#when the smoke clears also takes place in the desert but i need to think more abt how that affects the setting if that makes sense

[ichorblossoms]

ik i do rb scenic desert stuff on occasion but also i wanna throw my own photos on this blog so you guys can understand some of what i'm coming from for The Vibes. or smthin like that

[ayyy-pee]

𝕆𝕌𝕋𝕃𝔸𝕎

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Outlaw!Suguru Geto x Female Reader Genre: Western AU WC: 8.7k Summary:

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?” “Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud. It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him. “What about you?” His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?” You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

Story Warning: Train robbery, hostage situation, lying and scheming, profanity bc bitch it's me??, dub-con, Suguru has a corruption kink, needy downbad Suguru, "virgin" reader, guns, smut, blowjob, riding, fingering, spit, thinking about spitting, i love spit, dirty fantasies, titty sucking probably, using ropes, hair pulling (lmfaooooo), threats of violence, dirty talk, inexperienced reader, spit!, overstimulation, humiliation kink, Suguru is kinda pathetic, actually real pathetic, don't get your hopes up idk

Artist Credit: @/tsumusbeloved (on twitter)

A/N: FINALLYYYYY. This has been sitting in my drafts for like 3 months!!! I hope yall enjoy!!!

Tags: @syubseokie @yasu-1234 @cassayeee @glmpsfs @struxkbylightning @aotdump @oidloid @sunnysdiarythoughts @stillseren @lovebittenbyevans @avaatara @elliesndg @luv-kae @megtheebimbo @buttercupblu143 @toffeebrat @kaqua@moggleatlife @candy-s72 @sukunadckrider @xixflower @apchmon

It’s the shrill screech of the metal meeting metal on the train tracks that Suguru enjoys most about his work. How this massive tank of metal carrying so many people can just fly across the country, providing beautiful views of miles and miles of desert sands and mountains. The wildlife roams free on the frontier without a care in the world. And the train just keeps going, filling the sky with thick curls of black smoke.

Yeah, this train has many people on it.

Which means, this train has plenty of goods that will soon be his.

“Ah, you dropped your hat, boss.” A smooth voice speaks behind Suguru, holding open the train door as one other clambers in. Suguru kindly grabs his hat from the man, placing it atop his head as he watches his partner take the last person’s hand, lifting them inside.

It’s a woman, small and with strawberry blonde hair. She grabs onto the man before her. The disgust is clear on her face as her eyes roam along his body.

“Couldn’t pick another day to wear no shirt, Larue?” She complains, spreading a small cloud of dust as she brushes her clothes off.

Larue shrugs, chuckling lightly while he closes the train door. The rushing roar of the winds finally subsides. “It’s hot as all hell outside, Manami. Why not be shirtless? Besides, it gives everyone something spectacular to gawk at.” He motions towards his chest where his new set of ink lies – two hearts, one where each of his nipples are.

“A drunken bet gone right, if you ask me,” Larue had said the night after. “They’re gonna love these at the whorehouse.”

“If you two’re finished…” Suguru begins. Both Larue and Manami straighten up. “I wanna get in ‘n outta here. No funny business. Larue, take the back of the train. Better for you to be there in case the conductor gets any ideas. Grab what ‘ya can get your hands on – jewels, shoes, money. Don’t matter.” Suguru taps his chin in thought, running through his mental list to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. “Oh! And don’t forget to check the bars for any spoons or forks. Y’know what that silver’s worth. Me ‘n Manami will take the front of the train.”

Larue nods, no further instruction needed and Manami smiles next to him excitedly. She quickly shuffles over to Suguru’s side, looping her arm through his and Suguru rolls his eyes before slipping his arm out of her hold. Manami shoots him a pouty look before she quickly recovers, folding her arms over her chest.

“Alright, Boss. I’m ready.” She says with a hushed tone. Larue gives one more nod before he turns around and heads the opposite way. He slides the door slightly ajar, peering inside and just after he enters and the door has been shut and locked, Suguru and Manami hear the muffled shrieks of the passengers in the car.

“Hands in the fucking air! This is a stick up!”

Suguru peers down at Manami who is already staring up at him with eager eyes. And it takes everything in Suguru to not roll his eyes in response. She really gets on his last nerve.

‘I gotta get rid of her after this one,’ he thinks as he moves past the woman and into the opposite end of the train.

He slips through the door, closing it quietly behind Manami once she’s in. No one bothers to look up when they come in and Suguru counts his lucky stars that this will be easier than he anticipated. They make their way along the aisle, offering soft smiles to the passengers that happen to look up as they pass. Suguru thinks there’s nothing but a bunch of carefree monkeys too relaxed and stupid as all hell on this train. They don’t even know what’s coming and if they know what’s good for them, they won’t bother to fight back when they find out.

He lets Manami do the work of maintaining a mental checklist of every item worth its salt in this train car. This is where he’ll leave Manami to do her part. Then Suguru will take the final car where the stragglers usually reside. Larue is already taking care of everything in the back. When he’s done, he’ll pile up all the goods in an empty car and then make his rounds to grab what Manami and Suguru collect.

When they reach the end of the current car, Suguru turns to Manami who is already reaching into her blouse. She beams, eyes locked on Suguru as she slowly pulls out a pretty little Colt’s revolver. Her lips pull up at the corners, a sly grin on her face. If it’s meant to be alluring to Suguru, it’s not working. In fact it’s having the opposite effect. It’s so annoying, the way her pupils dilate when she looks at him. It’s only been a few months since Manami joined their group, but it’s only getting worse for Suguru. She spends half her time trying to seduce him and failing. And it’s not that Manami is unattractive. She’s a very beautiful woman, but she’s not exactly Suguru’s type.

He’s looking for someone a bit more…inexperienced when it comes to this life of crime. Someone he can mold into his ideal woman, untouched by the roughness that west has to offer. Manami has been doing this for far too long, and already has habits that consistently get under Suguru’s skin. She’d never interest him that way.

The pink haired woman flashes Suguru her gun, pointing her chin towards the last car as a signal for him to go on. Suguru nods, spinning on his heel and heading towards his destination. And just in time too, because he hears the door on the other end of the train car close and he knows Larue has finished and has come to assist Manami.

The train car slides shut behind Suguru right as he hears the passengers scream in the car behind him. It’s louder than the first instance and catches the attention of the passengers in his car who now stare at him with wide eyes, mouths agape like a sea of fish.

Suguru rubs the nape of his neck, frowning. Then, offering a goofy grin, he mutters, “Ah well…” He reaches behind him, wrapping his nimble fingers around the cool, wooden handle tucked into his waistband. He whips out his revolver, the sun glaring off of the fancy gold weapon as Suguru aims it at the passengers who all shriek in terror. The women clutch their jewels. The men hold onto their women. And Suguru? He laughs raucously before he barks out, “Put ‘em up!”

- - - - - -

It’s a little surprising how easily the heist goes, but Suguru tries not to give it too much thought. You start thinking something’s gonna go wrong and it damn sure will. While Manami is guiding passengers into the back cars, Larue has the conductor held hostage, locked away with threats of a bullet to his skull unless he continues driving. He’d only shown his face and quickly hid away in his cabin when Suguru told him to use his fucking brain unless he wanted it splattered across the window.

Now, Suguru finds himself roaming the cabin to see if there are any stragglers. And there is one. A very beautiful woman, at that. There you sit, in the last seat of the train car. He slowly makes his way over to you. Suguru thinks you must be some type of saloon girl. Your pretty little dress and waist neatly cinched in a leather corset is the giveaway. He glances over his shoulder, just to be sure this cabin is empty, only to find that it truly is only himself and you left. He hates having to wrangle the stragglers. That’s Manami and Larue’s job. And Suguru hates it even more when they’re not doing it.

He tightens the grip on his gun, turning to give you an earful until his eyes meet yours. They’re so wide and glistening, like you’re on the verge of tears. Your lips are quivering, your bottom lip protruding in a pout. It reminds him of the look Manami gave him just before the heist started. Except when coming from you, for some reason, it’s bringing out a different reaction. 

His heart rate quickens, and Suguru’s hands suddenly feel clammy and not from the heat in this train car. He can feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and he has to swallow to quell the dryness that’s forming in his throat. Then he’s tucking his weapon away into his holster and moving towards you.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Suguru speaks calmly as he takes the seat in front of you. You peer up at him, with apparent fear in your eyes and he wants nothing more than to see that look disappear. Usually, he’d use force to get you out and rounded up with the rest of the passengers. He’s not sure why, but there’s something about you that makes Suguru want to take care of you. “Why didn’t you leave with the rest of the crowd?” He questions.

You’re fidgeting with the fabric of your dress in your lap, visibly shaken even as Suguru removes his hat and sets it on the seat in front of you before he sits down.

“I–” you clear your throat and bite down on your lip, seemingly to calm your nerves. 

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, ma’am,” he tells you softly, reassuring you. “Just wonderin’.” Suguru takes this time to drink in your features – how soft you look, the way your body so beautifully fills that dress of yours, how you’ve got a face that will be burned into his memory long after this encounter.

And for some reason, it also feels as if it was burned into his memory long before this encounter. There’s a familiarity about you that Suguru can’t quite place. He’s certain he’s seen your face somewhere. He had been through many saloons and brothels in his time traveling the frontier. Perhaps he had run into you in one of the many establishments he frequented? 

No. No, Suguru would remember if he saw a woman who looked like you in any of those places. You would have easily stood out in the crowd. He would have called you up to his room on any of those nights. 

You bite down on your lip as you stare at Suguru. As afraid as you look, you don’t break eye contact. To see you so stricken with fear, and yet you steadily look him in the eye without blinking. You show courage even when faced with danger, and it does something to him. 

The look on your face has him picturing all sorts of things about you and he doesn’t even know your name.

“I was afraid,” you mutter quietly. 

Thankfully so, because Suguru was just about to begin imagining a life outside of crime with you. Which is shocking in and of itself. Three minutes of simply staring at you had him visualizing a future on the prairie hanging laundry on the line while you fed the cattle.

‘Keep it together.’

“Don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurt nobody,” Suguru reassures you again. He tries to calm your nerves with a smile which seems to work because he sees you visibly exhale. You return his gesture with a small smile of your own, and his imagination runs wild once more.

“Promise?” You ask, Suguru’s smile widens. 

‘Cute,’ he thinks. He wants to see more of those. “I promise, sweetheart.”

He can hear the way you huff, something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. And Suguru finds himself becoming more and more infatuated with you as he keeps the conversation going.

“Gettin’ train tickets ain’t easy. Where ya headed?”

“Just a few towns over. Goin’ to visit family,” you explain, now more relaxed with him. Something about the way he was able to soothe your nerves makes Suguru feel proud.

It also is making him clearly insane, because some sick part of Suguru begins to think he could be your family. If you’ll let him.

“What about you?”

His brows shoot up in surprise. Why would you want to know about him? “Me?”

You nod quickly. “I know you’re…” You lean forward and Suguru mirrors the action as shivers race up his spine when you whisper scandalously, “...an outlaw.”

He leans back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully while he purses his lips together. His gaze is locked onto you because he wonders if you’re up to something. If you’re not as sweet and innocent as you look. But when you lean back and flutter your lashes at him, he begins to doubt it. That sweet face of yours is a rare one to see on this side of the wild west; beautiful and unscarred. You don’t look like you’ve been exposed to anything more dangerous than a thunderstorm. And it’s arousing. The air of innocence that you carry has Suguru shifting in his seat, his pants suddenly feeling tighter.

This is exactly what he’s been wanting. Someone opposite of Manami, someone who is interested in his life, but not involved with crime in the least. As far as he can tell, you’re clean as a whistle. And Suguru likes to think he’s good at reading people.

“Never seen a outlaw before?” He drawls. You shake your head, back to messing around nervously with your dress.

“Never,” you answer softly, batting those pretty, long lashes at him. “Only seen ‘em on signs. Wanted…dead, or alive.”

Oh, you really are sheltered.

“Well, now you’ve seen one in person.” Suguru combs his fingers through his dark tresses, grinning like his criminal status is one to be proud of. To him, he supposes it is. “What d’ya think?”

You do that lip biting thing that Suguru is beginning to realize he finds cute. Maybe it’s a nervous tick, but this time it seems it’s to be you holding back a smile. Everything you do is cute to him. Everything you do is sweet, innocent, arousing.

“I…” You lean forward in your seat again, and whether you realize it or not, it gives Suguru a perfect view of the swell of your breasts. It’s a struggle to keep his focus on your face when your skin looks so smooth, and unmarred, perfect. Those plush lips of yours whisper, “...I think it’s exciting.”

He can only think one thought in this moment.

He wants to ruin you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s excitin’ about it?” He asks, though he has an idea what it is. The travel, not being tied down to anyone or anything, the freedom this life provides. It’s what they all say when they try to make small talk. “Pretty girl like you can’t possibly know nothin’ about this life.”

You inhale deeply, leaning back in your seat and Suguru watches closely, the way your chest rises and falls with the breath. “Well, I never seen a outlaw in person. Surely never spoke to one. And…” You purse your lips together, like you’re contemplating if you should say the next thing. But you do anyway. “I just never thought a outlaw could be so pretty.”

His eyes widen, the corners of his lips rising with a goofy grin. “Pretty?” He chuckles, combing his fingers through his hair again. “You really think so?”

He’s been called a lot of things, but pretty is not one of them.

“Yep. Look at ya.” You stand, moving quickly to cross the small gap between you both and take a seat next to him. You reach for his arm, then hesitate, pulling back for a second. You peer up at Suguru, silently asking permission and he nods. Your fingers ghost along his forearm, over his bicep, along his neck where his Adam's apple bobs with a gulp, and then your hand is cupping his cheek. Your trail leaves behind a trail of goosebumps.

And Suguru’s pants grow tighter.

Suguru has had his fair share of women and men alike during his time as a felon. But you’re particularly tempting. He’s not sure he’s ever wanted someone as badly as he wants you right now and it’s been all of ten minutes in this train car together. But any minute now, his crew is going to come through those doors and tell him they’re ready to go. And then Suguru will have to leave and the chances of him seeing you ever again are slim to none. 

But on the bright side, the chances of him seeing you again are slim to none. It’s a little sudden, but you seem like you want him with the way you’re feeling him up right about now. Maybe you'd let him bury his cock as deep as he can go, fuck you until you’re screaming his name, begging and crying on his cock. Then he’ll fill you with his seed, maybe leave a baby in you to remember him by if you’re lucky and then he’ll grab his spoils with Larue and the rest and go. Then he'll never see you again. 

This desert is far and wide. He’d have you today, then never have to face you again for the rest of his life. A woman like you? You'll be just fine. A pretty face and an even prettier smile. Though he thinks you're a bit naive. Have to be to be sitting here chatting with him like he’s some gentleman you met on a leisurely trip to see your relatives. Regardless, there will be some poor fool out there that'll be happy to have you after he's had his way with you.

‘Weren’t you just daydreaming about settling down with this woman?’

“Pretty eyes,” you hum, pulling Suguru from his filthy fantasies. “Nice skin, pretty lips. Just…very pretty.” Your thumb caresses his skin and his eyes can't help but notice the way your gaze is locked to his lips. He pokes his tongue out, watching your eyes widen just slightly at the motion, as he runs the wet muscle along his lips. And he’s right back in his head, thinking of all the ways he could have you.

There’s no mistaking the thick tension filling the room at this moment. Like a lightning bolt hitting the same spot repeatedly. Each stroke of your fingers along his cheek only intensifies the mood. Suguru’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, and yours into one that matches. “Why do I feel like you're trouble?” He says.

Your smile widens, and like a magnet, Suguru finds himself slowly being drawn closer and closer to you. Even as a soft laugh falls from your lips, his mind is wiped clean of all thoughts that don't consist of you.

“Me? That’s funny comin’ from a outlaw like yourself,” you mutter just as you close the distance between you, pressing your lips teasingly to Suguru's. They barely touch, truly a ghost of a touch but Suguru still has to swallow down the moan that damn near bursts from his chest the second your mouth was close enough to his.

You pull away suddenly, covering your lips as you lean away, your eyes wide with worry. “‘m sorry.”

“What are you apologizin’ for?” Suguru asks, scooting closer.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me…I just…” You’re back to fidgeting with your dress again, and Suguru places a large hand over yours to stop the movement. “You’re a criminal, and I’m just me. I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.” You stare up at him with wide eyes, and fuck he wants you.

You look so sweet, so pure looking at him like that. And he feels a little like a piece of shit because while you’re looking at him with probably innocent thoughts floating around in your head, he’s thinking about how he’d love nothing more than to cover your face in his seed.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Suguru lies easily. “Have I done bad things?” He shrugs, because he’s done way too many terrible things to count. Better not to give a real answer to that one. “But I’m enjoyin’ our conversation. The kiss was just a perk. Wouldn’t mind it if it happened again. I’d gladly accept it.”

“But…I don’t even know you…”

‘All the better,’ is what he wants to say, but instead, he tells you, “And that’s fine. Listen–” he squeezes your hand gently. “Best part of bein’ a criminal is that I just do what I want. Don’t gotta ask permission for nothin’.”

Your eyes swim with curiosity. “It’s that easy?”

“Yep. Do what makes ya feel good, sweetheart.”

You still don’t look convinced, and if this next question doesn’t work, Suguru will have no choice but to tie you up and dump you in the other train car with the rest of the hostages. He doesn’t have much time to waste trying to get you just to kiss him.

“Lemme ask ya…did you like kissin’ me?”

He knows he should be worrying about the heist, not some pretty face distracting him from the job. But when you speak again, he tells himself the job can go to hell.

“Yes…but…I got scared. I– I’ve only done some things with a man…” you admit quietly. “And I’m not too good at it.”

Fuck. He has to have you.

“That’s not a problem, sweetheart,” he reassures you, and you beam.

Your hand grasps onto Suguru’s, squeezing tightly. “Really?”

He nods. “I don’t got much time before I gotta leave, but I can show ya some things real quick.”

“You’ll show me? How to do things?” Your voice is eager, so ready. Suguru is finding it hard to contain how much you’re turning him on right now. “Like kissin’ and…y’know other stuff?”

“What kinda stuff?” He asks, because he wants you to say it. Wants to know how far you’re willing to go if you’ve never done a damn thing before. You pinch your lips together, turning your head away shyly. But Suguru gently cups your chin, turning you to look at him again.

“What kinda stuff?” He repeats. “Tell me.”

“Stuff…that makes a man…y’know…”

He grins, tauntingly. “Enlighten me,” he whispers.

“Stuff to make a man…” you worry your lip between your teeth. “...feel good.”

Oh hell. 

What type of good deeds has Suguru done to find himself here? With someone as virtuous as you, who is asking him of all people to show you how to please him? He has half a mind to tell you no. He’s got shit to do and his partners are bound to come looking for him any minute. But his cock is screaming within the confines of his pants to get into those undergarments of yours. And there’s no argument to be had here. 

He’s listening to his dick.

Suguru crashes his lips to yours, swallowing up the yelp that escapes you from the sudden kiss. “I’ll teach ya whatever ya want, pretty girl.” He groans into your mouth. 

He kisses you hard, but slowly, giving you time to catch up. You’re a little slow to pick up, but you get there. Your lips slot against his, fingers slipping into his hair and holding on tight, making Suguru groan into the kiss once more.

“We don’t got a lotta time,” he breathes against you.

You nod, pulling away to look up at him. “What d’ya want?”

You.

He needs you – bent over the passenger seat and holding onto the bar sitting atop it while he fucks you from behind. He needs you sitting on his face, needs your hand around his length. But he’s looking at your face again, so desperate for instruction. Looks at your lips, swollen from the little bit of kissing you’ve been doing. And he knows exactly what he needs in this moment.

“Ever had a cock in your mouth?” He shifts, sitting back against the seat.

You shake your head.

“Ever touched one?”

Another shake of your head.

“What have you done?”

You hum, thinking only for a short time before you answer. “Kissed.”

What fucking luck.

Doesn’t matter what they score off the train today. This is the biggest reward of all.

“Good,” Suguru says, tugging your hand until you stand. With a grin, he guides you to the floor until you’re sitting up on your knees. “There won’t be another man who’s had ya then. I’ll show ya how to please me, make me feel good.” 

You nod, and Suguru can’t believe how easy this was as he fumbles with his belt, quickly undoing the buckle. He yanks his pants down, along with his underwear. Only to his knees. He wants to be able to get up quickly if needed. Suguru’s dick sits against his stomach, fat and long, with a harsh red tip that leaks with precum. He peers down at you, your eyes honed in on his length.

“Touch it,” he whispers encouragingly.

Your eyes meet as you move, your hands wrapping around Suguru tenderly, pulling a hiss from him. You hold his length like it’s a foreign object, and he supposes it is to you since it’s the first time you’ve done. Suguru grits his teeth, bringing a hand up to your fist. You’re simply touching him and his dick is throbbing in your grip.

“Move your hand…up ‘n down,” he tells you. “Like this.” He guides you, helping to move your hand in slow and light pumps until you’ve found a rhythm that works. His head falls back as the pleasure takes over. “Ahhh–shit, just like that, pretty girl.”

“It’s so big…” you sigh, licking your lips as you stroke his cock slowly.

From here, Suguru is certain he has a perfect view of you. Eyes wide and curious while you observe every ridge and vein running along his length. It turns him on beyond measure, his hips jerking upward in your grasp. 

“Damn,” he moans, fucking himself into your hands. For someone with no experience, you hold his dick just right. He never knew a woman’s touch could feel this good, but you’re a natural talent. You stroke him so good, his mouth falls slack as he lets himself enjoy the feeling of your hands around him. But you surprise him, just as you’ve been doing all this time, his eyes snapping open just in time to watch you lick from the base of his length all the way to the tip, teasing the slit with your tongue and lapping up the bead of precum that sits there.

“It’s salty,” you giggle before you kiss down his shaft, bringing your attention to his balls, kissing and licking the two orbs teasingly. Suguru inhales sharply, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the sensation makes his head swim with pleasure. Especially when your hand wraps around Suguru’s length again, pumping him up and down, slowly as you continue to lap at his balls.

“You’re already so good at this,” Suguru pants heavily.

“I am?” 

He can hear the excitement in your voice, so eager to please him. It turns him on knowing that you’re trying so hard to make him feel good. He wonders if you can feel his cock throb in your hands.

“So fucking good,” he praises you, loving the way you hum against him.

“Can I put it in my mouth?” You ask sweetly, squeezing your hands around his cock.

“God, please.”

When you take Suguru into the warmth of your mouth, you hum around him, and the vibrations make him shiver, back arching off of the seat. His palm finds the back of your head, his hips rolling up so he can shove his cock as far as possible without hurting you. He’s gentle at first. You’ve never done this before, after all. He wants to give you the time you need to adjust, though he can’t afford to give you too much. Which seems to be just fine, because just like before, you catch on quickly. You take his cock damn near to the base, and you take it so well, relaxing your throat for him so it’s easy. 

“Could fuck this pretty little mouth all day,” Suguru grunts, pumping into you. “So goddamn good.” The sound of his balls slapping against your chin as he fucks your face has his legs trembling, pleasure shooting straight up his spine. He wants to grab your head and push you down further, make you swallow all of him until he blows his load down your throat, then make you swallow that, too. But he doesn’t want to cum just yet.

He craves more from you. He needs more from you.

You hum again, sending another vibration through him as your fingers come up, caressing his balls. And Suguru squeezes his eyes shut, trying so hard not to cum. “Ah– shit, shit!” He pushes at your shoulders, forcing you off of him with a loud and wet pop. You look rather pleased with yourself, smiling when you see his red cheeks and the way he rapidly tries to catch his breath.

Like he noted before. You’re trouble.

“Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he gasps, staring at your chin dripping with saliva and his juices. Suguru watches through hooded eyes as you swipe it away. He could watch you on your knees all day, taking his cock down your throat time and time again. But unfortunately, time is not on his side today. He needs to hurry it up.

“C’mere, pretty,” he calls for you, taking your hand. You stand, waiting for your next instruction as Suguru leans forward in his seat. His hands find your waist, pulling you close enough that he can press a kiss to your stomach before he leans back again. “Pull up your skirt for me.”

“Okay…” you agree, shakily. You reach for the hem of your skirt, pulling the layers of fabric as high as it’ll go. Suguru always hated these damn dresses. It’s like digging for gold trying to get through every damn piece of clothing. But eventually, you get to the end, revealing your bare thighs to him. Soft, plush, beautiful. But what he’s truly interested in remains concealed by your underwear.

Suguru swallows hard before he drags his finger along your clothed pussy, grinning when your thighs tremble just barely. His gaze glides back up your form until they rest on your face, watching as your mouth falls open with a silent moan. 

Hard to believe you’ve never been touched here. Also, so very arousing to think you’ve never been touched here. He thanks his lucky stars that you’re allowing him to be the first.

He slips his finger into the fabric, his slender fingers quickly finding your slit and sliding along your folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how soaked you are. He briefly brushes a finger against your entrance, pausing when he feels you tense up.

“Might hurt a little,” he warns as softly as he can manage right now. But you whisper, “go ahead”, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as he dips his finger into your pussy, biting back a moan when he feels your soft walls clench down on his hand. It’s tight, as expected but he moves slowly, pulling back every so often to work his way further.

You whimper above him, squeezing his shoulders as your breaths come rapidly while Suguru pumps his finger in and out of your hole. Your bottom lip sits between your teeth, and your brows are knitted together.

You’re enjoying this. 

And he’s enjoying watching you.

Suguru presses his thumb to your clit, slowly circling the sensitive nub. Dark eyes lock with yours as his other hand finds the top of your dress where he hooks his fingers into the cups and pulls it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric and your breath hitches when the air caresses your nipples. Suguru kneads the soft flesh, his thumb swiping across one of the hardened buds. 

“Ahhh, yes,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head falls back with a loud gasp as Suguru slips another finger into you. 

“Bein’ real good for me,” he coos. His dick grows painfully harder as he slowly thrusts his fingers inside of you, while his thumb stimulates your clit. He’s panting trying to hold himself together while he preps you for what he wants next. Your hips move on their own, riding Suguru’s hand, chasing your high. 

“Feel good?” He grunts, fingers slipping into you over and over, curling inside, and hitting your sweet spot and you can’t help but to gasp quietly each time Suguru touches it. 

“Y-yes, feels incredible,” you whine.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on your center where he watches his fingers disappear into your cunt over and over, your slick coating his hand more with each thrust. It only adds to Suguru’s struggle to keep it together as he ignores the pulsing need of his cock. Your pleasured moans and the squelching sound of your dripping pussy fill the space of the train car.

“I’m–” you breathe harshly against him and he feels your walls squeeze down on his digits. You’re close already.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” Suguru’s fingers dip into you faster. His eyes linger on your face as his thumb rubs tight circles on the sensitive bud between your legs. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth hanging open as a delicious moan rushes past your lips, your grip on Suguru’s shoulders tightening so much it stings. But he loves it, loves feeling your pussy squeezing down on his fingers, sucking them deeper as your release crashes over you until he can feel your cum dripping down his fingers and into his palm as he keeps pumping into you.

Suguru sighs as he stares at his fingers, slowly pulling them from you. He licks his lips, admiring his slick covered hand.

He’s never taken the time to just enjoy the moment with anyone. Never cared much to please a woman. It’s easier for him to just get himself off and high tail it out of there. No attachment to these ladies, no reason to stick around. But what is it about you that makes him want to see all the ways your body is capable of falling apart? Because it’s a beautiful sight to behold. 

“Outlaw…” you murmur, slipping your undergarments down your legs until you’re able to kick them off. You push Suguru back by the shoulders, lifting your skirt so that you can easily maneuver into his lap. His hands find your hips beneath your dress as you straddle him, and his thumbs caress the soft skin gently.

“Yeah, beautiful?”

So beautiful. He can’t stop staring at you and your eyes, glazed over with desire. You lean forward, the heat from between your legs making Suguru’s length twitch. It lightly taps your core and you gasp. Your hands clutch onto the bar that runs along the top of the train seat, one on each side of his head. Suguru’s palms glide around to your backside, squeezing the flesh of your ass. You brush your nose against his, soft breaths mingling with his as you whisper, “make love to me, outlaw…” just before your lips touch.

And Suguru’s groaning into your mouth, because this kiss is different. It’s hungry, hot, full of want and need. It’s sloppy and rushed, because you’re both aware of the time crunch you’re in. It’s intoxicating, addicting, the way he never wants to stop kissing you. To hell with the heist.

“Ready for me, pretty girl?” Suguru pants, a hand gripping his cock. He can feel the heat of your pussy radiating off of you and it makes him all the more eager to have you.

Your eyes are wide, filled with something Suguru thinks may be excitement. He’s not sure he sees any hesitation or fear behind your eyes. You want him badly, it’s clear as day. He wants you just as badly, if not more. So he positions himself at your entrance, nudging your hole gently with his tip. 

A small whimper slips past your lips, and Suguru kisses you sweetly. “It’s only gonna hurt for a second,” he coos. “Promise…”

He kisses you again, muttering, “I’m pushin’ in…” against your lips.

You close your eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as Suguru rolls his hips forward, slowly sinking his tip into your pussy, only stopping when you let out a harsh breath.

“‘S a tight fit,” he murmurs through gritted teeth. An understatement. Your pussy is gripping him with so much force, he’s struggling to breathe. You’re holding him hostage within your walls and the feeling has him tightening his hold on your ass. “You alright?”

Because he wants to make sure it feels good for you, too. Your pleasure is his. Which is a whole new feeling for him in and of itself. He’s aware of how the tables have turned. What started as him wanting to show you ways to please him, turned into him desperate to please you. But he likes it that way.

You nod, moaning quietly when Suguru keeps moving forward. “Ohhh…” 

“God, this pussy is so fuckin’ –” he can’t even finish his sentence. He needs to focus all his attention on not cumming already.

You take him all the way to the base, moaning loudly when you fully sink onto him. Your grip tightens around the bar, steadying yourself as Suguru lifts you by your ass before pulling you back down on him, so slowly. “Fuuuck–” he groans. He thrusts into you at a leisurely pace, slow and controlled, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

But his kisses…they’re rough. Such a contrast to the way he’s fucking you right now. The pleasure is overwhelming to Suguru, and when your tongue slips into his mouth, it’s him that’s whimpering now, thrusting just a little faster, a little harder.

“Damn, you take my cock so good, pretty girl–” he growls into your mouth. “Love the way you ride me.” He smacks your ass hard, eyes falling to your breast, bouncing up and down with the rhythm of his thrusts. He takes one into his mouth, greedily lapping at your nipple, nipping and sucking and loving the way your cries get louder.

“Oh my god, fuck!”

“Ride my cock, pretty. You already do it so good. Wanna see you ride me.” Suguru groans. He releases his hold on you, hands coming up to play with your breasts while you bounce wildly on his dick. He lifts your dress, relishing the view of his length, glistening with your slick, vanishes into your tight cunt over and over. “Shiiiitttt…”

You slip a hand into his tresses, pulling hard and forcing him away from your nipples. You pull so hard Suguru has to close his eyes because the sensation sends goosebumps igniting across his body. That, combined with the way you keep taking him to the tip before slamming down on his cock repeatedly. Fuck, you’re a quick learner.

Your pussy is what it feels like every single time he pulls off a heist successfully. Like fucking heaven. And he never wants to leave it.

His eyes flutter open, just enough to see your breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of your hips. Your velvety walls hug him tight, so fucking good, Suguru thinks he'd like to be able to have you all the time. Hell, he has half a mind to take you with him once they’re off this damned train. Being able to have you like this any time he wants, watch your body come undone under him, on top of him, in any position you’ll let him have you. He’d even give up this outlaw life if you wanted him to. Settle down, start a family if that’s what you wanted. The thought of it makes Suguru more excited than he’ll ever admit.

Each time your pussy sucks him back in, begging for him to cum, he can suddenly picture a life outside of this. Each time those sexy little noises fall from your sweet lips, he can suddenly envision raising a family with you, building himself a life where he's able to hear those sounds any time he desires. 

He lets his mind drift to these fantasies while he can, enjoying the feeling of you and the sounds you gift him with. 

There's a fire pooling in his belly, growing hotter each time his balls meet your ass. He's gonna blow his load here any second. And he can't wait. He wants to cum inside your walls, wants to thrust himself so deep into you that there's no way you're not carrying his child when he's done. Least you'll have something to remember him by if you tell him you don’t want shit to do with him after this. A sweet woman like you with a wanted felon? Of course you’d prefer to get your rocks off while you can and move on. Which is fine.

Because Suguru is gonna remember you, anyway. He’ll remember the way you squeeze around him, the way you moan the little nickname you’ve given him, the way your cunt feels fucking unlike any other woman’s. You’ve got him mesmerized. 

So much so, that he doesn't even notice the cool press of steel against the center of his forehead. 

“Ohhh,” you moan, whimpering, “Please…please…will you put a baby inside me, outlaw?” 

It’s like you read his mind, and Suguru’s eyes snap open, balls tightening as his release threatens to come at any moment. But then his eyes see the stiffness in your arm, see the glimmer of metal as the sunlight reflects off it through the windows, and he finally realizes you've got his gun to his head, and maybe that’s actually why his balls are tightening. You’ve got this wicked grin on your flushed face as you keep riding him. Hard, fast, walls squeezing him in a vice grip. And he can't do shit but let his eyes roll to the back of his head, let his pleasure race straight down his spine and into his balls as his release shoots from his cock before he has a chance to get ahold of himself.

But you don’t let him get a drop inside, lifting yourself smoothly off his lap just as fat, hot streams of cum land messily in his lap and on his stomach. Suguru’s gasping for air, still struggling to figure out what the fuck is going on. And you don’t give him a second to catch his breath, to let his mind catch up before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock again, squeezing and stroking his length until he’s so overstimulated his jaw is cramping up from how hard he’s gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

“What the fuck are you ahhh–” you run your thumb over his leaking tip, your eyes alight with joy when his hips buck up automatically, legs trembling as you keep pumping him, though his balls are beyond empty. 

You tsk, shaking your head as you press the barrel of the gun harder against his skin. “Where’s that sweet outlaw from before?” You drawl.

Your voice has changed. No longer soft spoken, shy and sweet. The hardness of your tone tells Suguru all he needs to know. The memories come flooding back. And now he realizes why you looked so familiar when he first laid eyes on you. 

Your face has been plastered on wanted posters in damn near every town he and his partners have stopped in. Murder, robbery, drunkenness, prison escape, cheating at cards. All the crimes that should have you in the town square hanging, you’re wanted for. Somehow, you’ve managed to never get caught.

How could he have let his guard down? How could he have fucked up this badly?

‘Thinking with your dick. That’s how.’

“Guess it takes an outlaw to know one,” He grits out, nostrils flared with fury. He can only hope his crew comes through those doors soon, though it’ll be fucking humiliating to be caught in this position.

A giggle spills from your lips and the sound makes Suguru sick to his stomach. You don’t even sound like the same person from before. “Y’all are pretty easy to spot. ‘Specially when all y’all think with your cocks–” You echo his thoughts, emphasizing the word by squeezing Suguru’s slowly softening length in your hand. You frown, releasing your hold on him. “Huh, thought you’d be able to gimme another one.”

He inhales deeply, shakily, narrowing his eyes at the woman – the stranger – that stands before him. “Everything you said was a lie, then.”

It’s not a question. He knows. Because you’re just like him. Maybe even worse.

Laughter bursts from deep within, like what he said was the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “It really is easy to fool y’all men. Just gotta make our pussies feel reallllll tight and wet and y’all don’t question nothin’.”

You climb off of the seat, taking the gun off his head while you fix your undergarments, unbothered and careless. And Suguru decides to act fast, takes this moment to lunge for you. But he doesn’t make it far, because his head is yanked back roughly the moment he jumps forward. His scalp burns, and he reaches back, feeling a thick knot tied around the metal bar that sits atop the train seats. The same metal bar you were just holding onto moments ago.

“You fuckin’ tied my hair to the seat?!” He growls.

And you chuckle, shifting your dress around until you’re decent again. The gun is pointed back at Suguru’s face, and he puts his hands back down, not daring to try and free himself when you’ve got a revolver ready to blow his brains out.

“And your hands are next,” you promise in a sing-song voice. You keep your word, spinning around briefly to reach between the wall and your original seat, where you’d apparently hidden a small rope. You make quick work of tying Suguru’s hands behind his back, leaning a little too close to him as you finish the knot. 

He can feel your breaths against his neck, and right now, if he’s being honest with himself – which he may as well be since he could very well be dead soon – it’s confusing him. Because he feels like he fucking hates you, is repulsed by you, could spit in your face right now. Oh, he really fucking wants to. But something tells him you’d like that anyway. And the thought of your face, depraved and covered in his saliva is making his still exposed length hard again. Even when you tug harshly on the rope for good measure, chuckling low in Suguru’s ear when you hear him hiss in pain, his cock stiffens further.

And of course you notice, your eyes glancing down to his lap, where the sticky mess you left him with lies. “Sure you don’t wanna go again?” You tease, laughing when Suguru scowls. 

You like him upset, and probably a little pathetic, because you press your lips to his pout, kissing him hungrily. And apparently, Suguru is as pathetic as he looks, because – and it’s a surprise to him, too – he kisses you back! Your tongues tangle during this brief meeting of your lips, fighting for dominance, though it’s apparent who’s the one in control here. 

The filthy moans between you are interrupted when Suguru feels that damned gun under his chin now, applying enough pressure to push him back. Only a line of your mixed saliva connects you two as you stare down at him in amusement.

“Like I said…” you peer down quickly at Suguru’s lap before whispering. “Aaaalways thinkin’ with your cock.” You step back, pointing the gun at him once again.

“What do ya want?” He asks, pulling at his restraints to no avail. He’d love nothing more than to wipe that cocky smile off your face and flip the tables on you, but it’s not looking good for him.

“What I want…” You wiggle the gun in his face, tauntingly. “...is already mine, outlaw.” There’s humor in your tone, and your body language is relaxed. You couldn’t see Suguru as less of a threat if you tried.

You piss him off.

And make him so fucking hard.

He’s confused!

The noise of the doors to the train cabin opening can be heard and Suguru grins. You’re fucked now. Larue is going to put a bullet between your eyes and sure, Suguru’ll be sad about it. But better you than him. You were a great fuck, he’ll admit. And yes, he entertained the idea of giving you a kid or two, maybe getting a little cabin out in the prairie. But that fantasy’s as dead as you’re about to be. Sad that he won’t be–

“The guy with the nipples and the girl have been taken care of, boss!” A chipper voice sings. 

That…is not Larue.

Suguru couldn’t turn his head if he tried, courtesy of this goddamn knot, but he can see the smirk on your face as you nod. “Great work, Hime. And the goods?”

“Already on the move with the others. Just gotta get on the horses when you’re ready.”

You turn your head, staring out the window and nodding again. Out of his peripheral, Suguru can just barely make out the form of two horses, racing alongside the train and he knows he’s screwed.

You sigh, shrugging while feigning sadness as you pout. “Well, outlaw…looks like this is the end of the line.”

Suguru tugs at his ropes again, struggling against the holds. “You gonna leave me here like this?” He gestures with his chin at his…situation. You must be forgetting his entire dick is out for the world to see. And that you’ve tied his hands up. Not to mention his fucking hair! If he has to cut his hair because of this…

You hum, like you’re actually giving deep thought to his question. You’re not.

“Yeah, actually. Think I am.” You lift your dress, not even pretending to be as innocent as you presented yourself to be when Suguru first laid eyes on you. You tuck his gun into the waistband of your undergarments, patting it affectionately. “Thanks for a grand ol’ time, outlaw. If you manage to survive this, we can do it again.”

You shoot him a wink before you lean over him, leaving him with one final kiss on the lips. It’s gentle this time, soft, save for a light nip to his bottom lip that embarrassingly enough, manages to arouse Suguru yet again. 

“At least tell me your name,” Suguru grits out through heavy breaths. “So I can be sure to repay the favor.”

It’s a threat, but you don’t take it as one. You simply smile. It’s warm, almost reminiscent of the woman he met just earlier. The woman he thought you were. But that look is gone as soon as it appeared. You pat his face gently, reaching across the seat to grab his hat that he had set aside when he’d first sat down. You sit it atop your head, wearing it like some sort of crown, and without another word, you leave.

The train cars open, the roaring rush of the wind filling the space for just a moment before they’re shut again, and Suguru is left with nothing but his thoughts and his dick literally out. He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes to calm his racing heart and honestly to stifle the pain of his untouched erection.

This has been the wildest ride of his life. Definitely the worst heist he’s ever done. And if he does survive this, does manage to somehow talk his way out of charges and prison time, he’s going to find you. Fuck the robberies. Fuck the brothels. Fuck gambling and drinking all day. Yeah, if he manages to survive this, he will make it his life’s mission to find you again.

Because even after all is said and done, Suguru thinks he might fucking love you.

[cherokeegal1975]

Free Audiobook on Youtube with a private feedback comment included.

I know this is a repost, but bear with me. There is a reason for it. I'm making sure you know what this comment is about. These next paragraphs between the quotes are not my words. They were written to me in a kind of letter attached to the first chapter of my book. Noonibean was doing me a solid just because she wanted to. She quit after the fifth chapter. Still grateful years later anyway.

This is purely a copy paste, I changed nothing:

"Please forgive me; I started off using Microsoft track changes, but it was taking me FOREVER and I was also afraid all the notes and splices might confuse you. So I went ahead and just gave everything a facelift and kept it in black. Next time, I will write my changes in a different color.

Okay, so first of all, I really think you have something great here, and I’m not just blowing smoke. I love the world you have built, and I am already very intrigued by the storyline. You captured Johnny’s relationship with Little Girl beautifully, and the same goes for Goldie. You can tell they all care about each other deeply. Is it weird that Johnny kind of reminds me of Aladdin? Lol, I think it’s the desert vibe and the growing up with thieves thing.

I love that you started the story with a strong action hook, but since you backtrack from there, I’m wondering if you can find a clear and concise way to transition into the past. Even if it’s a sentence or two about his mind going back into the past as he runs. (He doesn’t actually reach the rocks/resting place in this chapter, right? I just assumed he was running this whole time.)

You paint the pictures and scenes wonderfully, and I can imagine all of it as I read – just be careful not to add too much where explanation isn’t necessary. I noticed you have a tendency to over-explain certain things about the characters or the situation. We don’t always need to know the “why.” Try to keep it clean and concise so as not to slow down the narrative. This first chapter is extremely tough too, because it is practically all narrative and there is very little dialogue. Just because you know certain things about the characters doesn’t mean your audience needs to know them. Let them figure a few things out for themselves. Remember to give your readers the credit they deserve. They are smarter than you think, and not everything has to be explained to them, especially when you “show” rather than “tell.” All the rest is just fluff. For example, because you’re a good writer, I already assumed LG could see well in the dark, and I knew how much Johnny cared about her.

Basically, I went in and corrected some grammar, and trimmed the “fat” to make everything read tighter without affecting the real meat of the story. For example, instead of three paragraphs about Johnny’s sand ship, we really only need one-and-a-half. The narrative I cut out can easily be peppered in throughout the rest of the book if absolutely necessary, so let me know if there was something I took out that was crucial. I don’t think I did, though.

Regarding the action scenes, remember that tight, short sentences convey the sense of urgency best. Longer sentences slow the action down, so I shortened the cliff jumping scene as well as the fight scene. Another thing I did was re-arrange sentences to make them flow more naturally, and remove “filler” adjectives along with invisible words like “that” and “of.”

I tried to deepen Johnny’s point of view. For example, since we are in his POV, you wouldn’t need to say: “He knew there was a way to drive down from up there.” You would simply put: “There was a way to drive down from up there.” Since we are in his mind, he already knows it. Know what I mean?

Lastly, words like “was” and “to be” tend to make a story read more passively, so I like to use them sparingly. If I can think of a different way to word the sentence without using those passive words, I will do that instead. Example of a passive sentence (which we don’t want): “He was tired and hungry.” Same thing, but active instead: “Wariness overcame him, and his stomach growled with hunger pangs.”

Also, is it Prince Richard or King Richard? I was hella confused, lol. It’s king in the beginning, and then Prince after that. I would choose one and stick with it or explain why he is now being called Prince.

I really hope some of this made sense. I tend to ramble. Let me know what you think about the edits I made. I am really looking forward to reading more!"

This is a comment from a lovely lady that goes by Noonibean on DeviantART. I am respecting her privacy by not posting her real name. I did follow her advice in my manuscript and on my posts for this book on DeviantART (I'm CherokeeGal1975 there too), but the fixes do not appear in the actual novel because I'm doing a hands off policy until I can get some more help from a professional editor. But I thought I'd share this since she did have some very positive things to say about my book.

I can't fix the audiobook, that will have to come much later. I think I'd rather hire someone to be my reader once I have all the work done I need to do. Not sure when that will be, but I set it as a life goal...or to put it another way, it's on my bucket list.

I'd love to read what you think as well.

P.S. - Noonibean did the cover art for my Kindle version of Unexpected Cargo. I would've used it for my paperback version of it, but for some reason Amazon wouldn't let me. So I just keep that cover art as a treasured file.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

you should seriously take a break before you fix your mower, ik it sounds very cliche but if you really need a more 'logical reason' then think about how sloppy youd be at fixxing it! all tired and hazy.

i dont want to seem naggy, just wanted to look after ya (i hope that made sense!)

Oh, I think you have a point. It isn’t like I don’t have a ton of other things to do.

TBH, I don’t have a lot of zip today. I go some VERY bad news about my mother, which meant I also couldn’t even talk to her. That knocked me for a loop. Then I found a limb had fallen and crushed our blueberry bush, then I reinjured my bad eye on a blueberry branch trying to clear that up so the whole world is out of focus again, I found out that something had settled under the ramp to the house so part of it is floating in the air until I wedge something under it….And so on. You don’t need the full list of whining.

In a way it’s a typical day for me, but dang I feel exhausted.

The lawn will do, and isn’t like any amount of mowing would make the yard meet my neighbors aesthetic standards anyway. Or the house, the vehicles, my personal appearance, for that matter. Between the run down nature of my life and my out of step with the community tastes**, there isn’t any point in stressing too much.

Don’t worry, you didn’t come across as nagging. It’s kinda nice to have someone care.

**Seriously, my neighbors want to cut down ALL the trees! And since this isn’t a desert but a place that would grown into a woods if left alone, there is no reasonable advantage to except if you share their paranoid fear of trees falling and loathing of leaves. At this rate I’m going to have the only yard that doesn’t look like astroturf!

Let me point out there are a LOT of reasons I like trees. The trees make the house cooler in our crazy hot summers and warmer in the winter. They protect me from sunburn when I’m in the yard. They protect plants from drying out in the droughts we have been having. Trees mean animals to watch, nuts to eat (pecans grow wild), something to tie ropes to if you need something solid when rigging up a line working on the roof (actual thing I’ve had to do), they are fun to climb…and the are just plain pretty to look at.

I know we get hurricanes and other storms that can and do uproot trees, and limbs fall. But honestly? Most of the time they don’t hit anyone or anything important. And if you look at the type and placement of lots of the ones they want to cut down, they could NEVER damage their house anyway!

There are a LOT more things in this world to worry about that don’t seem to bother them at all. Easier to fret about trees that the fact they drive while Googling on their phone or chain smoking or deep frying their Thanksgiving turkey in the garage. Trees are just there, minding their own business, which means they are nice little external threat that can get rid of without any angst.

Sorry for the rant! LOL

[bvckybanres]

going under - billy x reader

Part: 4/? (part one here, two here, three here)

Warnings: cursing, implied violence, implied DV

Billy doesn’t see her for a while after that night. 

iv.

Billy doesn’t see her for a while after that night. 

He doesn’t give much thought to it at first, thinking maybe she’s left with Travis when he sees the car drive away a couple mornings later and not come back. 

But then he sees a light turn on somewhere deeper in the house when he’s getting ready for a party, and knows y/n is still home.

He expects he’ll see her out on the porch soon with another book, but finds himself oddly disappointed when he comes home the next day to an eerily still house. 

At one point he thinks about asking Max to go over there and knock on the door. But the questions and suspicion he’s bound to get in response stop him at the last minute. 

He’s gone to Skull Rock a couple of times, thinking he might find her there, but each time the place had been deserted and a little more depressing than the last so he’s stopped going there as well. 

He mostly spends about ten minutes sitting in his car every time he comes home, smoking a cigarette and watching for any sort of movement inside the house across the street. 

But it isn’t until almost two weeks later when he finally runs into her again. 

Billy is once again at Skull Rock, an unlit cigarette between his lips as he flicks a lighter on and off. He’s just had another fucking fight with Neil until Maxine forced him out the door before anything more than a few insults and pointed comments could have been exchanged. It hadn’t been a quiet affair, and Billy knew the neighbours had heard as he’d slammed the door of his camaro and skid out of his driveway. 

He just hadn’t thought anyone would follow him, let alone y/n. 

So when she stumbles out through the brush once again, he’s admittedly surprised to see her. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, throwing the cigarette down and getting to his feet. 

“Thought you might like something to drink,” she tells him and Billy notes the way her words are a little slurred and the bottle of vodka she has dangling between her fingers. It was also the moment he noticed the bandage wrapped around her left wrist. 

“What happened?” he asks bluntly, taking a few long and slightly aggressive steps forward but stopping when he sees her stiffen. 

“Nothing. I fell,” she says, lifting her wrist and looking at it with distaste before she drops it and moves past him and further into the clearing. 

“You fell,” Billy repeats skeptically. 

“Yes.” 

“It doesn’t look like something that happens after a fall,” he insists, following close behind her. 

“I fall a lot,” she tells him, lips fumbling on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. 

Billy wasn’t going to push it. If she didn’t want to tell him what really happened, it was none of his business. 

He was going to accept the vodka though. It would help him get rid of the bad taste a fight with Neil always left, and he was sure it would help with the jitteriness that had settled in his bones at the sight of a bandage around y/n’s wrist. 

He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much, but it did and all Billy wants to do is pretend it doesn’t. 

Without asking he grabs the bottle, his fingers brushing hers in the process. He ignores how warm they feel and the lingering heat they leave behind as he prises the bottle from her grasp and takes a long hefty swig, welcoming the burn down his throat. 

It was just what he needed right now. 

“Did you walk here again today?” he asks her, holding the bottle out for her. 

Y/n hesitates then nods. 

Billy grunts but doesn’t say what he wants to. Pretends that the idea of her walking in the setting sun while tipsy on the verge of drunk doesn’t make him a little bit worried and a lot angry. She was not his girl. He has no right to feel any type of way about her other than indifference.

But she’d brought him soup that one time and he’d started finding sandwiches on the hood of his car after each fight he’d had with Neil and that had changed something between them. Billy just didn’t know what. 

He hands her the bottle and watches as her throat convulses as she swallows a sip too big. Her face scrunches up and Billy is sure she’s going to cough and whine that the burn was too much. But all she does is wipe her lips with the back of her hand and smile. Billy’s about to reach out for the bottle again when she brings it back to her lips and takes another sip, and then another and another. 

“Woah, slow down,” he takes the bottle away from her and holds it to his chest. “Leave some for the rest of us.” 

But his words don’t match the concern in his voice. 

This y/n was a whole different person. If Billy wasn’t here right now, wasn’t watching the way her eyes started to glaze over after each sip, he wouldn’t have believed this was the same girl who’d sit on the porch reading, running to hide inside as soon as anyone else came outside. He'd never have believed this was the same girl he’d shared a quiet meal with. 

“Too bad, so sad,” she hums, giggling at her own rhyme. 

Billy continues to frown at her, capping the alcohol and placing it out of her reach. He was going to have to drive her home he realises, and he isn’t willing to do it intoxicated, and y/n had clearly already had too much. 

“C’mon,” he stands up and brushes the dirt off his pants before holding a hand out for her. 

She takes it without any hesitation and stumbles into him until she’s steady. Billy ignores the way her body moulds around his for that microsecond and grabs the bottle of vodka. 

She follows close behind him, stumbling every few steps until Billy instructs her to scrunch her fist into the back of his shirt until they get to his car. 

It doesn’t take them very long and Billy is grateful. His head is starting to thump with a migraine and all he wants to do it ditch y/n at home, take her bottle of vodka and drown all his thoughts and feelings in alcohol for the rest of the night in the back of his camaro. 

The drive home is uneventful and blissfully quiet. He thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep and is both relieved and annoyed at the fact. He’s going to have to wake her when they arrive, and if she doesn’t wake up, he’ll have to carry her and dump her on her front porch. He shivers at the idea of having her that close and unguarded in his arms. He slows the camaro down as they turn onto their street and kills the engine once he’s parked in front between their houses, eyeing y/n’s porch and the lack of a car in the driveway. 

Billy can’t remember the last time someone had been so vulnerable around him. He thinks it was back when his mum was around and hates how that makes him feel. Hates that he’d never been able to do anything for her then, so what makes him think he can do anything for y/n.

“You have pretty eyes,” she says suddenly, jolting Billy out of the darkness clouding his thoughts with her slurred words. 

“What?” he turns to look at her. He thought she was asleep.

“You have pretty eyes,” she repeats, words less slurred this time, as she frowns in concentration to enunciate each word correctly. “Can I call you that? Pretty Eyes. Cause they’re soooo pretty. But also sad. Maybe I can call you Sad Eyes, instead,” her words come clearer this time as she rambles and Billy can’t help but realise this was the most he’s ever heard her speak.

“What?” he repeats, but she doesn’t hear him, and if she does, she ignores him. 

“It’s not fair,” she reaches over with her eyes soft and left hand raised, the fingers poking out of a badly wrapped bandage. They're soft and warm when they reach his cheekbone and she strokes a blazing track to the corner of his eye. “Eyes this pretty shouldn’t be this sad.”

And then she’s out of his car before he’s even realised it, feeling his heart pound in his chest as his face continues to burn where her fingers had just been.

-

Let me know what you think!

Tags: @extra-3motions @what-the-heckin-heck @stuttermaple @gloryekaterina @killuarue @orangechickenpillow @leilaniovo @whiskeypowder @cutesy-creep @variety-fangirl @starryeyedkoko @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @syd0428 @cheyennerosec  @lem0ns77 @builtlikeabagofchipz @angelbbygrl @piebook67 @jewelrybean25​  @doyouhearthedestielsing​ @the-jess-life

[sunstonez]

What should I look for while viewing an apartment?

Moving out on your own is a huge challenge, especially if it's your first time and you don't know what to look for. Most people know to ask potential landlords about pets, damage deposits, rent, and lease lengths- but what about the actual apartment itself? This post is designed to help people navigate apartment viewings, make informed decisions, and recognize red flags.

Apartment viewing checklist:

Always try to go to apartment viewings in person. While a virtual tour may sound appealing (especially with our current global circumstances), landlords use this to their advantage to screw you over. Often the apartment shown in an add is (at best) a model suite, or (at worst) it's a completely different place all together. Landlords are lazy, they do not need to have an accurate or well made add to rent the place out.

What is the heating system based on? Is it electric, or oil? Is the heating bill included in the rent? Oil and hot water heat can be extremely expensive compared to basic electric, and oil is particularly pricey. Not to mention you would have to set up deliveries for your oil tank to be re-filled. Don't be afraid to ask your potential landlord if heating is included in the rent, or what the average heating bill could look like.

Is water included in your rent? How about hot water? These can be separate at times, depending on the building (apartment buildings usually include water, where as houses may not) and the heating set up. If heating is included in the rent, usually hot water is included in the rent as well-but be sure to ask!

Check all the outlets with a phone charger, specifically both sockets. Sometimes they will work and sometimes they won't, it's a crapshoot. Flip the light switches, and notice what lights they connect to. Do you have a circuit box in the unit, or is it controlled elsewhere?

Laundry, when and where do you take it? Is there a machine accessible to you in your unit, your building, another building, or will you need to go to a laundromat? If the machine is in the apartment, do you need to pay to power it? If you have access to a machine in general, is the machine free, coin operated, or do you use a refillable card? If it's a card, how and where do you fill it? Is a bill exchange station or machine available if it's a coin operated laundry machine, or will you need to go to the bank to get change?

Can you open the windows in the apartment? Do they have mold/rot in the creases? Do they lock? If they don't open, is it just painted shut, or is it something suspicious (ie. The window is nailed shut for some reason)? Can you feel a draft anywhere? If you're paying for heating, you do not want to be forking over an extra $200 in the winter as your heat escapes a poorly insulated apartment.

What do the cabinets under the bathroom and kitchen sink look like? Usually there's some water damage, but it can also be completely rotten. Check if the cabinet doors and drawers close properly, or if the handles are broken or wiggly. Always inspect the counter top, and make sure it's not floor tiling (Yes this happens, and it's really bad for cooking and cleaning).

Do the closet doors close properly and easily? Don't be afraid to poke around and look inside them either. Inspect the clothing rod to make sure it's properly drilled into the wall, and that it wont collapse if you put a heavy coat to hang. If the room doesn't have a closet, do the floors dip? You can always buy a clothing rack, but it needs to be able to stand up on a solid platform.

Speaking of floors, are there any soft spots in the floor? Linoleum and carpet will always be a bit softer than hardwood or tile, but heavy dips or soft spots means there's structural damage, and you don't want to get stuck in a 1-3 year lease for a place that's rotting from the inside.

How is the water pressure in each room with water access? Does your bathroom have an outlet? What does the tub and tiling look like? Is the caulking in good shape, or regularly replaced? Is there a window, or fan for proper ventilation? Bathrooms are a hot spot for mould and mildew. This is also a good place to check for soft spots.

Ceiling, is it water damaged? Why is it damaged, if so? This is not always bad, shit happens in an apartment building and leaks are not an immediate red flag-but it can be if you notice multiple poorly covered spots and your potential landlord avoids providing an explanation when prompted.

Is there a smoke detector? Is it battery powered, or is it wired in to the electrical? Are there any fire extinguishers available in case of an emergency?

Doors doors doors. Make sure all of them close, and that they do not get stuck on the floor. Drag marks are a big tell. Can you properly lock your front and or back doors?

If there's a deck, porch, or even a front step or something- is it rotted? Does it look like some kind of insect could be living in there? Wasps are particularly bad for living in these spaces, especially if the garbage is kept close by.

Can you hear your neighbours, if you have any? Checking this can be hard, as landlords usually give notice to tenants when viewing a unit in a large building, but it's worth listening to see what you can find.

Garbage and recycling is more important than you think. How, and where do you take it? How often? Some landlords will control your garbage disposal with an iron fist, and limit your amount to 1 bag every 2 weeks or something similar. It can make being clean extremely hard, especially if you are mentally ill or disabled. If your landlord does not handle the garbage, check your city's regulations on garbage and recycling. Some areas won't care what bags you use, but some will only collect clear or black bags- and you don't want to blow $10 on garbage bags you can't use. These regulations can change depending on your neighbourhood, not just your city.

If you can, take a walk around the neighbourhood. See what the area is like, and what is accessible to you. Are there bus routes near by? A grocery store? Even a corner store? Being in a food desert is sometimes unavoidable due to financial constraints, but it's always worth exploring to see what is available to you.

How does your potential landlord react to your examination of the apartment? How about when you ask questions pertaining to water and heating bills, or any cosmetic repairs? Try and analyze their body language if you can. If they make any snide comments, or get defensive while you look around, that is a huge red flag. Be careful.

This advice is not always applicable, or possible to adhere to when you are poor, or you're in a time sensitive situation. Beggers can't be choosers. However you shouldn't jump into a new lease without understanding what you're signing up for.

Being unaware of your apartment's issues can screw you over in the long run, financially and emotionally; especially if you're stuck in a multi-year lease with a dismissive or abusive landlord.

Be informed, be prepared, and do not let yourself be unknowingly exploited.

[book-of-baba-fett]

Illicit Affairs - Chapter 7

After being captured, Talia's situation grows worse as she's handed off to a greater foe. Rex struggles with the confines of his own inability to act, ready to jump at the first chance to find Talia.

Captain Rex x OC (Talia Riva)

Chapter Rating: M (series overall is E)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, torture by electrocution (not too graphic, I stuck with the canon examples of people being mostly fine afterwards),

A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this one! Also, this is a bit of a longer one again so I would recommend checking out the AO3 link just because I feel like that scrolls a lot better than tumblr, plus it keeps all my formatting. Once again thanks to the incomparable @galacticgraffiti for being an amazing Beta reader; i think I look forward to your reactions the most out of anything in this process. Additional notes at end. (Psst, if you started following me from Can’t Let You Go- you should check this out)

Ao3 Link

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

20 BBY - Unknown

Sweat dripped down Talia’s back as she marched through the dusty paths of the village; children scurried past her, running, and playing as they flitted through clone troopers carrying supplies. She smiled at their giggling and envied them for their ability to see excitement in what was a stressful situation for the elders of their tribe. She and the 412th had been there for two days, called in for a relief mission after wildfires had devoured much of the planet’s surface. The village of relocated survivors was surrounded by scorched terrain, the air still dense with smoke. The fires had moved in a different direction, but with a change of the wind they could make their way for the village again. Even if it wasn’t this round, next year when the dry season would come back, chances were the fires would plague the ecosystem again. The Republic had originally sent the troops to deliver food, water, and medical aid to the people, but after arriving, Talia conferred with The Council who agreed that this planet was no longer habitable for sentients; a few more well-off systems in the Republic were able to shelter the people and what was a supply mission changed to an evacuation.

Exhaustion ached in Talia’s bones as she coughed into her robes, the smoke-filled air not helping her tiredness. It wasn’t exertion weakening her, she was just overseeing and offering advice to the people, but it was her conversations with the tribe elders that dragged on her mind; it wasn’t easy convincing people to abandon the only home they had ever known. She leaned back against a wall, taking a much-needed sip from her canteen when the familiar rumble of GAR gunships rumbled overhead and her comm went off.

“The dropships have just arrived to the clearing, General,” her ranking clone officer, Captain Storm, announced over the comm.

“Thanks, Captain. Start loading the refugees who are already there, I’ll gather any stragglers in the village.”

Besides a few more stubborn residents that she cleared out, the village was deserted; empty homes and buildings, echoes of the people who had lived there up until now. Talia was used to seeing ruin from war, she was numb to it, but situations like this, where there was no cause, just the harsh will of nature was a cruel awakening; no forces of good or evil did this to these people, the universe was just unkind.

The path to the clearing was a dusty, rocky cavern; a mixture of orange dirt and soot caked the plastoid of the clone’s armor as they waved the villagers along, sentries placed along the path to offer aid. Talia squeezed her way past the villagers to the entrance of the clearing. One dropship had already taken off, Captain Storm going with them to situate the refugees on the light-cruiser orbiting the planet before he would return to aid in the evacuation again.

The birds of the planet had been long silent in the wake of the fires, having long escaped to higher surfaces, but their eerie silence felt louder than it had been moments before. The hot, dry air of the planet felt colder, as if it had been shrouded in darkness, but the sun still shined brightly overhead. Her hair on end, Talia tried to calm herself, unsure of what she was feeling, when she saw two figures on the other end of the cavern.

A fist clenched around Talia’s lung as she saw the two Zabrak males she had only seen in briefings before. One large and hulking, with yellow skin painted with black tattoos. The other was smaller in frame, but no less menacing. His tattoos were a similar black pattern, but his skin crimson red. Maul snarled and activated a red bladed lightsaber, Savage Opress following in turn and wielding his double-bladed saber shortly after.

“Fit as many refugees on the dropships as you possibly can, get them all out of here now,” Talia barked at the clone beside her, igniting her own double-bladed saber. Maul and Savage sprinted down the canyon, carving through the first few sentries stationed before they could react. The clones on the higher ground of the cavern opened fire, but no shots hit their targets. Savage leapt up, cutting down more clones where they stood on the ledge as Maul’s eyes caught Talia sprinting towards him.

Their blades clashed, the harsh crackling filling the air as cyan met red. Maul’s teeth bared as Talia launched swipe after swipe, her movements quick and deft in the hopes of catching the former Sith off balance, but his skill was far above her own. Maul unleashed his own fury filled jabs, Talia struggling to twirl her blade fast enough to keep him at bay. She Force-pushed him back, stealing a quick breath as she heard heavy footsteps behind her.

She rolled away from Savage’s blade as it swung over her head, her leggings snagging along the rough ground as she tried to put space between her and the brothers. Shots still fired from the few clones left were her only hope at taking them on; if she could separate them, she might be able to hold them off long enough before they made it to the refugees scurrying on the dropships. She used the Force to push Maul further down the canyon, the rocky terrain proving harsh for his prosthetic legs to grip as he slid back, rage filling his face.

She turned to face Savage, who was already launching another blow at her. She leapt over him; he was able to block her strike just in time. Masked by a blur of cyan and red, they dueled; the strength of the Zabrak was difficult for Talia to challenge when their blades met, but her smaller size and speed helped her flit around him easily. She succeeded in knocking Savage back, about to strike a fatal blow when screams filled the air behind her.

Maul had taken down the remaining clones in the canyon easily, and now was going after the straggling villagers. A single dropship still lingered in the clearing; but scanning the clearing she knew there was no way the remaining villagers would fit on it.

“Launch the last dropship,” she ordered reluctantly.

“But Sir, how will you-“

“Launch it, and don’t send any troops until they’re taken care of,” Talia yelled. This was a relief mission – they were on a lighter class ship with fewer troops; they didn’t have the manpower to fight them on land. They could open fire into the clearing, but she didn’t want the blood of any remaining troops and villagers on her hands.

But it’s already on your hands, that nagging voice in her head called, you caused their deaths by not being able to get them out in time.

A scorching pain burned her calf; Savage had recovered his blade and sliced Talia while she was lost in her thoughts. She had moved quickly enough so the cut wasn’t too deep, but agony flamed up her leg. Yelping in pain, she Force-pushed the Zabrak back as she limped into the clearing.

Maul withdrew his blade from the stomach of a villager as he turned to Talia, an arrogant malice filling his glare. Anger surged through Talia’s veins, propelling her forward as she charged at Maul. She lunged, ignoring the pain seizing her leg, striking with a fury unfamiliar to her usual style. She wanted Maul to pay for what he had done, to pay with his life for the massacre he had committed. She grunted with each blow, her frustration mounting as Maul blocked each strike, a chilling smirk growing on his face. She was too sloppy, her injury holding her back, but she could power through this, she could take him, she just needed the right strike to-

Red burned her vision as her skin scorched; when the bright blade entered her view she had angled her head back to ease the blow but the tip of Maul’s saber still burned as it came close to her skin. Cursing in pain and temporarily blinded by the brightness, Talia stumbled back.

A phantom hand clasped around her neck, lifting her into the air as her lightsaber dropped from her hands. She fought to breath, her hands clawing hopelessly at her neck as if that would relieve some of the tension. Her vision blurred; her limbs grew heavy.

“You have some spirit, I’ll give you that,” Maul’s mocking whisper reached her ears.

***

Cold durasteel pressed into Talia’s cheek as her eyes jolted open. She was fighting for breath as if her throat was still constricted. Propping herself up, she didn’t recognize her surroundings but as her limbs moved stiffly, flashes of the chase through Coruscant entered her memory, of the speeder being attacked and Cad Bane stunning her before she blacked out. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, only the glowing red of a ray shield barring her in her cell allowing her to see. In the darkness of space, she couldn’t estimate how long she had been out or how far they were from Coruscant.

Memories of the past few days lingered in her mind; maybe she had gotten a bit more than she asked for by wanting to get off Coruscant and out of the Temple. But more than the excitement of the chase she thought of Rex with a surge of guilt; he had been so cautious with her and taken the threat of the hunters so seriously, she only hoped he would handle the news of her capture ok.

Talia jumped at a clattering outside her cell; a nearby box on a shelf was…jumping? Her eyes narrowed at the box as it moved again on the shelf, closer to the ledge this time. With another nudge, the box tumbled off, clattering on the ground as Talia winced; there was no way Cad Bane wouldn’t hear that. A low humming droned from the box, then D3 popped out of it.

“D3, did you stowaway?” Talia whispered at the little droid, who hummed in agreement as it floated outside her cell. “Can you get me out of here?”

The little droid popped out its scomp link, ready to press it into the junction on the wall next to the cell when the thud of dull boots echoed down the hall. Talia signaled for D3 to back away, not wanting the little droid to be caught, and it hid behind the shelves just as Bane rounded down the stairs at the end of the corridor. Talia glared at him as she leaned against the wall of her cell, the bounty hunter pausing outside the ray shield with one hand on his holstered blaster and the other flicking a toothpick out of his mouth.

“Bad news, little lady,” he drawled, eyeing Talia in the cell. “Gorga called off the bounty on your head.”

“Sorry to hear you went through all that trouble for nothing,” Talia scoffed, keeping eye contact with Bane. “If you turn around quick enough, perhaps the Order will let this go and you’ll be a free man.”

“Aren’t the Jedi preachers of peace and forgiveness or…something of that nature? Don’t exactly seem like the type to be holding grudges,” He lazily questioned. “Besides, they wouldn’t pay me as much as who I found to hand you off to.”

Talia groaned, cracking her neck and forcing an expression of boredom as she pondered his words, trying to ignore the pit of anxiety forming in her stomach. “Care to share who this mysterious buyer is?”

“You seem clever – who do you think would spend credits on apprehending a Jedi General?”

***

Rex’s knuckles were bruising but he didn’t halt the harshness of his blows, instead continuing his routine against the punching bag in the training room. Sweat drenched the back of his shirt, his muscles ached from overuse and lack of sleep, but he continued his barrage. The other clones in the facility left him a large breadth, none of them understanding why the usually friendly Captain was scowling, the normal half smile that could be seen on his lips while he showed off to the shinies was gone, replaced by a frustrated scowl. The boys from the 501st had left long ago, but Rex stayed.

He had been up late into the night, looking for anything he could find on any possible sightings of Talia since she had been taken en route to the Chancellor’s, but the trail was silent. And when he tried to sleep, his mind wouldn’t slow; he wanted the soft comfort of a woman next to him, the woman who was haunting his mind as he worried if she was OK or not. The Council was planning on sending a Knight who Rex didn’t know after them, something that frustrated him because he had been hoping Skywalker or Commander Tano would be assigned the mission, giving Rex a reasonable excuse to tag along or ask questions. Instead, he was left in the dark, waiting for word through briefings or until it was too late for him to do anything. And it was everything Rex hated, the inaction, the inability to take things into his own hands. He had gotten used to a certain amount of freedom while working under General Skywalker for these past two years; the General and Rex built on each other’s creativity to solve problems in ways most other battalions wouldn’t think of. Maybe this other Knight searching for Talia had missed something he or Skywalker would normally pick up on, what if they were slower and their delay pushed Talia further and further away…

“I think you won, vod,” a voice called out behind Rex. He turned, panting with his fists still clenched to see Cody strolling over to him. Rex relaxed his hands, his fingers tense and slow to move after being sealed for so long. Cody eyed him curiously, his brows furrowed in concern. “Everything alright?’

Rex nodded at his brother, lifting the bottom of his shirt to his face to wipe the sweat rolling down his skin in droplets. Rex groaned internally as Cody’s look didn’t falter; none of his other brothers seemed to have the same power to reading him as Cody did. Rex paced over to the bench he had his water bottle out, gulped down half the contents then found an answer for Cody. “Nothing, just haven’t been sleeping well.”

Cody frowned, still watching Rex until he nodded in understanding. “You should talk to Kix and get some of that new med they’ve started handing out; knock you out for a dreamless sleep. That, or a good Corellian whiskey, should help.”

Rex exhaled deeply, sitting down on the training bench, and examining his knuckles; he had broken skin so he would have to see Kix anyway. Rex had been offered the sleep tranquilizers before, told how they would help him relax and get a good night’s rest, but the one time he took them he didn’t like the fog he woke up in, he felt like he was two steps behind the full rotation. If he could deal with combat in real life, he could deal with it in his sleep- that was his thought process. But Cody couldn’t know the real reason why he wasn’t sleeping, the obsession driving him up late into the night. He just nodded at his brother, agreeing to talk to Kix.

“See you at the briefing later,” Cody said, still looking thoughtfully at Rex before he turned back to his own men who he was about to lead in drills. Rex sat back, squeezing another bit of water in his mouth as his heart rate slowed. He had almost forgotten about the briefing updating about the stage of sieges in the war, these meetings before usually drove his mind as a leader, wanting to keep updated so he could prepare his men for whatever assignment they had next. Then he got the perk of seeing Talia in them before anything had ever happened between them. Something he wouldn’t be lucky enough to get today.

***

Suspended by beams of blue energy, her hands in binders behind her back, Talia’s form slowly rotated around the interrogation room, occasionally making eye contact with one of the commando droids stationed around the room. She groaned as she tried to stretch her sore limbs, her confines barely allowing her to move. Her memories of the past few hours were scattered; after revealing he was selling her off to the Separatists, Bane had stunned Talia once again, probably figuring a knocked-out Jedi was easier to deal with than a conscious one. She had awoken a few moments ago, not bothering to fight her way out. She wondered if D3 had made it off Bane’s ship or if the little droid was travelling somewhere into space with the bounty hunter, she didn’t like the latter idea, but she knew wherever the droid was it probably was figuring out a way to notify the Republic of her location, or as close to her location as it could. As far as she could tell, she was aboard a Separatist cruiser, heading toward the Force knows where.

The door to her cell slid open, more commando droids filing in the room. Talia stiffened, recognizing the last figure to step forward through the door.

“My apologies for meeting under such circumstances, my child,” Count Dooku spoke grandiosely as he stepped into the cell, gesturing to the guards around the room. “I’m sure you understand the precautions of course.”

“Oh, understood completely,” Talia glared back, rattling her wrists in the cuff. Her eyes caught a ball of black and gold crawling along the floor of the cell but she kept her gaze locked on the Sith, “But I have to correct you, we have met before, just not in person; we spoke over a holo while I was on Kadavo with Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Dooku nodded, “Ahh yes, again, I must apologize for that turn of events as well.”

“You seem to be full of apologies, Count,” Talia countered. “Perhaps you can let me go and I will consider forgiveness?”

“Oh no, my child, I’m afraid I have some questions for you.”

***

Opportunities to go to the Jedi Temple were rare, and when he did go Rex was usually just in the hangar about to leave for missions or attending briefings in one of the Temple’s grand presentation rooms, like today. Cody stood next to him in a corner of the room, letting the Jedi stand closer to the holotable, a blue hologram of the galaxy elevating above it. General Windu was updating all the attendees of the briefing on the current sieges and Republic advances on the war front when R2-D2 burst into the room; the General droned on, unperturbed by the interruption but Anakin stood at attention, beckoning his droid over. R2 beeped rapidly at Anakin, Rex tried to divide his attention between the briefing and the info the droid was spouting.

“Do you have something to add, Skywalker?” Master Windu asked with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Sorry Master Windu,” Anakin replied, gesturing to his droid. “R2 said he’s received an important transmission.”

Windu nodded and allowed R2 to scomp in, the droid connected, and a hologram filled the table in front of them; Talia bound, her hands behind her back as she rotated in a pulse field, Count Dooku pacing in front of her. Rex tensed, his eyes locked on Talia in the holo, her lips pursed and her jaw set. The angle was low, as if it was from a corner of whatever interrogation room Talia was held in.

“Skywalker, can you track the location of the transmission?” Master Windu spoke up.

“If we can hold the connection with D3 long enough we can pinpoint it, the signal is pretty weak though,” Anakin answered, his brows furrowed as he kneeled in front of R2.

Dooku’s resonant voice filled the room as he spoke to Talia, questioning her about Republic forces in the Outer Rim. Dooku paused in front of Talia, his brow arched as she stayed silent, her gaze focused ahead of her. Dooku sighed, then raised his hand.

Talia’s body seized as lightning surged from Dooku’s hand to her, her eyes bugging wide and her face straining, lips still tightly pressed as if she was trying to contain a scream, a battle she would lose as she shrieked in agony.

Ice ran through Rex’s veins; a chilling anger coursing through him as he watched the scene on the holo. He was locked in place, wanting to look away but his eyes couldn’t leave the scene on the hologram, his expression hidden by the helmet he still donned. Out of the corner of his vision, Ahsoka shuffled some of the younger padawans out of the room, a tense muttering filling the air as the Jedi and clones in the room watched Talia’s torture.

The lightning ceased and Talia’s head fell forward, her chin to her heaving chest as she caught her breath. Count Dooku stood in front of her, patiently waiting and ready to spring another question on her.

Talia’s face scrunched, her lips moving wordlessly as if she was talking to herself. She took a deep breath, and angled her head back up to face Dooku, a determined look in her eyes as she rasped out, “Oh come on, Dooku, you’re going to have to be more convincing than that.”

In any other situation that would have earned a smirk from Rex, but in this moment his breath caught; this wasn’t the time for snide comments and remarks. He half expected Dooku to unleash another burst of lightning in retaliation, but the Sith only grinned and listed off another question. When Talia refused to answer again though, Dooku did not hold back as he fired more electricity.

“Anakin, do we have that location yet,” Obi-Wan turned his head away from the projection, an exhausted expression on his face.

Anakin’s face was contorted in a scowl as he fiddled with a knob on R2’s plating, “Just need to hold the signal a little longer.”

***

Talia’s head fell back during a moment of short relief after the last round of electricity ended; muscles in her leg twitched uncontrollably and sweat beaded on her brow as the residual agony from multiple rounds of Dooku’s questioning seeped to her bones. She could barely form a coherent thought anymore; she couldn’t even remember the last question Dooku had asked her. She had to learn to hold her tongue, Dooku had grown tired of her charming remarks and had taken to shocking her with additional bolts of energy each time, still standing there with a damn grin on his face. All Dooku’s questions were about the war effort; Republic forces locations, what trade routes they were using, any of their battle plans. Talia wished her withholding of information came from a strong will alone, but in all truth she had been back on Coruscant for so long that she couldn’t answer some of his questions, something she had a sinking feeling he knew by the smug look on his face.

“A different form of question for you, my dear,” Dooku lazily started, still holding his prim exterior as if he were holding a simple meeting. Talia rolled her head back to meet his eyes. “You recently ran into the renegades Maul and Savage Opress, is that correct?”

Talia gulped but felt a simple relief for being able to answer a question that wouldn’t hurt the Republic. “Yes.”

“And he slaughtered most of your men as well as some refugees you were meant to be aiding?”

Talia’s teeth gritted, “Yes.”

Dooku nodded slowly, pacing around Talia’s floating body. He paused and turned his head back at her, “And how did that make you feel?”

Talia huffed out a humorless laugh, only to cringe in pain as her muscles still ached. “Obviously I felt great about it.”

“You were angry.”

“I don’t get angry.”

“You’re still angry even as I mention it.”

“That’s only from your presence.”

Dooku smirked and continued his pacing, “Then how would you feel to know that Savage Opress is dead?”

Talia’s forced tenseness faltered; that was news to her and the Council; Obi-Wan had just reported them as being on Mandalore after usurping the throne and murdering The Duchess. Talia recovered her firm stance and answered, “Then the galaxy is a slightly safer place.”

Dooku nodded once more, pausing in his pace in front of Talia. “How did you survive the fight with Maul?”

“Barely.” Talia gritted out.

“It must have been a great duel; you seem unscathed…mostly,” Dooku pointed out, gesturing to the pale scar on her face. Talia worked her jaw, ignoring the probing questions; she didn’t want to think about the fight with Maul, why was Dooku focused on it?

“I’m just intrigued,” Dooku continued, sensing the direction of Talia’s thoughts, “Maul slaughtered several Jedi without a thought yet somehow you survived the encounter; was it owed to your skill or perhaps something else?”

“If there’s some information you have that I’m missing, please do share-“

“Maul could have taken a killing strike, but he faltered.”

“How do you know-“

“He lowered his blade and walked away; do you ever wonder why?”

Talia breath hitched as visions of that day flooded her mind again, every wrong move she made, every trooper she had lost. That familiar cold pitted at the base of her spine as she thought of Maul’s snarling face as he released her from the chokehold, holding his blade about to strike.

When Talia didn’t answer, Dooku continued, “I was curious myself; I had been following Maul’s rampage so it stood out to me that of all the Jedi he faced, the only survivors were you and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m sorry, my dear, but you are no Kenobi.

“I recently had to interrogate Maul in regards to some other information, but I had time to ask him, expecting to at least hear some daring tale of how he barely evaded Republic forces, but he left you there for dead until your backup arrived, didn’t he?”

“Are you getting to the point of this?” Talia snapped.

“Maul confessed he had a vision of you the moment he was about to strike; of you working at his side.”

Talia huffed a weak laugh, before meeting the Sith’s eyes; what kind of ploy was this?

“Yes, it is strange to imagine a Jedi Knight as the right hand of a former Sith. Well, according to his vision, a fallen Jedi. I wonder what the Council would think of this news.”

The exhaustion of the electrocution was wearing on her brain, a tiredness creeping through her mind as she struggled to find the meaning behind Dooku’s claims. That prickling cold still lingered in her as she glared at him, that emptiness in her chest.

“There is a darkness in you, child; you’ve tried to bury it, but it lingers beneath the surface, waiting to break free. I can help you do that.”

Talia scoffed at him, head tilting at the beams holding her in place, “If these are your recruitment methods, I have some suggestions for you.”

The Count just smiled at her. “Tell me, how does the Order treat you? Do you feel like they are truly helping you reach your potential with the Force?”

Talia was about to snap back, but her retort was caught in her throat. Her eyes met the Dooku’s and she saw the truth in his words as she thought of weeks being shut in the Temple, of how she was practically begrudgingly allowed to take her Trials just because her Master had died and they needed more generals. The coldness surged from her stomach, clouding her thoughts as she truly doubted her place among the Jedi…No, snap out of it, it's just some trick of his. Dooku’s smirk confirmed her suspicions, his eyes reading her face as if he was seeing her internal debate.

“You could do so much more if you weren’t so limited by the narrow minded views of the Jedi, don’t you want to see what you could accomplish?”

Something nagged at Talia’s mind as she listened to his words, a memory holding her back.

“I’ll never join you.”

Dooku sighed and raised his hand, “A shame, then.” Lightning left his fingertips again as Talia screamed out.

***

“Got a lock on the location,” Anakin gritted out before the hologram cut out at Talia’s form falling limp. Rex released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his body tense from the minute of watching the interrogation while they waited for Anakin to work on the signal from the transmission. Rex’s thoughts were divided; he didn’t want to see any more of the scene that had been playing, but the unknown void hanging in the air from the spot Talia had just been filling felt worse in his gut.

The room was quiet apart from the murmuring of a few Jedi; the lead Council members stood circled around the holotable, their faces pensive as they processed what had just taken place.

“So what’s our plan of action?” Anakin called out, interrupting the silence.

“I don’t think there is anything we can do, young Skywalker,” Ki Adi Mundi spoke, his hands resting behind his back. Rex’s own frustration mirrored in Anakin’s face.

“What do you mean, we can’t just leave her there!” Anakin shouted, his fist clenching at his side.

“We are too divided in the war front, and they are heading into Separatist space; we cannot risk the men to rescue one lone Jedi right now.”

“It wouldn’t just be her,” the words left Rex before he could stop himself for the sake of propriety in front of Command. The heads of every Jedi in the room turned to face Rex, even Cody next to him tilted his head to look at Rex; he was helmeted, but Rex could practically see the bemused expression on his brother’s face. Rex continued hurriedly as the silence grew, “If we plan this right, this gives us an opportunity to take Dooku into custody.”

The room was silent again, sweat beading on Rex’s neck as he cursed himself but then Mace Windu nodded, pulling up the starmap with the location of Dooku’s ship again, “It does provide us with a unique chance; Dooku won’t know we have his location... but it’s still risky.”

“With all due respect, General,” another voice spoke out, belonging to the blue holo figure of a clone with cropped hair, three tattooed lines etched from his lip to his chin; Captain Storm from the 412th Battalion, Talia’s men. “That’s our General, and if there’s anything we can do to get her back you can be damned sure the 412th will do it.”

“But you’re on Sullust and their course seems to be set for Serenno; by the time you arrive she’ll be out of your reach.” Obi-Wan spoke up, his hand resting on his chin as he thought out the problem.

“The 104th is on Lantilles; right on their path,” the resonant voice of Plo Koon spoke, his body flickering in the hologram as he gestured to the proud form of Commander Wolffe beside him. “If we time it right; we can cut them off, buying time for the 412th to arrive.”

“Both of your forces are too depleted. Dooku’s traveling with too many ships; even with both of you combined you would barely have enough to hold them off in space,” Anakin said, his brows furrowed as he studied the map. He crossed his arms, his serious gaze turned to a smug grin as he faced the rest of the Jedi. “Good thing the 501st is available to help you guys out. What do you say Rex, think you can get the boys ready to go?”

“Right away, sir!” Rex answered, determination swelling in his chest. The meeting adjourned and Anakin joined him so they could head back to the barracks to get everything in order for a quick departure; Rex was running through every plan in his head, everything he knew from previous missions. There was no room for failure this time around.

***

“The 104th and the 412th have already engaged the fleet, by the time we get there, the battle should be in full force,” Anakin explained from the pilot seat of the shuttle soaring through hyperspace; the majority of the 501st remained on their venator to join the naval battle, but Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex were leading two squads to infiltrate Dooku’s flagship and rescue Talia. If all went well in the battle outside the ship, they would be able to apprehend Dooku and end the war. Rex was being selfish, a trait he had never associated with himself, but his priority was Talia. In the meeting he had suggested Dooku’s capture as a way to sway the Jedi, but he just needed to do anything that would lead him to Talia.

Right now, the shuttle was planning on getting out of lightspeed right under Dooku’s Providence class dreadnaught, a trick Anakin had perfected. Then the two squads would split up; Anakin and Rex leading one, Ahsoka and Fives leading another. The dreadnaught was a massive warship in the Separatist Navy, and they needed to cover as much ground as possible to find Talia, while also maintaining some semblance of stealth.

According to plan, the shuttle lurched out of lightspeed right under the belly of the ship, latching on and providing an access point for the clones to board the ship. Rex was the first one out of the shuttle, the hallway they had latched onto was deserted. Signaling the rest of the boarding party that the coast was clear, Rex rounded around the nearest corner with his DC-17s raised. Two unfortunate droids that were stationed in the corridor were quickly reduced to piles of scrap, clearing the way to the lift that Rex and Anakin’s squad needed.

“Remember the plan; we’ll scope out detention block A while you and your men investigate the interrogation cells in block C,” Anakin relayed to Ahsoka, gesturing down the hall with his head. “As soon as one group has Talia, we comm and we’re out of here. Do not engage Dooku on your own.”

“Why, want to save all the fun for yourself, Master?” Ashoka shot Anakin a goading smile. She nodded at Rex, waved Fives along after her and their squad sprinted down the corner. Blasters at the ready, Rex boarded the lift with Anakin and the members of their squad. They were going off layouts of similar Providence class ships to map their way around the massive destroyer; the shuttle had docked close enough to both squads targets that with luck they should able to make it pretty far without detection and few droids in their path, the outside battle leaving most of the droids at stations. As far as they could tell, no alerts had been raised to warn the Separatists of their presence.

The lift slowed and they exited to another empty level, goosebumps starting to rise on Rex’s neck; it was one thing for the droids to be otherwise occupied during a battle, but having encountered only two sentries thus far was an anomaly. It felt like the path was being cleared for them. As they rounded another corner to a long, wide corridor to find no droids, Rex’s steps slowed.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Rex’s modulated voice sounded out, he raised a hand up ordering his men to halt. Anakin suddenly stiffened behind him, igniting his blade.

“Take cover!” Anakin shouted. Rex rolled to the side of the hallway, taking cover in an indent of the wall as an explosion range out.

Harsh screams and large thuds hitting the durasteel wall signaled to Rex that some of his men had fallen, but the air grew dense from a smoke grenade so he couldn’t tell how many he had lost. The only thing he could see was the blue glow of Anakin’s saber cutting through the smoke, quickly joined by red blaster fire aiming in their direction. The lightsaber easily deflected all shots fired at it, Anakin advancing towards the fire. Rex fired his blasters in the direction Anakin was heading, knowing that the droids would be clustered together so the odds were he could take out a few before his vision improved. He crawled out of his cover, moving forward to follow his General when blaster fire sounded from behind him.

Shab.

He tossed a droid popper in the direction of the fire, hoping it would provide their tail end enough cover while Anakin pressed forward. Still, he didn’t like how the droids had so easily caged them in, they had run so many similar missions to this before and had never encountered a problem this early. The smoke still filled the air, now thickened from the blasts hitting the walls around them. His sight was a mixture of blue and red bolts, the red quickly overpowering the blue as more of the clones fell. Rex gritted his teeth; he wasn’t going out this way, in some back hallway of a Separatist cruiser while Talia lay in a cell.

Something hard thudded into his head, knocking Rex to the ground, just before a red bolt flew through the spot he was standing in. A strange buzzing filled his ears, before it cut out and a light, almost spider-like feeling crawled up his arm. Shaking it off and rolling to the side, Rex aimed his blaster at the cause of the uncomfortable sensation.

“D3?” Rex grunted out in confusion. The little droid beeped rapidly at Rex, a light flashing from its tiny body and pointing up. When Rex didn’t move, the droid let out a long beep, as if it were sighing, then drifted up to the ceiling. Rex’s gaze followed the droid to where it disappeared.

The vents.

“General!” Rex called out, vaguely aware of Anakin’s form in the smoke. He glanced up at the ceiling, too far out of his height’s reach. Haar’chak. “I need a lift!”

Normally Rex disliked the weightlessness he felt when a Force user lifted him, but it felt different this time around since he was requesting it. Once in the vents, he crawled forward to make room for anyone else. When Anakin was the only one to follow, Rex knew the rest of his squad had fallen. Keeping as quiet as possible, they moved ahead, the grated voices of the droids below announcing that they had defeated the intruders. D3’s tiny figure bobbed ahead of Rex; this must be how it had remained undetected on the destroyer for so long. Rex made a mental note about how he would have to get some upgrades for the damn clanker once they got out of this mess.

D3 led them down a slightly different path than they had planned on taking, no doubt avoiding other patches of droids. Rex didn’t like this sneaking around, he preferred to take the enemy head on, feeling like he was more in control of a situation he could blast his way through. But if this is what it took to find Talia, he would follow the droid’s lead.

Once in a clear spot, D3 signaled for Rex and Anakin to drop out of the vents. A sealed durasteel door sat at the end of the hallway, blocked by ray shields.

“They must have the detention block on lockdown,” Rex mumbled, holding his blasters in front of him. Tilting his head at Anakin, he gritted, “Guess we’ve lost the stealth aspect of this mission, Sir.”

“Yeah, that never does seem to last,” Anakin replied. He nodded at D3, doubt filling his tone. “Can you bypass those shields?”

The droid beeped, brushing into Anakin as it flew past; Rex snorted out a small laugh with how it reminded him of its programmer’s personality. D3 scomped into the port next to the door as Rex crouched, his blasters at the ready. Anakin twirled his blade, the buzzing beam filling the silence of the hall. The shields deactivated and the door burst open.

Rex fired two shots at the commando droid standing sentry at the control center for the cells, then rolled through the doorway to avoid the blaster fire. Popping up, he aimed a shot at a B1 droid whose head popped off as his bolt hit. Anakin’s blade went flying behind him, just missing his head as it took out the other three droids in the small control room.

Rex scrambled behind the console, cursing at an alert beeping from the table; they were going to have company soon. He scanned the screens in front of him, searching for the prisoner records until he found what he was looking for, Cell 421. Anakin and he sprinted down the hall, skidding to a halt in front of the right one.

“Stand guard, I’ll-,” Anakin started, but Rex brushed past him as he pressed the door release. Rex pushed into the room, tearing his helmet off as Anakin muttered, “-or not.”

Surrounded by blue beams of energy, Talia was suspended in the air similar to how she had been in the hologram that was broadcasted during the war briefing. She was unconscious, her head bent awkwardly to her chest, and her skin wan. Anger pulsed through Rex’s veins as he shot the energy cells for the beams, releasing Talia from its hold. Her body fell limp at the lack of containment, Rex caught her in his arms and slowly lowered her to the ground, her head rolling back as he helped her into a sitting position.

“Come on, Talia…” he muttered, a gloved hand gently grabbing her cheek so she could face him. Her face scrunched and she whimpered, her eyelids slowly fluttering open.

“Rex?” Talia murmured hoarsely; her eyes narrowed as if she were having a hard time focusing. She winced but a smile quickly took its place and she said, “You can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

Rex shook his head, half in exasperation, half in relief and before he could have a better thought he leaned in and met her lips with his. Her eyes widened at first, but closed as she melted into it, her arms wrapping around his neck as their kiss deepened, only to be broken up by a cough behind them.

“Sorry to break up…whatever this is,” Anakin called out, heat rising to Rex’s face as he pulled back from Talia, “but we have company!”

“Osik. Can you stand?” Rex tilted his head down to Talia who grimaced but nodded. He put his helmet back on, handed her one of his blasters and pulled her to the entrance of the cell. At the entrance to the block, two B2 battle droids bounded through the door, aiming fire down the hall. Anakin’s saber blocked the bolts as Rex and Talia fired, each taking out one droid as more filtered into the room behind them. Pings of blasters hitting the durasteel walls echoed around them, the hallway tight and not providing much cover.

“You didn’t re-seal the blast doors?” Talia demanded; a pointed glance fired at Anakin who glared back at her.

“Got a bit distracted,” Anakin gritted back. He shot a glance at Rex, “Any chance that vent trick will work again?”

Rex shook his head, still firing at the advancing droids. “No access in here; we’ll have to get back to the hall.”

“Guess we have no choice but to move forward,” Talia gritted, lifting the blaster, firing two shots to take out two more battle droids that had crept closer in the cell block; if they weren’t fighting for their lives right now, Rex would have taken a moment to appreciate how attractive it was. “Cover me!”

Rex rounded out the door to provide covering fire as Talia deftly moved, avoiding each shot fired at her; Jedi would never cease to amaze him for their skill and recklessness. With a wave of her hand, she lifted a pair of droids with the Force and crashed them into the ceiling. With the lessening fire, Rex and Anakin could surge forward and help with taking out the remaining droids. Once the path was clear to the outer hallway, Talia leaned against a nearby wall, breathing heavily.

“Are you ok, did you get hit?” Rex asked, pressing a hand on her shoulder.

“Just a little weak is all,” Talia shook her head, grimacing slightly. She forced a smile and pushed herself up right. Frowning under his helmet, Rex grabbed Talia’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, gesturing for her to use him for balance. She rolled her eyes but accepted as Rex led her down the hall. D3’s round figure bobbed up and down near Talia’s head, frantic beeps sounding as it whirred around. Talia sighed, looking at both Rex and the droid, “I’m fine! Let’s just got off this hunk of junk.”

D3 beeped in agreement, floating forward to the point in the hall where Rex and Anakin had popped out of the vent access before, when a blaster shot rang out. The red bolt hit D3 right in the center, its little body dropping to the floor, smoke rising from the melted shell where the shot had hit. With a yell, Talia freed herself from Rex’s arms, lunging forward to aim the blaster in the direction the bolts came from. Rex bounded after her, with Anakin in tow, but as they rounded the corner they slid to a halt, as destroyers circled around them. Weapons still raised; the trio scanned the area around them for any sign of escape. When Rex looked to Anakin, who simply withdrew his saber; he knew there was no route out. As the droids ordered for them to lower their weapons, Rex gritted his teeth and stooped to the ground, his blaster resting near the lifeless form of D3.

***

The thick barrel of a blaster nudging her back pushed Talia forward, her worn muscles aching with every step kept her lagging behind Anakin and Rex, the latter turning his head back to glance at her as the droids led them through the hallway. A surge of warmth ran through her at the simple gesture, she could feel concern waving off Rex from the moment she woke in the cell. The three were disarmed, their hands in binders, one of the droids carrying Anakin’s lightsaber. She kept her face straight, not wanting Rex to read any of the worry coming off her; two Jedi captives being brought to see Dooku wasn’t out of the ordinary, but clone captives weren’t considered a necessity to the Separatists. She hoped this attempt hadn’t guided Rex to his death.

They were prodded into a large chamber with viewports of large transparisteel, the figure of Count Dooku looming before it watching the battle beyond. He turned at the prisoners’ entrance, his robe flowing behind him as he stepped toward them.

“Sorry to hear you wanted to leave us so soon, my child,” Dooku sneered at Talia, her eyes narrowing in response. Dooku paced along, his eyes now meeting Anakin. “Ah yes, Skywalker; why am I not surprised to see you bursting in without any semblance of a plan?”

“Who’s to say we didn’t have a plan?” Anakin answered smugly.

“Oh, you mean the squad of clones led by your Padawan?” Dooku countered, his eyebrows raising in mock surprise. The grin slipped off Anakin’s face, turning into a scowl. “General Grievous has already engaged them and has most likely dealt with them already; tell me, how does it feel knowing you lead them to their death?”

Pure red anger radiated from Anakin, his eyes narrow slits as he glared at the Count, there was the smallest glimmer of doubt and hope in his demeanor that Talia could sense. Dooku smirked, then turned his gaze to Talia.

“And you, my child, how are you coping with the fact that there’s additional blood on your hands now?” He asked, bitter resentment pooling in Talia’s stomach. “Is it not enough to lead men to their deaths, you must also have them die for your benefit?”

“Leave her alone,” Rex gritted out, his presence in between Talia and Anakin had been ignored thus far. Dooku tilted his head in consideration at Rex.

“Forgive me- I forgot the loyalty of the clones; happy to follow the Jedi mindlessly into battle. I will never understand how the Republic preaches how our methods are brutal, when at least we send droids into battle for us, not using humans as cannon fodder.”

Talia’s temper flared at Dooku’s insinuation, that brewing anger in her gut lingering from the interrogation room still; Dooku now knew how to get under her skin, by prodding the fire of her guilt. How dare he fan the flame in front of Rex. Dooku sighed and stepped back from the trio.

“Such a waste of life, a waste that must grow today,” Dooku said, waving his hands at the droids behind the trio who raised their blasters. Dooku stepped to the side, glancing at Talia one last time and said, “If only you had accepted my offer, then you might have had the chance to save your friends.”

Dull explosions from the battle outside the ship could be heard in the vast chamber, dogfights of Republic fighters and vulture droids swooping closely in front of the viewport. Talia’s brow furrowed as she snapped her head back to Dooku, cold shivering up her spine. Goosebumps prickled as she acknowledged his words, accepting her own incoming death. As Rex straightened next to her, the guilt needled in her gut; did Dooku mean what he said? If she had joined him, would that have guaranteed Rex and Anakin’s survival?

The lights cut out in the chamber, and Talia’s ponderings lost with them, the blaster bolts and explosions from the outside battle the only thing illuminating them. The three captives dove to the floor in unison, having the same thought as the droids opened fire in the spot they had been standing in. Red emergency lights flickered overhead, casting the chamber in an eerie glow; the ship must have taken significant damage in the battle. A droid cried out, and the slice of a lightsaber activating accompanied by a glow of blue signaled that Anakin had retrieved his weapon. He cut through the droids behind them, and the hot blade surged close enough to Talia’s wrists, so her binds were free.

A beam of red joined Anakin’s, the crimson brighter in the emergency lighting. Anakin snarled and charged at Dooku, their blades swirling around each other, cutting through the air and meeting with a crack. Rex stood up, the lighting casting a glow on his plastoid as he grabbed a blaster from a fallen droid and opened fire at the remaining B2s in the room. Talia leapt up, unsure of what to do; without her saber she wasn’t much use in the fight against Dooku. She searched the floor for another fallen blaster when she lurched to her side.

The ship was losing balance, the fallen droids in the room skidding to the wall as the ship rotated. Talia gripped a pillar near her, narrowly dodging the body of a B2 that crashed next to her. A grunt of frustration reached her ears as Anakin lost his balance, skidding down the flow towards the wall, only to be barricaded as debris landed on him.

The ground leveled out slowly, and Talia regained her footing. Anakin was still freeing himself from the droids that had landed on him, so she was left to deal with Dooku on her own. With no lightsaber. Maybe if she and Rex played this smartly…wait, Rex.

Talia’s heart plummeted to her gut as Rex was lifted off the ground, his blaster falling from his hands as he reached for his throat, a pointless attempt for relief from the invisible grip wrapped around it. He must have tried to fire at Dooku, hoping the Sith was distracted by the change in the ship's balance. Damn that crazy, reckless, stubborn man. Talia surged forward, attempting a Force-Push to throw Dooku off balance. He flew back a couple feet, dropping Rex with a thud in the process, but balanced out by igniting his blade and holding his position. He fired a burst of lightning at Talia, who was able to dodge behind a pillar just in time to avoid the bolts. Her pulse racing, she scanned for anything she could use to her advantage; she was skilled at hand-to-hand combat in most situations, but Dooku was too great of a master duelist for her to consider facing him with anything other than a lightsaber. She peaked her head around the pillar, her muscles frozen as she watched him approach Rex’s stirring body and raise his blade to strike.

The cold anger returned to her veins, but this time Talia couldn’t ignore it as it burst through her. She rounded around the pillar, a shadow of determination over her; she couldn’t let Rex die. The boiling cold in her overtaking her, she lifted her arm, mustering whatever strength the Force would grant her to get Dooku away from Rex. Bluish-white sparks surged from her fingertips, the cold lightning in her veins spreading from her extended limb towards Dooku. His eyes widened in surprise as he raised his blade to absorb the shock, his feet skidding backwards. The surprise faded to a grin as he challenged Talia.

“Surely you can do better!” He mocked. She gritted her teeth, putting all her strength into it, but instead of growing the power waned, her limbs growing heavy and her head cloudy. Her knees buckled beneath her, her hands catching her body as she collapsed to the ground. A rushing sound filled her ears, she was vaguely aware of Dooku saying something, but she didn’t know what; she just wanted to embrace the darkness, to sleep.

Even in her haze she could hear the crash that sounded, her body being pulled across the room and her back slamming into one of the pillars. Shouts filled the room, followed by more blaster fire, but Talia’s eyes grew heavy. The last thing she could feel were strong arms lifting her up, and a pleading voice calling her name.

***

Clone troopers crowded the halls of the Venator, running to their stations as the ship soared through hyperspace, all celebrating what they considered a victory, but Rex sat on a crate outside the medbay, his heart still pounding from the mission. The past hour was a blur; from a fighter crashing into the large viewports of the chamber and nearly being sucked into the void of space before the room's defenses kicked in, and then the other squad storming in for backup. Dooku had somehow escaped in the chaos, along with Grievous, as Ahsoka had reported. And before that, Talia shooting lightning from her hands to fight off Dooku before she fell unconscious. Rex had carried her back to the shuttle, refusing to even set her down until they landed on the Venator where she was carted to the medbay.

He had been waiting in his quarters, fiddling with his gear and other repairs when he got tired of no news, so he made his way back to the medbay. Master Plo had joined their ship from his when he got word that they had recovered Talia, and stood immediately outside the medbay doors with Anakin as they waited for news; Ahsoka was inside the room keeping watch over Talia. Captain Storm stood with the Jedi Generals, but as the leading official for the 412th in this mission he had a right to be there. Rex felt he had to stay further back to avoid raising any unwanted attention, so he sat on a crate around the corner from the door, clutching a small knapsack, where he could overhear if anything happened. But after a few more minutes of nothing, he grew impatient, and with his helmet gathered under his arms he rounded the corner towards the doors.

“Any news of the General?” he asked, keeping his tone as level as possible.

“She should be waking up shortly,” Master Plo informed in his soothing voice. Rex nodded in response, preparing to step away again when the doors slid open.

“She’s awake!” Ahsoka announced, and the men went into the room, Rex lingering and following last.

Talia was propped up in the cot, her skin pale but a small smile on her face as she took in her visitors, her eyes holding that familiar sparkle as they met Rex’s. The medical droid informed them she was not seriously injured, but recommended bed rest and no serious physical activity. Rex had to hold a stern gaze on her face as he noticed Talia rolling her eyes a little at the orders.

“Sorry Talia, no more lightning for you for a little bit,” Anakin teased, with a hint of jealousy in his tone.

“Lightning?” Plo questioned, glancing between the two Jedi Knights. “Did you produce Force Lightning?”

By the annoyed look Talia fired at Anakin, Rex gathered that this was something she had wished he didn’t bring up in front of the Master. Come to think of it, it was a power he had never witnessed another Jedi use.

“I don’t know how I did; I was trying to push Dooku away from Rex but it came out as lightning,” Talia answered, her wording clipped and quick as if she were trying to expel the words out of her mouth quickly. Plo Koon raised a calming hand at her.

“You are not in trouble, little one; I am merely curious,” the Kel Dor stated, “You know that I have used this power before, but I must know, did yours come from a place of anger?”

Talia’s eyes flitted down, and she bit her lip, before nodding in reply. Rex’s brows furrowed and he shot a glance at Storm, who seemed equally confused by the conversation. Jedi. Plo Koon patted Talia on the shoulder in a comforting gesture.

“We can have time to meditate on this on the journey to Coruscant.”

“Thank you, Master,” Talia smiled softly. She spoke up and asked, “Am I free to go then?”

Plo Koon nodded, “Once you’re ready, we can board the shuttle back to the Triumphant; the 412th is already on their way but we have more than enough room for you and Captain Storm.”

“I owe all of you my thanks, when we’re back on Coruscant I’ll have to find a way to make it up to all of you,” Talia tossed a teasing look between Anakin, Ahsoka, and lingered on Rex before adding, “Though I fear this may go to the heads of some members of the 501st.”

“Well, you have time to think of a good thank you,” Ahsoka replied with a laugh. “We’re off to settle a dispute on Taris next.”

“Oh, you don’t have leave still?” Talia asked, her voice slightly disappointed, something the others would miss but Rex could tell enough from her tone. When Ahsoka confirmed, Talia put a smile on her face and said, “Well, best of luck to you all.”

Master Plo suggested they give her some space while the med droids cleared her, and the others filtered out of the room but Rex lingered for a moment. Talia cocked a brow at him, a corner of her lips rising in that taunting smirk that had heat surging through him. She tilted her head back at the other cots filled with clones and Rex read her gesture; not exactly the best spot for a goodbye.

Forcing a cough, Rex shuffled the knapsack he was holding and reached into it, “I was able to recover this from the ship.”

Talia’s brows furrowed in curiosity, “Ahsoka already said she got my saber back from Grievous?”

“Just figured you would miss this little guy,” Rex smirked, his hand pulling out a metal ball with very scuffed black and gold paint. His finger pressed a button and D3 slowly chirped to life. Talia’s eyes went wide as she sat higher up in her bed. Rex let go of the droid, watching it float towards its owner. “It probably needs more of a charge and might need some of the bugs worked out; I didn’t have much to work with really-.”

Rex was interrupted by Talia’s hand reaching for his, her blue eyes shining and welling with tears. For a moment he thought he had overstepped, but when her face broke into a large, grateful smile, Rex relaxed. Rex clenched Talia’s hand tightly, wanting to say more that couldn’t be said in a room filled with medics, droids, and injured clones. He had a feeling Talia had her own things she wanted to say too, but for now they would have to make do with silent goodbyes in a crowded room.

Next Chapter

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Additional Notes: I do want to clarify - I tend to go by video game examples of Force powers. Talia's use of lightning is not meant to be like "oh, is she stronger than these certain canon Jedi?" She just was able to hone into that ability in the moment, but it left her weak. More to be touched on this all later.

Taglist: @pinkiemme @djarrex @fivesarctrooper @hockeyjedi13 @justanothersadperson93 @paige6768 @saltywintersoldat @crosshairxstars @dinner-djarin @whore4rex @raven--queen @collectoroffics @all-along-the-resolute @grimhood9 @shuttlelauncher81 @ahsoka1 @twistedstitcher27

As always, likes, comments, and/or reblogs are so appreciated!

[pure-kirarin]

Slow & Steady [P6] [Sabo x f!reader] (+18)

A/N : Hello ! I wanted to start by thanking you guys for the AMAZING responses on chapter 5. This makes me want to continue investing in this story !! I read all of your messages and I cherish them, they make me want to continue. I'd also like to thank my beta reader for her hard work. I hope that you will enjoy this chapter as much as the others.

Please always tell me your opinion as it’s my kryptonite ! Also feel free to ask to get tagged.

Synopsis : Isn’t love a matter of timing after all ?  That’s what Sabo has always thought. It was about finding the right tempo, making the right moves and hitting the right spot. Patience is a virtue after all, and he had a lot of it. It all started when your ex cheated on you. You were heartbroken, you needed someone and he was there. Was he always that hot ? You didn’t know. But after that night you have never seen him in the same way. Chapter Warning : Smoking (cigarettes) - mention of ex relationships AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/31877203/chapters/81748033

P I - P2 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6

I made a playlist for this chapter but I suggest you listen to it after ! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3posJHlUg1XFJzQbPkjF0J

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The crimson-haired man ceased to look at you, as if it hurt to do so. Your lack of response discouraged him. How could it be otherwise? You had created a narrative where he was a cheater, believed in it, ended the relationship - all of this without him knowing; without him even doubting it. It was ironic enough that he who saw so clearly in the future, he who knew how to read people’s moves so easily was totally blind when it came to love. Or maybe had he tried to blind himself? To overlook the fact that you weren’t answering your phone anymore? To find excuses upon excuses for you? He had always been that type of person after all. As a big brother, as a “responsible” person, it was second nature to him to bottle up his feelings and to never lose composure. And even in this moment, he couldn’t tell you how much your actions hurt him.

But for once, he accepted the fact that he saw a future that you weren’t a part of. Deep down, he knew that by overlooking the signs and hints, he has also played a role in the downfall of your relationship.

He saw it too clearly: you weren’t his anymore. Just like when you excluded him from the decision making, choosing to put an end to your relationship on your own - you didn’t even have the courage to tell him that yourself. He had to do the same: fill in the gaps and read between the lines. He remained silent for a moment. He got up from his seat when he gave up on you saying anything.

He moved towards the door, ready to leave all your shared memories behind his back.

People don’t always get the closure they need in order to move on, he knew that too well.

“Katakuri,” you called for his name weakly. He didn’t know if it was his imagination or if you had really pronounced his name. He turned his head towards you, unimpressed.

Your heart was pounding hard in your chest. You knew that if you let him go now you would regret it forever. You knew that you had to tell him about everything. He deserved it, after all. It was hard to be the bad guy of the story. But you had been a bitch and you had to face the consequences of your behavior. Wasn’t that what being an adult meant?

“There is something else that I think you need to know,” He seemed interested now. He was listening to you without turning your way.

“I apologize for everything that I have done and I know that you will probably not forgive me and honestly, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn't either.” You took a deep breath before going on. “What I am going to say might be hard to hear, but I feel like you need to know it.”

You don’t know exactly how the rest followed, nor how you found the courage to tell him about everything. You didn’t get to any details, it would have been too cruel, but you told him what he needed to know.

“I am really sorry, but I think that it’s best for us to split up. My feelings have changed, I have caused enough damage as it is. I think that it’s better for both of us. I am really sorry I hurt you.”

You looked down and from this angle you couldn’t see his smile. It was bitter, the smile of someone that had seen all of this coming. And yet, he was relieved that you confided in him. It was the closure he needed after all. At least now, he could move on.

* * *

The cigarette trembled between your index and middle finger. Your head was clouded. It took too much effort to try and empty your head, to try not to think of what was going to happen. You had lost so much already and what you were going to lose was beyond repair. With every breath you took, you felt your stomach contract and your legs get weaker. It was one of those days when you wished you hadn't woken up. Despite all of this, a feeling of peace submerged you. Peace? Maybe because you had been honest to your ex, maybe because you were trying to be honest to yourself. What got you into this situation was your indecision after all. You didn’t want to hide anymore.

If you can’t see it, then it doesn’t exist. This mentality of yours had to change and you were going to change it tonight. It was the best opportunity, it had to happen, you had to grow. Maybe to some extent, your “romantic” failures weren’t all to blame on others, maybe you also played a role, maybe you weren’t ready yet. Didn’t Sabo say the same thing?

“I thought that you stopped a long time ago.”

A firm voice broke your trance. His hand snitched the cigarette from your lips before putting it out with the sole of his shoe.

“Hey!” You whined in protest, features softening when you were met with his dark eyes.

“I did quit. But I was stressed,” you tried to justify yourself. “I needed it.” You mumbled.

“Bullshit. You always have the choice.” He shrugged and took place next to you on the sidewalk.

Choices, decisions, you were already done with all of this. An awkward silence swallowed the atmosphere, but it seemed as if it was only awkward for you.

Now that you had nothing to do with your fingers and mouth, you started scratching at your wrist slightly - a nervous tic.

The ambience of the park offered you, however, a feeling of safety. The darkness hid your embarrassment. He was now sitting next to you and it was as if words deserted your mind. He didn’t want to pressure you, he didn’t say anything. Under the moonlight, his blond hair took on a silvery shade. He kept looking in front of him, hands in his pockets. Silence didn’t bother him, he knew that something was wrong, otherwise you wouldn’t have texted him to come to the park at around midnight.

Truth is, you couldn’t calm down, you felt like you had to come clear about this whole situation, you felt like you had to make a decision. You felt that if you let today pass, then you would find one hundred excuses and hide again.

It was now or never.

“Sabo,” you started.

“Y/N,” he mirrored your answer.

“I’m going to tell you something... But please don’t judge me, alright?”

“Have I ever judged you?” He arched an eyebrow, his eyes meeting yours, making you switch your gaze almost instantly.

“Well... You have... Like that time I used the microwave at your place…”

“Y/N, you microwaved a fork…” You fake pouted as you playfully punched his arm.

“Well, the fork was in the bowl and Ace was there and he didn’t say anything! Not my fault.”

“And you trusted Ace?” he smiled and held your wrist to stop you. “He’s a living disaster. You guys can’t do anything without me, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. What would I do without my Mr. know-it-all of a best friend?” you laughed it off.

Best friend. That word reminded you of the reason why you contacted him so late. You coughed two times, trying to switch his attention to you. Laughing things off helped ease the atmosphere. You twirled a hair strand around your finger then started as if you were going to give a speech.

“Hey, I’m gonna try to... be decisive…”

“That’s some character development.”

“Sabo!”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” he said with a sweet smile. You sighed and started bouncing your leg nervously.

“So If I called you tonight it’s not to have the pleasure of your company… and it’s not to rip you off your precious hours of sleep... It’s also not to... ”

Noticing that you were starting to diverge from the topic, he held your hand in his softly and gave you an encouraging look. Honestly speaking, he didn’t have much patience around others but he had loads of it with you.

“I called you for something else. And don’t you dare hang up on me next time! I want to have a serious conversation about…everything, about us, and most importantly about…” you sighed before continuing “About my ex situation.”

He took his hand off yours now that you seemed calmer. He was surprised by your willingness to talk about such matters. It was a pleasant surprise to him, it meant that you wanted to take things in hand, that you were growing.

“I’m listening to you.”

“I thought that it was only fair for you to know as well... that I fucked up pretty badly. I assumed that my ex cheated on me and as it turns out, he didn’t. I just learned it this evening so I feel very confused and bad. It’s a long story. It was just me, assuming things because I was scared and because I feared confrontation. Then everything happened so fast between you and me... I shouldn’t have... I feel very ashamed. For him, for you, for acting so immature.”

Your voice cracked and you couldn’t hold your tears any more. You looked down and started wiping your tears with both hands on your face. You didn’t want to cry in front of him because you had caused him pain as well. Sometimes not taking action is also an action and it has consequences.

You didn’t dare look at him, did he look disappointed? Did he stop loving you? After all, you didn’t even know the reason behind his love. Maybe he was “playing games” too as that anon suggested on Reddit. No, you couldn’t afford to assume things again now. You had to be honest, raw, vulnerable. You couldn’t see his reaction through your tears, but you felt his hand on the top of your head, gently bringing you towards him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Wow, this really sucks.” You were surprised by his reaction, but the fact that it wasn’t one of disappointment as well as his easy-going demeanour released your stress. You started sobbing, shoulders shaking. He didn’t know how to react at first, but one thing he knew for sure: you came first, and he hated to see you cry.

“Shh... Here, here... It’s okay to cry... Let it all out...” He then continued “It’s going to turn out just fine. You can count on me, okay?”

“I was a really bad person. I should’ve acted differently. I should’ve at least told you... or Nami or someone... but I just... assumed things... I was so scared that you’d stop... that you’d stop being my... friend... And stop loving me…”

His grip tightened around your shoulder as he pressed you a bit closer to him. He offered you a warm smile as he spoke in the same light note.

“Well, whatever happened, happened. I don’t think that you are a bad person. You’re human and you made a mistake that you’re now aware of. I know that you had no ill intentions. At least you learned something, hm? And about me... Aren’t you underestimating me a bit?” He smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Did you forget that I’m Luffy and Ace’s brother? I’m tough, you know.”

You were overwhelmed by his kindness, and this just made you realize that it wasn’t only about your feelings, you couldn’t count on everyone else to put up with you and clear up your mess.

“Sabo, you’re so kind.” Despite your mascara running under your eyes and you looking like a total mess, he found you incredibly beautiful. He felt proud, he knew how hard it was for you to go through all of this. He felt like it was worth it that he had loved you for this long, you were honest and strong, even if you weren’t aware of that strength, you had proven it in this moment.

“I’m not being kind.” He meant it; after all, his intentions weren’t all that innocent towards you, he had wanted you from the start. “I’m just being truthful, as your best friend.”

Maybe he wanted more, but he was content being your friend as well. Since for him everything needed time, he had no right to rush you.

Love is a matter of timing after all. Too fast and all of his subtle efforts would go to waste.

“About that... I mean... The “best friends” part...” He could easily see your chest heaving with your breath. Your heartbeat raising little by little until it was unbearable, your lower lip slightly trembling as you dreaded the weight of the words you were going to pronounce. He looked at you with genuine interest and curiosity; he laid off a bit, turning your way.

“I don’t think that we could act this way anymore...” You dug your nails into the palm of your hand nervously.

“I... told Katakuri about everything. I told him that I couldn’t be with him anymore because of how things have changed. I can’t be here and pretend that nothing happened when so much did…”

“Nothing has changed for me.” He said in a stable voice, trying to anticipate your reaction. Despite being sure of himself, of every step he had taken till now, he felt a hint of uncertainty, for this was a variable that he hadn’t taken into consideration.

“But everything changed for me, and I can’t ignore it. I can’t continue to play pretend... Of course it was convenient for me... And I didn’t wanna lose... Whatever it is that we have. But I didn’t realize that it had already changed. I can’t be your friend anymore, Sabo. Not like this. Not with these thoughts in mind. Not after…” Y our eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes and back. “After... everything we did.”

You didn’t give more reasons, but your eyes gave one hundred more.

We can’t be friends because I touched myself to the thought of you. Because I can’t help but think about being with you. Because I don’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. Because I love the way your arms fit around me. Because I love everything about you, from the way you say my name to these stupid blond eyelashes that reflect the light everytime you blink. And most importantly... because I love your way of loving me unconditionally.

As much as I want you...

As much as you want me back...

I can’t be with you, not now, because it would hurt me and hurt you even more, because I have to make a decision, because I can’t draw the line between love and lust and because I am afraid to wrong you in the way I was wronged.

But just for a moment, just for this time, you wanted to kiss him just one last time. You wanted to get intoxicated by that mint smell that you have grown addicted to. He looked at you as he drank your words, eyes reflecting the darkness of the sky. His piercing gaze seemed to understand your dilemma. Suddenly, the emptiness of the park felt too weighty and the air too heavy.

“Say something,” you pleaded, almost begging him to break the silence.

To words, he preferred actions. Before you even realized, he captured your lips into the kiss you were longing for. His hand was fast to encircle your back, pressing your upper body against his. Your fingers instinctively reached for the fabric of his shirt, tugging on it as to pull him closer. For him to kiss you so passionately, it only made you realize his burning desire for you. The more you kissed in an attempt to ease your craving, the hungrier you got for his lips, for his stupid minty taste. But it wasn’t nearly enough for you, the growing warmth and tingles created a desire that you were unable to appease yet. You pressed your legs together when his free hand gently rubbed your thigh. He kissed you deeply, almost willing you into giving up on your decision to give in to his embrace. He was indeed that good of a kisser, making you want to shift into his lap and have him inside of you. You whined at this thought growing more eager, tongue chasing his, teeth nibbling on his lips. But you eventually had to break the kiss, even when you prayed for the seconds to last for hours, it was bound to end. You took a moment to collect your breath again. His eyes were demanding, pupils dilated and greedy, yours were more modest, shifty.

“Looked like you were dying for it.”

He broke the silence, finger tracing your neck before lifting up your chin, making you lose composure as you looked into his deep gaze. It was too late to deny it, you were indeed dying for it. But instead of satiating you, that kiss felt like the promise of something forbidden. You only groaned meekly as an answer, feeling too weak to actively protest. You indulged in his embrace, resting your head in the crease of his neck. You breathed in his scent, even his hair smelled fresh like mint. As you took in a bigger gulp of air, you could inhale the subtleties of a thyme or violet underlying smell. What shampoo did he use? Another diverging thought that you discarded.

You closed your eyes. “Can we stay like this for a little longer?” you asked, and who was he to deny you so little? He revelled in your desperate need for his touch. He felt needed, wanted, but he knew that he shouldn’t get carried away, he knew that it wasn’t the right timing yet. So he just let you sink into his warmth. For now.

You peeled yourself off of him reluctantly. Your eyes avoided his. Nice progress ,he thought, but there was still need for improvement.

“I can’t be selfish, not anymore. I have to make a decision. I am sorry I can’t make up my mind yet.” Your voice cut through the silence, firm, yet not devoid of sensitivity.

You needed time, it was clear, but he was nothing if not patient with you. He was ready to settle for your friendship for now while he worked for your love, but he liked your idea more. He wasn’t one to push his emotions onto you, he was there to lead the dance, to toss a bottle into the sea. If good news came then good for him, if nothing came out then he had gambled and lost. But he wasn’t as detached and passive as things might have seemed, as he took multiple variables into consideration to place his best bet.

“Take all the time you need.” Not an ounce of annoyance was to be detected in his voice. It was steady, a rock that couldn’t be moved. He had what it took, he knew what he wanted and he was ready to wait for it because he had the deep belief that you were worth the wait.

“Why are you so patient? Don’t you think you’re too confident? Aren’t you scared? ” It was genuine curiosity, but you bit your tongue realizing that your words might’ve seemed cocky or doubting. His lips stretched into a roguish smile, making him devastatingly handsome. And here he was, a Sabo that you had encountered a few times between two eyelash beats. It was so destabilizing, the way he morphed into a totally different person from one second to another, giving you a strange feeling. It was something that you couldn’t fully place yet. He kept escaping from your grip while being totally still. He was like sand between your fingers and you were fascinated by the prospect of catching him.

“I thought that it was obvious, doll.” Here he goes again, calling you sweet names and raising the rhythm of your heartbeats. How did he make everything sound good? You would’ve scoffed at anyone else calling you ‘doll’, but that voice of his made it sound oh so appealing. Or maybe it was the seed of desire that he had planted in your core, that was now growing and blossoming, vines intertwining with your lungs.

He got closer again, black eyes scrutinizing yours.

“You can have all the time you need. What I want is simple, non-negotiable, immutable.”

At first he was startled; your ex appearing out of nowhere seemed like an inconvenience, but after giving it some thought, he realized that he was in luck. He didn’t have to make you choose, the choice was there for you to make.

“And what is it that you want?”

“You. But all of you.” He looked you up and down as he said this then got up. He wasn’t the type to settle for less. He wanted no compromises, no half-open doors, no half assed answers. If he wanted something then it was all of it, out of respect for you and for himself. Another reason was probably that he knew: the longer the chase, the bigger the prize.

He got up since he considered that the conversation was over now and it was also getting late. You looked at him, eyes wide open, cheeks aflame. His voice trailed off, cutting through the silence.

“No rush, I think that it’s better for you to focus on your exams for now. Will you manage without my help?” Another charming smile, shifting back to that playful Sabo you have always known. The mood felt less serious now.

“I think I’ll do just fine this time…” you smiled gently, following his lead.

“Good, then. Good night.” He put his hand on your head, softly ruffling your hair before turning back. He seemed a bit more distant now, like he was plunged into some deep reverie. You instinctively got up, looking intensely at his back slowly fading into the darkness. Before his silhouette got completely enveloped, you shouted.

“Sabo!”

He turned back instantly and you threw something in the air towards him. He was quick to catch it.

“I don’t think I need these anymore. Take them!”

He opened his hands, looking at the packet of menthol cigarettes and a blue lighter. He put it into his back pocket prior to giving you a proud smile. He then continued his way back home, leaving you behind. You felt both relieved because things had gotten a bit clearer, yet apprehensive since your feelings were still very much unclear. But maybe what you felt above all was exhaustion. You looked for a moment at your empty hands. Did you make the right choice? Whether it was good or bad, you couldn’t care less. At least you had acted true to yourself.

tag list : @chloenanami @mwls-garden @soanywaysistartedsimping @portgaslari @lofi-coffee @donvampiro @fishandfuck @vemuabhi @gabrielasalazar18 @kiriechanx

[cienie-isengardu]

The Lin Kuei? As far as social dynamics and structure. You probably have a lot of these questions answered already, so you might just have to consolidate them... but what do think the Lin Kuei social structure is like?

I know there's the Grandmaster whose above everyone, and the Master Assassins (game characters we know about) and Sifu above everyone else, and rank is probably determined by skill less than birth. Sektor doesn't seem to get any special protection or treatment despite his family tree.

But what exactly is the hierarchy among the members? Who out ranks who? Both in teams, and as a group? What are the inter Lin Kuei relationships like, who feels what about who? What exactly is the qualifications? (Cyrax who I admittedly don't pay much attention to, for example confuses me, since he doesn't seem very impressive as a fighter?) How is rank maintained? I know they probably fight for it, but fighting constantly or to the point of death / serious injury seems counterproductive, even in mk? How is peace maintained? How is punishment dolled out, what constitutes punishment in a aggressively combative society like that, and in such a brutal environment, what is punishment?

If there's other things you think of to answer that I didn't ask, answer those too please. I love how much thought you put into these. Your the best. 🥰

"RELEASE THE RAMBLES!!!"

First off, sorry it took me so long to answer. Secondly, thank you very much for such a wonderful ask! Hope you will not regret once the rambles are set free, because there is a lot to talk about :D

The safest way to analyze Lin Kuei social structures would be to start with some basic question: what is a Lin Kuei? And the answer will be of course a clan, more precisely, a clan using assassins and thieves as its main source of income. But there is also another thing about Lin Kuei that will play an important role in creating and sustaining social structures - the strong independence streak and the pragmatism born from it.

Because the vital part of Lin Kuei is their loyalty to themselves. They work for those who can afford their service, but they aren’t bound to any earthrealm government or outworld ruler. I mean, Shang Tsung/Shao Kahn probably had a long-lived deal with Lin Kuei that benefited clan and in MK9 Lin Kuei offered the emperor their loyalty and service, but we also known that cyber Sektor refused to serve Quan Chi/Shinnok [MKX] once he decided the sorcerer had failed to fulfill his part of contract. Which means at the end of the day, the Lin Kuei benefit was the major goal to achieve. Even Kuai Liang’s reformed Lin Kuei shows this tendency - Sub-Zero will work with other Earthrealm Defenders but he isn’t blindly following anyone and is willing to go against fellow combatants (seen especially in banters with Raiden [MK11] where Sub-Zero questions god’s competence to protect the realm).

Interestingly, Shirai Ryu in the past did offer their service to various Japanese leaders / shoguns and who knows, even in modern days the clan still could have served the government as some special forces in time of need (and in return, have some protection and/or supplies from government?). In contrast, there is little to none information of Lin Kuei being loyal to one country - I mean, the sources usually call Lin Kuei warriors the “chinese ninjas” but we have never seen them showing any sign of national pride, haven’t we? Their only pride comes from belonging to Lin Kuei and their own skills. Another point against connection to any government is the fact that Lin Kuei are operating world-wide and collect people with special powers from over all world (Cyrax comes from Botswana [Southern Africa], Smoke/Tomas Vrbada from Prague [Czech Republic] and even Ice Bros were born in USA in old timeline). So, the fact that Lin Kuei warriors are diverse in terms of their powers and appearance/ethnicity will also affect the social structures.

So, the social structures on one hand must create a society that blindly follows Grandmaster’s will, on another be enough A) elastic to adapt a vast number of different people and B) solid to maintain the clan independence from others, Earthrealm and Outworld alike.

The problem with independence is that Lin Kuei works for the best price which also means constant danger. For warriors sent on missions to the safety of the whole clan. Without a clearly defined loyalty to anyone but themselves, Lin Kuei would be left on its own in case of enemy attack or any other potentially dangerous crisis. So the members of the clan must stick to each other because no one else would do that.

Regardless of type or date of source, the clan headquarters - one or many existing at the same time? - is usually presented as located in a naturally hard-to-reach, isolated place and with a clear defensive character, as can be seen below :

Lin Kuei for ages used naturally hard to invade / attack places like mountain peaks separated from the rest of the world by abyss with a bridge that can be easily destroyed and solid, thick walls to protect the clan. But here is a thing to think about - as much as there were a lot of strong, cunning and skilled warriors, Lin Kuei operated world-wide, taking jobs in various parts of Earthrealm and Outworld and some missions could take months if not years to finish and there was no guarantee that everyone would return. Which means the warriors couldn’t always be available in case of an enemy's attack or other serious crisis.

So, to maintain the defensive advantages, especially in a naturally harsh environment, there should be someone to control and if necessary take care of the state of walls, the bridge(s), residential buildings and so on. Which means Lin Kuei would need access to natural resources (wood, stone, metal) for expansion or repair but also for experienced craftsmen. There is also a matter of access to drinkable water and food supply, the most basic requirement for a clan to survive and thrive.

On one hand, warriors could fulfill such roles too, especially if we take into account a paragraph from Mortal Kombat novel by Jeff Rovin (1995):

They [Lin Kuei] would kidnap children when they were five or six and raise them in secret caves or woods to become superb athletes, great scholars, and unparalleled fighters, able to use all weapons and to improvise arms from common objects such as paper rolled to a knife-point or sand packed into a sock. They would train the children, boys and girls both, to be masters of many trades: carpenters, fishermen, priests, and even beggars, so they could blend in and make themselves useful in different towns as they traveled on missions for their lords.

Many young people died during training: some could not hold their breath for five minutes and drowned, others weren’t fast enough to avoid the weapons of the masters, some starved or froze or dehydrated when they were stranded, naked, in deserts or on mountaintops and told to make their way home. But those who survived were the Lin Kuei.

On the other hand, to become masters of the traders mentioned above, those children needed proper teachers. And yes, the already trained warriors could pass the knowledge to the younger generation but warriors first and foremost were responsible for earning money for the clan which is why personally teaching kids anything other than martial arts seems like wasting a time they could utilize in a better (more profitable) way.

This is why I suspect the social structures of Lin Kuei included various groups responsible for different needs of the clan.

The leader

So, we have a Grandmaster, the ruler. In modern times, pretenders for this title needed only to defeat and kill the current leader to take over the clan. Like Cyber Sektor and Kuai Liang did. But such practice may be just an exception to the long tradition, because Cyber Initiative was an extreme project that divided and ultimately destroyed the old version of clan. Killing the previous owner of the title may have some value (as in, eliminating any potential conflict of interest) but at the same time choosing and teaching a successor sounds much more practical. Because leading such a big clan is no easy feat thus any preparation would be useful and beneficial for the clan’s future. Not to mention the possibility of some secret knowledge that should be passed alongside.

Sadly, we don’t have much information about the inner politics of Lin Kuei. From the crumbs here and there, we know about Sub-Zero and past-Grandmasters that:

→ they could have offspring (example: Sektor).

However the sources don’t define if that was required from them in the form of a marriage or just as a way to secure the continuing inheritance of power (a tradition that Kuai Liang could simply ignore) or from their own choice or if the procreation of a child was unplanned and just happened. Whatever the truth was, in the case of Sektor, “it was never in question that he would join the Lin Kuei.”

The line from MK9 Sektor bio suggests that being a child of a warrior does not give immediate status as a member of the Lin Kuei. This in turn could suggest that not every child begotten by Lin Kuei warriors would be forced to join the clan. Sektor, as the son of the Grandmaster simply didn’t have a choice in the matter and who knows, maybe there is some premature qualification should the child be taken or not.

Another interesting part of Sektor’s BIO is this line: “Though this mission will put his clan in good standing with Shao Kahn, Sektor's ultimate goal is to supplant his father as Grand Master of the Lin Kuei." which may suggests that Sektor wasn’t the designated heir after all so plotted to overthrow his father?. I mean, he was sent to the Mortal Kombat Tournament as a participant and then cyborgized while the Grandmaster himself stayed human with a handful of other members of the clan. Then again, Sektor’s ending suggests that Grandmaster wasn’t surprised much by Sektor’s attempt to take over Lin Kuei, so maybe the killing of the previous leader was in fact a necessary part of rite of passage between old and new ruler?

→ it was against tradition for them to personally train new recruits

Stated in Deadly Alliance, in Frost’s Bio:

The winner was a mysterious female named Frost who seemed to have freezing abilities similar to those of Sub-Zero. Breaking with Lin Kuei tradition, the new Grand Master, Sub-Zero, took it upon himself to train this new recruit.

Interestingly, the Grandmaster was supposed to be the absolute ruler yet there were some traditions that actually regulated his or her participation in daily life of the clan. Kuai Liang simply ignored those and chose Frost as his apprentice, who at least in theory, became his appointed heir. By that logic, Sektor shouldn’t be trained by father, at least not before he gained the official status of Lin Kuei and proved himself worthy of Grandfather’s attention.

→ but it was their duty (choice?) to teach advanced arts to a few selected warriors.

This is mainly seen in Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series. The third episode (“Cold Reality”) gave us Shang Tsung’s explanation about clan and its warriors:

“The Lin Kuei, an ancient sect. Their training is the deepest secret as is their code. They are silent, swift and always lethal [...]. For some, a select few… the Lin Kuei Grand Masters will continue their education into darker areas. Then death comes in more interesting ways.”

Then, through this and another episode, the TV series shows that Grandmaster in fact personally oversees the training of Sub-Zero. So, the training of the new recruits may be against the tradition, but passing the advanced knowledge and the final trials seem to be not. Or at least the trials of the warrior with special (ancient) abilities.

This suggests the social status of a warrior - or any clan member - is affected by Grandmaster’s favor or lack thereof. Those chosen will advance, become more powerful and thus sent on more dangerous yet profitable missions. With a successful streak of missions, their notoriety will grow between prestige clients and the Lin Kuei community for good strengthening their social position. And who knows, one day they could take the place of (grand)masters in the inner circle serving closely the leader? On the other hand, those whose loyalty or skills get doubted by the Grandmaster are punished in several ways.

Inner Circle / Ancient (?) Masters

The same as with Grandmasters, there is little confirmed information about Lin Kuei masters. Bi-Han/elder Sub-Zero seemed to be favored by Grandmaster who called him the “our most cunning assassin and thief” (Mythologies: Sub-Zero) but it doesn’t sound like he was one of the inner circle.

In Mortal Kombat: Defenders of the Realm (episode 5, “Old Friends Never Die”), Kuai Liang mentioned “Ancient Masters” who decided to change warriors into cyborgs, while in the Mortal Kombat Conquest TV show we could see that Grandmaster keeps talking to some men about Sub-Zero’s training and powers. Interestingly, those men had uniforms looking more like his own than of any warrior.

(If Lin Kuei co-operated with Shang Tsung for ages, their life-span could be extended by sorcerer’s magic. Or, their own special abilities allow for such a long life. Thus the name of ancient masters?)

I think it is right to assume those masters formed an inner circle that advised the leader and helped in training the chosen warriors and most likely oversaw specific operations / aspects of the clan's life. Most likely with Grandmaster, they made the higher command and were the law.

Warriors

In the simplest way, this is the working class that earns money and builds the reputation of the clan. The warriors were the main source of incoming profit for the clan, but it wasn’t just material goods from assassinations and stealing but most likely also important intelligence data that Lin Kuei could use for its benefit or sell on. Thanks to them, Lin Kuei was also feared and respected in Earthrealm and Outworld alike.

So, on one hand, being a warrior in itself was a prestige rank that gave a chance to gain fame. The skilled and smart could advance into higher positions (the master assassins and thieves) and maybe even get Grandmaster’s attention. On another the life of a warrior was the most dangerous and hazardous occupation in the clan with little prospects for a long life. The victory was paid in warrior’s blood and pain while punishment for failure was severe and harsh.

The easiest way to classified them would be those two categories:

→ the common ones,

in games and comics looking alike, without distinctive features. It is hard to tell, if they possess any special abilities, if they were blood related to each other, what kind of missions they took.

→ the master assassins and thieves,

whose uniforms and weapons are modified to their personal taste and style of fighting and who have greater independence than warriors from the first category. I think it is right to assume that named warriors should be classified as such. So we have Sub-Zero/Bi-Han, Tundra/Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax, Sektor, Frost, comics!Hydro.

Yet, this division may be in fact disastrous due to lack of enough sources. I mean, the lack of individuality does not necessarily imply a lack of appropriate abilities and for all we know, the “nameless” members just wear proper uniforms for their duties. Something that maybe even the named characters would wear if any source actually showed their downtime between missions. Frankly, the classic “ninja look” also makes everyone look alike, with only proper colors to distinguish between characters. Like the old comics version of Sub-Zero and Hydro - the main detail to tell them apart was the color of their eyes because both wore the typical Lin Kuei blue and dark uniform.

There is a lot to say about Lin Kuei warriors, so I will focus only on the aspects most vital to the subject and the role and effect it has on the Lin Kuei social structures.

→ armors, uniforms and their colors

Lin Kuei seems to have various uniforms, from those with plain (“classic”) look to very ornamented ones. Like I mentioned earlier, there may be an established type of clothes the warrior should wear on duty between missions while during the job the uniform was personalized due to the owner's skills and preferences. Some more advanced designs could be also a sign of personal achievements and were given / passed down (as family heirloom?) to said warriors.

The most noticeable thing however is the color. Since most clan members shared some kind of blood-ties (thus specific set of genes), the color may represent their connections to a specific branch of the clan. For example, blue was used by cryomancers and those warriors who had water-related powers. At the same time, blue seems like the most common color used by Lin Kuei. It makes sense for Kuai Liang’s warriors to use such tone, as to honor their leader and maybe even cut off from the dark past of the clan but frankly, Sub-Zero’s freezing power was called “ancient one” in Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series that alone was set ages before the last tenth Tournament happened, so maybe the ice/water always played a big role through the history and Lin Kuei simply adapted it for its common use? As to combine the reputation of the clan with the terrifying powers of cryomancers?

There is also grey color used by Smoke that fit well to his special power and yellow worn by Cyrax. Albeit if that has any connection to his unique genes or is just a color for a specific branch of clan or just esthetic, hard to tell.

Then we have a red color that most commonly is related to fire, something that Sektor frequently used at least in the new timeline. At the same time, various Grandmasters used red / reddish or burgundy colors (examples: [1] Mortal Kombat Conquest TV series, [2] Mythologies: Sub-Zero, [3] Sektor’s Ending in Mortal Kombat 9). So the red accents on Sektor’s uniform may in fact be a sign of his blood-ties to the leader (or leading family?).

Whatever true reasons lie behind the meaning of colors, Lin Kuei warriors seem to be segregated in certain smaller groups. Interestingly, even if Sektor’s red color in fact symbolised his connection to Grandmaster, this played little to none role in the MK9 game. Of course, the source did not show much inner dynamic between Bi-Han, Sektor and Cyrax but even with so limited space, Sub-Zero was the central figure in the group screen time which makes an impression he was in fact the leader. Then, the argument about the Cyber Initiative project happened only between Sektor and Cyrax, which could also imply Sub-Zero outranked them so they did not want to bring attention of their superior to their personal conflict. Especially since disobedience to Grandmaster was a serious crime.

→ codenames

Mortal Kombat X and 11 provided information that Shirai-Ruy does have some system of official ranks including the term Chujin that in general was a middle rank between ninjas (Takeda Takahashi is a known example). Lin Kuei has complex social structures but as far as we know, they do not use analogous to Japanese ninja system of ranks and yes, I know I categorized the named characters as the master assassins and thieves but frankly, I don’t remember other warriors to refer to them as such. The warriors just called each other by codename and various sources say the codename wasn’t something that permanently belonged to one individual. The name of “Sub-Zero” is the best example since it was used by many warriors through the course of a long period of time.

In both timelines, Bi-Han and Kuai Liang come from lineage of cryomancers serving Lin Kuei

and currently have ongoing conflict to whom the codename truly belongs. Because apparently, the name is passed to new generations once the younger cryomancer will prove their worth, most likely, by defeating the present champion. This does not mean that one must die because frankly, “retired” cryomancer still could teach adepts or serve the clan in a meaningful way. Also, which is very prominent with cryomancers, their mastery over ice grew stronger with passing years, so Bi-Han and Kuai Liang’s Grandfather in fact could be a pretty powerful warrior even as an old man.

The important thing however is that, the codenames may determine the position in clan hierarchy. We don’t have a way to analyze the subjection between codenames and social status of Sektor, Cyrax or Smoke but names used by cryomancers may define their level of mastery over ice. The title of Sub-Zero has existed for ages and I think it is right to assume this is a codename intended only for the best of the best. Sadly, we don’t know how high in the hierarchy was “Tundra” but we can’t cross the possibility that Bi-Han at some point in his career used that name too, before he managed to earn the mantle of Grandfather’s name.

So, Lin Kuei may not use typical ranks and instead stick to codenames passed from one generation to another. Thus no one is addressing Bi-Han as the master assassin and thief but everyone knows that the person using the codename “Sub-Zero” is one of top warriors in the service of the clan.

→ combat experiences, teachers and retirement

Combat experience is something that affects a warrior’s position in a clan because no amount of training (even as hellish as training of Lin Kuei adepts) will be the same as real life and death struggle. The more experienced a warrior is, the more valuable become to the clan. At the same time, old age will slow down even the best of the best fighters at some point. Surprisingly, the first game mentioned (hinted) the idea of retirement in Lin Kuei in Sub-Zero’s (Non-Canonical) Ending:

"After receiving the title of Grand Champion, Sub-Zero disappears back into the shadows from which he came. His only goal in the tournament was...the assassination of Shang Tsung. He was paid a large sum of money by one of Tsung's wealthy enemies. With his mission accomplished, Sub-Zero will collect his fortune and retire from his dangerous profession."

The original Sub-Zero was usually described as 32 years old. Which doesn’t sound old, but if we take into account the previously mentioned passage from the book, the teachings started at the age of 5 or 6 which could mean Bi-Han already survived two decades of harsh servitude to the clan (that abducted him and his younger brother). No one leaves Lin Kuei but there is a possibility that at some age the warrior may step down from the dangerous profession. Then, such a “retired” fighter could train adepts and young, less experienced members of the clan and maybe even start a family that will produce offspring - preferable with special powers - to supply the clan with new recruiters.

Because of that I assume that warriors in their prime were used mainly to do the dirty job and get as much money and valuable items as possible. Once they survived to a certain age, they shared the gained wisdom with less experienced fighters. We don’t know how students and teachers (“sifu”?) were assigned to each other; it may be related to their family ties or similars powers (cryomancers teaching cryomancers, like Kuai Liang and Frost) or the veterans picked youngsters for certain skills or traits that made them worth the time and effort. Anyway, veterans, as those who survived years of service, should be placed high in the hierarchy. Because their experiences and wisdom help to shape a new generation of warriors earning money and fame for the clan.

→ they work alone, in pairs or in bigger groups.

We rarely see the “nameless warriors” working alone - in case of danger or mission, they form a small army and do as they are commanded by Grandmaster (MKX) or one of master assassins, like Bi-Han (Mortal Kombat 2021). In contrast various sources show that named characters usually worked in pairs (Smoke & Tundra, Cyrax & Sektor, Sub-Zero/Bi-Han & Hydro) or alone (Bi-Han, Frost) and in some special cases, commanded larger groups of warriors.

This is an interesting detail, because all the named warriors seem to be to some degree familiar with each other even though it looks like they were permanently paired. Of course, training together will have this effect, but Lin Kuei operated world-wide and in different realms so it is not guaranteed that warriors had time to hang out between missions or to be at the same time in headquarters. If they possessed diverse, opposing elements, after passing the trials and earning the title of warrior, they could be trained separately. Thus again, a smaller chance to form (forbidden) friendship. Which is why I think there must be some exercises that force fighters to cooperate or test their skills in some sort of tournaments. Partially to see how well they fare in fight (thus judge their usefulness to clan), partially to establish hierarchy between them.

Who and how decides about pairing certain fighters is completely a mystery. On one hand, Hydro (water) and Sub-Zero (ice) were compatible and probably naturally increased their own powers. But we also have Kuai Liang (ice) and Tomas (smoke) whose elements seem like not the best combination since Smoke’s power should work better with fire (at least his battle cry, “Where there is Smoke, there is fire!” suggests that) and there is Cyrax and Sektor who powerwise may work well, but their mindsets are extremely different.

Are warriors forced into such partnerships by their superiors or were they allowed to find the right partner, sadly we do not know. On one hand, the dynamic between named characters makes an impression they are in fact an equal partners - Smoke joined Kuai Liang in his quest for revenge on his own (MK9), Sektor didn’t manage to force Cyrax into submission before the man left the clan. Comics!Sub-Zero and Hydro were so close that “Bi-Han” wasn’t afraid to admit his fears of undead Scorpion relentlessly haunting him and Hydro was supportive all the time (“Blood and Thunder”). On the other hand, partnership could provide additional safety and increase the chances of survival during missions and maybe even uphold an already earned social position, so the warriors may seek each other for solely pragmatic reasons, even more since friendship was seen as a weakness and forbidden. I also suspect that though partnership between two warriors was based on mutual benefits, there could be fierce competition between pairs.

Surprisingly, all known to us partnerships are between male characters. There is no gender-mixed duo as far as sources are concerned (unless comics!Hydro was female, trans- or agender person and frankly, for 4 comics issues only one narrator box used the pronunciation of “he” for Hydro, while Scorpion was constantly called by Lin Kuei, other characters or narratives as “he”, which always makes me wonder about Hydro’s gender. Or did comics!Lin Kuei warriors talk about themselves in third person to not betray their and their comrades true identity / gender?). Regardless of the nature of said partnership, those working together share a strong bond. Kuai Liang and Tomas outright considered themselves very close friends (family) despite clan rules that forbidden friendship. Bi-Han was willing to show his weakness / fear to Hydro who in return was very protective of him and even Sektor shows a pathological need to keep Cyrax at his side despite all the oblivious signs how unwise this decision is. Frost, sadly, didn’t have any named partner (what may be related to her role of chief between female Lin Kuei warriors) and if she was included in an important mission, she partnered Grandmaster (MK: Deadly Alliance). And their collaboration was based on a master-apprentice relationship, so it had none of the equality that characterizes the previously mentioned duos.

Of course, ultimately, the warrior who works alone does not need to share the fame (and earning?) with anyone. Bi-Han is the best example of that (Mythologies: Sub-Zero, Mortal Kombat novel (1995) or his bio from the original game). And yes, every warrior should be capable of completing the job, but though weak Lin Kuei fighters may look superhuman in Earthrealm they will not last long in Outworld.

And that brings us to another important matter:

→ the place of activity.

Because those who work frequently in Outworld by default should be considered better in the combat area. But at the same time, Lin Kuei must have a wide and well organized spy network, to keep track of all potential recruits (Smoke and Cyrax), access to science research and laboratories and so on. So, especially in modern times, combat skills may not be the most appreciated feature anymore and some Lin Kuei warriors, no matter how weak they are compared to others, will still have their special value to Grandmaster’s plans. Due to the nature of spying, they could also work alone or in small groups far from their homeland. Thus, operate outside the social hierarchy established between other warriors.

→ Punishments

A warrior could die on mission at any moment, but also could be killed for various offenses, such as:

Leaving the clan - punished by death and this seems to be a consistent punishment in all sources. Of course a determined warrior could manage to successfully run away (like Takeda, the founder of Shirai Ryu or Kuai Liang did) but Lin Kuei does not forget such crime and will hunt down the fugitive for years. The best example comes from the Mortal Kombat book, in which Sub-Zero spent two decades hunting down his own ex-partner in crime to kill him in a brutal way in front of the man's family.

So even if someone managed to run away and start a new life, there was no escape from the clan's wrath. In the modern time, Cyrax was captured and cyborgized - for him, it was fate worse than death. This actually brings the question, if there were warriors responsible for hunting down fugitives or was it the duty of those whose partners broke the sacred rule of “no one leaves Lin Kuei”?

Failure of mission - another known major crime punishable by death yet most likely not applies to Kuai LIang’s reformed clan.

In the Conquest TV series, by Grandmaster’s order two warriors that failed the mission were killed by then current Sub-Zero. This was as much public execution to show others what happens once you fail as presenting the ice powers of freshly promoted cryomancer:

“Before you stand two who have failed. For this there can be but one consequence and it must come from within, within us. Earth, wind, fire, water. To control one element of the four that make up life is power. A twist of nature, an aberration, one who brings forth true killing force. Before you stand one whose ancestors have passed on such power to us. Remember this well. Behold... Sub Zero. [Grandmaster’s speech, episode 3, “Cold Reality”]”

This is just one example from the distant past but it may also be a suggestion that warriors with special powers played the role of executors.

Another example, from Mythologies: Sub-Zero, thus relative modern times:

Scorpion: Yessss... I am Scorpion. You killed me in cold blood.

Sub-Zero: I had no choice. If I had not stolen that map I would be the dead one.

Frankly this attitude is both inhuman treatment of subordinates (failure in itself is just another source of experiences and sometimes failed mission wasn't the result of someone’s mistake or incompetence but of independent circumstances) and unpragmatic (losing manpower). We may only wonder if warriors were punished for failing all kinds of missions or just selected ones. At the same time, a fighter that survived to old age should be really respected - with such harsh laws, not many members live to old age and those who did through the decades failed little to no missions.

Lin Kuei punished also impostors:

which brings us back to the point about codenames and their relationship with social position (and hey, Noob’s complaints aren’t baseless). We don’t know though what kind of punishment was used for such an offense.

Disobeying Grandmaster was also a big deal. I suspect this could be punished by death too although rather not in Kuai Liang’s clan:

“When Sub-Zero made historic peace with his clan’s enemy, Scorpion, defiant Frost challenged her Grandmaster as unfit to lead. Sub-Zero defeated and banished Frost. [MK11]”

In general, Lin Kuei laws were harsh and cruel and it was really easy to lose such hard-earned privileges and positions.

Recruits

In ancient times, children were abducted at the age of 5 or 6 and forced into harh training. Some didn’t survive but those who did became fully pledged to Lin Kuei warriors. In modern times, it seems like most adepts have some blood-ties to other members of the clan and usually are “given” for training freely. There are exceptions to the rule, like Bi-Han and Kuai Liang, who were stolen from home at a young age. Finally, there are people who seem to join Lin Kuei on their own (or at least they think it was their choice), like Smoke, Cyrax and Frost.

(Tomas and Frost are confirmed users of special powers. Cyrax most likely possesses some unique genes too or at least is capable of well controlling his own energy (chi) during fight. Frankly, it looks like Sektor is the only one named Lin Kuei who does not utilize any special power. Ironically, considering how Grandmaster (Oniro) from Defenders of the Earthrealm was shapeshifter. Who knows, maybe Sektor didn’t inherited father’s unique skills?)

So even recruits are a diverse group to begin with and include people ethnically totally different from the majority(?) who needed to learn a new language(s) and culture from scratch. This alone gives a ground for potential conflicts though there is little to none examples of racism between Lin Kuei adult members? I mean, Lin Kuei used to look down on everyone who wasn’t one of them all the same, with special hatred for Shirai-Ryu - not for being Japanese (different ethinc group) but just for being Shirai-Ryu.

The adepts were trained by older warriors and looking at Sub-Zero’s origin (MK9), some adepts trained with family members (Kuai Liang and Bi-Han and maybe even under their Grandfather’s eye?) and teacher (Sifu?) could train more than one student at the same time.

In a way, those coming from the lineage of warriors could be from the start at better social standing than those who were “no ones” or came from far away lands and needed to earn respect of others. Those blood-related to clan members either developed specific powers during training or at least possesed special DNA that could be passed down to the next generation. So, even if those children weren’t the best of best fighters, they still have something valuable to the clan.

At the same time, again, Sektor doesn’t seem to have any special privileges, not once in game(s) called his father as anything other than Grandmaster and in general, he did not have much presence (respect?) between other warriors. I mean, he freely spoke only with Cyrax who in the end did not listen to him at all and almost always fell silent if there were more people around. So yeah, how big an impact on social dynamic between fighters had their blood-ties is not sure.

I’m not gonna talk much about the life of adepts (and there is a lot to say about potential pathologies and harm done to the kids), but they for sure were the lowest rank in (warrior) hierarchy, at least until they proved their worth.

So, the Lin Kuei warriors could be separated in three categories, from lower social rank to the highest:

adepts (in-training, maybe assisting in missions under the watchful eye of their superiors),

warriors (the one earning income),

veterans (teachers)

and the circle was completed.

(For some reason, the circle of Lin Kuei warrior life resembles the “Three-field system” but I have weird associations, I guess).

Household?

When we talk about the Lin Kuei clan, the first association that comes to mind is its warrior nature. But with such a large organisation, warriors are just one social class rather than the majority. Because someone needs to feed them, cloth, arm, heal, which seems logical to assume that there were other specializations that keep the clan running.

I mean, Lin Kuei is an independent faction that as far as we know, has no ties to any earthrealm government. This alone suggests to keep that independence the clan have to possess their own source of food, water, medical supplies and access to other necessary resources, so no enemy could besiege their strongholds and starve them and so on.

⇒ The medics will be for sure an appreciated branch of the clan. And yes, warriors to some degree must have medical knowledge (if not to save people then at least to know how to successfully kill them) but at the same, with so many specific genes and used in fight elements, some Lin Kuei members may have different medical needs than normal people.

⇒ Armorers (and smiths?) provide clan additional defensive equipment and weapons. And we know that even in modern times Lin Kuei barely used firearms and relied more on shurikens, knives and swords.

⇒ Scientists, computer experts and researchers, especially in modern times when C.I. Project became a thing, most likely playing a big role in the clan, fulfilling Grandmaster’s wish to change warriors into cyborgs. May not be liked by the traditionalist members of Lin Kuei, but favored by the leader (so be untouchable).

⇒ Farmers and craftsmen, providing the clan with the basic needs. I doubt they had much impact on social dynamics and may not even live on the grounds of the Lin Kuei Temple / Fortress. I imagine them living in the surrounding villages (or at the foot of the mountains?), giving the Lin Kuei food and handicrafts (and maybe even their own children?) as a tribute, and in return get protection.

My conclusion is that, Lin Kuei have pretty complex social structures in which Grandmaster and his closes circle administrate the whole system, warriors, depending on their age and expertises, are responsible for earning money and prepare the new generation to replace them, while household is there to keep previously mentioned groups alive and in the best condition. Everyone plays a role that helps to maintain Lin Kuei independence and reputation.

So, finally I get to the main part of the question about the dynamic between characters.

Who outrank who is a good question. The Grandmaster of course is above everyone else and so are the “ancient masters” / inner circle. Bi-Han seems to be one of the favored warriors by Grandmaster, the only(?) one confirmed to be the most cunning assassin and thief and the use of a codename associated with “ancient power” only adds to that impression. So, in regard to the named five characters (him, Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor) I would say Bi-Han outranked everyone. At the same time, he does not act arrogant against his fellow clansmen. Okay, to be honest, he seems to not interact much with anyone but that is rather the abrasive, asocial nature of cryomancer than anything else, really. And we have examples from various sources that Bi-Han wasn’t always rude to people around him. (Noob is another deal, but even then he has a more passive-aggressive attitude toward his brother than outright hate / arrogance).

Anyway, Bi-Han outranked the others. And yet, he does not seem to perform any special social functions - except maybe at Grandmaster’s command executing those who failed. In contrast, in MKX intro vs. Sonya, Frost was described by Kuai Liang as “chief among [female Lin Kuei]” which implies her high rank and responsible position in social structures.

One may wonder why Bi-Han most likely wasn’t given similar honor but to be an effective chief, the person must be available and close at hand. Going with Mythologies, the elder Sub-Zero barely came back from one mission (stealing map of elements) to be sent right away for another difficult task (stealing Shinnok amulet and side trip to Netherrealm) and then next one (Mortal Kombat Tournament). Of course, the game due to its limited time and space, won’t focus on realism such as making a proper preparation for the job but even if Bi-Han was allowed little rest between one and another mission, it really looks like he didn’t spend much time at Lin Kuei Temple. Thus there was no point in giving him any big group to oversee, if he wasn’t available to control what was going on between his subordinates. Also, he seems pretty familiar with Smoke and Kuai Liang’s close relationship but there are not many hints that he tried to do something about their breaking clan rules forbidding friendship.

Then again, there is a possibility that Kuai Liang, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor did in fact belong to Bi-Han’s own “cohort” what could explain

A) why all the five characters are always so closely tied up to each other while the rest of clan members are just a background and

B) why with Sub-Zero’s death everything went to hell between them.

(And again, the amount of duties to female Lin Kuei could keep Frost from leaving headquarters too often, thus no need for partnership with anyone. Because of that, she grew angry at Kuai Liang for “holding her back” and at the same time not respecting enough to grant her the title of Sub-Zero).

Pragmatic resolution to solving inner conflict would be some kind of neutral judge (chief) and the fight for rank and position most likely happened under watch of superior(s). As in, official challenge, especially for top ranks like Sub-Zero. The official fight did not need to end with someone’s death but this could be one of rare situations when a warrior could kill the other fighter - or even the hated teacher / master? - without much consequence. Of course, Lin Kuei proved pragmatism is not always a priority but I strongly believe the clan structures were based on discipline and so arbitrary fights were also severely punished. What is the point of having warriors if they can’t be sent to earn money due to unnecessary injuries? Also, corporal punishment in itself shouldn’t be that big deal for society growing up in brutal ways since early childhood - which is why I suspect that the punishments were administered in public. As a form of humiliation, to force the guilty people to earn respect of fellow warriors again from scratch.

I suspect that warriors could be separated into smaller groups - basing on their special powers or family connection? - that competed with each other. Age could also regulate how one person should act around the others; for example, like youngling around veteran or fully trained fighter. Not sure how this rule could relate to those representing “household”. Were there laws protecting them or could they be bullied/killed on whim? Could warriors even be involved romantically with “servants” / lower class? The good thing from such affair could be the birth of children given to the clan once they were old enough and well, sex with “outsider” in itself can be a good way to relieve the warriors growing tension / stress resulting from living in a brutal environment without complicating things between companions. To be fair, some warriors could have romantic / intimate relationships with each other as well but most likely kept them secret to avoid punishment.

There is also a matter of who and how chose warriors to represent Lin Kuei at Mortal Kombat Tournament. I mean, Bi-Han was always the first choice, supported by the first game and Mythologies but did he choose Sektor and Cyrax as his companions or they naturally were chosen as part of his group or did Grandmaster assign them to Sub-Zero on his own? Dunno but keeping the five named Lin Kuei warriors together through the course of years really makes me think they came from the same, for a lack of better word, a cohort.

Cryomancers most likely stuck together (Bi-Han and Kuai Liang) and Smoke tagged along. Cyrax looks like an easy going type of person who isn't afraid to speak his mind so I wouldn’t be surprised if he were either on good terms with most clan members or pissing the rest while human Sektor, in contrast, is much more introverted, or even withdrawn from social interaction. This is of course only my subjective feeling, but he lacks a dominant presence to make a big impression. Not like the older Sub-Zero or Cyrax. Then we have Tundra!Kuai Liang whose loyalty belongs first and foremost to an older brother than the clan itself and to honor Bi-Han he will get into all sorts of dangerous problems and conflicts not caring for consequences at all. A behaviour that may not sit well with Sektor (even more, if he never had such a strong bond with own father/other people?). Sektor and Kuai Liang have a long history of ideological conflict and I suspect they truly could agree only about not giving up Cyrax’s remains to anyone and whatever was going on, protect the body at all cost.

Interestingly, as much as Kuai Liang and Tomas or Kuai Liang and Cyrax were close and on good terms (especially after the fiasco of C.I. project), Bi-Han and Sektor seem to be much closer to each other. If not in the stricte emotional sense, they at least share the pride in Lin Kuei and strive for perfection (manifesting itself in accepting their drastic changes for example). Even with limited sources, the storyline never(?) put Sektor and Bi-Han against each other, either as humans or cyborg and wraith and I strongly suspect there may be something much deeper about their relationship that lack of interaction on screen could suggest in the first place (x)(x).

Then we have tradition vs technology.

This most likely is a modern issue that could be the basis for serious inner conflicts between warriors. Those taking jobs in Outworld for sure must be powerful fighters, especially since technology is not something working well there. Bi-Han in most if not all sources was a traditionalist who didn’t use much or outright refused to use technology and I wouldn’t be surprised if he worked in Outworld frequently (especially Bi-Han in the newest movie was presented as a close associate of Shang Tsung). For the weaker warriors, advanced technology could be a life-saver. Then there is the whole Cyber Initiative that divided (and ultimately destroyed) Lin Kuei. For such a project, the clan either worked with independent / private researchers and cybernetic experts or actually had its own specialists (another possible social group?).

From MK9 we know Cyrax spoke in public against Grandmaster’s plan. In Defenders of the Realm, Smoke and Kuai Liang run from the clan at the first occasion to avoid such fate. Logically thinking, Sektor (supporter of the advanced technology) should not get along well with Bi-Han (stubborn traditionalist), the same as he fell out with Cyrax, Smoke and Kuai Liang. And yet there is not much evidence suggesting any big conflict between them. Of course, Sektor could simply not speak against his superior(?) the same as he argued with Cyrax but in all fairness, I doubt Bi-Han’s lack of use of technology was a secret not openly critiqued by others. I mean, even comics!Kuai Liang said about his brother that Bi-Han was “stubborn in many ways, refused to utilize modern technology on his missions. A shame, really. He was among the Lin Kuei’s finest --although fast becoming obsolete”. If Sektor and Bi-Han (and the rest of the group) worked together on joint missions, the issue of technology would come sooner than later. Though I suspect that no matter what Sektor would say, Bi-Han outstubborn him anyway. On other hand, it looks like only Sektor needed/chose to use advanced technology (flame thrower) while the rest relied on their special powers. In that case, being Sektor between gifted people for sure was a hard deal.

So, if I have to rank them I would say Bi-Han → Sektor & Cyrax who most likely were at least a bit higher than Kuai Liang (younger cryomancer) and Smoke. In case of conflict, I think as long as it was possible, they solved their problems among themselves. Bringing authority (Grandmaster, one of chiefs(?) or Bi-Han)’s attention was never a good idea because it could lead to public punishment / humiliation. Bi-Han may or may not knock some sense into others if the inner conflict gets out of hand or at least told them into face how idiotic they are (and he is pretty famous for insulting/mocking even those he shouldn’t. Like Quan Chi, a powerful client. Which is why I doubt he would tone down his natural abrasiveness. Especially not for an idiot that actually deserves it ).

And yet, whatever conflict was between those five characters, they still stayed loyal to each other. At least until someone outright broke one of the most punishable laws, like leaving the clan.

For example, Cyrax and Sektor argued about C.I. project - and most likely it was already an ongoing argument between them. Cyrax even was “among those speaking out against the Grand Master’s plan”. Not a good thing for their partnership yet Sektor still vouched for Cyrax when Shang Tsung had his doubts about the man. Or how Bi-Han changed sides during Tournament (MK9) - otherwise his fight against Scorpion would have zero sense - and maybe he did discuss the course of his action with his fellow clan members. But whatever he told or not what was going on, Cyrax was absolutely ready to kill Scorpion to avenge fallen cryomancer (“Scorpion will pay for this!”). Then we have Smoke not abandoning Kuai Liang even though he was already turned into Cyber Sub-Zero and attacked his friend and of course furious Tundra interrupting the Outworld Tournament and literally demanding from the Emperor to bring him Bi-Han’s murderer to kill. Hell, even Noob and Cyber Sektor stick to each other despite everything that happened.

Those five were a really loyal group, weren’t they?

So, in general:

the social structures of Lin Kuei were diverse and complex,

the punishment was harsh and deadly - in some cases, executed by a fellow warrior in public.

Bi-Han most likely had a high position in clan hierarchy but he wasn’t outright called a master

and there is possibility Sektor, Cyrax, Smoke and Kuai Liang worked under his command.

Most of the Lin Kuei members share blood ties to some degree but experiences and skills seem to outrank any family bond. In contrast to friendship, keeping touch with family (within the clan) is rather not forbidden. There may be a conflict between friendship (a choice) and family matters (a fate / tradition of serving Lin Kuei to uphold).

Kuai Liang and Smoke broke clan rules forbidding friendship (and Bi-Han did nothing about that?).

Cyrax most likely were familiar with Tundra and Smoke enough to like / respect each other. In the case of Tomas, the additional factor for keeping together could be the fact that both were born as outsiders (different ethnicity, lack of blood ties to clan).

Cyrax and Kuai Liang had ideological conflict with Sektor, who in turn seems to be on good terms with Bi-Han.

Bi-Han on the other hand seemed to not have any conflict with the four named warriors? Kuai Liang was his brother (and there is no example he was abused in any way by the older sibling, I think?), MK9!Smoke may not be on a first name basis with Bi-Han (didn’t call him in game as anything else than Sub-Zero or Kuai Liang’s brother) but he was accepted as Kuai Liang’s close friend. At the beggining of Tournament, Cyrax was seen on Sub-Zero’s right side and there is the scene-parallel (with Sektor cut off from the frame, the impression is that we were shown the honorable/”good” Lin Kuei) and he showed protectiveness toward Sub-Zero.Then there is Sektor who somehow get along with Bi-Han (and Noob) without any complaints or problems. Of course, Smoke, Cyrax and Sektor could be smart enough to not get in any open conflict with abrasive Bi-Han. Kuai Liang is a whole different matter, I guess.

The named characters in fact didn’t need to like each other but they were taught discipline and loyalty to the group from the start. Though it would be really hilarious if the most abrasive cryomancer with little to no social skills was in fact the one that keep them all together and was a bridge between strong-willed/hotheaded Kuai Liang & Smoke, independent Cyrax and blindly loyal, withdrawn Sektor.

I’m not sure if such a mix of strong personalities was the norm between warrior groups or was it just Bi-Han’s luck to get involved with duos of Tundra-Smoke and Sektor-Cyrax at some point. Anyway, this is my take on social structures and dynamics between Lin Kuei.

Hope it satisfies your curiosity!

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra Dimitrescu x Maiden ----Valiant pt.2

Part 1

You don’t think you could catch a wink of sleep if you tried.

Your mind is just too busy to shut down. Nerves buzz across your whole body. You feel like you’re suspended in time, trapped in a loop endlessly replaying the previous night’s events. Your mistake was getting involved in affairs that didn’t concern you. In this village, that can very well be one’s undoing. You know it. You knew it.

Yet you still intervened. 

Like a fool.

If you close your eyes, you can still see her. The brunette Dimitrescu. A living painting of a woman in a background of howls and pitch-black darkness, who spoke with a lilting voice and prettily pronounced vowels –and complete disregard over human life.

Earning her amusement was the only reason you and the shopkeeper got to see another sunrise, although you have a sneaking suspicion it will be his last. Nobody disrespects a Dimitrescu and gets away with it. It may as well be law in the village –and the sentence for breaking it is very clear.

The man doesn’t remember what he did. It may be for the better, bitter as it feels to you. Either way, you try not to stare at him too much –nor the bruise on his face in the shape of your knuckles— when you enter his shop and ask for the brunette daughter’s order. It’s under the initials C.D. No name has been given and no address. He hasn’t realized who she is. Perhaps being permanently intoxicated has to do with it.

The box you receive weighs heavy in your hands, for more than one reason. Seeing it springs forth in your senses the expensive scent of her perfume, the tickle of her hair against your nose when she leaned in. Her lips were soft as a wildflower’s petals and cold as snow.

The “Thanks, sweetheart.” she said plays on repeat in your head.  

Of course, such is your luck that you couldn’t pine over any normal girl. It’s human nature, you suppose, to desire what’s forbidden, but that’s not the only adjective that describes her;

She’s lethal.

A certain part of you was aware the moment you looked into her blueish amber eyes. Like a snake being stared down by a hawk or a deer caught in the gaze of a wolf, your place in the food chain wasn’t quite the same. Part of you was –is— attracted to her beauty. Part of you was petrified.

The stories your mother told you about her family don’t help in that department. Maidens who have been taken as maids into their castle never came back. Nobody who passed that threshold ever returned. There are rumors about dungeons filled with wailing. Warnings, to avoid bloodied steps should one come across them in the forest. To fear the mark the three daughters bear on their foreheads.

Hours pass. The sun begins its descent down the plane of the sky.

You can’t help but wonder if you’ll see it rise again.

You tell your employer you aren’t feeling well and need to take the evening off. You’ve worked non-stop so many days he doesn’t get to voice anything other than a grumble of acknowledgement.

It’s… a daunting experience, being alone after sunset.

You aren’t used to it, which makes it all the more jarring when the distant howling begins. You’re sitting in your couch with the nicest button-up shirt you have on –might as well look good dying, you figure— waiting.

And waiting.

Night has completely settled in. The cold penetrates your skin. You busy yourself with lighting the fireplace, pretending not to hear the sounds from outside. The cracking of wood helps, if only for a little bit. It gets a tad warmer, though you’re still chilled to the bone.

Perhaps she won’t come. you’re beginning to think.

But then, a peculiar sound comes from the other side of your door. Like the buzzing of insects, followed by a rush of air. Followed… by a knock on the wooden surface.

Your lungs suddenly empty of oxygen. If it was possible for a heart to jump right out a person’s chest yours would be doing just that. You have to answer but you’ve lost your voice. Every instinct screams at you to stay as far away from the door as humanly possible.

“It’s me.” you hear her muffled huff.

You summon all the courage you possess to walk to the entrance –and turn the handle. The brunette Dimitrescu is standing there in all her black-clad glory, eyes gleaming in the dark like gemstones. The very edge of her lip curves up upon seeing you. You move aside to let her in and waste zero seconds in closing the door behind her.

Her hood is pushed off in one graceful motion, revealing her waterfall of rich brown hair. “It’s cold in here.” she states, then turns to you. “Aren’t you freezing?”

You are, but that’s the least of your worries. “Kind of.” you say as you hover there awkwardly.

Your breath leaves a hint of smoke behind. Hers does not. You’re moving towards the box before your nerves cause you to break down in front of her.

It’s one thing to have a pretty girl in your house for the first time.

It’s entirely another when said pretty girl can also very easily kill you.

“Eager to get rid of me, beautiful?” she asks. There is obvious teasing in her voice but also an undertone of… something else. Disappointment, maybe. Whatever it is it strikes straight at your heart.

“I—no.” you reply, quickly. “Can I offer you something to drink, uh…” you still don’t know her name.

“Cassandra.” she smirks. A name as beautiful as the rest of her.

“Can I offer you a drink, Cassandra?” The offer makes her smirk widen, almost to the point of a grin. It’s cute but you’re not sure you want to know why the question amuses her so greatly.

“Depends.” she retorts, taking off her gloves. “My choice of drink is very… singular.”

“Well, there’s wine. It’s… good.”

She eyes you for a moment. There is hunger in her gaze, something deep, as it lingers over your collarbones. Then she averts her head in favor of looking about the house. It can’t be anything like the castle she lives in, but it’s quaint, at least. Her heels click against the wooden floor. They come to a stop in front of the small table your sketchbook lies upon.

“You draw?” she questions, curious as a child.

Please, don’t look inside. you pray. The rough sketches of sheet-clad brunettes will surely give your tastes away and your heart can’t take that embarrassment on top of everything else right now.

“Landscapes and stuff. When I’m bored.” you lie to save your dignity.

“I’m a bit of an artist myself.” she grins proudly. “I paint.”

“…acrylics?” you ask.

Cassandra gives you that secretive smile again. The one that is both hot and scary at once. “You could say that, yeah.” If any of the rumors have basis in reality, you don’t want to think about what she could be painting with. Some things are best left unsaid.

“So. I got your order.” you say, taking the box in your hands.

Cassandra walks to you and takes the object between her pale fingers like it weighs nothing. You’re left staring. At her hand, then her eyes, looking into your own with that same curiosity from earlier. “I’m sure mother will like it.” Then, after a pause, “She’d like you, too.”

You’re not sure what to say to that.

“You’d look good in the castle. But then I’d have to share you and I don’t think I’d like that.” Her fingers absently toy with the hem of your shirt while she speaks. It’s terribly distracting, to the point you almost miss what she says. It’s not fair that everything about Cassandra is just so damn attractive…

You like her, you realize. You already knew that you’re weak to her looks and her grace and the way she talks, so it’s not a startling revelation. But what is surprising is the mirror of what you’re thinking in her eyes. She likes you back.

She could just turn and leave, yet she doesn’t.

Instead, she lifts her hand to your chin. Traps it between thumb and pointer… and leans in. You think she’s going to kiss you goodbye on the cheek again, like the last time. Instead, her lips find the corner of your mouth and leave you breathless.

For a heartbeat, you don’t move.

Cassandra lingers, almost unsure but unwilling to let go.

A certain part of your brain is triggered and the sense of danger and reason keeping you back evaporates. You turn your head to kiss her fully, sucking on her lower lip, running your tongue over its softness until she opens her mouth to let you in. She tastes like strawberry lipbalm and wine and oh God you’ll die right there with that little moan she gives.

You end up holding her sides and she the back of your neck until you have to pull back or you’ll melt into an aroused puddle on the floor.

She looks as dazed as you feel. Her nails dig into your skin but your warmed body only draws pleasure from the slight sting.

Cassandra’s hooded eyes drop to your throat like a woman left thirsty in the desert far too long. “…does the offer for a drink still apply?” The breathy quality her voice has taken does things to you. You can only nod and trust she won’t kill you. She did ask, so your chances are probably decent.

Brown hair tickles your nose. She’s wonderfully close, the length of her cool body pressed against yours. You can feel the swell of her breasts and the firmness of her thigh almost as if there are no clothes between you. Your body is alight, heart pounding. You want her.

“Keep still for me, beautiful.” she says with a little growl to your ear and—

Pain comes.

Sharp. Biting.

You don’t expect it. A harsh gasp leaves your throat. You can feel twin needles embedded in your skin, breaking open your vein. The corners of your eyes prickle. Something thick and wet trails down your collarbone while she swallows mouthfuls, keeping you tighter in place. It’s agonizing, at first, but the area begins to numb, then fill with a pleasant tingle.

You can’t tell when Cassandra stops drinking from you, but you feel her tongue on your neck, following the red trail down before it ruins your shirt.

Your brain can’t comprehend what just happened, yet something about it is just so raw and erotic you know you won’t be able to sleep for days without the thought of her haunting you.

“You’re delicious, darling.” she breathes, eyes brighter than before, licking her lips like a lioness.

You want to reply, but you nearly wobble on your feet. “Ugh.”

“Take it easy and dress your wound.” she smiles, fingertips tracing the slope of your jaw. “I’ll come by again, sometime.”

Your hands tighten on her sides, but she only gives a little laugh –and steps away too easily. Her hood is pulled back on. A last molten look is sent over her shoulder.

Then, your mind halts for the hundredth time that night as you watch her figure disperse into a swarm of insects and black swirls. The door closes behind Cassandra.

Your hand slowly reaches up to your neck, where the imprint of her teeth in you –her mark left on you– yet throbs.

Ko-Fi

[noctuaas]

THE DEVIL COMES IN MANY FORMS

synopsis; you and me and the devil makes three.

pairing; ukai keishin x reader

content; nsfw/smut, age gap, bad power dynamics, fem!reader, semi-public sex, slight religious reference, unprotected sex

word count; 2.4k

a/n; big thanks to @hazydazyboy for letting me write about his sexy concept in this fic !!

Ukai Keishin considered himself to be a good man. Sure, he drank and smoked, and when he was younger he got into his fair share of fights, but he was honest, and fair, and good. Everyone would agree. Everyone except you; you seemed to beg to differ.

“Those are bad for you, ya know?”

You always flirted with Ukai: stealing glances for just a little too long; spouting off innuendos when he was just a little too close by; blatantly hiking your skirt up a bit higher whenever you helped with practice. It was all harmless in your mind; Ukai was young and handsome, and it was entertaining to see if he would ever react. He never did. Not until today; not until you stole the cigarette straight out of his mouth, took a drag, and then snuffed it out in the tray.

“Yeah, well. You seem pretty bad for me right now too, missy.”

He said it under his breath; you weren’t even sure you were meant to hear it. But you did. You did, and he realized this.

Maybe the words were a silent committal; a subconscious ‘fuck it’ that signalled you had finally broken him. He was going to play your game. 

Ukai approached, and the intrusion on your space made your grip on the edge of the counter loosen as you sat up straight. Your legs wanted to squeeze together, but instead they were inched apart until Ukai’s waist fit right between your knees. You watched intently where his hips pressed into the countertop—it was the only thing that separated you two—before letting your gaze level out.

He was dangerously close. You breathed the same air, inhaling what he just let out, almost like you stole it from his lungs. When you were this close, you saw more than you ever had. The bridge of his nose had a tiny mark, and crooked to the right almost unnoticeably, like it had been broken when he was younger; there was a spot on his left eyebrow that looked like he had once shaved a slit there, and the hair never grew back perfectly; his caramel eyes were a lot darker than you remembered, though maybe the blown pupils were a result of circumstance.

Your heart pounded, in more than one place. How shameful of you, but you couldn’t help that you might have had a fantasy or two that started like this.

“Well, pick your poison,�� you finally muttered. If you were given any more time, you probably would have gone red and hidden your face; a comment that bold was a little out of line for you. But Ukai did not give you time.

Your hands had to grab onto the front of his shirt when he kissed you, for fear that with how far he was leaning into you, you might topple backwards. He wouldn’t have actually let that happen with the hand he slipped behind you.

It was the same hand that drug you flush to the edge of the counter. The little bit of space between your bodies was eliminated quickly, and your breath caught ever so slightly. 

“Now,” Ukai mumbled against your lips, pulling back and waiting until you were looking him in the eye before continuing. “You’re gonna tell me as soon as you want me to stop. Alright, pretty girl?”

He was genuine. You could see it in his eyes. He wanted you, but he would not do a thing you didn’t want him to do. You would not stop him though; you wanted him, too.

It was one more kiss on your lips before he was lapping up your jaw and growling in your ear. You reflected on how his tongue tasted so strongly of his cigarette smoke, yet you didn’t find it offensive; it mixed almost sweetly with a hint of chapstick left on his lips. 

Your mind didn’t linger though, because he was tugging your earlobe between his teeth and slipping his hands around your waist under the thin fabric of your shirt. His fingertips were marred by callouses, a fact you never realized to the fullest in years past. As his hot, open-mouthed kisses travelled down, his hands rose to meet them, your shirt lifting until it was coming off over your head.

Ukai’s mouth trailed the hill of your breasts, following the edge of your bralette. The lower he dipped, the hotter your skin seemed to burn. His fingers slid slowly under the hem of your bra, giving you time to protest, but instead you arched into his touch.

He didn’t bother taking the bralette all the way off of you; he only shoved it up far enough to free your tits so he could latch onto a nipple. It caught you off guard and made you let out a muffled squeak.

“Louder,” Ukai commanded; he barely pulled away, not even bothering to look up at you. Something about the way he said it stirred your stomach and made you clench your thighs around his waist. Your reaction made Ukai grin cockily, gently holding your nipple between his teeth.

When he turned to give your other tit some attention, his hands fell to the waistband of your shorts. He fumbled a little to tug them off, too preoccupied with his mouth to even bother detaching himself long enough to look at what he was doing. Once they were discarded to the floor, you felt everything so much easier. The bulge of his cock through his jeans was so much more obvious, and shit, he was already really hard.

It also became obvious just how wet you were already getting just from this little bit of foreplay; you wouldn’t usually be so turned on at this point, but there was something so hot about the fact that you were hooking up with your friends volleyball coach in his store. What was it they said; it’s better when it feels wrong?

Ukai hooked a finger around your underwear, sliding his knuckle along your pussy.

“So wet already,” he muttered, finally straightening up to look you in the eye. “You think about this a lot?” 

The question made you want to shrink away in embarrassment. Yes, you replied in your head, but you didn’t have to say anything for Ukai to know the answer. Your burning cheeks told him everything he needed to know.

“You’re more of a little slut than I thought.”

The comment made your toes curl and fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders. You took the opportunity to tug at it, asking ever so nicely with your eyes, and pulled his hands away from you long enough to discard it before getting back to business. 

He didn’t bother removing your underwear the same way he didn’t bother taking your bra off; they were simply shoved to the side to expose your needy cunt. And needy it certainly was. It graciously accepted his middle finger, and Ukai swore the feeling alone made his cock twitch in his pants. And then he added another, and you squirmed and whimpered, and he immediately knew we wanted to have you cumming around his fingers.

You were thankful he was the only one who worked the store. Even in the back, a spare employee could have heard his fingers pumping in and out of you; it only took a few minutes for you to be wet enough that your pussy squelched with every movement. 

You weren’t sure how he got you so close in such a short time. His pace was nothing brutal; in fact, it was borderline leisurely, but he curled his fingers in just the right way that had your knees already lifting and walls tightening. Ukai certainly knew what he was doing.

Ukai dropped to his knees. Not that you noticed with your eyes screwed shut like they were. You didn’t notice until his left hand was keeping your underwear out of the way as he lapped at your clit. His tongue moved in rhythm with his fingers, pushing you to the cliff that was your orgasm, until you were teetering over the edge.

“Fuck, Coach Ukai!” you gasped out when you finally crossed the threshold. Your arms almost gave out, and the only thing that kept your thighs from clamping around Ukai’s head was his left arm that braced against your leg. Instead, your hips bucked against his tongue, forcing him to ride you out on your high (not that he wouldn’t have done it on his own).

One hand had instinctively shot into Ukai’s hair when you came, causing his signature headband to fall away as you gripped onto him for dear life. You let him go as he rose to his feet again and his blonde locks fell into his face. 

He looked unlike anything you had seen before; eyes dark and vast like a trench under the ocean, and they told of a hunger from deep within; hair ruffled and messy, reminiscent of a wild animal riled up after a fight; and chin dripping liquid sex, his tongue flitting out to make him appear like a parched man downing water after being lost in the desert.

“Just Ukai,” he said before parting your lips with his slick-coated hand. You opened your mouth, relishing in your own taste on his fingers. “Got it?”

You hummed your understanding. It was an honest mistake that you had called him ‘Coach’; you were just so used to it.

“Good girl.”

You hadn’t expected to get off from this little adventure, let alone before Ukai did. You could practically see his cock throbbing through his jeans, and found your hands fumbling with his belt without a second thought; you wanted his cock, now.

Holy shit. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that; there on the underside of his cock, right below the reddened head, was a barbell piercing. Curiously, you wrapped your hand around his dick and ran your thumb over it. The metal was surprisingly shiny, and despite being shoved in his pants all day, still slightly cool to the touch.

“Ever seen one?” Ukai smirked when he asked the question. 

You shook your head ‘no’.

“I think you’ll like how it feels.”

Your gaze flitted back down to his cock momentarily. There was excitement in your eyes.

“Alright, pretty girl, stand up. Over the counter,” Ukai instructed you. He turned to grab a condom from a shelf near the counter—having an array of products in stock was a perk to running a store—but before he could even crack open the box, the sound of you clearing your throat had him turning back. You had your chest laid on the counter, peering over at him with your lip between your teeth as you shook your head ever so slightly.

His cock twitched at the prospect of going in on you raw. He knew it wasn’t a great idea, but then you told him you were on birth control, and he gave in to temptation. 

Upon his return, Ukai kneaded one of your ass cheeks in his hand, holding your underwear to the side again so that he slid into you with ease.

“Fuck,” he groaned. If he hadn’t been so absorbed with how warm and tight you were around his cock, he would have heard the way you whimpered and gasped below him.

His thrusts started out slow, trying to make sure you had time to adjust, but in practically no time he snapped his hips into you rapidly; how could he not when you felt so much better than he ever could have imagined? Despite all the sex he’s had, no one else had ever felt as much like heaven as you did. 

If your hips were the altar, your precious cunt was the tabernacle. You sang like the choir every time he moved, and he would be content to listen for the rest of his life. 

“Ah, Ukai, deeper please,” you moaned and whined and cried your hymns. The higher your voice got, the closer he felt to those holy gates; ironic, really, because when he snaked an arm around you to grip your throat and pulled you back against his own chest, he had never been closer to hell. 

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he growled into your ear. It was true, no matter how ashamed it made him. The first time you ever stirred something disgusting in Ukai, you weren’t even quite 17 years old yet; it wasn’t the first time you had helped with practice because Kiyoki couldn’t make it, but that day, when you bent over in that hiked up school skirt to grab a ball, he caught an eyeful of ass cheek (and maybe a peek of underwear between your thighs). 

Ukai almost didn’t catch himself in time; you started clenching your walls around his dick, and he was done for.

“Shit,” he hissed, pulling himself out of you as fast as possible. It was all he could do to cover his head with his hand and shove himself between your thighs. His grip pulsed around your throat as he came, three hot ropes of cum seeping between his fingers. 

Once he caught his breath, he placed a kiss on the side of your head and let you lay back down. You seemed to need a little more time to even out your breathing. He couldn’t help but note how pretty you were after being made a mess of.

Ukai Keishin was decidedly not a good man. The rest of the world might disagree, but they didn't know what he was doing right now. They didn’t know that every time the high school girl that crashed practice every now and then dropped by, he paid a little too close attention to you; they didn't know that one time you appeared to him in a dream, and try as he might to forget, it was the one that stuck in his mind most clearly; they didn't know that he was pulling his pants back on as you laid folded over his store counter with your underwear tugged to the side. You might be graduated now, and a legal adult, but this was still wrong. If he was a better man, he would have continued to ignore your flirty comments and pretty grin. 

But Ukai Keishin was not a good man.

[ranger-rai]

Alright guys, A lot has happened in the last couple of days so let me catch you all up.

So we have been getting some reports of a "Swarm" of pokemon causing some problems around Sinnoh.

We looked into it and after a couple nights of steakouts, we discovered that our "Swarm" was actually a Purrloin who knew Double Team.

Apparently it had been stealing from alot of small homes, mainly trash.

This Purrloin was incredibly aggressive and seemingly protective of something.

We tracked it down to to a small den just outside of Solaceon Town.

Well we were expecting it to be taking care of its kittens, however we did not expect what we actually found.

-------

We found this Purrloin trying to feed the scraps it stole to a Lycanroc.

The Purrloin was very protective and tried attacking us.

It was surprisingly tough for a single Purrloin, however we managed to restrain it.

However we found it weird that this Dusk Lycanroc wasn't moving or reacting much.

I went and checked it out when it was clear and we found something really unsettling.

This Lycanroc has some spine problems, I know this because it struggled to get up but when it did, it got on four legs, then two legs.

Now a Dusk form Lycanroc is made to be on all four like this

However its back is arced upwards like it's slouching.

It's also shaking a bit, and is covered in scratches and bruises.

Every time I try and get close the Purrloin starts thrashing and clawing.

We let it go and it made its way back to the Lycanroc, and started to guard it again.

We knew this was bad, so we made a plan to try and help them.

-------

We managed to get Purrloin secure once again and Lycanroc into a cage very carefully, but we kept them close together as we transported them.

Lycanroc was surprisingly docile and just seemed tired and dehydrated, so we made sure it got plenty of water.

Purrloin was on edge the whole time, making sure that Lycanroc ate, and keeping us at a distance, but I caught her eating from time to time.

We had to hold her down once again, but she used her double team to evade us for a bit. She really knows how to use that move.

Eventually we restrained her when we got to the Ranger Base and we had a medical technician look at Lycanroc.

They said that it had some severe spine misalignment, not from an injury but from constant strain.

At some point during our conversation, we noticed Lycanroc trying to get up, and "stand up" again on two legs, like a Midnight Form Lycanroc.

It was really odd to see, and the tech helped put it him back onto two legs, but it almost seemed scared to be touched when in that position.

This wasn't battle damage, this was intentional trauma.

Purrloin was definitely upset, and managed to get free and started scratching at the technician.

Thankfully I restrained her so the technician could work more, and I calmed her down a bit.

The tech said that they would need to run some tests on the Lycanroc to see if they could fix his back, so we had to let him stay for a while.

However we couldn't leave Purrloin there in case she tried to attack the tech again.

-------

I didn't want to seperate them, but I needed her to be somewhere safe while the technician did his job, so I got her into a carrier and took her with me on my rounds.

She was hissing and scratching for a while but I sat and talked with her for a bit and she seemed pretty alert but much calmer.

Most of the day was just a usual trip around my areas, however I started finding alot more litter in some areas.

There was alot of trash on the ground in a park area just outside Veilstone City, and normally I would pick it all up, but there was alot, almost like there was a carnival recently there, but there was nothing planned as far as I knew.

I also noticed Purrloin getting really upset and hissing a lot.

I looked around the trash and found a bunch of flyers for some kind of venue.

"Mister E's Enigmas"

The flyer listed a sort of sideshow of oddities.

Things like:

The Fire Breathing Treecko Brothers, Dancing Donphan, and their star attraction-

"The Were-Lycanroc" a pokemon that could switch between forms.

That's when it hit me, and I knew someone was going to get in trouble.

-------

After bringing this information to the technician and my boss Jo. Me and my Ranger Team decided to attend the show incognito to see if we were right, and boy we wish we weren't.

We attended what could only be described as a shifty, pop up carnival.

There were a few games, a couple food trucks, and a large tent that held the "main events".

There were some "exotic" holding cages that people could interact with like a small cage for two Emolga to live in, they could barely get into the air before smacking into the roof.

There was a small area that had a large heat lamp for "desert" pokemon, but it was mostly a browning Cacnea, a Trapinch with barely enough sand to cover its body, and a Salandit which didn't belong there.

There were others but we already knew what those cages would be like as well.

The show kn the main stage was getting ready to start, so we decided to check it out.

"Mister E" took to the stage, he had your typical big top attire, top hat, long tails, but he had a stripey pattern that made him look like a hypnotic wheel.

He introduced his first act, which was "The Fire Breathing Treecko Brothers". I was worried.

Now Treecko is a Grass Type, and it only learns one grass type move naturally: Sunny Day.

They also don't have any natural immunities to fire types, so this didn't make much sense for normal Treecko.

From what I saw in the act, they learned how to eat fire and pretend they were using flamethrower. However you could tell they didn't like it. Treecko are calm and collected pokemon, but those two looked stressed out, and they were molting a bit in certain areas near their face and tails, probably due to the flames and stress.

After them was the "Dancing Donphan". Donphan is a very heavy pokemon, and it's main skill is rolling like a tire.

This Donphan looked much lighter, like it hadn't been fed its regular amount to keep it healthy.

Minnie also mounted out that the music playing during the dance had a weird sound mixed in. Basically, whenever we heard the sound, Donphan would do a move like jumping or rolling over. The sound was similar to a sort of crash, but it was clear that it was a sound that Donphan was afraid of.

Now came the finale, "The Were-Lycanroc" however that part didn't happen, and instead they brought out some clowns and the Treecko Brothers again.

Thats when we knew what was really happening.

-----

I went back to check on Lycanroc who was sleeping like a log with Purrloin right next to it.

I didn't remember any cages with any feline pokemon in them so maybe it was just a wild Purrloin, but I wasn't going to disturb them to find out.

The doctor told me that it might take some time, but Lycanroc's spine and back legs were forced to move in positions they weren't supposed to for so long, that it would take some time, therapy and equipment to help it.

If there was a chance to help this poor pokemon I knew we would take it, but we also couldn't leave all of those other pokemon to suffer.

We were about to get really busy at the Ranger Base.

------

The next day, Me and Minnie went incognito one more time and we had to sit through that horrible show once more.

We had Skip with us, helping to send info and let us know of any devices or intercept their communications.

Turns out we didn't know that was happening because they had police scanners to avoid getting caught and they had wireless security cameras inside the tent.

They were prepared, but so were we.

My whole team was on board, both Humans and Pokemon.

We had a plan that began with Kuriboh knocking out some generators by sneaking around and unplugging everything he could.

That caused some confusion for a bit while we got in place. While they went to secure their "precious cargo", we made our presence known.

Eddie was outside the tent, dealing with the muscle and moving crews, his Bewear is very strong and pretty quick too, so we didn't need to worry about them much.

However we still had Mister E.

I told Bliss to keep an eye on him so we wouldn't loose him in the panic, but we had a delay as some of the Treeco Bros fire got out of control and some of the tent started to catch on fire.

Minnie and her Cloyster were immediately ready to deal with it and she was ready to help the Treeco Bros as well.

Bliss was able to keep tabs on the ringleader who was trying to get into his van and split, most likely with his cash.

However, Sylvester doesn't like people who mistreat pokemon, and Jo's Tangrowth has some really strong vines. Strong enough to rip car doors off hinges.

------

We had caught this terrible man, and we discovered he had been doing this for a couple of years, just now making his way through Sinnoh, and he was looking for some pokemon to add to his show.

We also watched some of his security tapes and we learned that "Were-Lycanroc" was really just a Dusk Form that he forced to stand up and slouch over by constantly whipping with a flexible stick. And with the assistance of red lights, smoke machines and music, hey could make people think it was changing forms.

We also learned that Purrloin was tossed into Lycanroc's cage, possibly as a "play thing" but I guess he actually made a friend either her and hiding her from Mister E, and she had been caring for him as well, stealing food and causing trouble for them whenever she could.

Needless to say, we were able to get them arrested, and we are now in the process of evaluating some of these pokemon, but we may have too many to deal with here.

We might need to reach out for some help.

------

In the case of Lycanroc and Purrloin, they are comfortably resting in holding, and Lycanroc is be getting fitted for some equipment to help its spine and legs heal.

I'll be checking on them soon, but for now me and my team need to rest after this long day.

[guardianofrivendell]

The Way to a Hobbit’s Heart

Thorin Oakenshield x Bilbo Baggins (Bagginshield)

Requested: Yes and no! This piece is part of “The Hobbit Discord Server’s Holiday Gift Exchange 2020″ and is my gift to @misfit-with-a-pen​ 💖

Warnings: oh my goodness, all the fluff! I can’t! Also Sassy Bilbo because it’s still me who wrote this :) 

Summary: When Bilbo enjoys a nice afternoon walk in the Shire, he notices a smell... A rather foul smell, if he was honest. When he comes closer to his home, the smell seems to intensify. It couldn't come from his house now, could it? Because Thorin was home.... Alone. Oh dear!

A/N: This story couldn’t exist without the help of @xxbyimm​! She is such an amazing and fantastic person and always ready to listen to me rant about ideas, complaining about everything and gave me TONS of advice on top of that. How wonderful is that?

Bilbo always favored late afternoon walks over morning strolls.

Though he knew most of his neighbors wouldn’t agree with him and probably would think of him as even more peculiar than they already did if they knew, he just couldn’t help himself. 

You see, it was the way the sun hung low in the sky, giving everything it shone upon a warm golden glow. Furthermore, as most of the hobbit community was too occupied prepping the most important meals of the day, the town was practically deserted.

This meant Bilbo could enjoy the beautiful sceneries in peace without having to get involved in friendly banter and polite greetings. And finally - the temperature was nor too warm or too cold, which was just perfect. 

But there was nothing better than an afternoon walk in early spring. Birds were building their nest, flying past his head with twigs in their little beaks. 

It reminded him of that one time a thrush had landed on Lobelia’s straw hat and had absolutely wrecked the damn thing. It took her a while to notice and Bilbo had had the greatest difficulty in keeping a straight face. She went running through the Shire afterwards, screaming about a vicious bird attack. Since that day he couldn’t help but snicker every time he saw a thrush.

Yes, Bilbo loved his walks indeed. But he loved his home just as much.

It wouldn’t be long before any respectable Hobbit started working in their garden again after the winter break and every yard and patio would get overflowed with a soft and subtly sweet flowery scent. It wasn’t any different in his garden. 

The flower buds of the early bloomers were starting to show, some of them already in their lovely, bright colours. Just a few more days and he could bury his nose in the daffodils, tulips or primroses, taking in their flowery scent.  It was a moment Bilbo looked forward to every single year, but now he could finally share it with his husband Thorin. 

To everyone’s surprise, this grumpy dwarf had warmed up to the art of gardening. Under Bilbo’s patient supervision, they were able to turn their neglected patch of land into the beautiful garden it was today.  

Bilbo smiled to himself at the thought of his husband. He came a long way to get here... Both of them did. Literally and figuratively. 

Thorin had been under a lot of stress for a long time without barely any chance to breathe: the rebuilding of Erebor, restoring trade agreements, bringing his people back to the mountain, … It never stopped and he was close to getting a burn-out.

Bilbo had seen it coming from miles away and had raised the alarm on Thorin’s health. Bilbo’s home in the Shire proved to be the perfect place to get a much needed break from ruling a Kingdom.  

The mountain was in good hands with Fíli and Kíli as his advisor - Balin was still there to keep an eye on them - and the peace and quiet of the Shire was wearing off on Thorin. He was finally able to relax and enjoy the time with Bilbo.Even so, they couldn’t stay away forever and they’d made plans to return to the mountain before the annual Durin’s Day celebration.  

That didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy the time that was still left.

Bilbo continued his way on the path that would eventually lead him back to his home, he stopped when he smelled something odd. He sniffed a few times, tilting his head sideways. What in the…?  

Bilbo couldn’t tell what the smell reminded him of, and yet it somehow seemed familiar. Was Lobelia trying to burn down her house again with another attempt at copying his famous rabbit stew? 

The closer he got to his home, the stronger the scent became. It couldn’t come from his house now, could it? Thorin was home so nothing serious could have happened.

Bilbo’s eyes widened.  

Thorin was home… alone.  

“Oh dear,” he murmured.

Thorin was not yet entirely used to living like a hobbit, still adjusting to life in the Shire. The more delicate, joie-de-vivre way of life that suited the hobbits didn’t always go well with the sturdy, rather head-on approach and maybe a tad brute way of the Dwarrows. He definitely wasn’t the domestic type. Yet.

Bilbo hurried up the lane to his front yard, struggled to open the gate in his haste and made his way inside. When the door closed behind him, it felt like someone had slapped him in the face.

Oh yeah, the smell definitely came out of his house. He coughed a few times, and his eyes started to water. He completely missed the leftover trails of smoke near the ceiling, and that was maybe for the better. 

“Thorin?” he squeaked between coughs. “Love?”

No answer. Was he even here? And what was that pungent smell? It almost smelled like an onion died a painful death and was left to rot! But with added spices. Now he almost wished it was Lobelia’s cooking instead... 

He left the entrance hall and stepped further into their home, making his way to the study. If Thorin was home, he would probably be there. Bilbo hoped to find his other half hunched over a book, or too focused on writing a letter to his nephews to hear his calls. Not that he didn’t trust Thorin to find his way back home on his own… okay fine, maybe he didn’t.  

Before he reached the study, his eye fell on the pantry. A rare curse escaped his mouth.

Empty jars, most of them tipped over, crumbs and pieces of vegetables on the ground together with a puddle of liquid that Bilbo wasn’t too keen on investigating further. 

He stood frozen in the round doorway. What had happened? 

Flashbacks of that one fateful night when the company had barged in - uninvited might he add - and raided his kitchen and pantry flooded his mind.

Could they...?

No, he shook his head. It was too quiet for the company to be here. Plus Thorin would have mentioned it. There were no secrets between them. Not anymore.  

He crossed the hallway and entered his kitchen. Or rather, what was left of it.

If he thought his pantry was raided, it was nothing in comparison to his kitchen. There were dirty pots and pans all over the place, as if the dishes hadn’t been done in weeks. Most of the cabinets were opened, the contents of the shelves in disarray or scattered over the counter. A lot of food made it to the floor as well, and it seemed like someone had tried to clean it up by shoving it to one side of the kitchen.  

It looked like Thorin had tried to make something for dinner. Or a snack maybe? At least, he hoped it was Thorin who wrecked the kitchen. Because there wasn’t a single hair on his feet that would even consider cleaning this up himself! 

“Thorin, I really do love you but you got to learn to clean up after yourself,” Bilbo muttered in frustration when he picked up a dirty kitchen rag from the floor. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” a low voice sounded behind him.  

Bilbo swirled around and he forgot to breathe for a second.

There, in the doorway of the dining room, stood Thorin in just his dark blue tunic and black breeches, barefoot and an apron tied around his hips. A towel carelessly thrown over his shoulder and a casserole in his hands made it look like he belonged in a kitchen. But Bilbo knew better. 

The dwarf himself looked like a complete snack. If it wasn’t for the state of the kitchen and the foul smell still filling his nostrils, he would’ve jumped him without a second thought.

No, scratch the snack! His husband was a full five course meal. Bilbo took a deep breath. And by Durin’s beard, was he hungry... 

Thorin lifted the pot a little. Bilbo stepped out of the way so he could pass.

“It just needs a little more time on the fire.”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. 

That became abundantly clear when Thorin lifted the lid so he could stir in what looked like stew, and Bilbo had to grab the counter to steady himself.

Oh, well, at least now I know where that smell comes from, he thought. Breathe through your mouth, that’s the key! 

“You know, if you didn’t like my cooking, you could’ve just told me,” Bilbo joked while he took the pot off the fire again in an effort to save what could be saved, but not before he put the lid back on. “I think this is done, love.”

“Are you sure?” Thorin chuckled. The sound reverberated in his chest and it made Bilbo’s stomach flip. It was one of his favourite sounds and it still did something to him every time he heard it. 

“I wanted to repay you for taking such good care of me,” he said. “So I made us dinner.”

“You did?” Bilbo asked, endeared by the gesture but honestly, also a little afraid for his life by now. “Marvellous!”

“Go and take a seat at the table, I’ll be right there,” Thorin hummed and he gestured towards the dining room.  

Thorin came out of the kitchen and placed the pot in the middle of the table and wiped his hands on the apron. His eyes fell on Bilbo who still stood a bit to the side.  

When he entered the dining room Bilbo froze, stunned by what he saw. 

Thorin had set the table beautifully and had paid extra attention to details, the way Bilbo liked. Freshly picked flowers from their garden stood proudly in a white porcelain vase, napkins neatly folded on the right side of the plate and he had used Bilbo’s mother’s pottery. He really went out of his way for this. 

“Is it not to your liking?” Thorin asked, a slight tremble in his voice. “If it’s about the mess in the kitchen, I promise I’ll clean it up later.”

He was nervous, Bilbo realised when he looked at Thorin. The King under the Mountain who could face multiple armies with only twelve companions without a second thought or hint of fear was almost shaking with nerves because he had made dinner for his lover. It was adorable.  

“It’s lovely, Thorin. Really, it is,” he assured him, while Thorin pulled a chair from under the table so Bilbo could sit down. “I didn’t expect it, that’s all.” 

Thorin quickly made his way to the other side of the table and filled the mugs with ale and the glasses with wine. Bilbo however, eyed the food on the table cautiously. 

To be fair, from a distance it looked decent. There were carrots, mashed potatoes, other vegetables that he couldn’t quite name at first sight but seemed okay, bread,… And the pot of stew. On the corner of the table stood a bowl of what he suspected was some kind of gravy, but the chunks in it made him doubtful. 

He took some of everything on his plate and tried to keep it together when the aroma of the stew filled his nostrils once more.

Thorin looked at him expectantly. 

The things one does for the one they love, Bilbo thought while he took a deep breath and tried the stew. Oh dear, it tasted exactly like it smelled!

He tried to swallow it as fast as he could without a lot of chewing. His hand flew to his glass of wine and with a large gulp of the red substance his food finally went down.  

“Is there something wrong?”

“No! No, it’s… well, it’s a little hot,” he explained. That wasn’t exactly a lie. 

He tried to find the correct words to let him know cooking maybe wasn’t his strong point, but decided to change the subject instead. “Have you heard from Fíli yet?”

Thorin shook his head.  “I did not. It hasn’t been that long since I sent my last letter. Give him some time.”

He took a sip from his glass of wine. “But tell me about your afternoon, did you enjoy your walk?” 

Bilbo was relieved he could talk for a while - and avoid taking another bite - and told Thorin about his walk and how he was planning on asking old master Worrywort what he did to his wood poppies to get them so big and bright.

While he was listening intently, Thorin took a first bite of his homemade stew.

The minute he closed his mouth, his eyes widened and he almost choked on the meat. He let his fork drop on the plate with a loud clatter, a fist against his lips while he tried really hard to swallow the food.

Bilbo didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for him. He decided on a neutral expression, like it was the most normal thing in the world for a person to choke on a spoonful of stew.  

Thorin brought the napkin to his mouth and wiped the tears out of his eyes, still panting from the effort.

“Mahal, why didn’t you say anything?” he groaned.

Bilbo eyed him carefully, not wanting to hurt Thorin’s feelings. He worked so hard to prepare all this, well, you couldn’t exactly call it food…

“About what?” he tried, gathering his courage and taking another spoonful. 

“The food! I saw you eat it!” Thorin murmured, his face distorting in absolute horror as he watched his husband trying his best to process another bite.

“Please don’t. I can’t believe you want to take another bite!” 

“You made this for me, of course I’m going to eat it,” Bilbo said, smiling at him. Please don’t make me eat it again, Bilbo pleaded internally. 

“To be honest, I don’t even think Bombur would touch this,” Bilbo added.

“That bad, huh?” he laughed. “Who am I kidding, of course it is, I tasted it. I still taste it!”

He took his mug of ale and chugged it down in one go. When he placed it on the table again with a thud, his expression had changed into defeat.

“I know you love your meals and this isn’t…” he rose from his chair. “This is not a meal worthy of any hobbit, let alone Bilbo Baggins.”

With the majesty only a true dwarven king can muster, Thorin strode from the dining room towards the kitchen. Bilbo shuffled in his seat, pondering what had happened before hurrying behind his One.

The sight that greeted him made his heart clench. Thorin had started cleaning up the mess, his back to the door, head low and shoulders slumped. Bilbo could see he was distraught and clearly wounded in his pride. 

In a few strides Bilbo stood behind his husband and threw his arms around him, giving a little squeeze.

”Don’t you ever think what you do isn’t enough. The fact that you went through all this trouble for me, means more to me than you’ll ever know,” Bilbo mumbled into Thorin’s neck before he placed a featherlight kiss there, which elicited a groan out of the King’s chest.

Thorin turned around and wanted to return the favor, but Bilbo stopped him. 

“No, no, no, Thorin. First we need to clean up this mess. I’ll help you.”

After an hour of cleaning, they sat on a spotless kitchen floor, looking over their work proudly.

“We make a great team, you and me,” Thorin said.

Bilbo rested his head on Thorin’s shoulder and sighed contentedly.

“Can you promise me one thing though?”

“What’s that?” Thorin wondered.

“Please leave the cooking to me?”

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje​ @kata1803​ @entishramblings​ @artsywaterlily​ @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose​ @marvelschriss​ @kumqu4t​ @myrin1234​ @dark-angel-is-back​ @the-fandoms-georgie​ @lathalea​ @xxbyimm​ @sokkasdarling​ @katethewriter​

[spvce-cowboy]

reunion

ch. 3 of i’ll be here in the morning (the mandalorian x fem!reader)

previous-ch. 2: “gentle things”

next-ch. 4: “songbird”

rating: mature 

8k words

warnings: alcohol, drug use mentioned, jealous/protective mando, animal cruelty, descriptions of gore

summary: the luxurious rot of Canto Bight is enough to put anyone on edge. Mando is forced to ask for your help in finding a high profile quarry.

**

Mando leaves the fighting ring before the caterwauling nexu is able to deal the killing blow.

 He can still hear the sound of the gore spraying against the floor as he climbs the stairs towards the exit, the roaring jeer of the crowd obliterating the speakers inside his helmet. The inevitable outcome of the fight was clear from its onset given the state of the nexu’s opponent, some kind of sand-bear, who was already injured upon entering the cage-like structure.

This wasn’t the Outer-Rim fighting rings he was used to. This place has carpets and a fucking chandelier suspended right above the blood clotted, dirt floor of the pit. It has pipe smoke and dark liquor, the low rumble of voices that only rise in tandem with the progression of the fight. There’s a strange reserve among this crowd that Mando has never seen before, not in this context at least.

 The patrons still had that starved look in their eyes though—bloodlust, pure and simple. Somehow, all the tuxedos and hair gel makes it far more sinister than it normally would be.

Karga sent him here to gather information about the quarry, but after an entire day spent searching along with the past hour he’d spent floating around the fight hall where the informant was rumored to be, he knew to give it up before he wasted any more time.

Mando exits the underground arena, stepping into the late afternoon heat just as it begins its gradual descent towards an oncoming chill. Upon arriving at Canto Bight, he had learned very quickly to avoid the main streets. There were too many eyes and whispers for a bounty as high profile as this one for him to be spotted on his own like this, obviously searching for something. 

There’s something about this city that makes him absolutely revolted. It’s not the strongest testament to his resolve or his character, but, at the same time, it’s not something he can necessarily help.

Mando still has absolutely no clue what Karga was thinking, but here he is, regardless if it made any sense or not.

He returns to the Crest, deflated after a second unsuccessful day of trying to gather information about the quarry’s whereabouts. He is desperate for a lead, two of three informants proving to be completely useless and his patience growing thinner every second he has to stay on this forsaken planet.

Closing the ramp behind him, Mando heads straight for the cockpit, needing a moment to regather his thoughts. To brainstorm a better plan of action before it becomes too late to rendezvous with Karga’s third, and last, possible informant.

The problem was that there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to get into the racetracks on his own. Getting into the fighting pit—which was considered “seedy” by Canto standards--was already a total hassle, costing him far too many credits and straining what limited negotiation skills he had.

The second problem was that he’d rather take a blaster to the leg than involve you in one of his missions. But now that was kind of his only option.

Mando rubs a hand over the forehead of his helm as he paces. When that doesn’t work, he settles himself in his pilot’s seat, hunching over slightly against the weight of the beskar against his bones. Maker, he is fucking tired.

Swiveling his head to the side, he notices a pile of something on the console that he can’t exactly make out until he leans over it.

Resting on the command board is a leather string, a few palm-sized pieces of stained glass already fashioned to hang from it by smaller loops of the same material in varied lengths. It looks like you were in the middle of working on it when something else distracted you, several more discs of glass piled onto one another to the right of the unfinished project, and a few loose scraps of leather in a pile on the copilot’s chair.

Mando allows himself to admire it for a moment, rubbing his gloved thumb over the glass’s surface. By the time he glances up through the windows of the cockpit, looking at all the people milling about outside, his breathing has somewhat evened. It’s easier to think straight, at least.

He stands and climbs back into the hull, rounding the corner to peer into the space you’ve made for yourself.

It takes him a moment to see you over the pile of blankets you’ve kicked off your mattress. You’re asleep. Under the table. The kid taking a nap with you. Of course that’s where he expected you to be if you weren’t in the cockpit but—but.

You’re on your belly, head buried in your folded arms. You have one, bare leg hitched up over pillow. The length of your calf spills over onto the floor, socked foot delicately pointed. That’s not really what stops him in his tracks. Well, it is in part.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts.

It must have just been a mistake, he knows that. He’s seen you in one of your own that’s the same general color and cut, but he knows this one is his because of the hole in the elbow where it had caught on an exposed screw and torn a few days previous. He’d been too busy to mend it.

Mando tries to wake you before his thoughts could go anywhere else. He says your name quietly, then a little louder. It wakes the kid, who yawns and blinks up at Mando, making happy sounds up at him from where he’s snuggled into your side.

When that doesn’t work, Mando nudges your calf with the tip of his boot. You startle awake, a protective hand shooting out to automatically bring the child against your chest, blinking rapidly up at him.

“Oh,” you wince slightly at the light coming into the cabin but otherwise doesn’t visibly react when you realize it’s him. Your arm loosens from where it had wrapped around the kid. “You’re back. I thought you’d be gone a while longer.”

“I need your help with something,” Mando crosses his arms in front of his chest. It gives him something to do with his hands and how awkward they feel just hanging at his sides as you prop yourself up into a sitting position to listen to him, the loose material of his shirt pulling up to reveal little glimpses of your lower back and belly as you do. “I have to have a companion with me, to go into the racetrack. They won’t let me in if they think I’m looking for a quarry.” 

You nod, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm, voice croaking and still hazy with sleep. “Yeah, yeah sure. I wanted to check it out anyway. Just lemme get changed and we can head out.”

You pick the kid up and place him back on the floor of the hull. He toddles over to Mando, nearly falling—your hands automatically reach out to hover over his sides--but he manages to catch himself on Mando’s pantleg, tugging the fabric in a determined up, now.

Your brow furrows. “What’re we gonna—”

“There’s a nursery. Karga cleared it,” Mando reaches down and scoops up the kid. 

“Gotcha,” your voice already sounds clearer. You reach out a hand for Mando to pull you up, he obliges. The blankets fall from where they’ve pooled around your lap as you do.

You pad down the length of the hull towards the fresher, your hips sway with the movement as you lift an arm to continue rubbing the sleep from your face. The shorts you’re wearing are a few sizes too big, you have them rolled twice at the waistband to keep them up. Mando looks away sharply once he notices. 

“Alright womp rat, how does some dinner sound?” Mando smiles to himself when the kid gives an impatient squeak. “Yeah, yeah okay alright. I’m the worst caregiver in the galaxy, I know.” The child keeps giggling as Mando makes his way into the cockpit.

Mando is running through some of the Crest’s vitals on the command board when he hears you climbing up the ladder.

“Do you think this would be okay, for the racetrack?” There’s a certain timid quality to your voice he doesn’t think he’s heard before. You have also literally never asked him for approval on something, so he’s already a bit surprised before he turns to look at you. 

The clothes you chose were simple, a fitted long sleeve and a pair of loose-fitting pants long enough to at least partially conceal your work boots. It shouldn’t have felt like much of a departure from your usual roster of outfits because it really wasn’t, but for some reason there’s something different about it that he can’t put his finger on.

You have your hair piled on top of your head in a bun. With it pulled back like that, all attention is drawn to the canvas of your neck, your delicate throat that gently eases into the soft planes of your face. There’s a nonchalant beauty to you that sucks all previous thoughts straight from his head.

“You might want to bring something warmer, a jacket or something.” He turns back to the command board, desperate to look busy and hide how long he looked for. “Temperatures drop on Cantonica as soon as the sun starts setting.”

“Oops—yep. Desert planet. I forgot,” you sigh. He hears the sound of your boots scaling the ladder back down.

He purposefully doesn’t look up when you enter the cockpit again, when you announce you’re ready he nods curtly, making brief but direct eye contact with you before setting a quick pace out of the Crest and into the streets of Canto Bight.

The nursery is tucked away, out of reach and notice, protection guaranteed. He leads you through a series back-street passages to get there, too nervous about the attention the three of you would get with the kid and the main roads. You carry him against your hip most of the way, occasionally adjusting the little hood you’ve fashioned to cover his most distinguishable features with every person you pass. 

The door is nondescript, positioned in the alleyway behind a semi-busy restaurant. Mando can sense your apprehension the second he steps up to press the buzzer. Within seconds, there’s the sound of a series of bolts unlocking.

A warm faced woman opened the door, wearing the clean white uniform of a nurse. “When Karga called in I hardly believed it,” her voice is light, but there’s a grating, nervous squeak to it that makes Mando scowl. Maybe it was just the day he was having, but just about anything was able to set him off.

Mando and the nurse exchange a few blunt words about pricing and care. He winces, slightly, at the cost, but it’s not anything either of you could notice. Right as Mando is about to turn to take the kid from your arms, you speak up.

“Is this… safe?” You ask again, holding the kid a little tighter to your chest. He realizes that it’s the first time since you’ve joined them that you’re separating from the kid, Mando thinks his anxiety is partially feeding off of yours. 

“Karga gave me his word. It’ll only be for a few hours.” Mando glances at the nurse, who was giving the two of you her very best customer service smile. “C’mon pal,” Mando nods towards the nurse. The child’s big eyes stare apprehensively up at you, then at Mando. One of his small hands unfixes itself from your shirt to reach out towards the bounty hunter. The nurse clucks her tongue, her hands on her hips.

“Someone seems like he’s already gonna miss his daddy.”

His stomach drops without warning. “I’m not his father.” The correction is biting in a way he doesn’t intend it to be. He’s vividly aware of your sharp inhale at his words. The nurse looks startled for a half second before blinking her eyes and retaining composure.

“Yes, yes of course,” she stretches out a hand as an offering of assurance towards the child, who has resumed clinging to the fabric of your shirt. “Hey little guy, c’mon. I’ve got a lot of friends for you to play with, and some snacks. You like the sound of that?” 

Mando catches your smile at the child’s ears flicking with interest, despite the fact that his hands are still firmly attached to you. Mando mutters something under his breath before taking the child from you, handing him off to the nurse and trying to push down the terrible feeling it gives him hearing the kid give a small whimper as the two of you walk away.

The racetrack is down a major boulevard, towering sandstone buildings line either side, their circular doors illuminated by bands of glowing yellow neon. The streets are a different kind of polished stone that makes Mando’s skin absolutely crawl for not discernible reason.

He thinks you’ve caught on to his worsening mood because you try to keep the conversation warm and light in a way he’s never seen you do before. Your eyes are fixed to a constant arcing movement, taking in as much of it as you can, but your mouth keeps moving about anything but Canto Bight. You avoidance just draws more focus towards the situation at hand, but he appreciates the effort.

When the two of you reach the racetrack, you stop talking completely as you scale the stands. You and Mando settle on two chairs pulled up to a tiny table, overlooking the standing room crowd below. Mando faces the crowds more than the track itself, however you angle your chair so that you can look at the racing fathiers with ease. Eventually you turn away, grimacing.

“What is it?” He asks, out of curiosity as well as a desire to fill the silence.

“They’re so beautiful,” you cast one more glance over the track as the group rumbles past to the sharp roar of the crowd. “But they look so sad.” You keep looking at the beasts for a beat longer before fixing your gaze to your hands clasped in your lap.

Mando finds his words slowly. “This planet… this amount of abundance. There is always a cost. They always make someone else pay.”

You wince, shifting your body so you’re only facing Mando and the expanse of the crowd that’s over his shoulder. You don’t look at the track for a while after that, purposefully keeping your body turned to keep your gaze away.

Mando finds fleeting solace in the fact that he was at least able to keep you away from the fighting ring, which is quickly replaced by guilt in exposing you to a similar cruelty in a less bloody form. He does his best to remind himself that you mentioned wanting to see the races previously, that the indecipherable emotion on your face was not entirely his fault.

 The wait spans an hour. The tension in Mando’s shoulders grows with each passing minute.

 “He isn’t coming,” Mando eventually grits out. “It’s… Maker I—”

 Jobs have started off way worse than this, he’s not sure why he’s allowing all of it to get under his skin. It’s this damn city, something about it makes him feel like there is a knifepoint digging between his ribs.

 You tap his hand lightly. Twice, with your index and middle fingers. It happens so quickly he’s almost able to believe he’s imagined it if it weren’t for the fact that you were still adjusting your hands in your lap after your hand had retreated. As if you didn’t know what possessed you to do that, either.

 “Hey. It’s fine. It’ll work itself out, yeah?” You maneuver your head to stare directly into his visor. For some reason that alone is infinitely more intimate than your brief touch. “We can just stay here for a bit longer in case the informant shows up, then pick up the kid, grab something to eat and hunker down in the Crest. Tomorrow’s a new day, or whatever.”

Mando looks you over, then nods.

 The sun is setting on the horizon, the tracks illuminated by the last vestiges of its light. This is the beginning of most everyone’s day, yet the drinks are already flowing, and have been for quite some time.

 There are far too many extravagant outfits, ridiculous little hats barely teetering on large skulls. The roar of the crowd grows with their drunkenness, the races becoming crueler the more the stands fill. Mando will never understand the value in any of this and he’s genuinely not sure what’s worse—the icy coolness of the fighting rink or whatever all this is.

 “Who’s the quarry?” You blink up at him. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

 “Tyreus Cavill. Some filthy rich kid who doesn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut. He’s taunting the Gild to the point of insult,” Mando rubs his hand over the brow of his helm. “It’s been confirmed that he’s supposed to be at some kind of party tonight. That was just about the only information I could get.”

 “Was that why Karga mentioned deep cover?”

 Mando nods. “He said it would be my most viable option, which doesn’t make any kind of sense. Especially with no pre-existing contacts that could get me any intel on where he’s hiding.”

 You speak up after a while. Mando isn’t sure how long, too comfortable in the silence as is.

“You know my mother worked for the Alderaanian court?” You say it softly, quickly looking at the racetrack to avoid drawing attention to your words. You’re kneading the hem of your sweater, a nervous tick of yours he couldn’t help but notice. “I still remember all the things she had to teach me when we went to dinners at the homes of the survivors, the etiquette and everything. I’m positive it’s much of the same, here. All this,” you twirl your index finger in the air, gesturing to the whole of the track and presumably what lay beyond. “Seems very familiar. I could help, if you need it.” 

“Your mother?”

“She was the court singer--or, well, one of them,” your voice is tense. “My father was a professor. I don’t remember a lot, just that they loved me very much.” Your eyes are searching the crowd in some desperate search for something, he’s not sure what. Probably for any kind of distraction, or any reason to keep your eyes away from his. He waits in silence, patiently. “They moved to a different planet to have me, a few years before the annihilation, there were a few other survivors who were off planet when it happened. I remember my parents hosting them, and they us, on a few occasions. It was always a multi-day affair of trying to remind me what proper manners were.” You wrinkle your nose. “It’s all very stupid, if you ask me. But,” you turn your head finally and look at him evenly. “I can—”

Mando watches as your gaze floats to a space just above his left shoulder. Your entire body visibly tenses, lips parted in what he can only think is total shock. Your hands drop the edge of your shirt and hover in your lap, as if you don’t know what to do with them.

Before Mando can ask what is wrong, you’re getting up from the table and pushing through the crowd. It takes him a beat to register what has just happened before he is up and following after you, making considerably better time in catching up given the fact that the crowd seems to naturally part for him. He almost reaches out to touch you, but instead settles for aiding your pursuit by keeping pace and staying at your side, clearing a path for you with his body and an outstretched arm to motion people to the side.

“What is it?” He tries to keep his voice low enough to not be overheard, his head in a constant survey of the crowds before you. You shake your head and keep pushing forward, higher into the stands, swerving around servers with platters stacked high with strange looking drinks. “Hey—if we go any further we’d need clearance—" the higher in the stands, the richer the patrons get. They wouldn’t let either of you in without identification after the eighth flight, which you’d just swiftly pushed past. Mando checks over his shoulder and, sure enough, a server is murmuring something to a guard droid, pointing up at you.

You’re so far up by that time that you have at least a minute until the droid catches up with the two of you. You climb onto one of the raised platforms dotted with various aristocratic parties, dining over bright white table cloths, centerpieces of bizarre orange flowers bursting through the tables. You make a beeline for the centermost table, where a Twi’lek woman is dining with an Abednedo and a human male.

You approach the Twi’lek in three swift strides, grabbing her shoulder. “Febhana.”

When the woman turns, standing, there’s a kind of wide-eyed shock of absolute wonder that immediately turns into pure joy. The two of you leap into one another’s arms in a cacophony of ecstatic, indistinguishable sounds. One of some long awaited reunion.

The Twi’lek woman, Febhana, holds your face in her hands, yours slide over hers. There are tears in her eyes as the two of your chatter over one another in breathless delight. 

“I thought you—”

“I had no idea that—”

“I’ve tried to find—”

 You both cut each other off, staring into one another’s eyes before laughing again and embracing tightly.

 From over your shoulder, Febhana gives Mando one of the quickest, scathing once-overs he’s ever received. He can’t help but automatically have a little bit of respect for it, especially compared to the terrified, diverted eyes of her companions.

 “Who is this?” She asks, pulling away from your embrace slightly. You open your mouth to respond but she’s already babbling over your warmly. “Oh! No. Don’t tell me. Not yet. Let’s do this over drinks at mine—please. Please indulge me. Maker, look at you.”

 You let loose a laugh Mando doesn’t think he’s heard before. A certain tonal quality of complete release, familiarity. You nod as Febhana clasps your face between her hands again, in marvel. Mando doesn’t blame her, with that look of utter joy on your face he’d—

Well.

“Do excuse us,” Febhana swiftly addresses her dinner mates, they nod and mutter forgiveness, eyes still fixed to the ground. Mando knows for a fact that at least one of them has a fob on them by the tight anxiety exchanged in their brief glances towards one another. He ignores it for the sake of maintaining the moment between you and your friend.

 Mando trails behind the two of you by a few paces. As Febhana guides you through the crowds, she waves off the guard droid with an elegantly manicured hand.

**

Febhana’s apartment could be considered a house twice over by Mando’s book. She leads you and him through so many tall-ceilinged hallways and rooms to get to the… lounge, he guesses would be a proper term for it… that he genuinely can’t remember where the entrance is.

The room contains a bar stocked better than any cantina on Nevarro, a few odd pieces of furniture, and a large fireplace. Heavy, dark blue curtains hang from windows so tall he has to crane his head upwards to see the top. He guesses the luxury is communicated through the refusal to occupy the space with much else, despite the fact that it could be considered a small banquet hall.

Febhana makes you and her drinks while you settle on one of the sloping, white couches, scanning the room in the same way Mando has been, with a little more plain wonder in your eyes.

Mando hovers on the periphery, unsure of where to place himself until you motion him over to sit on one of the opposing chairs, equally abstract as the rest of the furniture. Febhana settles across from you on the couch, handing you your drink before leaning back and kicking off her heels.

The two of you are in a constant chatter that has so many names and dates and overlapping speech that Mando has a difficult time keeping up. What he does catch is limited and mostly inferred: the two of you escaped from the same warlord at different times, Febhana was able to scale the social ranks of Canto Bight with ease and an inherited wallet--most importantly, the two of your missed each other very much.

It’s been at least an hour since the three of you sat down when Febhana directly addresses Mando for the first time.

“And what are you doing here, Mandalorian?” 

Mando feels your eyes on him, burning, as you take a sip of your cocktail. 

“She saved my life,” he manages as a straightforward reply. “I’ve hired her as a medic.”

“Febhana,” you say. When you’re slightly tipsy like this, you have a breathless wonder in the way you go about describing things. “It’s… it’s been so good. I’ve been practicing all these languages and… Maker, all the places I’ve been. It’s just like you described, when we would tell each other stories to go to sleep. Everything’s so big and there are so many people.”

Febhana throws back her head in a laugh, nodding. “Well I know that, darling. Oh, stars, it’s so good to look at you again.”

You and Febhana go back and forth a while longer still, Mando happily settles into the rhythm of it. There’s the warm, familiar way women get so engrossed in one another that he finds completely novel, if not enviable. It softens something in him to see you so relaxed as you prompt Febhana to detail her exploits, the excited yip you make when she flashes you the wedding band strung on a series of thin gold chains looped around her neck.

Then again, the way the two of you seem so physically intimate occasionally makes something in his chest constrict uncomfortably. He isn’t sure where it comes from, all the little touches you give each other seem to come from a place of purely platonic joy in reunion. But there’s a little jolt in his stomach whenever he sees it happen. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it as jealousy, but… she gets to feel you. So unabashedly.

At some point there’s a lull in the conversation. You take this moment to stretch your arm across the couch, clasping Febhana’s hands in your own. “We’re actually here for a specific reason,” you say. “And I’m only asking you out of genuine, pure desperation—Mando… has a job, here. That’s gotten a little tricky. The bounty is on the head of Tyreus Cavill.” Febhana’s eyes widen considerably, but other than that she maintains composure. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “He needs to find him, Febhana—there’s intel that he’s supposed to be at some kind of event. Possibly tonight.” You glance up at Mando to check if you’re getting the details right, he gives you brief nod of assurance when you do. “Do you know anything about it?”

Febhana scoffs, shaking her head and withdrawing her hand from yours to grab her drink resting on the low glass table in front of you. “If you’re referring to what I think you are, it would be the Gathering of Rams, one of the most exclusive events hosted on Canto. I’d imagine that’s why he’d dare show his face, even with the price on his head. Unless you already have an in, you’re fucked, Mandalorian. That place is more fortified than a warship.”

You visibly deflate. “What do you mean?”

“It’s an old, and I mean old, money tradition. A dinner for just about every despicable person in the galaxy. I’ve only heard rumors about what goes on, definitely some serious cult-y type shit, oaths, rituals, the like.” She chews on a nail as she thinks. Something in her eyes lights up. “Wait. I think I… yes! Yes, I got the announcement a few weeks ago. Stars I think—” she looks down at the device on the inside of her wrist, tapping on it until—“Christ you two are the luckiest couple of bounty hunters in the galaxy, you know that? The Tagges are hosting the afterparty, tonight. The most eligible of all of Canto Bight will be there, and then some. I was invited a few weeks ago, I’d completely forgotten. With any luck he’ll be dumb and drunk enough after the Gathering to go.”

“The Tagges?” Your voice is filled with apprehension. You glance to Mando, then quickly back to your friend. “Febhana, there’s no way he can get in.”

“Hm, I’d think so too but there could be a chance…” Her eyes narrow, her face breaking into a toothy grin. “No, I’m a complete idiot. Maker, this is gonna be perfect--most of the ladies in waiting here dress their guard droids as glorified curtains. It’s a new thing if you get what I’m saying. If we go in together and disguise the Mandalorian as even more of a hunk of metal than he already is—” Mando grunts at the slight jab—“all one of us would have to do is get the target by himself with a little eye-batting and it would be a done deal.” 

You and Mando speak in unison.

“I am��not going to be a honeypot.”

“She will not.”

 Febhana raises a brow, one side of her mouth pulling up in poorly concealed amusement.

“Oh I suggested no such thing, I’d happily volunteer. But I do need a wing-woman, for appearance’s sake. I am taken, you know,” she flashes the wedding band again, pulling the collar of her dress down a fraction to do so. “Would be unbecoming to go on the prowl in public like that without pretending like I was just assisting.”

Mando glances over at you, trying to gauge your reaction to her proposal before he came off as to overbearing. He didn’t have the right to, he knows that. But there’s some raw part of him that winces at the very thought of you and your safety getting involved in one of his jobs. Maker if you got hurt in any way—

Febhana’s voice breaks his thought before it can be fully formed. “Oh, this is going to be excellent.” She practically purrs, jumping off the couch and extending her hand towards you to help you up. You comply, giving Mando a raised-brow glance of well, let’s see where this goes.

As Febhana begins leading you across the room, Mando stands.

“Should I contact the nursery to let them know to keep the child overnight?”

“The child?” Febhana’s eyes flick between you and Mando quickly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You curse under your breath, pressing your hand against your forehead. “A kid we’re looking after,” you clarify for Febhana. “I’m so sorry Mando, I got excited so it completely slipped my mind. I…” you bite your lip. “If you feel like it would be safe doing that I… guess that should be fine.”

“My wife could also look after it,” Febhana regards Mando evenly for a moment. “If you’re worried about safety. Would that be sufficient?”

Your eyes brighten slightly, glancing at Mando, tilting your head in question.

Mando nods, addressing Febhana directly. “If she trusts you, I do. I can travel back and get him while the two of you get ready.”

“I’ll send a car for you,” Febhana throws the remark over her shoulder, already busying herself by flinging the double doors that lead into the hallway back open.

You inhale sharply as if remembering something, tapping your friend on the shoulder before she begins to walk down the hall. “Wait, Febhana—the car, is there maybe a taxi service you could call? With an actual driver? He… we don’t really ‘do’ droids, if possible.” 

“I have an ‘actual’ driver, darling,” Febhana playfully chides. Her eyes flick towards Mando. “I’ll ring him, he’ll be downstairs in a moment. You remember where the entrance is, right?” 

Your delicate rephrasing, that “we,” rings in Mando’s ears for the entire trip back to the nursery. 

Mando quickly returns with the child, slightly weirded out by the enclosed landspeeder Febhana sent for him. It’s unlike anything he’d seen before, more like a carriage than any hover-craft he’d ever set foot in. There’s a dividing curtain between the passenger cabin and the driver’s seat, which he has pushed away to make sure the silent man at the wheel doesn’t try anything. 

The driver has a stony demeanor that seems very similar to Febhana’s—she clearly wasn’t one to suffer fools, and the people she surrounded herself with seemed to reflect that. Thinking back to the way you initially interacted with Mando, he could potentially see how your shared history with Febhana could have informed that. The characteristic briskness, the unflinching resolve. 

The child spends most of the returning trip chattering in relief, little hands reaching out to touch Mando’s beskar in a continuous greeting.

“Right here, kid. Always right here,” he affectionately rubs the corner of the child’s ear. There’s a heavy guilt that had settled itself in the bottom of Mando’s stomach since dropping him off.

He wants to apologize in some way, to blame it on his mood or the mounting anxiety surrounding the job, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete jackass. So he settles for bowing his helm to bump foreheads with the kid in a small display of reassurance. It seems to settle something in both him and the child almost immediately.

Mando glances up sharply, nearly forgetting the parted dividing curtain. The man, a wiry looking human male, glances back at the two of them through the thin pane of the rearview mirror, then returns to chain smoking while wildly maneuvering his way through traffic. 

The hover-car’s abrupt stop breaks him from his thoughts. He glances out the window, recognizing Febhana’s apartment building. The entire block is in a similar style as the boulevard you both had walked down earlier, circular doors outlined by bands of glowing yellow light. The only difference were the towering, wrought iron gates in front of each building and a set of tall stairs made of the same sandstone leading up to each house. The driver gets out and opens the landspeeder’s door for Mando and the kid, then steps forward and unlocks the gate, holding it open for the two of them.

“Sir.” The driver’s voice is more of a growl. If it weren’t for the enhanced settings of Mando’s visor, it would be too dark to see the mass of scar tissue that formed a jagged line across the man’s throat. The old wound is only partially concealed by the lapel of his coat pulled up against the drizzling rain. He’s abnormally tall, so thin that it looks as if his skull is actively attempting to escape his face. “Febhana’s apartment is the third buzzer. The service droid will let you in. She told me you should follow it.” The cigarette balancing against his lip bobs as he speaks, his heavy drawl disrupted only in part by his eviscerated voice box.

Mando’s lip curls slightly but he nods, thanking the driver, ducking out of the hover-car and climbing the steps leading to the apartment’s door.

Just as the driver said, the front door of Febhana’s apartment is opened by a droid. Mando stiffens despite the fact that the thing just barely reaches his knee. It gives off a series of little sounds before turning away and maneuvering down the front hall. Muttering something unsavory about Canto Bight under his breath, Mando follows it inside.

When he arrives at the threshold of Febhana’s dressing room, she’s only just started pulling out dresses for you to try on. He deflates slightly, really hoping that the two of you would have gotten this part over with so he could begin scoping out the Tagge mansion as soon as possible.

Mando accepts his fate and seats himself for the time being, placing the kid on the ground to let him toddle over to you. You lean down immediately and scoop him up, lifting him in the air with a happy: “Hey, stinky!” The child giggles as you snuggle him to your chest, pressing kisses all over his face in reunion. 

You keep gently playing with the kid as you and Febhana resume your conversation: wiggling your fingers over his face for him to grab, tickling his tummy, gently pinching his socked feet. It’s something you sink into so naturally Mando can’t help but be mesmerized by it. It calms something in him, to see both of you like that. He pushes the implications of that feeling away for the time being, as he always does.

Febhana gives the kid a bit of a once-over but looks overall disinterested, turning her attention back to rummage through her closet. “So it’s supposed to be a formal dance, but if it’s anything like the similar things I’ve gone to, that shit quickly disintegrates. But it’s still weirdly important for them to keep up the illusion of appearances, even though most rooms with closeable doors are occupied by people railing lines or fucking. Or both. Usually both.” The Twi’lek woman plucks out some kind of red, silken shift, holding it in the air then shaking her head and returning to her hunt. “I’ve been to enough Tagge parties to be a familiar face, we can play you off as an old friend of mine, some kind of lady-in-waiting thing or whatever. Crowds like these don’t tend to prod too deeply into personal histories, and with tits like yours I don’t think they’ll be interested in asking too many questions.”

Mando clenches his jaw so hard something starts hurting. You give a bit of an embarrassed laugh, quickly diverting the conversation. “So how do we get introduced to Cavill?”

 “Honestly? The easiest thing to do would be getting you to snuggled up with one of his friends. He runs around with a group of bachelors who are not… pleasant company by any standards. Snotty rich kids,” she makes a face. “But if that’s not an option I could try to push some of my contacts there to get us into their circle. Seriously, darling, with men like this involved it is probably going to be one of the easiest bounties he’s ever going to collect.”

The strain being placed on every cell in Mando’s body in response to this conversation alone says the exact opposite.

Febhana continues pulling out dresses, layering some over a bench and discarding others all together.

“Febhana, will they know?” You ask it suddenly, your tone—not tense, necessarily, but definitely controlled, as if you were expecting an answer you didn’t want to hear but were willing to take regardless.

“It’s the Tagge family, so of course they know what happened to that fucker, but I don’t think they would care,” she waves off your fearful tone with a shake of her head. “Just as long as we make a bit of an effort to conceal your identity, for formality’s sake, it’ll be fine.”

“What happened to who?” Mando asks. Once he does, all the air is immediately sucked out of the room.

After an extended moment. “You didn’t tell him?” Febhana’s head cocks, you visibly swallow.

“I um…” your nostrils flare with the sharp inhale you take as you search for the right words. “When I escaped…”

Febhana interrupts. “She stabbed the shit out of the warlord who owned us. All his wife found was pulp. Didn’t take it well, the cunt. Nearly catatonic. The rest of us were able to practically waltz out of there because of this one. Owe this gorgeous bitch my life. All of us do.”

You smile at Febhana, reaching out to squeeze her hand. She winks at you, covering it with her own before turning to go rifle back through her closet. You keep your gaze to your hands when she does, lips pressed together. Mando doesn’t remove his eyes from you as Febhana continues. 

“So it might be a little difficult getting her in there, but to be honest the Tagges hated him anyway. Rival business type stuff, though, not the whole holding women captive or worker’s rights violations and debt bondage thing,” her voice drips with a kind of contempt that Mando prays he’ll never have directed his way. He notices your hands tighten slightly from where they lay in your lap, your arms loosely looped around the kid who now sits upright in your lap. “I know someone who can forge some papers well enough to present to the guards, he owes me some favors anyway,” Febhana continues. “They’ll be ready by the time we have to leave. Doll you up enough and I’m sure it’ll be fine—ah!” It is only then that Mando looks back over to the Twi’lek woman. Her eyes are lit up, fanged mouth pulled upwards in a triumphant smile. The dress in her hand is a deep plum color, fabric so thin he cannot make out what it actually looks like without a form to fill it. You reach out to it, rubbing the dress between your thumb and index finger.

“Perfect.” You and Febhana say it in unison, your widest smile of the night parted up at her. There’s a delighted, mischievous tilt to your mouth he’s never seen before.

Mando swallows, despite the sudden tightness in his throat. 

He waits outside while the two of you change, sitting on a strange tufted seat pushed against the hallway’s bay window. It’s piled with an obnoxious amount of silken pillows—it seems the longer you’ve been with him, the more surfaces his beskar encounters that it never would have otherwise. A part of him is able to find the humor of that, despite the discomfort of feeling wildly out of place in your friend’s luxurious home. He settles with his legs slightly spread, back hunched to brace his elbows against the tops of his beskar-clad thighs.

After about thirty minutes, a woman comes down the hall, absentmindedly cleaning a pair of large-framed glasses with the corner of her sweater, a thick, leather-bound book tucked under one arm. She looks as out of place in this hallway as he does—more like a Galactic librarian than a resident of an apartment like this. She puts her glasses back on and stops in her tracks once she sees him.

“Who are you?”

Mando clears his throat. “A friend of Febhana’s.” 

“No you’re not.” 

“Yes, I am--well. A friend of a friend.”

Her eyes narrow quizzically. “I’ve been married to that woman for five years now. I think I would know if she had a Mandalorian as a ‘friend of a friend.’”

As if on cue, Febhana emerges from the beaded curtain suspended over the entrance of her dressing room, barefoot and wearing a blue gown. She pads over to the woman, something bulky tucked under one arm, the other carrying the child in a sleeping bundle. Febhana places him in her wife’s arms delicately. “Lovely, we’re just getting ready for the party. Don’t mind her play-thing,” she tilts her head towards Mando without directly looking at him. “He’s just here for decoration.” 

Mando physically bites his tongue.

Febhana’s wife glances at Mando, before leaning up to gently kiss Febhana. “Alright, I’ll be in the study. Wake me when you get back.”

Febhana cups her wife’s face gently. It’s such an intimate gesture that Mando looks away, feeling as though his presence alone is an interruption. The couple talks quietly for a moment, then her wife exits through the same door she came in from.

“Here is the guard’s uniform. The measurements should be right,” Febhana stands in front of Mando, handing him folded pieces of dark fabric, and then a helm. It’s two halves of a black metal shell meant to fit and tighten over the face of a droid. There’s a thick pane of darkened glass cutting through the middle of the mask, presumably to not disrupt a droid’s sensors but it will render Mando’s absolutely useless. This night just keeps getting better and better.

The whole thing is not something Mando has ever seen before, though he was never one to frequent circles like Febhana’s. The only distinguishable features are symmetrical dips cutting severe cheekbones into the object’s silhouette. Two fixed pieces of gilded metal form a swooping triangle that hovers just over where his nose will be under the helmet’s featureless surface. Looping, thin chains dripping from the decorative structure to partially conceal the mask’s lower half. When he holds it up in the low light of the hallway, their movement creates glinting waves of light.  

All of it is purely flare, for the most part. At least the tailor made plenty room for armor beneath the--as Febhana put it--glorified curtains usually meant to conceal a droid. He heaves a sigh, taking the uniform from her. “This is the only option?”

Febhana shrugs. “Unless you want me and your girl going in by ourselves and trying to lure him out to you--which is certainly an option--yes.”

“She isn’t ‘my girl.’”

“Oh, trust me,” her smile is biting. “I know that.” She tilts her head towards the dressing room. “C’mon, the pretty one is almost done. You can use my room to change.”

When he enters, you’re seated at Febhana’s vanity. All the air is sucked out of his lungs.

The dress is really nothing more than a series of gauze-like drapes that spill from your body and pool onto the floor. The expanse of your back is completely exposed, the dress only resuming to cover you right above the base of your spine. One long piece of fabric serves as the illusion of sleeves, cinched at the swooping neckline by delicate, medallion-like embellishments that rest at the dip of both shoulders. The sleeves’ near-transparent fabric are fixed to ovular gold rings you have on the middle fingers of both hands.

Mando watches the fabric shift over the bend of your arm as you use said finger to swipe a little pigment on your lips. It glistens in the mirror he looks at you through. In that initial moment of deep focus, you have the severe look of a high official’s wife. Utterly untouchable. The most beautiful creature he’s ever witnessed.

His entrance breaks your concentration, you smile up at him, warmly, through the mirror.

“I’m almost done,” your voice breaks him from his stupor. Your other hand dips a small brush into a pot of powder. You dab it under your eyes and then stand, going to a crystalline bar cart and spraying some kind of perfume on your neck.   

Febhana steps into the room behind him. After a moment Mando finds his voice.

“And you said she isn’t supposed to be the honeypot?” It’s hard to keep the pain out of his voice as he says it. At this point it’s like the two of you are actively trying to kill him.

Febhana laughs, and the smile you give him is expansive yet strangely private at the same time. As if you and him were in on some secret, some inside joke. You cross the room and pat him lightly on the shoulder twice, before moving him aside in order to link arms with Febhana.

The two of you leave the room, picking up whatever conversation you were having before Febhana left to give Mando his things. He stands there until his heartbeat steadies, then moves behind the wooden room partition to put the uniform on.

It’s going to be a long night.

**

a/n: mando, babes, u don’t even know the half of it

jokes aside i am so excited for the next chapter you guys have no idea how much fun this is to write !! love a good ol’ fancy party w a bunch of degenerates. 

tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @walkingthegrounds @roseallisonparker @kaitlyn2907 @dinsbeskar​

please let me know if you would like to be added/removed!

[thetriggeredhappy]

Consider: the scene in the comics where Scout dies, but instead it's Spy who's dying and he actually has the balls to tell Scout the truth face-to-face before it's too late.

consider: this shit is gonna break your heart, anon. dad!spy hours

(warnings for canon-typical violence, extreme character injury, major character death)

-

Just his luck that he’d find himself alone with so many of those ridiculous robots and with his knee so destroyed. He at least managed to take down the one that finally got him.

These tin cans didn’t even know enough to understand how to efficiently kill someone, he seethed. He’d certainly be bleeding out shortly—he was fairly sure he had a punctured lung, among other things, but the blood loss would probably be what did him in—but god, it was taking forever.

He could take some solace in that he at least didn’t drag Sniper to die along with him, had sent him to try and pick off as many bots as he could from the windows. And... well, he was fairly sure he’d been as useful as he could have been in this fight. Helped kill one of the Classic team—two, if you counted throttling his own counterpart—and done some good recon work besides. This wasn’t the most poetic or heroic death, but he wasn’t a fan of poetry and had never considered himself much of a hero, so that was probably fair.

But that stupid robot had ruined his jacket, which he was pretty annoyed about. Not like it would matter in the long run, but frustrating regardless.

God, it was cold.

He lifted his head when he heard the sound of rapid footfalls echoing down the hall, growing closer. Hey, maybe he could trick some robot into finishing him off, at least. Save himself some time and excruciating pain. He would’ve gone for the cyanide tooth, but unfortunately, this was the one situation where he’d jumped for that option a little bit too early. Just his luck.

(God, it was cold.)

Oh, well. Bludgeoned to death by a Scoutbot at least promised to be relatively quick. They tended to go for the head.

He looked up to at least give a snide remark to his more rapidly-approaching death, only for them to get stuck in his throat as the death in question rounded the corner and made eye contact with him.

“Holy shit, Spy?” Scout asked, looking startled and a little out of breath.

“Merde,” Spy mumbled, and was a little caught off guard by how hoarse his voice was.

In a second Scout had taken a knee next to him and was surveying the damage, mouth running at a mile a minute. “Holy shit we were lookin’ everywhere, Sniper showed up because I guess he was dead but now he’s better apparently and he said you two split off for some reason but you’d been fuckin’ kneecapped and—dude, you look like shit, what happened?”

“What does it look like?” Spy asked dryly.

“I mean, I don’t wanna give you an ‘I told you so’ or nothin’ but this is kinda what you get for disappearing and running off on your own all the time,” Scout pointed out.

He almost couldn’t feel the tiny ache of guilt that put in his chest underneath all the other much more life-threatening aches that were also in his chest. “Well, I’d say I’ve learned my lesson, but I think unfortunately I won’t be able to demonstrate any time soon,” Spy replied, and yeah, there was a puncture to his lung. He had to fight hard to hold down a cough, and only because he knew it would sound extremely pathetic.

“Okay, uh—can you move? Okay, you can’t move,” Scout seemed to decide. “Uh, okay, okay so I’ll uh—so I’m gonna go get Medic, and—he’s fast too we should be able to get back here in like ten minutes flat, easy! Just, I guess try and hold your guts in, I’ll be right back with help!”

Considering the amount of injured Medic was likely to be, he very much doubted Scout would be back with Medic in only ten minutes. And considering the way that his vision was swimming and how distorted Scout’s face got towards the tail end of that last sentence, he doubted he would make it ten minutes anyways.

And he found unexpected panic suddenly rising up in his chest at the thought of dying alone, here in a hallway surrounded by broken mechanical parts and acrid smoke. He forced himself into motion despite the way it made the entire room suddenly seem to careen to the left, and managed to catch Scout by the leg of his ridiculous trousers before he could take off again. “Wait,” he croaked. “Wait.”

“I, no, I gotta go get Medic, I’ll take like ten seconds—“ Scout was quick to assure, so quick that Spy realized he was legitimately worried.

“I’ll—“ Spy started, and paused to clear his throat just to give himself enough time to think of an excuse to have Scout stick around for a minute. “I’ll be fine to wait a little longer, but first I had something important to say.”

Scout frowned. “Yeah?”

And he did. He absolutely did. The problem was that this excuse was... hm.

The problem was that this was something he’d been putting off. The larger part of the situation for about 20 years, and then more directly for about six. And Spy thought that surely he would work up the courage to get to it over the course of their employment, only for it to be unexpectedly terminated, and he decided, well, that was that. He would just have to live with it. But then they got arrested and the thought that surely he would get to it over the course of their time in prison, and once again he didn’t, couldn’t seem to force himself into that conversation, not when he was trapped, not when he couldn’t run from whatever outcome ended up happening.

And now he was dying. And for all he knew, Scout was going to die shortly as well. And in most of the ways that mattered, Spy was the only person who could really answer this question, because apparently Scout’s mother had committed to the lie he’d asked her to tell, had continued to stay headstrong on helping to cover up how he’d faked his death. And how was she to know he was really dead, surely Scout would never bring it up—

If he didn’t tell Scout now, Scout would never know.

Scout would go the rest of his life never getting answers about his father.

“Merde,” he mumbled again, slumping back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut against the way the world was spinning, feeling motion sick.

He heard Scout take a knee again, and after a second he hesitantly prompted him. “Uh, what? What is it? What’s up?” he asked carefully.

Spy forced himself to open his eyes, and was a little startled by how difficult it was. He focused hard on one of his own shoes, trying his best to make the world stop spinning so fast. He swallowed hard to try and clear his throat, steady his voice. It almost worked. “This is very important,” he started with, and forced sharpness into his tone. “So I will not be needing any of your little jokes and quips and interruptions.”

“Y... yeah, okay,” Scout said, and the worry was extremely easy to read on his face, and Spy kind of hated that.

Spy considered his words. “You’ve mentioned before that you never knew your father,” he decided to open with. Scout immediately began to frown. “And... and I never said anything. Even though that was a very brave thing to bring up.”

Scout opened his mouth to reply before remembering himself and shutting it again.

“And I wanted to apologize,” Spy managed to choke, and he kept track of Scout’s expressions in his periphery, finding it easier to hold on to that way than by trying to look at him directly. “Because you’re never going to get the chance to know your father, not really. Not in the way you deserve, and it’s my fault.“

“Spy, what the fuck does that even mean?” Scout demanded, and maybe the anger starting to flood into his voice was fair. “You—what did you do?”

“You deserved to have a father,” Spy said, and it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was dodging the question, but maybe he wanted to be obvious, just for a minute. “A good one, who did all sorts of ridiculous fatherly things for you. And it’s not your fault that you didn’t. You deserved to. You did.”

God, it was cold.

“And he should have been there for you, and for your family,” Spy continued, and felt his stomach lurch unexpectedly, and had to shut his jaw tight for a moment, tight enough to feel his fake teeth aching. “And he should have supported them and been a good father, and your life should have been made much more easy than it was, and you should not have needed to get in fights and become a criminal in the first place, and you should never have needed to sign up to become a murderer in some terrible desert in New Mexico among a pack of assassins and madmen.”

“Spy, I, I should get Medic—“ Scout tried to cut in, moved as if to stand back up. Spy snared a hand in the front of Scout’s shirt, and though he knew full well that he wasn’t strong enough to actually stop Scout in any capacity, he froze up anyways.

“And—and I know that you deserved a real father, and I knew that,” Spy said, “and I know there is no excuse that can ever be given. There is nothing that I can ever say to make it up to you, or to your mother, or your brothers, nothing. And I should have been there but I was scared and I was convinced I was being hunted and I cared too much about all of you to let that happen because of me, and it was selfish—“

“Spy,” Scout said, and it took all the strength that Spy had just to look at him, and there were a lot of emotions on his face just then. He saw realization, for one. Shock, astonishment maybe.

And for the first time in maybe his entire life, Spy decided that he just needed to be honest. 

“I’m your father, Jeremy,” Spy croaked.

Silence. Long, long silence. In the far distance, gunshots and explosions and yelling, soft enough that he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his imagination.

“You gonna try and say some kind of cool line, now, too?” Scout asked, and his voice was sharp enough to sting, and Spy winced at it. “Some kind of bullshit about how it, it was for my own good? Or that it’s—that you always cared from far away or some shit, that it was better this way? Gonna ask me to fuckin’ forgive you, here on your deathbed?”

“No, I am not,” Spy replied, voice faint. “I know there is nothing I can say to make it up to you. Words are insufficient.” He breathed deeply and forced down the instinct that was telling him to cough. “But I would rather not leave you wondering forever. I thought... this was better than nothing.”

Scout made a noncommittal noise. Silence.

“I get the distinct impression that you are angry with me,” Spy managed.

“Duh, I’m mad at you. Jesus fuck, you have no clue how mad I am at you. But I’m not...” Scout paused to think over his words. “I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at... old you. The you who ran off. And... I dunno. Kinda seems like you hate that guy too.”

“Very much,” Spy confirmed.

“Yeah. I dunno. I guess... I dunno.” Scout paused for a long moment. “And... maybe this is better than nothing, I guess. Because... it’s not the same or nothin’, but... I dunno. At least I know now. And... at least I know what my dad’s like now. That’s something.” 

Silence. Spy managed a nod, but not words.

When Scout spoke again, his voice was uncharacteristically level. “You’re gonna die here, aren’t’cha, Spy?”

“Oui. I have no doubt in my mind,” Spy sighed, so quietly that he wasn’t sure Scout could hear it.

Scout was quiet for a minute. He moved to pull Spy’s hand off of his shirt (not that it was difficult), and for one terrifying moment Spy thought he was about to just drop Spy’s hand and stand up and leave him to rot in some hallway on an uncharted island where he would never be found. His vision was darkening rapidly, and he didn’t think he had the strength to try and stop him again, or that it would even work.

But instead Scout clasped Spy’s hand in his own and held it tight to his chest, squeezing Spy’s shoulder beneath his hand. “Run hell, asshole,” Scout said with the slightest of smiles, and it was so like Scout to be joking just then, to be trying to comfort him just then even if it was in his own way, to find the most indirect, roundabout method of letting Spy know that things were okay. And it made Spy laugh, and laughing was the last thing that Spy remembered.

-

He saw the last of the color drain from Spy’s face, the way the muscles there slowly went slack, and after a long moment he moved the hand from Spy’s shoulder to check for a pulse. He shifted to try again three times, not positive he was doing it right, before realizing, no. He was definitely doing this right. Spy was dead.

He let his own hand drop, then carefully laid down Spy’s.

Man. Twenty-seven fuckin’ years, and he finally finds his dad, and it’s Spy. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Spy would find a way to escape that kind of conversation and never look back, but he was a little surprised that his solution was apparently dying.

...

That wasn’t that funny.

Scout leaned back, scrubbed at his face with his hand, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. Conflicted emotions. Conflicted thoughts.

Jesus, he should’ve seen it. That dumb dream he’d had back at Heavy’s house when he’d almost died, the stupid jokes Spy kept making about his Ma and the suspicious amount of information Spy had about him, way more than was probably on any official record. And the weird shit Heavy had been saying to him, and all the times Spy stuck his neck out for him when he really didn’t have to—

He didn’t think it was obvious enough for him to guess, but it was definitely obvious enough to suspect.

...So being an asshole ran in the family, huh?

He sat back on his heels.

...His Ma always said they had similar eyebrows. And their eyes in general, apparently. Ears. The mask made it kinda hard to tell.

The mask.

For a few seconds, Scout really genuinely considered taking the mask off.

This was his dad. Ma apparently lost the few pictures she had of him years ago, and this was his only chance. If he didn’t look now, he’d never really know what his dad looked like. Not in a real way. And didn’t he deserve to know? Hadn’t he earned this?

But he couldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. That was a kind of disrespect he couldn’t stoop to, not even to a dead guy.

He didn’t know why, but he felt himself tearing up.

If he made it out of this alive, he made a promise to himself. He was gonna talk to Miss P—those two were friends, right?—and he was gonna find out more about Spy. He’d hire a private eye if he had to, he’d spend every penny of his Tom Jones money figuring out everything he could. Spy hadn’t given him a lot to work with, but it was something. It was enough.

He wiped his eyes, rocked forward to stand, shook himself. For a second he thought about getting Medic, seeing if he could work his magic, but he’d only seen Sniper for a minute, only long enough for him to say that coming back to life was a one-time deal. He took a deep breath and turned, starting to walk down the hallway. Running off felt wrong just then.

Maybe God was looking out for him, just then, because that meant he hadn’t turned the corner down the hall, which meant he heard the feeble little cough behind him and could turn around, could see that Spy had a hand lifted.

A pause to process.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Scout scathed in the angriest voice he could manage, even as he felt tears leap into his eyes.

[ab1tofsp1ce]

A Warmer Refuge

Chapter 7: Someone Else Again

Masterlist HERE

A/N: A special thank you to @mandos-things​ for your kind message, so here’s the next part!

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: Just some fluff (and a little bit of angst)

Description: Finally, you both reach Kistern - now what?

“Okay, but you have to promise me something,” I said, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” He grumbled slightly when he asked that question.

“Don’t… don’t open your mouth.”

“Why would I do that,” he asked incredulously.

“Just – just don’t, okay? I really don’t want to get my fingers in your mouth.”

“And what would make you think I would want your fingers in my mouth?”

I sighed exasperatedly, although with light-hearted intentions. “Never mind. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

I reached my arms out, feeling around the air as I shuffled forward until my right hand bumped into his shoulder. From there, I anchored myself by grabbing his other one with my left hand. They felt stocky and warm under my grasp; the only thing separating his skin from mine was a thin shirt. I let out a playfully dramatic sigh, shaking myself slightly, and then began to trace up his shoulders to his collarbones, then his neck, his jaw, and finally I was cupping his face in my hands. He had a ragged stubble that scratched my fingers slightly, and I smiled and hummed contentedly at the feeling under my palms. I tickled my fingers slowly up the side of his face to his eyes, to which he grunted and muttered something about how I was poking him. His eyelashes were surprisingly long, and I could feel his skin was aged, yet still smooth – probably as it was consistently hidden from sunlight. I traced down the center of his cheeks, past his nose, and to his lips, which I ran my thumb over gently. At this, I felt two hands snake their way onto my hips, and he peppered a small kiss onto my fingertips.

“Why did you want to do this?”

I didn’t answer right away, because truthfully, I wasn’t sure how best to word it without sounding ungrateful or cold. So, I deflected.

“What do you mean?”

“You could just look at my face, if you wanted.”

“Is that what you want,” I asked. I didn’t want to pretend I knew what he wanted, but I had my suspicions.

“I don’t know what I want anymore.” He sounded so dejected, and what made it worse was how he also sounded brutally honest.

“Did you want to take it off?”

There was a moment of silence. “Yes. But I had to.”

“Well, if you were forced – ”

“No,” he said, shaking his head lightly. “I wasn’t forced. I wanted to, but it was more than that. I – I needed to.”

I nodded. I appreciated what he was trying to say, and it didn’t take a genius to see it was hard for him to articulate. He was doing a better job than I was, standing here like an idiot not knowing how to explain myself without sounding like a bitch.

“The truth is, I’m scared,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m scared that once I open my eyes it’ll be real.”

“Would that be so bad?” I knew what he wanted me to say by asking that question, and so I felt guilty that I knew my answer right away.

“Yes, because I can’t stay here. In a few hours we’ll be on Kistern, and then I’ll go my way and you’ll go yours and… if I see your face, I don’t think I could ever do that. And I know that I have to do. So…”

“So, you can’t,” he sighed, and I felt a hand leave my waist and caress my cheek slightly. He understood.

“No. No, I can’t.”

His weight shifted and there was a momentary puff of his breath against my face before his lips came into contact with mine. It was a gentle kiss, as delicate and precarious as this all felt right now. It was a cruel trick of the universe, that just as I finally found a home, I would have to leave it. Right now, he felt so far away from the man in the suit of armor – it was hard to even believe they were the same person.

He pulled away slowly, as if it was a chore, and pressed a soft kiss against my cheek before starting to move behind me. But I grabbed him by the hem of his shirt and, eyes still closed, pulled myself into his chest, wrapping my arms around him. He obliged, in turn doing the same, and with my head in his chest I could smell him so clearly. It was something warm, like a foreign spice of sorts, mixed with rich woody tones and salt, like what I imagined the ocean to smell like. I felt him bury his face in my hair and sigh deeply, rocking me slightly with his overbearing frame. We stood like that for a while, and I soaked up every second of it, knowing when I let go, he would go and adorn his armor and be someone else again. Out there, he would be the Mandalorian but here, in my arms, he could be Din.

I tried to pretend it didn’t affect me. Sitting in the passenger’s seat, I allowed my focus to be enveloped by the view of my new home, rather than the dread of leaving what I had. As we jumped out of hyperspace, I got my first look at Kistern. What struck me as new and strange was the number of other ships around us. Larger stations orbited the planet, and I had never seen so many New Republic ships before.

As we came into the planet, there was a buzz through the intercom.

“D50 Genesis, this is landing tower 5, you need clearance to land on Kistern. Do you copy?”

The Mandalorian leaned down and pressed something before responding to the call.

“Landing tower 5, this is D50 Genesis. I have a passenger with eligible refugee status, and I am the accompanying chaperone.”

There was a crackling pause over the intercom.

“D50 Genesis, may I please speak to the refugee?”

The Mandalorian looked over at me, nodding his slightly as a gesture for me to speak up. “Uh, yes?”

“Am I speaking with the refugee,” the woman asked.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Do you have your completed paperwork?”

“Yes.”

There was another brief pause.

“D50 Genesis, you're cleared for landing on terminal 14. Do you copy?”

The Mandalorian shuffled forward in his seat as I sat back down.

“This is D50 Genesis, I copy. Over and out.” The intercom switched silent.

I paused, feeling suddenly how loud my heart was beating. I couldn’t believe it. I was finally here, about to land. I felt only apprehension.

“How long do you get on Kistern,” I asked him. “I mean, I’m assuming they don’t just let you wander free down there.”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, staring forward as we entered the atmosphere. “I’ll take as long as I can get.”

I leaned back into my seat and stared at the roof of the ship, swallowing hard. He said it so calmly, like nothing had happened between us. How could someone feel so close to me and yet so far away? He didn’t even seem to care.

Part of me wanted to ask him, but the truth was that wouldn’t be fair. Because if he asked me the same question, I would be completely clueless. I wasn’t sure what to do, or what I wanted from him. I wasn’t even sure if there was anything he could give me. What would I do, trek around the galaxy with a bounty hunter? Not that he would ever want me to…

The ramp lowered and we were greeted by an officer, flanked by two guards. All three seemed rather taken aback at the sight of a Mandalorian escorting me down from the ship, although seemed to withhold any reaction.

“Welcome to Kistern,” said the officer, his eyes sliding from the Mandalorian to myself. “Can I see your papers?”

I dug around in my rucksack before producing a few slightly crumpled documents. The officer pilfered through them, occasionally looking up at each of us, almost skeptically.

“These are in order,” he said at last. “You can come with me to get your authorizations. We’ll, uh, give you two a moment.” His voice was laced with unease.

“Hold on,” I said, frantically. “He… you’re not sending him away, are you?”

The officer turned back to me with an eyebrow raised. “Well, he can’t stay… surely you know that. He has no jurisdiction on Kistern.”

“Can’t you make an exception,” I stammered, getting a bit desperate. “Just for… just for a couple of days? I – I just…” I could see the officer wasn’t buying it, so I reached over and took the Mandalorian’s gloved hand in mine. I could feel him tense up slightly under my touch, but he didn’t react. I pulled out my best desperate expression. “Please. I’ll never… I’ll never see him again.” Well, it wasn’t a lie.

The officer sighed. “I can give you 24 hours, no more. Come with me.” As he turned away, I exchanged a look with the Mandalorian, who seemed a little baffled. “Uh, thanks.”

“Hopefully it’s enough time…” I said, diverting my gaze and slowly letting go of his hand. “It’s better than nothing,” he admitted. “Come on,” he gestured, and I followed him after the officer.

Apparently, Kalbier had known nothing about Kistern, although this didn’t surprise me. The planet was not desertous like Yak’ish Temeen, and in fact, couldn’t be further from it. The city we were in was covered with a grey, dull sky, and was bordering a large ocean. The air was salty and somewhat humid and smelt of oil and smoke. The only immediate similarities I noticed between my home planet and this one was the variety of creatures inhabiting it. Once again, like that outpost on Utaran, many of them seemed to stare at us as we walked past, and I kept my eyes trained to the ground as best as I could.

We were taken to the New Republic’s post, where I was given a starting balance of 500 credits and keys to a lodging to which I had access to for four weeks. Their behavior was curt and professional, and I had to bite my tongue so as to not make my resentment apparent. I blamed them in part for what had happened on Yak’ish Temeen, and after everything they hadn’t done, they still treated me with civil disregard. I couldn’t be more pleased to get out of there.

The Mandalorian escorted me through the city streets; tall metallic buildings that created thin and crowded alleyways and backstreets. The streets were muddy and well-trodden, and the place was far less than pleasant.

“Kistern is notorious for pirates,” said the Mandalorian, placing a hand gently on my lower back to guide me through the crowds. “No wonder the New Republic wanted to get it under control as quickly as possible. But that doesn’t make it impenetrable. I’m sure there are plenty of pirates who would love to get back on this planet. Like our friends on Utaran…”

I tried to focus on what he was saying, which was valuable information, but I could only feel his gloved hand gently resting on my skin as we shuffled through the alleys.

We finally reached the lodgings, a dilapidated multistorey apartment covered in graffiti and adorned with flags and washing lines that hung out the windows between the buildings.

Inside, the room was small and minimally furnished. I walked over to the opposite wall and looked out the window, which boasted a view of the city sloping down to the docks. I heard the door shut and lock behind me.

“Keep the door and windows locked at all times,” said the Mandalorian. “And don’t stay in this town longer than you need to. I’ve heard there are far safer cities inland, and ones where your skills will be useful.”

I turned around and leaned against the windowsill, looking over at him. He was by the door, and there was something passive about the way he stood; he was trying to distract me from asking.

“Can I… what if I came with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“To find your… the person you’re looking for. You only have 24 hours here, surely you could use some help?” I knew my voice sounded desperate, but it was hard to hide how I was really feeling.

“No,” he said, with a tone of finality. I knew it was pointless trying to convince him, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.

“I’m not entirely useless,” I said, rather unconvincingly. “I’m sure there could be something –”

He interrupted me with a morose sigh, looking down at the ground. “Of course you’re not useless, but you’ll only tie me down while I’m out there.”

“Oh,” was all I could muster. Ouch. I tried to hide the pain in my voice, but he noticed, looking up at me.

“I didn’t mean it like –”

“It’s okay, really,” I said, mostly meaning it. “You’re right. I don’t know anything about doing what you do.”

He sighed. “What I meant was I’d worry too much. I wouldn’t be able to focus if you were with me…”

It still hurt, hearing what I already knew. It made me realize how starkly different we were and snapped me back into the harsh reality of our situation.

“Well,” I said, gathering what composure I had left. “I don’t want to keep you here. You’d… you’d better get going.” I avoided the eye contact he was so intensely trying to give me. He seemed to take a hint, and slowly turned for the door.

I couldn’t hold back. “Will you – will you come back to say goodbye?” He didn’t need to be looking at me to hear my pain as I choked on my words. I felt stupid, bleating it out like a child, but at the same time, I didn’t care.

“I’ll try,” he said. And then he was gone.