, it only added to the pleasure. “Gonna fill you completely”

“Please” she begged weakly. He moved so that he was hovering over her, his firsts clenched either side of her head as he slammed into her drawing a whimper or a moan from her with each thrust. Her hands moved to his back where her blunt nails duh into the broad expanse of his skin. Her legs lifted to wrap around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.

His forehead dropped to her, their panting breaths mixing between them. Din leaned forwards and planted a sloppy kiss to her lips. “D-Din” She stuttered “I’m gonna Come..”

“Me too (Y/N)” he grumbled as he bit down on her bottom lip. He snakes his left hand down between their bodies and began to rub quick circles on her clit making her scream, her body moving every which way, over come by pleasure. Her walls began to squeeze and fluttered around his dick making him grit his teeth as he felt white hot pleasure building up inside him.

She let out a call of his name as she came over him, her body shaking and twitching as he continued to thrust into her as he raced to reach his own end. His hand didn’t cease it movements in her clit, at this rate he would draw another climax from her.

He let out a low and continuous string of curses as he came, shooting ropes of his come into her, filling her completely and pulling her over the edge of pleasure a second time. Her walls clamping down on him, milking every last drop from him. His hips began to slow as he rode both of them through their highs, kissing her again as she drew the last few drops from him.

“I’m sorry...” he whispered. Feeling, now, utterly guilty of what had just happened. He knew that technically it wasn’t him, he wasn’t in control, but he didn’t actually need to drink it, but he did anyway.

“It’s okay” She said quietly, bringing her hands to glide through his hair. “You did what you had to do to get rid of it...”

“But it was unnecessary...I-I didn’t need to drink it”

“It was either you or me. Don’t feel bad Din” she smiled “I enjoyed it”

“So did I” He hummed “do you think that was believable enough?”

She laughed and took his face between her hands, pressing sweet kisses to his lips “I think so, yes”

21/12/20

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober2020 - Day 11

We continue onward with the oof!au (part 11). They’ve got a long road back to being alright, but they’re taking some of the first steps.

General Info: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Past/eventual Codywan. Previous one-sided Vaderwan. 

WARNINGS: Consideration of past injuries, past non-con, and past torture. Processing the loss of a limb. Fall-out from mind control. Emotional trauma.

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED 

Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

Obi-Wan’s head hurt. Everything else, he noted, as he swam up through the dark of unconsciousness, hurt as well. He was long ago grown used to that; it barely registered, really, and he wished he’d stayed unconscious.

But something had woken him. Something besides the pain. He blinked his eyes open, expecting the gray walls of his cell, or, perhaps, if he were very unlucky, the inside of Anakin’s private chambers, a shudder moving through him as he took stock of his surroundings.

He blinked across at a gray wall, vaguely aware of voices and, impossibly, the hum of hyperdrive engines. For a long moment the world made no sense. He reflexively stretched out his senses with the Force, half-remembering that it wouldn’t do any good, that he was collared and--

Sensation slammed into his head, flowing through him, as though the Force had just been waiting for him to open a pathway. He felt -- so much -- too much -- all at once. Emotions swam up into him; anger and guilt and regret and hurt and --

Obi-Wan gulped for breath, letting the emotions flow through him, accepting them and letting them go, burning his nerves and leaving him shaking. He could have attempted to block them, to shield away from the feelings, but the touch of the Force was such a relief.

He’d thought, honestly, that Anakin would kill him before he ever felt the embrace of the Force, ever again. He could not bring himself to shy away from it, even though it hurt, shaded and full of agony, radiating from all around him. He remembered, distantly, throwing himself into it, in Anakin’s throne room, desperate to stop Anakin from hurting his men. Beyond that, things were blurry. Cody had - impossibly - been himself again, somehow.

Obi-Wan had thrown himself into a healing trance, feeling all the damage inside his body, trusting that Cody would get him out, and then he’d….gone away, for awhile. Pain brought him back.

He knew how to handle pain. He knew how to breathe through it, until the emotions became a sort of background hum, filling him but not disallowing other thought. He sipped at the air, blinking at a gray ceiling, focusing on untangling the snarl of the Force around him.

He was...surrounded by troopers. He knew their minds so well. The way their thoughts moved was familiar and comforting, even if they all felt unwell, as though they’d been broken and left in shattered pieces. His men were hurt, and the thought dug down into him, past the confusion and disorientation. His men were hurt; he had to help them.

He lurched to sitting, reaching up to grip at the side of his head, hissing as the movement pulled at the wounds scattered across his body. Something tugged at his arm and he looked down at the little I.V. tucked in at the curve of his right elbow. The only elbow he had left, he remembered, with a shivery, unpleasant feeling.

Obi-Wan glanced to his left arm, gut clenching as memory clawed into his head. Anakin had circled him, made him stand, staring into the faces of his men, made his stretch out his arm, purred, “This is only fair, isn’t it? Say it, Obi-Wan.”

And he had, because the alternative was worse.

Obi-Wan made himself look, really look, at all that remained of his left arm, and swallowed convulsively. The lightsaber had, at least, kept him from bleeding out. The scars around the abbreviated limb were thick and dark. He jerked his gaze away, taking stock of the pieces of him that remained, the I.V. coming out of his other arm.

The line led to a hanging bag of fluid. It was swaying, gently, from his movement. He was… sitting on a little medical bed. There was a medical droid, puttering around close to him, changing course to approach.

The walls were not terribly familiar, nothing he’d seen exactly before, but they reminded him of the set-up on the Negotiator, his fine ship, destroyed like so much else and-- He shook those thoughts aside.

He was… on a ship. He considered, with a shiver, that perhaps he had not hallucinated Cody crouching in front of him, promising that Anakin was dead, that they were getting out, all of them….

He rubbed at his head, hissing again as his fingers brushed bandages and the edge of stitches. He’d… been hurt, hit on the head. He recalled that, when he tried to focus. He’d been… fighting Anakin. Anakin, who had been so sure of the utter success of his plans, so sure that he’d found a way to keep Obi-Wan pinned right where he wanted.... 

Anakin had always been sloppy. Over-confident when he caught the briefest edge of success. Obi-Wan had tried to help him move past that, tried to offer him training and advice. He was grateful, all at once, that Anakin had never learned those lessons.

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face and asked, as the droid rolled to a stop before him, his voice still a rasp - he wondered, absently, if he’d ever recover, “I don’t suppose you could tell me where I am?”

Cody had, obviously, carried him to the ship. Or perhaps he’d walked under his own power. His memories were a jumbled mess, confused by the head injury he’d taken. The droid chirped at him, irritably, something about his injuries and staying still. 

Obi-Wan ignored it. Someone had tended to his wounds. He was bandaged across his chest and side, the smell of bacta heavy in his nose. The smell made his stomach twist, nauseatingly, associated with injuries, with laying in a cell, with wondering what Anakin would do to him next, and--

Obi-Wan swallowed bile, shaking his head. 

He wanted to know what had happened. He had jumbled memories of talking to Cody, really Cody, not the other person who he’d been turned into. Cody had lifted him, hadn’t he? Held him with shaking hands? Hadn’t he?

Obi-Wan stretched out his thoughts again, working to maintain some level of control. He searched for Cody’s mind and got--a blur back. A presence, but dim and hurt. Unconscious. His heart tripped over, jerking unpleasantly in his chest, and he stood, ordering the droid, “Take this out,” and stretching out his arm.

The droid told him to get back on the bed and he scowled at it. He could probably figure out how to remove the I.V. with one hand, but it would take time, and he, abruptly, didn’t feel very patient. He grabbed the bag, instead.

He’d been wrapped in a blanket, which he appreciated. Someone had cleaned him up before patching him back together. He pulled the soft fabric up and around his shoulders as he swung his feet over the side of the bed, letting his legs dangle for a moment as dizziness and nausea moved through him.

He’d been to the healers often enough to know the vertigo was a sign he ought not try to stand. But… Well. He’d never been very good at doing what the healers wanted. He stood, with no free hands to brace on anything, and after a moment the room stopped spinning a bit.

The stilling of the room allowed him to notice that he’d stepped in something sticky. He blinked down, vision blurring for a moment. There was a… reddish smear on the ground. Dark. Tacky. He’d seen blood enough to recognize it out of hand, and followed the smear of it. It led towards one of the private med rooms, disappearing beyond it.

“Hello?” he repeated, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. He shuffled, carefully, over to the door. “Anyone?” Someone had bandaged his injuries, treated them as well as possible without a bacta tank. The troopers, he assumed. He could feel their minds, all around. Most of them seemed to be sleeping, a few very busy.

One such mind was close by, but not through the door with the smear of blood. 

The mind behind that door was unconscious, not just asleep. Those two states felt different through the Force. Obi-Wan shivered, because, even unconscious he recognized the mind, the bright soul. Cody.

Obi-Wan ignored the busy minds, the sleeping minds, and the droid. He didn’t call out again. It hurt his throat to talk, and he didn’t want to disturb any of the sleepers around him. He pushed the door open with the Force and hesitated another moment, in the doorway 

There were three little beds in the room. Only one was occupied. The trail of blood led right to it. Cody lay under the blankets, hooked up to wires and tubes, his brow furrowed even in unconsciousness, a little bandage on his brow. The shape of the blankets made it clear that there were more bandages beneath them, bulky and misshapen.

The cold of the hall seeped up through the soles of Obi-Wan’s feet, into his legs, leaving him shivering.

Obi-Wan rasped, “Force,” ignoring the pain in his throat, limping across the room to stop by the other side of Cody’s bed. He hooked the bag still attached to him to the hooks over Cody’s bed and reached out to press his fingers against Cody’s throat, fear crawling up his spine because Cody was so still, color bad, gone grayish, and even with the reassurance of the Force--

He had a pulse. Steady. Obi-Wan sagged, shifting, pulling fussily at the blanket over Cody’s chest, blinking his blurry eyes as a familiar voice from the doorway said, “He’s going to be fine.”

Obi-Wan blinked over at Bones and it was disorienting, seeing him standing there, with emotion on his face. Obi-Wan didn’t understand what happened. He kept waiting to wake up from this sweet, impossible dream. He asked, voice a whisper, “Are you sure?”

Bones’ mouth quirked up. He said, “I’m sure. He was gut shot. Liver damage. Lost a lot of blood. But he’ll recover. We’re built sturdy.” Bones took a step forward and said, “You’re not supposed to be out of bed, yet, General.” But he made no move to shoo Obi-Wan away.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I feel much better.” Which was not the same as saying he felt well. “I suppose I have all of you to thank for that?” He tried to make his tone light, to get his voice closer to the way it used to sound, once upon a time.

He, apparently, didn’t succeed. Bones flinched, looking to the side, his hands bailing into fists as he said, “No, sir. You don’t need to thank us for anything.”

Obi-Wan blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden cut and snarl of Bones’ emotions. He swayed, bracing his hand on Cody’s bed, taking the wave of emotion like a blow, and-- and he released it, all of it, managing to say, “I don’t believe that. But I also...don’t know what happened.” He looked up, met Bones’ dark gaze.

Bones sighed and said, “Sir, you’re not much better off than him, you need to lay down and--”

“I can rest in here,” Obi-Wan insisted, tugging the blankets straight once more and carefully making his way around the bed. He sat, stubborn, in a chair by Cody’s, and looked up into Bones’ expression.

Bones grimaced. “Sir, I--”

“You’ll have to drag me away,” Obi-Wan said, calm, intending only to make his position clear, and flinched as Bones’ emotions contracted all at once, into horror and guilt and--

And by the time Obi-Wan swallowed down the nausea that had risen in his throat, wrestling with his own mind for control and achieving it after a moment, Bones had turned away to start gathering supplies. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, carefully, unsure why, exactly, his words had such an effect. He still wasn’t sure what had happened. Bones shook his head, once, a muscle in his jaw jumping, over and over. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Obi-Wan asked, gently, because he needed to know and because he wanted to distract Bones from the agony inside his own head, bleeding out of him with each instant. Bones hesitated. “How we got away, I mean? How you - you all got free?”

He’d known they were in there, his men. He’d been trying desperately to figure out how to free them. And, apparently, they’d gone ahead and done it themselves. Bones wouldn’t meet his eyes, as he said, “I’ll explain if you let me check you over without a fuss.”

And Obi-Wan could agree to that, resisting the urge to flinch away when Bones tugged the blanket open. He forced himself to relax, feet flat on the ground, and Bones looked over his skin, clearing his throat before he spoke, “There were...chips, in our heads, sir. Controlling what we did. I know that it took too long, but a few of us - the Commander, me. Crys. We managed to break them. We’ve been freeing the others.”

Pride and warmth spread through Obi-Wan’s chest as he leaned back against the chair. They were so brave, the troopers. So strong. He couldn’t imagine the difficulty of - of breaking the control of something in their own heads. 

“Thank you,” he said, feeling Bones jerk to a stop again, “for freeing me, too.”

Bones said nothing, only breathed raggedly for a moment, horror and guilt radiating out of him again, and Obi-Wan did not understand what he’d said. He shifted a little, asking, “Bones, is--”

“This is going to hurt a little,” Bones said, cutting him off, voice thick and half-strangled as he lifted a bandage on Obi-Wan’s ribs. The pain was, comparatively, so minor that Obi-Wan barely noticed it. Bones had always had a soft touch, anyway. 

“I’ve upset you,” Obi-Wan said, persisting, because he couldn’t - wouldn’t - ignore the pain of his men. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t,” Bones gritted out, turning his shoulders away, curling his head down, sounding gutted. “Please, sir, don’t--don’t do that.” 

Obi-Wan stared at him, watching his shoulders shake, even as his hands stayed steady. Obi-Wan sat there, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, as Bones gathered himself and busied his hands with the tangle of tubes around Cody, stepping back after a moment, his face still turned away, voice hoarse when he said, “You can stay in here, as long as you rest.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, automatically, and Bones nodded, stiffly, before turning and walking from the room.

Obi-Wan watched him go, feeling tired and battered, beaten inside his head. They all hurt, so much. He needed to help them, but--but it would have to wait, just a little while. He leaned back in the chair, wincing as it pulled on all the newly treated wounds across his body and some of the older hurts.

The burns on his back had healed, technically. They pulled, every time he tried to move, a constant reminder of what Anakin had done. He set the discomfort aside, and, after a long moment, leaned his head back, blinking at the ceiling, comforted by the awakened mind around him, but Cody, breathing steadily beside him.

He needed more answers about what had happened. And he needed to help his men. But that could all… wait. Just a little while. He lifted his hand, hesitantly, started to reach towards Cody’s bed and froze, because sitting still, with no one else to distract him, allowed memories to crawl up into his head.

And Obi-Wan had so many memories he didn’t want, of Cody gripping his legs, his hips, fingers digging in cruelly, mechanical and unfeeling. Before, years ago, he’d imagined what it might be like, to have Cody’s hands on his skin. To allow himself to be pulled close and held, and then--

He swallowed convulsively, and made himself stay where he was, made himself resist the urge to jerk away.

It hadn’t been Cody.

It hadn’t.

Just Anakin, finding another way to hurt him.

Obi-Wan dragged his mind away from the memories. Looking for balance in the Force and reaching the rest of the way out. It took only the work of a moment to find Cody’s hand on the bed. Obi-Wan curled fingers around his unnaturally cool skin - the troopers usually ran so hot - and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t mean to pass out, but he must have. He woke to a surge of emotion through the Force, splintering down through his head, something bitter and sharp and all-consuming. He jerked to wakefulness, expecting alarms and the sounds of battle. 

None of that seemed to be happening. Many of the minds around him were still resting. There was just Cody, who was--

Breathing raggedly, obviously awake. Obi-Wan blinked over at him, and found Cody staring down at the bed, at where Obi-Wan’s fingers were still curled around his palm. “You’re awake,” Obi-Wan said, barely above a whisper, relief coursing through him. 

“What are you doing?” Cody asked, voice thick, almost choked. He felt--like too many different things, before he exerted some kind of terrible control on his emotions, dragging them back, holding them tight.

It was a stunning amount of control from someone without the Force, someone so badly injured. Cody’s emotions all but disappeared, leaving Obi-Wan reeling at the sudden loss, and unsure how he’d managed it. 

He swallowed, blinking to try to steady himself, and shaking his arm, just a little. “You were hurt,” he said. “While saving me, I--Cody?”

Cody had flinched. Obi-Wan felt it, a roil of something deep and terrible moving through his emotions. He turned his face away, breathing hard, hand stiff under Obi-Wan’s touch, and… Oh. Oh, perhaps Obi-Wan should not have come into this room, should not have bothered him.

Perhaps, Obi-Wan considered, his men were - were not exactly happy to be reminded of his weakness. His inability to rescue them in a timely fashion, the amount of time it had taken him to - to realize they were even trapped in their minds. All his failures rose up in his head and he jerked his hand away, swallowing hard and blinking away the burning sting in his eyes. “Oh,” he said, quietly, “I’m terribly sorry. I’ll--”

“What?” Cody demanded, his voice low and ragged, he turned, and at least Obi-Wan could see his expression, could see it breaking behind the tight lines of control. “What the kriff are you sorry about?”

“I…” Obi-Wan blinked. He wondered what the right answer was and set the thought aside. Cody wasn’t Anakin. “I failed you, I know, I’ll just--Bones is--” He stood, because he knew he needed to make apologies, but he hurt, so much, inside.

“You didn’t fail anyone,” Cody ground out, and groaned, terribly, when he sat up and reached out, stopping an inch away from grabbing Obi-Wan’s arm, fingers stretched out, almost brushing skin. “You--what are you even talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked at Cody’s extended hand, memories sleeting through his head, lightning fast, there and gone. He swallowed and marshalled himself. “I did. I failed you all for years. I failed Trip and--”

“No,” Cody interrupted, swinging his legs off the bed, alarms chiming to life around them, reporting his movement to whatever medics might be around to hear. Obi-Wan could feel Bones’ tired thoughts, spiking with irritation at his frustrating patients. “You--”

And before he could say anything else the ship shuddered all over. Obi-Wan knew well enough what a ship coming out of hyperspace wrong felt like, and he held his breath, focusing on the distant hum of the engines, coming up through the deck. It continued, for just a moment, and then it stopped, completely.

A moment later the primary lighting in the infirmary failed. The ship lurched, throwing him forward against the bed - he reached out to steady himself with a left hand he didn’t have - and Cody swore, hand suddenly on his arm, holding tight and steady as the ship came to a jerking stop.

“Are you alright?” Cody asked there in the dark, as the emergency lighting came on, tinging everything with red. His emotions had lashed free, briefly, as the ship shook around them, concern and worry and guilt and--

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing, resisting the urge to just lean into the touch. It had been...so long since anyone touched him with care, intentional kindness and concern. A selfish, needy part of him wanted to bask in it, but Cody hadn’t wanted to touch him, had been upset, and Obi-Wan wouldn’t take what he didn’t want to give.

The thought left the taste of vomit in his mouth. He shook his head. “I’ll go find out what’s happening, you stay--”

“Like kriffing hell,” Cody interrupted, and Obi-Wan would have protested further, but he didn’t have the energy for it. He stood, shivering a little - shocky, still, he knew - while Cody leveraged himself off of the mattress. 

And, together, limping, they went to find out what had happened.