#you KNOW I had to snatch up an imperial

[strawberrymochin]

Crown prince!gojo who has met you on his little sneak trip out of the imperial palace. He saw you lone scrubbing on a piece of silk, as slow tears trailed down your chin.

“does washing a single piece of silk cause you such great sadness?” his tone startled you, lacing with a hint of sarcasm.

You take a look on his stunning majestic brocade, and shiny silk robes, his hair tied up with a silver hair piece in which delicate blue crystals sparkled the evening sun. His attire suggested audience, unable to conceal his blood rank.

“i expect nothing from you to understand who hasn't even worked himself for a single day.” you made a snarky comment, frustrated from the overflowing tasks given by your mistress. You cared any less for pleasing or showing any respect for an notable rank.

Crown prince!gojo who had never been spoken so harshly with a taunt in air, had spiked his interests. After your abrupt leave, he got his attendants to search for you. And the next thing you know, is that you are summoned in the imperial palace to serve his highness who has requested you from the household you work in.

You who had never met any royals, and no idea who the mighty crown prince, taking over the kingdom after his father looked like, had your colour drained from your face after a single look at him.

He looked cunning with his azure eyes as his white hair, was now tied up in a knot, white robes with blue brocade and a belt of silk wrapped around his waist, which shone in the reflecting lights from the courtyard where you were summoned in.

“your highness" you bowed, your brow touching the grounds, mentally cursing your tongue to have provoked him the last day. God knows what he might ask you to do. Worse even your life being snatched away.

Crown prince!gojo who tells you to rise your head up, dismissing his attendants, now his smile looking more of mischievous. “you shifted your personality with such measures I'm impressed,” his lips creak a bit, but as of incredulity.

Crown prince!gojo who grinned even more when you unable to keep your composure snap at him. He wants you to be his companion, learning by his side before he assumes his court duties.

Crown prince!gojo who confesses to you the night you beat him in sword fight after almost 2 years spending day and night with you. Falling even more every single day.

Crown prince!gojo who clasps your hand to his chest while kissing you, under the solicitude of moonlight.

Crown prince!gojo who tells you he wanted to kiss you for so long, that his heart burned with agony.

Crown prince!gojo whose eyes darkens everytime he sees you taking with captain!geto from afar during your war practice sessions.

Crown prince!gojo who gifts you a tassal woven by him with tear drops of jades dangling from it, which is enchanted and protects you from all harms.

Crown prince!gojo whose dull eyes avoids yours during the entire crowning ceremony, face looking pale at the moment the emperor announces his betrothal to a princess of another strong kingdom.

It stabbed your heart, smeared it into Shards of glass and if you were tranced by an enchantment, you also joined the crowd praising the holy couple soon to be married.

Your throat felt dry as your heart burnt with rage. That's when finally his eyes meet yours—knowing very well this is the last time you see it.

Crown prince!gojo who cries himself to sleep as you left to join the army, never returning back to the imperial palace, as his companion anymore.

Crown prince!gojo whose heart thunders in his chest as whenever he learns you were about on a mission to fight with dangerous monsters.

Crown prince!gojo who sneaks in your room to heal your injuries with his magic, before any healer appears.

Crown prince!gojo who gets annoyed at the appearance of captain!geto, who came to check up on you.

Gojo's gaze steady upon geto as he entered the room nonchalantly, obvious to the tension in the air. He knows it rages the prince whenever he talks to you. And you know what? your captain loves to feast upon what others can't have. Especially in this case the we are talking about his highness Prince. How could he not lace his finger with you only to see prince gojo's fists rolling into balls as veins popped out on his jaw.

Crown prince!gojo who takes his leave, dismal as he exchanges cold glances with captain!geto.

This is terrible. You thought.

A/n- and it's fun for me. Lol. Shall I continue this with captain!geto?

[juletheghoul]

Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox. 

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings;  C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell. 

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm. 

Unacceptable. 

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer. 

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head. 

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face. 

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work. 

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise. 

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him. 

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.” 

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him. 

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down. 

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”  

-

He was covered in grease. 

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail. 

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you. 

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck. 

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray. 

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter. 

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance. 

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast. 

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering. 

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black. 

-

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad. 

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent. 

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up. 

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke. 

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“ 

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself. 

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed. 

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter. 

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin. 

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.” 

-

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use. 

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off. 

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by. 

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco. 

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse. 

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you. 

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student. 

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants. 

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

-

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly. 

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon. 

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.” 

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again. 

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort. 

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there. 

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up. 

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed. 

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach. 

-

He works fast - you have to give him that. 

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it. 

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower. 

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly. 

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep. 

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable. 

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest. 

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you. 

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink. 

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look. 

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it. 

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed. 

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan. 

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap. 

Nothing had ever tasted so good. 

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first. 

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.” 

-

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you. 

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here. 

I probably would have died by now. 

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed. 

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.” 

Quietly, you got back to work.

-

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without. 

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface. 

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him. 

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away. 

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.  

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand. 

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter. 

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

-

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough. 

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun. 

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good. 

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth. 

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten. 

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish. 

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word. 

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up. 

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull. 

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

-

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest. 

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away. 

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.”  When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation. 

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you. 

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush. 

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin. 

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip. 

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him. 

-

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long. 

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself. 

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings. 

-

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home. 

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention. 

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he? 

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him. 

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face. 

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you. 

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him. 

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory. 

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored. 

-

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved. 

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane. 

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams. 

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name. 

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off. 

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again. 

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult. 

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

-

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood. 

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different. 

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging. 

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back. 

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face. 

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him. 

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned. 

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins. 

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face. 

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face. 

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth. 

“What?” 

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts. 

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before. 

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back. 

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that. 

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond. 

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration. 

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up. 

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

-

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock. 

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water. 

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence. 

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry. 

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair. 

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.” 

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man. 

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly. 

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him. 

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion. 

-

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure. 

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse. 

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop. 

-

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling. 

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden. 

-

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before. 

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water. 

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand. 

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.” 

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome. 

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him. 

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him. 

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body. 

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated. 

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen. 

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours. 

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter. 

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings. 

-

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth. 

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy. 

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway. 

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him. 

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless. 

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own. 

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you. 

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning. 

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored? 

-

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with. 

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness. 

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face. 

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back. 

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.” 

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.” 

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you. 

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you. 

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most. 

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple. 

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip. 

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly. 

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside. 

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed. 

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up. 

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.” 

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit. 

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

-

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core. 

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.” 

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through. 

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.” 

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.” 

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck. 

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time. 

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring. 

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.” 

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

-----

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[shangchiswife]

din djarin- every dead-end street led you straight to me

summary: din comes back from a trip so you show him how much you love him

din djarin x fem! reader

inspired by taylor swift's new song: all of the girls you've loved before!

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 1703

....

It had been about a week since Din Djarin had left you alone on the Razorcrest to tend to the green child you had both grown to love while he had an important bounty to deliver.

It had been two years since you started working for Din and a year since the two of you had recognized your feelings for each other and gotten together. 

When you first started working for him, Din had been cold and distant towards you, only talking to you when it seemed necessary. His feelings slowly changed when he started noticing the little things that you would do for him and Grogu. In return, he started to exchange the favor by offering you little trinkets from the planets you’d visit.

One day this cycle of returning gifts and hiding your affection for each other ended when you almost got killed one day and Din saved your life.

You had been on the run from the empire when suddenly Grogu slipped out of your arms squealing while an Imperial officer scrambled to retrieve him.

As if it were instinct you immediately ran back to get him, shoving the officer aside before snatching the crying baby back into your arms.

The officer yelped before whipping out his gun and aiming it at you. 

“Stop shooting at him and start shooting at the girl!” the burly officer had barked as the stormtroopers behind him turned their weapons on you and started firing powerful shots at you that you luckily dodged. 

You ran back to a screaming Din who took your hand in his and rushed back to your ship.

Bullets blazed fast the both of you as you felt your heart hammering hard in your chest from the adrenaline flowing through your blood.

Once your ship was flying high into the sky away from Imperial activity, the Mandalorian had started towards you angrily, his gloved fingers on his helmet.

Grogu had cooed nervously in your lap, looking up at you with scared big eyes while you braced yourself for Din’s words.

“How could you let yourself be so careless? You almost got yourself killed!” his voice was laced with bitterness. 

Despite not being able to see him, you could practically feel his gaze burn onto you.

“I’m sorry but I had to save him,” your voice was small as you let the shivering child down and watched him waddle away back to his cradle.

“I cannot believe you would ever do that! So many of those bullets could’ve caught you,” 

“I had to save him because if I didn’t I would never be able to forgive myself,” your eyes were full of tears threatening to spill over your cheeks as you stared at your own reflection from his helmet. 

Your shaking hands were pressed tightly over your chest as you stared at the floor.

The atmosphere around the both of you was tense and heavy, an uncomfortable silence hanging over the two of you.

Din sighed, his breath coming out modulated as he bent down to your level.

“Oh don’t cry mesh’la,” his voice was soft as he lifted up a hand and grazed it over your cheeks.

At that moment a tear slipped down your cheek.

You leaned into his body as he gasped at the touch before wrapping his arms around you.

“I just…I just wouldn’t know what to do without him…without the two of you,” you cried as your tears continued to flow onto his Beskar.

He held you even tighter before pulling away and holding your cheeks with his gloved fingers.

He delicately swiped the tears away.

“Close your eyes cyar’ika,” he was quiet as you stared at him, eyes puffy.

“What?” you asked, sniffling.

“Just close your eyes,” Din said as you complied with his request, gently closing your eyes.

You heard the sound of something hissing and furrowed your eyebrows with confusion about to ask him what was going on before you felt a pair of lips on your own.

Your heart stopped as you kissed him back, moving your hand to his curly hair making him grunt.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” he sighed breathlessly before kissing you again as you giggled.

“Me too,”

….

You smiled at the memory as you stroked the head of the sleeping child in your arms.

Grogu had been sleeping for over an hour after you fed him a dinner that consisted of a hot bowl of vegetable soup with a side of stale bread.

You missed Din a lot.

Being with the Mandalorian was the best thing that had ever happened to you. All of your past failed relationships were instantly forgotten whenever he squeezed your hand when walking through a city or bringing you flowers. He was so respectful and kind and your heart swelled so much whenever you’d think about him.

Years of heartbreak led him straight to you. A reward after all of the horrible things you’d gone through. 

You sighed as you slowly got up, not wanting to wake the sleeping baby, and put him in his cradle on the other side of the ship.

Right as you were about to return back to your room to get some sleep, a hand clamped over your mouth making you scream into your captor’s hand.

A modulated laugh escaped the person behind you as you rolled your eyes and shoved his hand off your mouth.

Din Djarin stood in front of you clad in Beskar standing in a very mischievous manner.

You took his hand in yours and dragged him over to your shared bedroom.

“Are you crazy you could’ve woken up Grogu!” you scolded, slapping his chest as he threw his head back with laughter before going over to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“I missed you,” he said as all of your annoyance immediately diminished the moment you felt the coolness of his helmet rest on your shoulder.

Your heart immediately melted at his confession and a smile graced your face as you stared at him.

“I missed you too,” you shifted around so that you were face to face with him and brought your forehead to his helmet.

A Keldabe kiss. 

Weeks after being together, Din had shown you the sweet meaning of him pressing his helmet against your forehead so you made it your biggest priority whenever he’d come back on the ship to do the Keldabe kiss.

Every time you put your forehead against his Din would always find himself gasping for breath at how sweet you were and how lucky he was to have you in his world.

“You missed me?” he hummed, hands rubbing up and down your waist

“Mhm,” your eyes glinted under the dim light of the ship.

“Show me,” his voice suddenly turned deep, sending shivers down your spine as his hand trailed down to the waistband of your sleep pants.

He quickly shed his gloves before dipping his fingers into your panties.

His breath hitched at the wetness that collected on his digits.

“Fuck mesh’la you’re already wet and I haven’t even done anything to you,” he groaned.

You brushed his hands away from your soaked core and eyed his bulge through his flight suit, grazing your fingers over it.

“No Din, tonight is about you…let me take care of you,” you purred as you pushed him back against the mattress.

He cursed under his breath as he watched you unclasp his pants and let his cock spring forward.

It’s already leaking with pre-cum which makes you look up at him with a cheeky grin.

“Someone’s excited,” you teased as he rolled his eyes under his helmet.

“You going to suck me off or tease me because if you’re gonna do that-” his words were cut off by the feeling of your tongue against him making him jerk in surprise.

Your tongue moved skillfully around him, not missing any vein or crevice.

He missed your goddamn mouth.

Din watched as you continued to lick him all over, swirling your tongue around him while you took more of him into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, fisting your hair and pulling you closer to his cock.

You moaned in surprise, your teary eyes looking up at him, full of lust.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he praised as you whimpered at the compliment, the ache between your legs growing.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he brings a hand to your cheek, encouraging you as you eagerly skimmed your digits over your folds, moaning which sent vibrations to his cock.

While you continued to suck him off, your fingers rubbed harsh circles on your clit.

He gripped your head and started to thrust roughly into your mouth, using it the way he wanted as tears continued to leak down your burning cheeks while you tried to control your gag reflex.

The sensation of his cock attacking your throat and your fingers circling your pussy was too much as you felt your orgasm building in your stomach.

“I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled over his cock that was being pistoned in your throat.

Din panted, gripping your chin so that you could look up at his helmet.

“Cum for me, mesh’la,” he said, his Mando’a sending you over the edge as you felt pleasure wash over you while he emptied his seed into your mouth with a grunt.

You removed your mouth from his cock with a loud pop, a mixture of his cum and your saliva dripping down your chin.

You could feel his eyes burning into you as you rested your head on his clothed thigh.

“Thank you pretty girl,” he said, rubbing your back gently with one hand.

“No problem I mean it was hot,” you grinned as he brought a hand to your cheek and caressed it.

“It was,”

“It almost makes me wish that you went out more,” you teased.

“You’d never last without my cock and you know it,” the Mandalorian chuckled darkly.

“I bet I could,” a devilish grin formed on your lips.

One second later you were thrown onto the mattress of your shared bed with Din on top of you.

“We’ll see about that,”

[feruslands]

"Daddy Feri", part 9

My sketch fanfic for @reconstructwriter and @la-sopa who inspired me to continue this long, dark story, and for everyone who loves "Vader/Ferus" (later Anakin/Ferus)

Warnings: rapes, cruelty, torture

The harsh, majestic fortress made of obsidian alloy, stood alone on a gray-green plateau in the midst of the poisonous nature of the planet Vjun. Frequent acid rains washed the high towers of the fortress without causing harm.

“The worthy bulwark for the last scoundrel.” Ferus Olin thought.

The Jedi no longer knew if he was dreaming or if he was seeing Bast Castle in his head, because his child was being held captive there and he was constantly thinking about this place.  But he came to himself already in a familiar cell on the Bast, awakened by the squeak of medical devices.

The power was with him, brighter than before. Ferus could feel Leia's presence, she was not far away. This made him get out of bed.

He was finally able to wash off the disgusting stench that had grown into his skin during the few weeks he had been a prisoner on the Destroyer. He thought about his child. The Jedi fully felt the feeling of oppression and fear, and it intensified when it occurred to him that Vader would not let him see Leia.

The doors opened and Darth Vader entered the medical room. Without warning, the Sith threw the prisoner a lightsaber. Ferus caught it only by reflex, and Vader immediately activated his lightsaber. The battle began. It was difficult for the Jedi to fight, his reflexes were inhibited, any sudden movement hurt him, and his coordination left much to be desired. He deflected several of Vader's attacks, and even made a couple of lunges in response, but he realized that the Sith was only playing with him. Vader didn't even put his whole body in a defensive stance. He deftly blocked Ferus's strikes with his lightsaber, moving only his hand, so lightly and casually, as if Ferus's attacks were ridiculous.  Vader left his body open to attack, as if he was sure that the Jedi would not even be able to touch him with a lightsaber in any case. And Olin soon realized that it was justified. The Jedi was amazed by the skill of the Sith, he had never met such a skilled opponent in his life.

This duel ended very quickly. Ferus ended up on the floor defeated, and his lightsaber flew into Vader's palm, deactivated in flight.

“It was so predictable.” Vader said, summing up this short battle, “The Dark Side of the Force is superior to the Jedi in everything. None of you can fight or hold a punch. You don't understand anything about the mastery of Force. And you're exactly the same, you pathetic nonentity.”

“I'm not impressed by your bragging rights.” Ferus looked up at Vader with a look full of dislike. He got to his feet carefully and slowly. Yes, it was easy for Vader to talk about the superiority of the Dark Side, especially when you meanly stab in the back, “You can show off your skills in front of a bunch of imperial hangers-on and other bastards who joined the Empire to snatch a piece of the wealth captured by the Emperor. And maybe they worship you as a deity just to strengthen their position. But you're really ignorant. You're slandering the Jedi because you don't know anything about the Jedi or the Order at all. And you, as well as your Master, do not know the true nature of the Force.”

“I know everything about the Jedi!” A wave of anger was rising in Darth Vader, “I know all about your filthy Jedi Order! And you, like any Jedi, are just an arrogant son of a bitch...”

Even the possibility of such an argument seemed extremely ridiculous, but it was happening. Was this fool really going to argue with him under such circumstances?

“It is very arrogant of someone who accuses me of arrogance to claim that you know everything about the Jedi. You're a Sith. What does someone like you know about the Jedi way? About their code, about their Order? I, like many others, once served the Jedi Order, honored their code, and I was never an arrogant scum. Because none of us are like you think, and I'm not like that! You don't know me.”

“On the contrary,” Vader said, “I know you.”

There was something wrong with those words. The Jedi had a strange, intuitive feeling of something long forgotten, but he could not grasp it in order to analyze and recognize it. And he ignored it. He was too worried about reality right now, not something ephemeral and barely perceptible.  

Vader was circling around him like a predator circling its prey. And that made Ferus nervous.

“You are a lying and cowardly hypocrite.“ Vader continued, "like any arrogant moralist, you are just a fool with your poor principles and ideals that you have invented for yourself and believed in them. And you're just like most of the Jedi whose honor you so zealously defend. But none of that matters, because all your precious Jedi have been dead for a long time. So let's get back to the present moment.”

The Sith slowly walked over and tossed the deactivated lightsaber, but the Jedi knew that he could attack him. To attack even though the enemy could hardly stand on his feet.

“Tell me something, Jedi bastard, you want to see Leia, don't you?” Vader was looking at him intently. Olin saw that the Sith was provoking him and he decided not to give in, so he did not answer, waiting for the continuation. As expected, Vader immediately lost his patience, and without waiting for the Jedi's answer, he continued, "You see, for this to happen, you will have to convince me of this.”

“Your blackmail won't work with me.” Ferus replied sharply. There was a very unpleasant feeling in his chest the moment Vader mentioned Leia.

Vader sensed that the bastard was beginning to forget who he was here, and the Sith was ready to remind him.

“So, bitch, now,” Vader stopped circling him. He froze, demonstrating his superiority, looked at his opponent point-blank and, not holding back from pleasure, grinned mockingly, “You will serve me, as a sex slave should.”

“You will not wait for this.” the Jedi knew he wouldn't let that happen.

“Really? We were just talking about the arrogance of the Jedi, which you prefer to turn a blind eye to. Do you know what I see when I look at you? The proud, arrogant idiot. But all your pride and arrogance will be shattered by one single circumstance. Think about Leia. She was so looking forward to ‘Daddy Feri’. And this meeting may not take place at all. But it all depends on you. You should be a grateful and obedient slave. Otherwise, I'll have to tell her that you're gone and give her a little box of soot as a keepsake.”

Olin somehow realized that Vader was lying to him. Most likely, the freak had already acted out this scene in front of Leia while he was unconscious. The pain of it was unbearable. This dirty bastard was crippling his child's psyche, and he talked about it with such mockery.

“You forgot to mention the most important thing. Do you know what I see, Sith, when I look at you? The dumb, envious and cruel son of a bitch. It's not news to me that you're hurting others because you can't handle your own. But you just gave yourself away. You're jealous of me. ‘She was so looking forward to ‘Daddy Feri’.’ Did you say that? She was waiting for me, not for you. She doesn't give a damn about you. She doesn't even care that you were a sperm donor for her birth. And you're making a child suffer because of your stinking envy. And you even get joy out of it, forcing yourself to forget that it was your child. So which one of us is a pathetic nonentity?”

Rage clouded Vader's gaze, he barely restrained himself from immediately attacking the prisoner with blows. No. The words of this piece of shit won't piss him off. He tried to pull himself together.

“Remember, Jedi bastard, everyone calls me ‘My Lord.’ ”

“Everyone can call you whatever they want, even 'My precious boy,' but I won't. ”

“That's enough verbiage for today,” Vader said harshly, “especially from idiots.”

Before a hail of blows rained down on the Jedi, Vader used the Force to force him into the opposite wall and hit it. After that, he pulled him in like a puppet and started beating him.

“You stinky whore! You're only going to open your mouth to suck my dick, you dumb bastard!” Vader accompanied his words with punches to the ribs. The screams of pain and pitiful sobs were especially pleasant and it quickly cooled his anger. Vader stopped for a short break. Never mind, soon the son of a bitch will be whimpering and screaming even more on the floor when he rapes him.

Vader took a cursory, appraising look at his body. Even with the blooming bruises on his torso, the muscles of this man's abs looked perfect, just like he was all too regular and perfect. Vader had half of the insides of his abdomen artificial, the upper flesh was synthetic, and there were several wide holes on his stomach, covered with metal lids. The Sith stood close to the Jedi lying on the floor.

“Don't keep me waiting, slave. Serve your Master.” Vader kicked him in the stomach.

“You won't wait. Fuck yourself, Vader.”

He didn't like this challenge from the Jedi. It was as if Olin was learning not to be afraid of him. So it is necessary to accustom him to uncontrollable animal fear again. Vader decided to set up a torture chamber for him right here to show how much he appreciates his opinion.

A surgical knife flew into Vader's hand, the Jedi's body flew into the air, as if he had been lifted by the collar, his feet did not touch the floor, and Vader slashed the knife across the Jedi's stomach. Not deep enough for this incision to rip open his guts, but strong enough to cut his abdominal muscles.

The Jedi wanted to scream, but the Sith stifled his scream by squeezing his throat with a chokehold.

“It's unpleasant, right?” Vader cut him in the stomach again, making a second long incision.

The Jedi squeezed his eyes shut in horror as Vader pulled back his arm to swing.

“Shall we try again?” And Vader, with a deft movement of his hand, made another incision, longitudinal, long, stretching right up to the groin area. The Jedi made a gurgling, wheezing sound that should have been a scream, but Vader squeezed his throat again, preventing him from screaming.

“It's just a metal that neatly cuts through your flesh, but I could just as easily disembowel you.” Vader dropped the knife and roughly lowered the prisoner to the floor. The Jedi bent over and looked at his wounds in shock. Starting from his stomach and below, his body slowly turned dark scarlet, he had never seen so much blood from his wounds before. Ferus lightly touched his wounds and his hands also turned dark scarlet.

“It's high time you learned to know your place.” Vader knew how the Jedi would beg for forgiveness.

He took off a piece of armor covering his groin area and bared his thick cock.

“Obey, slave! Kneel in front of me and take my cock in your mouth.” Vader ordered.

Ferus looked up from his wounds. He saw that the Sith was already in a state of anticipation of pleasure, but the Jedi found the strength to rudely break off the vile desire of the enemy.

“Damn you, Sith! Let your bastard emperor suck your dick.” He said with disgust.

The thought that Vader wanted to force him to suck his stinky ugly dick made him furious. In an attempt to protect himself, the Jedi tried to hit Vader, but of course it failed. The Sith easily blocked his blow.

“It was stupid, as always.” Vader responded by slapping the Jedi across the cheek and throwing him off, pushing him to the floor.

“On your knees, slave!” Vader gave the order, his voice becoming harsh and merciless. He towered over him imperiously.

“No...!” The wheeze froze in the Jedi's throat, and he could no longer say anything, only make hoarse sounds. An invisible stranglehold squeezed his throat and pulled him up until his knees touched the floor. After that, the stranglehold intensified. The Jedi opened his mouth, trying to get some air.

“You can't go anywhere, buddy. You are my sex slave.” Vader moved closer to the Jedi, and shoved his dick into the mouth of the gasping prisoner.

“Suck my dick, Jedi. Or I'll strangle you right now.” Vader raped him in the mouth, roughly pushing his dick down his throat. The Jedi struggled, but Vader did not loosen his grip, and continued to impale him on his dick.

“Suck my dick, slave! This is my order!” Vader was really excited about his power.

But the prisoner still tried to bite and pull away with the last of his strength. Then Vader inserted his metal fingers into the Jedi's mouth to prevent him from closing his jaw.

“Suck it, slave!” Vader barked again.

He roughly fucked the Jedi in the mouth until he finished the sexual act. And only then did he release the grip.

Such a substitute for oral sex did not bring much pleasure to Vader. But still, it was incredibly pleasant to make the prisoner kneel while he raped him in his mouth.

The Jedi was spitting and coughing on the floor. He was trembling, and spasms rolled down his throat due to the gag reflex. And his wounds on his stomach were terribly painful.

“You're a useless jerk,” Vader said, “but I'll teach you to be a diligent slave before you die.”

Ferus looked at his tormentor with undisguised anger.

“Someday you will die,” the Jedi croaked through spasms in his throat and spitting, “and no one will cry for you.”

Vader looked down at the Jedi lying at his feet. He grabbed him by the throat, forcing him to lift his face up.

“You think you're strong enough to stand up to me, but you're not,“ Vader leaned over him, "Believe me, it won't take me long to teach you once and for all to be a submissive, respectful slave who is ready to kneel down and serve his master at the first hint.”

“You still don't understand, Sith. You're going to have to kill me.” Ferus was squinting in pain, blood from the cut flesh on his stomach had already stained the floor.

“I'll do it as soon as I get tired of you. But your death will not be easy and quick. I'll cut off your arms and legs and hang you by the stumps. And you will hang on chains until you die from excess pain. If you don't care about yourself, take pity on Leia, spare her such a disgusting sight.”

The thought of Leia's torment raised a cold anger in the Jedi. The flow of directed Force helped him catch his concentration for a moment to try to land a blow on Vader's jaw. But the Sith intercepted his arm, quickly twisted it behind his back, and pulled hard up to break the shoulder joint of the enemy. A hoarse scream cut through the emptiness of the room.

“I warned you.” Vader disdainfully pushed the wounded, beaten Jedi away from him. The enemy fell to the floor, now he could only howl in pain. 

At Vader's call, three droids entered the cell.

“This sex slave does not want to obey. Punish him properly.” Sith ordered. And the battle droids pinned the Jedi in a grip to carry out educational work on him.

“That's right, slaves should be flogged regularly.” Vader thought with satisfaction.

Vader did not listen to his painful moans and screams and left the cell.

**

Even before Olin woke up, Vader gave Leia a little test. As a result, he learned what he wanted to know. Something he was already sure of. Leia has a good potential for Force sensitivity, she just categorically does not want to develop her abilities.

Ashes scattered across his armor, and Vader realized that she was capable enough to realize that her precious father was alive, and even nearby. This was good news for him. The bad news was that after she threw a box of ashes at him, which Vader handed to her with the words, “You disappointed me. Here you go, it's your daddy” and screamed hysterically that he was a liar, he didn't want to see her anymore. Generally.

And he locked her in a room alone. Of course, he was not moved by her tears, nor by her childish cries that she needed to see her dad.

Since Vader left, Leia has been crying alone for a long time. All she needed right now was to see her dad and make sure he was okay. But the black-armored monster wouldn't let her near him, she knew that.

She knew that the monster was merciless.

She thought the monster was bullying Daddy because of her. The monster needs her Forces abilities for something. And then she realized that if she did not cut off these abilities from herself, then grief would happen to dad.

**

Ferus never for a moment forgot about the most important thing – about his child.

But there was no way he could protect her while he was torn away from her, while he was so wounded. And Ferus assumed that this was just the beginning. When Vader realizes that the quest for obedience education has failed, he will begin to harm Leia. Olin had no doubt that Vader could have committed any incredible heinousness. For example, Vader could have raped him in front of Leia. Or cut him up, or whatever... and make her look at it.

In general, he was sure that no matter how Vader behaved in the future, he would be cruel not only to him, but also to Leia.

And in any event, every option would be terrible for Leia.

Except maybe one. If he was dead, Vader would have no reason to torment Leia.

But then Leia won't have a living father anymore. 

It's unfortunate. But which is better? She needs a living father, but a morally broken man who became a slave to Darth Vader? No.

Tears were dripping from his face to the floor, and they were tears not only from pain, but also from despair. He won't have a way out. That's how it's going to happen. His end will come. Inescapable, ruthless.

Even so, he won't die a slave. He could provoke Vader to kill him quickly, or the Force would help him in this.

Ferus called Leia by their connection in the Force, looking for her in the fortress space. He still didn't know how he could even say goodbye to her. How could he say “goodbye forever”?

**

Vader was thinking about Olin. For some reason, the Sith felt a deep abomination and shame for everything he had recently done. But he crushed and trampled on this feeling.

No. He is proud of what he has done.

From the datadap, the Sith sent orders about the Jedi. He ordered urgent help to be given to him, to sew up the wounds on his stomach, and to administer medicines that were supposed to bring him back to consciousness and prevent him from losing consciousness again.

Vader didn't like to wait, but he couldn't rush into action right now. There's still a little more pressure on the Jedi. But it is not enough just to crush the will of a Jedi, it is necessary that he himself go against his personal principles and destroy his own filthy, false ideals.

This asshole spent his entire youth posing as a celestial, a kind of crown prince, who by the will of fate turned out to be an apprentice in the Jedi Temple. But Vader will crush and destroy this illusion of the pure, noble knight, which Olin invented for himself and believed in.

This asshole will surrender to him voluntarily. And then he will become a submissive slave and an obedient whore.

Vader didn't think about what he would do if that didn't happen. Is he capable of making Leia suffer? He didn't know. But he felt that something global in his attitude towards Leia had already changed. He was gradually letting her go from him.

And it was at that moment that he felt that something had happened to Leia. He rushed into the room where he kept her locked up, but it was too late.

The baby was sitting on the floor, still crying, with red eyes and a scared, unhappy face. Through her sobs, she was still calling for Dad. She became almost invisible in the Force again. And Vader realized with amazement what had happened. This little girl managed to cut herself off from the Force.

Her potential for Force, which had been so bright not so long ago, was gone. It was as if she had become an ordinary child, without sensitivity to the Force.

Damn Ferus Olin. It's all his damn influence! It's his fault!

But it wasn't just anger that filled him. He was much more deeply disappointed. The disappointment of all the interaction with Leia. He realized that in all the time they had been talking, she had never taken a single step towards him. And at that moment, Vader's anger went away, and a calm confidence came to this place.

He had never really needed her. Leia is a part of Skywalker. And that's an insignificant part.

Vader left Leia. He had given up all thoughts of her.

He appeared on the threshold of the medical ward in which he ordered Olin to be held, and motioned for the medical droids to stop.

"Tell me, slave," Vader approached the surgical table, "do you want to lie on the floor like a rag again and howl in pain?"

“This technique is not new.” the Jedi replied in a voice broken by screams, “torment, delay, torment, delay. And so on until the prisoner voluntarily wants to avoid it.”

Vader realized that he himself had just violated the most basic interrogation tactics. This was the most basic thing that should not be done with stubborn people. He had to wait for the prisoner to speak first, start screaming, sobbing, and finally beg for mercy. And only after that, ask, "are you ready, slave, to beg forgiveness for everything?" He had to act this way, he couldn't restrain himself. It was necessary for him to talk to him before beatings and rapes, he thus felt especially acutely his superiority over his former rival.

But whatever the Jedi was thinking right now, he clearly wasn't going to be complaisant.

Vader was annoyed by this insubordination. He felt like the violence had reached a dead end, and the more he raped, the more he wanted sex. But it didn't give him anything substantial. It did not cover some important need of his, which prevented him from fully feeling satisfied.

He knew the Jedi was already on edge, but he didn't care about the pain of others. So Vader fucked him in the ass, spitting on his sobs and muttering "no...", "don't...".

After that, he allowed the droids to continue medical procedures with the patient who had just received new wounds.

Vader returned to his private quarters and immersed himself in the Bacta tank for many hours. He thought for a long time, eventually he came to the conclusion that the reason for his frequent bad mood, outbursts of anger and a desire to kill everyone around was the disgusting state of health of his body, or rather what was left of his body after Mustafar.

From the useless reflections that went around in circles, he fell into a long, sound sleep. He was woken up by a beep announcing that an urgent call had been received from the Emperor.

As soon as he woke up, he gestured to the manipulators, which pulled him out of the Bacta tank. As soon as Vader had his prosthetics fixed, he immediately accepted the challenge without getting dressed and a full-length holographic projection of the Emperor appeared in front of him. A wide triumphant smile blossomed on the ugly, wrinkled face of the old Sith.

"So how's the little girl, Skywalker's daughter, doing?" Palpatine asked.

[jedipoodoo]

This might be a weird request, you don't have to write this okay! But... How about Imperal bad batch ( seperated) and pregnant reader? Hunter turns into the darks side while his wife is pregnant (almost like Anakin and Padme

THIS REQUEST GOT ME LIKE

Ma'am, I will answer any and all requests for a pregnant reader and you know that. I'm sorry for taking so long, but I really wanted to do this one justice 😁

Haunted (Imperial! Hunter x Pregnant!Fem!Reader)

Okay, so most of my Dad Batch shorts mention keeping the baby from the kaminoans and the like, so....what if they couldn't keep the baby from them???

Warnings: labor and delivery, pregnancy (obvi), kidnapping, The Empire sucks, Nala Se is a pain in the shebs, Nobody likes Wilhuff Tarkin. This one is a lot darker than my usual stuff. Dark may be too strong of a word for it, but idk how else to put it.

Notes: what it says on the label. Pregnant reader, female reader. Hunter is manipulated. Protective Hunter, Angst without a happy ending...yet. Dividers by @saradika

"Hold on just a minute more, cyare, we're almost there," Hunter urged. Echo peeked around the corner, signaling for Hunter to freeze. Hunter, holding one of your hands to lead you and wrapping the other around your waist to hold you upright, pulled you against the wall to keep from being seen around the corner. He could hear the slow, meandering gait of a Kaminoan as they walked past the hall, unsuspecting, taking all the time in the world while you struggled not to whimper at the pain in Hunter's arms.

Hunter gently patted your belly, as if that would make everything better.

"You're doing great," He whispered.

"I'm gonna kill you," You growled.

Echo hissed a warning, waving you both forward. The Kaminoan was gone.

Your comm beeped softly, and Hunter snatched it up, trying to get you to move faster when all you could do was waddle.

"Come in, Tech."

"The medical wing has been cleared. Wrecker and Crosshair will stand guard."

"Good. We're two minutes out."

"AHH!" Your knees gave out as a contraction tore through your body, and you almost slipped out of Hunter's arms.

Hunter gently lowered you to the floor to let you catch your breath, "Breathe, sweetheart, just keep breathing," He urged. It was in some stupid holo-article that he had read online, and despite the amount of research he'd put into labor and delivery, that tactic in particular was starting to get super annoying. Breathing was one of the last things on your mind when you had

"Is that one worse than the last few?" Echo asked. He was trying to be gentle, force bless him he was, but his grip on your arm was struggling not to pull you to your feet and drag you to safety.

You looked up at Hunter, and froze. Despite the fact that every single thing he was trying to do at the moment was annoying you to no end, you could see the fear quavering in his eyes.

You all knew that if the Kaminoans found you, as arrogant and self-serving as they were, they would unquestionably seize your child as Kaminoan property, enfolding him (or her) into the sea of identical brothers bred for slaughter. Neither Hunter or his brothers were going to let that happen.

"Osik," Hunter muttered none too softly. You followed his gaze to the floor, where a sticky puddle was forming from your water breaking. Osik was right.

Hunter slipped his arms under your legs and your back and hefted you in the air. He didn't even wait for the all-clear from Echo, he just ran to the med-wing.

"Hunter, I can walk-" but the next contraction stole your breath and proved you wrong. Hunter ran faster, and you could hear Echo struggling to catch up with you. You wrapped your arms around Hunter's neck and prayed.

Wrecker and Crosshair waved you past, sealing the door shut behind you. Only Tech and a single med-droid were in the tiny medical wing they had managed to clear.

"The droid's memory will be wiped the moment we are finished," Tech promised before you could voice your worries. Hunter gently sat you on the table, bracing your feet in the stirrups.

"Her contractions are two minutes and thirty seconds apart," Hunter said. The droid quickly ran a few scans to confirm and Tech handed you a large sheet of paper that hardly counted as a robe.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

You gulped, bracing yourself against another contraction. Whether or not you were ready, your baby was coming.

There was pounding on the door, but you could barely hear their demands of "Open up in there!" over the squalls of your baby.

"It's a boy," Tech said, almost as an afterthought as the droid cut the umbilical cord.

Hunter pressed his lips to your forehead, despite how sweaty and gross you felt. "Good job, cyare," He whispered, "You did so good."

You nodded, unable to think straight. "The baby..." You reached for the child bundled in Tech's arms. Hunter sprung to his feet and took them from Tech as gently as he could, bringing the baby back over to you.

"Oh," You gasped softly, running a finger across their cheek. It was a little sticky, like something that had been dried haphazardly, and their hair was still slick with blood and fluids, but you brushed it out with your fingers, letting the dark curls spring into place as he wriggled with all his newborn strength.

"He looks just like you, Hunter," You whispered.

"The spitting image," Tech had already shut down the droid to wipe its memory circuits, and you took the baby from Hunter, pressing him against your chest.

"Mama's here, Mama's here," You said, kissing the baby over and over.

The pounding on the door had stopped, but there was lots of shouting. Hunter's gaze darted to the door as he heard Wrecker cry out.

"We've got to get you out of here," He said, pulling you to your feet. You stumbled like a newborn fathier colt, leaning against him.

"I-I can't," You gasped. You tried to give him the baby, "You have to take him,"

"I'm not leaving you," He insisted.

"Now is not the time for affectionate stubbornness, Hunter, she's right. You have to get him out of here before-"

There was blasterfire in the hall, and you saw sparks fly as several bolts hit the door. Your son wailed unhappily and you reached for him, only to pull your hand back at the last moment.

"Go!" You begged Hunter, but it was too late.

The door that Tech had painstakingly sealed shut slid open, and eight shock troopers pointed their blasters into the room, aiming for you, Hunter, and the baby.

"Place the infant on the table and step back," Their captain commanded.

"No," Ever the contrarian, Hunter shielded your son from their view.

You hadn't even named him yet.

Just beyond the wall of troopers, Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo had all been forced to their knees with their hands behind their heads. The bodies of several other Shock Troopers and Kaminoan security troopers were strewn about the hall, dead or alive it was hard to tell, but the Batch wasn't going down without a fight.

Admiral Tarkin stepped into the doorway to take in the damage for himself, but what made your blood run cold was Nala Se standing behind him.

"You will not take my child!" You screamed. stumbling to your feet to stand between your son and the blasters.

"Your child is Kaminoan property," Nala Se said calmly, despite the bodies of her creation littered around her.

"Imperial Property," Tarkin corrected harshly, "Much like your supposed lover and his squad. Lieutenant, you are stripped of your title and imprisoned for your crimes. CT-9901, you are also henceforth removed from your post as Sergeant. You are all under arrest."

"She has just given birth!" Tech finally spoke up, "She will not be going anywhere until she heals! Unless you wish to have her death on your hands?"

You hadn't even named him yet.

Tarkin shrugged, "Dead or alive, it makes no difference." He waved to the troopers who approached with several sets of binder cuffs like the others wore.

"No!" You screamed and leaped at the troopers. You were unable to do more than crash into them, but it gave Hunter a shot at getting through, and that was all you could hope for.

With your son secured to his chest, Hunter dashed out of the room and past the astonished Nala Se and a flabbergasted Tarkin. You smirked to yourself as you slid down to the floor, breathing heavily.

Tech grabbed your arm to steady you, and both of you were grabbed by the troopers

Hunter knew the halls of Kamino like the back of his hand. Once he made it past the original wave, there was little to stop the (former) sergeant of Clone Force Ninety-Nine.

His baby whimpered in his arms, and he hurriedly hushed them.

He'd come back for you later, or maybe his brothers would help you escape, somewhere quiet and peaceful like you'd always talked about after the war. Somewhere you could raise your family in peace.

But for now, he was only worried about doing what you'd said, and that was getting your son to safety.

"It's alright, ad'ika, we're gonna get you out of here," He whispered, pressing his lips against the boy's forehead.

"I'll keep you safe."

Alarms blared to signal his escape, which made it harder to calm the baby, but also simultaneously hid their cries.

Hunter wished that his brothers were with him, but they had all agreed to this. They had all insisted that your child was priority, and they would defend it like one of their Vode, just as they had when you joined them.

Hunter ran faster, on deft feet, always knowing which hall to take in order to avoid a clumsy stampede.

The Marauder was docked in the bay closest to the medwing, Echo needed a checkup after their last mission, but it seemed serendipitous when your contractions started in the early morning. You knew the Kaminoans would see this as openly flaunting your blatant disregard for their authority in their own city. You'd wanted to have your baby anywhere but Tipoca City, but then you'd received orders to return to Kamino with the end of the war.

Hunter grit his teeth, avoiding patrols was keeping him from going as fast as he'd like,and his son's cries were getting more and more agitated. It was a pitiful replacement, but he stuck his finger in the child's mouth to let him suck on it. As soon as he took off, he could give him the formula aboard the Marauder and look him over.

"Most childcare experts agree that there is a distinct possibility that hyperspace travel at such a delicate stage can be detrimental to child's development," Tech's voice echoed in Hunter's mind. But that couldn't be helped right now.

He turned the corner towards the bay, but it was blocked by another squad of Shock Troopers. Before he could think, he drew his blaster.

"Hunter!" You screamed in terror. Hunter's blood ran ice-cold as he spotted you.

You were on your knees, held upright by two troopers, and an Admiral (or someone else who wore one of those gray suits) had a blaster pointed at your head. Tarkin met Hunter's gaze with a smug smile.

"You made a valiant effort in your escape, Sergeant. I can only imagine how much that child means to you."

Hunter shifted the baby, holding him closer. The boy was starting to grow frantic again, now that he didn't have anything to suck on.

"However," Tarkin continued, "Much like yourself, the child is now property of the Galactic Empire. Attempting to steal him is treason."

"If I'm already committing treason, I might as well shoot you here and seal the deal." Hunter focused his aim on Tarkin.

"You could, couldn't you?" Tarkin barked a cold, humorless laugh,

"However, the moment you open fire, Vice Admiral Rampart has orders to shoot at point-blank range."

You shook your head desperately. "Hunter, don't!"

"Hand over the infant, now!" Tarkin said. His lackey in an identical suit pressed the blaster to the base of your throat, cutting off your protest.

"What will it be: the child? Or it's mother?" Tarkin sneered.

It was over. Hunter knew that. Even if he did as you asked, he still wouldn't be able to get past the Shock Troopers. His sons cries were like ringing in his ears as he tossed his blaster to the side.

They took his son from his arms, and all he could say was "Support his head!" as they turned away so that Hunter couldn't even see him anymore, but he listened to his cries as they were dragged in opposite directions.

You and Hunter were brought to what sufficed as the brig in Tipoca City. Tech, Echo, Crosshair, and Wrecker were already there, and they hurried to make room for you to sit on the only bench available. Your legs were shaking terribly, and you were sore all over. The pain medication Tech had given you was starting to wear off. Tech gave you a once-over as best he could without his datapad or any medical gear.

"Most of this recovery takes several months anyway, even without the added stress you've been through," He said, it what must have been an objectively positive observation, but only served to remind you of everything you had just lost.

"Where's the kid?" Crosshair demanded. Hunter couldn't even look him in the eye from the insane guilt he felt at giving up his son. All you could do was cry.

Crosshair cursed and slammed his fist against the wall, though he didn't know what he was expecting from an operation like this. Clone Force 99 had never known failure like this before, it was a foreign feeling to them.

Hunter refused to let himself cry. He had to be strong for his brothers, for you and your son. He had to get you out of there, somehow.

He didn't even know how you could bare to look at him for such a catastrophic failure, but you turned to him and wrapped your arms around his chest, pulling him close to you.

"We...we didn't even get to name him," You whimpered in Hunter's arms.

Hunter's jaw stiffened atop the crown of your head.

"Well, let's name him now."

It felt slightly pathetic, sobbing in a jail cell over a child that had been ripped from your arms, but the idea of naming him felt like a rousing battle cry deep in your soul. The Kaminoans hated the names that the clones gave each other, and despite all the nicknames that they claimed and gave to each other, at the end of the day only their numbers were written on reports and official documentation.

But your son wasn't a clone. He was your son. And he would have a name from birth.

"Asher." You said. Where you came from, the name symbolized hope, of something beautiful and precious being created from the ashes of destruction. Something like your life as a family.

Hunter nodded, gently rubbing circles into your shoulders. "Asher it is."

"CT-9901, you need to come with us."

Ice encased your heart as the shock troopers approached the makeshift cell, deactivating the shield.

"Don't," You begged, looking up at him as your hands dug into his shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I have to," He whispered, working your fingers loose so he could stand.

"She's right," Echo said loudly, standing up.

"Yes, we stay together." Tech stepped between Hunter and the shock trooper.

The trooper did not take kindly to this show of defiance, and drove the butt of his blaster into Tech's stomach. Tech fell to his knees as he gasped in pain, and the others all stood ready to fight, but knowing it was fruitless.

"Enough," Hunter stood, motioning to his brothers to stand down.

"I'll go."

He wasn't cuffed, but there was a blaster muzzle in his back every step of the way. The troopers led him back to the med bay, where several medical droids were still cleaning the room that you had commandeered earlier. The troopers marched him past the room and past a large window where several cadets were going through their checkups. And right in the corner was Asher.

Hunter disregarded the warnings from the Troopers and place his hand against the window, wishing he could catch his son's attention. He was in an incubation box, sound asleep, with monitors strapped to his chest. Hunter was just relieved he wasn't in a growth tube.

"Asher," He murmured as a shock trooper gripped his shoulder, "Your name is Asher."

The troopers all but dragged him to another closed-off room, where Tarkin waited with Nala Se and a datapad. Hunter kept his focus on Tarkin, wondering if the so-called "Admiral" had spent as much time with a hot blaster in his hand than in a comfortable office on Coruscaunt.

"We meet again, Sergeant."

Hunter chuckled, "I thought I wasn't a Sergeant anymore, Admiral."

"I suppose you'd prefer to be called CT-9901, then?"

So the Admiral did know about their chosen names, he just chose not to use them.

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to not let his breathing get the best of him.

"What I need is your cooperation,"

Hunter shrugged, "Sounds simple enough. Just let them go."

He knew it was a fool's dream to think that Tarkin would actually acquiesce to his demands, but he had to try.

"Let my wife, son, and brothers go and I'll do whatever you want."

Tarkin squared his shoulders to challenge Hunter, "Certainly not. That would be a grave mistake on our part. Think of all that we could learn. The Empire has other plans for a force-sensitive child."

Hunter's blood ran cold.

"Oh, you didn't know," Tarkin smiled slyly, and Hunter's hands clenched in an effort to keep from slapping the smirk off his face.

Nala Se handed Tarkin her datapad, "Nala Se's team has performed all the necessary tests and administered the correct vaccinations for your child. A quick blood test showed a count of approximately fifteen-thousand midi-chlorians."

Hunter's throat ran dry, and his ears rang with the sound of his son- Asher's- cries.

"You have a simple choice, Sergeant. Join the Empire freely, stay with your brothers, your partner and your child, or be forced to watch them suffer for your treason."

It wasn't much of a choice, and Hunter knew it. They were offering him the short end of the stick to pull him from the same raging rapids they had tossed him into, but it was either that or drown.

And he would sacrifice everything he was for the chance to protect you and your child.

Post-Script: I know I've used Asher as a name for Crosshair's kid but it fit too well for this AU.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Honestly love how much Setheris Nelar totally screws things up for himself.

I mean, he was the primary caretaker for the future emperor from when he was eight years old. That's huge! If he had been even slightly less of an absolute dick, he would probably have ended up running the country.

Like, no offence to Csevet, but the first courier who stumbled into Edonomee at 4am with the message about Maia's ascension literally ended up being named Imperial Secretary and granted seemingly unlimited influence over the Emperor and his government. Within less than 24 hours.

That is how desperate Maia was for somebody to hold his hand through this. That could have been you Setheris!

And even if we assume that a version of Maia raised by a version of Setheris who actually gave a shit might have had the additional confidence and education necessary to stand on his own two feet more at the beginning, the Emperor's closest relative/friend/basically dad is still not to be sniffed at!

Again, Setheris raised Maia. He was seemingly the only adult at Edonomee who was tasked with taking care of him (beyond the servants, who seem to have been more involved with the practical stuff than providing any kind of emotional support). Endearing yourself to an eight year old boy, when you have ten years and total isolation to do so, shouldn't be this hard.

If Setheris was even vaguely nice to Maia, he'd have probably ended up forming some kind of strong emotional bond with him just by virtue of there being no other potential parental figures in the vicinity.

(Worth noting that the noblewoman hired to look after him for the funeral was vaguely nice to him for like a week, and Maia remembered that one week for ten years and then sought her out to offer his thanks and financial aid to her family virtually the moment he became emperor. This wasn't a hard kid to make a good impression on, is what I'm saying.)

Hell. If Setheris had managed to hire a nanny/tutor to take care of the bulk of Maia's day-to-day care, and just made the effort to be halfway decent when they passed each other in the hallways of Edonomee, Maia would still most likely have had a better relationship with him than with Varenechibel.

He could have been the slightly less distant father figure who ended up becoming chief advisor. It would have been so easy!

But no. Setheris instead chose to be an abusive shitheel for ten years straight, and now not only is he not trusted, but the Emperor literally cannot stand to be in a room with him without experiencing symptoms of panic attack. Setheris gets basically banished at the first excuse because his very presence at court is just that triggering for Maia.

Like, leaving aside how obviously shitty for him to have treated Maia (a literal child at the time) so badly, this is such a cock-up from a political perspective.

He was given a golden opportunity to mould the next Emperor's entire personality, and he blew it so hard that the Emperor now instinctively frames his likes and dislikes around what he knows Setheris wouldn't have approved of.

This should have felt like a reward, y'know? The return to court after all this time? The seemingly friendless kid you spent ten years caring for ending up being the fucking Emperor?

I mean, just imagine getting basically everything you ever wanted served up to you gift wrapped on a silver platter, only for it to be immediately snatched away because you are just such an utter repulsive cunt of a human being. Imagine having to admit out loud in front of several witnesses (including the main victim of your abuse and your own beloved wife) that you 100% deserve this because you are just that shitty.

Honestly couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

[themourningfox]

Crosshair x GN!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive musings from reader about the Batchers' physiques. Jealous Crosshair.

Crosshair and you have a love/hate relationship.

You hated Crosshair.

Well, not really hate. To be completely honest, you had the biggest crush on the quiet sniper. You weren’t sure why, but it was something about his cool, stoic demeanor that pulled you in.

But damn. He was a pain in the ass sometimes.

Like right now.

“I had that shot!” Crosshair yelled at you, his lithe and lean form looming over you. His eyes were on fire with a deep-set rage that you had stoked.

Despite his intimidating stance, you refused to back down. Seething at the clone, you jabbed your finger into his chest. “You asshole! You know we’re not supposed to kill anyone in this mission. If you had shot them, you would’ve alerted the entire village.”

His hand snatched your wrist and squeezed. “If I had taken that shot,” he hissed, leaning down close to your face. “This mission would have been over already.”

“Actually,” Tech chimed in at this point. He didn’t seem to notice the pointed glares both you and Crosshair shot him for interrupting. “There was a guard around the corner. If Crosshair had shot the target, we would have been caught.”

You smirked. Wrenching your wrist out of Crosshair’s grasp, you shot him a sneer. You were right. You loved it when you were right.

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he didn’t say anything else, deciding to put his effort into sulking instead.

More than an hour passed of this tense silence before Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo came back with the target properly tied up and cuffed.

“Let’s go, boys,” Hunter said, as he and Tech took control of the ship.

For the rest of the week, you and Crosshair avoided each other. It didn’t go unnoticed by the other members of the Bad Batch.

That’s when a secret plan was formed.

Two missions later and the team was on a wintery planet. The mission was to destroy an Imperial base and possibly rescue any captives.

“Crosshair, you’re going to stay here with her,” Hunter said after the end of the mission briefing. “We need someone to watch the ship.”

“Stay here?” You cringed when he hissed out the words like they were poison on his silvery tongue. He looked like he’d been slapped across the face with a mallet.

“Don’t worry, Crow,” you chimed in, rolling around in your chair to look at him. You could barely contain your triumphant smirk when he glared at you for using your ingenious nickname you had coined for him. “I’ll make sure to stay out of your way. You won’t see hide nor hair of me until they return.”

Maybe he just hated your presence that much, but he almost looked relieved. Were you that much of a burden to him? And if you a burden to the low-key clone...were you a burden to the others as well? Shaking your head, you looked up at Hunter and gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry about us, we’ve got it covered.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes at you, then nodded. “Good. Let’s head out, men.”

You sighed, leaning against the chair as you watched them all walk out one by one. Man...you loved to watch them. Hunter, with his broad shoulders and lean hips. The first time you had ever seen him, you had been memorized by the sway of them as he walked with confidence. Tech, with his slightly hunched walk, had almost fooled you at first but you had soon realized he was more than capable of carrying his own weight. Beneath those blacks were sinew and rolling cords of muscle. Lean, but fierce. Wrecker, too. Beefy, bulky, Wrecker. Despite how hard he looked, you had learnt that he was as soft as a marshmallow. The perfect cuddle buddy. Echo...he was part machine and man. You would think he would lose his physique but oh how you were wrong. You had seen him catch Omega when she jumped into his arms.

It wasn’t until Crosshair cleared his throat that you realized you had practically been staring at Hunter’s ass as he walked away.

Blinking, your gaze pulled up to Crosshair’s, cheeks turning a light shade of pink out of embarrassment.

His upper lip curled back into a disgusted sneer. “See something you like?”

Oh Maker, help you and keep you sane. Despite your crush, sometimes you just wanted to break Crosshair’s pretty face. You were done with his attitude. Jaw ticking, you slowly rose up out of your chair and squared up to the tall sniper. Just a couple inches shorter than him, you still had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

“If you weren’t such a prickly cactus all the time, maybe it would be your ass I was staring at,” you said, not quite caring anymore. “But no. Every time I turn in this damn ship, you’re ripping me a new one about one thing or another. I liked you, Cross. I wanted your approval. But nothing I do seems to change your mind about me! I’m done, asshole. I’ll stay out of your way and you won’t have to deal with me again, all right? Great, perfect, don’t talk to me or even look at me.”

You had turned away, getting ready to stalk off to the other side of the ship.

Crosshair had, rightfully so, been caught off guard by your sudden change in demeanor (judging by the wide-eyed look he gave you), but he quickly recovered and smirked.

“I could give you several things to look at, sweetheart,” he crooned before his tone took on a bitter flavor. “If you weren’t such a blasted fool.”

What. What did he call you? Anger trickled up your spine. You saw red. Whipping around, you opened your mouth to yell at him--

But stopped short when he was right there in your space, chest brushing against yours, amber eyes melting your soul. O-oh. He seemed to notice the effect he had on you, watching as the anger ebbed into excitement and maybe a dash of embarrassment. His tongue ran along his teeth, lips or pulling up into a wolfish smirk. Gloved fingers brushed down your arm and you shivered at the contact. He hummed, pulling the toothpick out of his mouth.

“If you had been trying to get my attention, doll, all you had to do was say something.”

[imperator-titus]

Ghost from the Past [Part 6]

In which I've finally concluded that yes I deserve a poly ship. When I get this to Ao3 eventually, I will try to make the Astarion/Gale aspect a little more prominent early on. I think it's time to add the Bloodweave tag? They be flirtin' this episode.

Also yes Eletha is kind of a messy bitch.

CW: Sexually explicit material, non-Canon compliant Poly!Gale

(Prev)[Part 5] (Next)[Part 7] [Master Post]

[Yes I'm using this slutty gif. Finally, planned smut. gif by cheekylittlepupp]

They were going to finally deal with the goblins and rescue the druid Halsin when the sky opened up with a vicious storm. Everyone preferred the comfort of their tents, except for Eletha. In just her small clothes, she wandered around the drowning camp with nary a bother. She took this time to bathe herself and Bonnet.

When she walked past Astarion’s tent, he stuck his head out of the flap and growled at her, “What is wrong with you? Get in here this instant!”

Eletha stood under the awning of his tent, rain dripping off her skin and what little hair she had. “What’s your problem? I’m not bothering you.”

“Just get in here,” he grumbled before disappearing into his tent once more. Rolling her eyes, she followed.

Muttering and grumbling some more in annoyance, Astarion convinced her to take off her wet clothes. He practically ripped them off of her when she didn’t move fast enough. Eletha complained, but complied with his wishes, like sitting still while he toweled her off. It occurred to them both that this was the first time in a very long time that he’d seen her completely naked. Well, except for the new moon, but that didn’t count. 

“I can dry myself, you know.”

“I doubt you can tell that you’re wet, so I don’t believe you.”

Astarion hesitated as he finished her hair and moved on to her back. He ran a finger along a rather prominent scar that went from shoulder to opposite hip. Putting on a smirk and a flirtatious tone, he said, “Aren’t you a proper adventurer? And I thought those scars on your face were just for show.”

Eletha hummed, distracted. Astarion wilted a little, disappointed that he failed to open a conversation with her.

On her neck, he found two faded marks. Clearly a vampire’s bite, but unlike his, they were neat, dainty, and close together. Whoever sank their fangs into Eletha’s neck had done so gently, perhaps intimately.

Astarion pressed his nose into the back of her neck, behind her ear where she kept her hair short. She made a small noise, a little startled, a bit excited. Taking in a deep breath, he groaned and sighed. The scent was somehow familiar and new, sparking something in the dark recesses of his memory. In a low voice he murmured, “You smell amazing.”

“That’s what happens when you bathe,” Eletha rebutted with a laugh, but he could tell her heart sped up and that the sound of his voice by her ear sent a thrill up her spine. “You know… it’s unlikely you’ll find much to feed on tonight, and tomorrow is a big day. You could have some of my blood. If you want.”

“You’re such a good friend, my dear.” 

Astarion smiled to himself against her hair. Her smell was intoxicating. After pressing a kiss to her neck, making her breath hitch, he very carefully sank his teeth into her flesh. As he drank, savoring the taste, he pressed her back to his chest and let his hands wander over her skin. When one brushed against her breast, she managed to smack it away. The other trailed down her abdomen, and he barely passed her belly button before she snatched that one away.

“Naughty boy,” Eletha chastised, humor mixing with the edge in her voice. Astarion took his fangs out of her neck and chuckled.

“Please forgive me. I couldn’t resist,” he purred as she turned around to face him, an invitation in his eyes. “Aren’t high elves supposed to be too imperious for things like dancing in the rain like some common druid?”

“Oh, you want me to be mean, is that it?” she asked, stopping the bleeding on her neck, eyebrows raised.

“I said imperious. Noble. You’re more cold than commanding,” Astarion teased, haughty and confident.

Eletha hardened her eyes. With just a thought, they became sharp and clear, like a predator’s. Her voice was clipped and serious, as if she was another person. “Is this what you want?”

Astarion leaned forward just a little bit, eyes alight with delight. “Oh, yeeees. I think I like this side of you.”

In a flash, Eletha’s hand was on his jaw, controlling his head, digging in just enough to make him uncomfortable. A small gasp of surprise and arousal escaped his lips. For a moment, she looked down on him as if he was some trifling irritant, unworthy of her attention but demanding it.

Then her eyes softened and a smile bloomed on her lips. Wiping away her blood from his chin, she laughed. It was a little shocking how easily she changed. “I think the rain has stopped.”

Astarion watched as she gathered up her wet clothes, not even bothering to put them back on. “You’re going to leave, just like that? I’m hurt.”

“Oh, Astarion, you started the game, I merely finished it.”

“I wouldn’t call the game finished yet,” Astarion insisted, regaining his composure, putting on his ‘I’m starving and you look like a perfect meal’ eyes.

“You should play this game with Gale, I bet it’d be fun,” she told him with a little girlish giggle, like they were two friends discussing their crushes. If either of them had any hair, they’d probably be braiding it. 

Astarion scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Please, Gale is colder than you. I have to admit, he is quite handsome…”

“And powerful. Well, he was. And have you been to a wizard’s tower? It’s full of secrets and valuables and dangerous artifacts.” A wicked little grin started to show on his face and she tittered again. “Besides, Gale likes you.”

“Gale likes you, my dear.”

“Oh, yes, that’s why he found a bunch of books on vampirism and ancient artifacts that protect one from the sun. Because he likes me.”

“You’re having a laugh.”

“And the way you two chirp at each other like birds in spring? I have to keep you apart or I’ll get a headache. And he was very upset when you got excited about being beheaded. Personally, I’d like someone’s hands around my neck. But you have to do it in such a way that they don’t fight for air. You just stop the blood from going to their head and they just…” Eletha made a little gesture with her free hand and softly went ‘poof.’

“You’ve been drinking too much,” Astarion insisted, shaking his head.

“Okay, keep pining for my old used-up body that you’ve had before and deny yourself the powerful wizard that has done some inventive things with a goddess.” Astarion opened his mouth to argue with her, but she flitted out the tent as if propelled by faerie wings.

----

When Eletha stalked her prey, moving silently through the trees and grass, it was with reverence.

In the heat of battle, she kept her head, allowing Karlach or Lae’zel to swim in blood and gore while she managed the field.

In the goblin camp, she walked tall and her presence commanded the vile creatures to back away. Astarion saw it return, that regal severity in her eyes and words. The soul passed down to her through the ages had to be thirsting for this moment, to have lesser beings groveling at its feet and brought to heel with word or blade.

Half the night he worried that this day would end in chaotic bloodshed, a lot of it their own. He could hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel offer prayers to their respective goddesses. Karlach danced around in front of her tent out of nervousness, not gaiety, oblivious to his staring. Wyll tended to his blade and armor with fanatic fervor and offered Astarion a serious nod of camradic understanding. Gale practiced his spells for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in his life and when he met Astarion’s eyes, he smiled cockily.

Eletha had sat by the fire, staring into its flames, her bare knees crushed into the stones that surrounded it. For a while now, he considered her naive. Despite her age and experience, she still insisted on helping others with little reward. But unlike Wyll, she sometimes knew that people couldn’t be helped and served her own interests instead.

Then they were in that kennel. A proper kennel, not the one Cazador kept him in. Those little goblin children threw stones at that bear and it roared in pain and rage. Eletha’s ears twitched and somehow, he could hear her breath shudder for just a moment. The goblins giggled and clapped with glee and before anyone could say anything, Eletha’s elven longsword was wet with blood and little goblin heads rolled on the floor.

After that, Astarion didn’t think her so naive. Judging by the looks on the others’ faces when this small scrap was done, they all were recalculating their opinion of their leader.

As Eletha cleaned her blade, the cave bear reshaped into a man, the largest wood elf any of them had ever seen. He even rivaled Karlach in height and thickness. His body was soft, but not patriar soft. No, those hands could crush stones and lift ancient trees and his core was thick and sturdy, like a great oak resisting a storm.

“I would ask for your forgiveness for my appearance, but…” Halsin looked down at the headless bodies of the goblins. Everyone else was pointedly not looking at them.

“I’m all for believing any creature can overcome its nature, but I can’t abide animal cruelty,” Eletha explained, voice becoming a little humored as she spoke. Her severity melted away and she grinned at him, a hand on her chin as she appraised his appearance. “Bonnet is going to adore you. I’m almost disappointed that I don’t bring her to these sorts of things.”

“Haa, I’m sure I will enjoy making her acquaintance-”

“Bonnet is a bear, by the way,” Gale said helpfully. Shadowheart snorted, strangling a sudden laugh.

“Ah, that explains your rush to my rescue.” His attitude changed once he noticed that they were all infected with mindflayer tadpoles. After some discussion, they came to an understanding, but first thing was first.

The hunt was on.

After dispatching the goblins guarding the entrance to the kennel, Eletha stopped Astarion with a gentle touch on his arm. That harsh look was back, but there was a mischievous air to it. She pointed a finger up and he scanned the temple rafters for what she was indicating.

“What do you say? Shall we rain terror down on the Absolute’s idiots?”

Astarion gasped softly and touched a hand to his chest above his dead heart. “I think I’m falling for you all over again.”

----

This time, when Eletha aimed to put a dent in their alcohol stores, it was out of revelry and not a need to push back a deep dark sadness that threatened to crush her into dust. Gone was the icy chill, or the dour frown, or the knives in her eyes. 

She disturbed Gale’s peace with an offering of wine and a broad smile.

“What’s on your mind, Bhin?” she asked as she poured him a drink.

“It’s just… a beautiful night, don’t you think?” Eletha let him paint a picture for her of a normal night for him, fraught with wist.

“What’s Tara like?” she asked after he cleared up their misunderstanding.

“Astarion reminds me of her somewhat. The same sharp tongue. And sharp teeth,” Gale explained.

“Then I guess we’d get along.”

“As long as you don’t try to rub her belly. She hates that.” 

“But what if I want to rub your belly?” Eletha asked with a smile before putting the mouth of her bottle to her lips.

“I’m afraid I’ve experienced pleasures far more thrilling than tummy tickling,” Gale argued quite seriously before going on a small tangent about his celestial love life. Then it dawned on him. “Wait. You were flirting with me. For once, I think it is I who has had too much wine…”

“You know, Astarion doesn’t really like his belly rubbed either, but he does like having his ears gently touched and a nice stroke down the spine,” Eletha explained, demonstrating how one could pet either a cat or a certain elf.

“Are you trying to foist me onto another?” She smiled as she filled her pipe with something more fragrant than her usual tobacco. Gale didn’t think that what he said was humorous in any way, but Eletha often seemed amused by some private joke.

“Young ones should stick together. And a vampire seems like a half-step down to a normal person after a goddess, yes?” she asked after drawing in a bit of smoke. 

“Your logic is… interesting, to say the least.”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t blow up, you’ll live a long time, right? And I’m not exactly confident in my longevity, elf blood or no,” Eletha said before drinking some more.

“I believe I understand what you are trying to say.” Gale sipped his wine and Eletha refilled his glass. “I want to say this is disappointing… but I find it so… heartwarming, that you have so much concern for Astarion.”

“Don’t let him know,” she false-whispered, holding up her hand to hide her mouth and giving him a wink. More seriously, Eletha asked, “Can I paint you my own picture?”

“I wasn’t aware you had artistic pur- Oh. Yes, a story.” Gale chuckled under his breath. She wrapped her smile around her pipe, sparing him a witty remark that sparkled in her eyes. “Please. Speak to your heart’s content.”

“Despite being, well, him, Astarion was my only friend. In all honesty, he was the only one I could relate to or who could make me feel safe, even when he was getting us in trouble,” she told him fondly, building up her own wist. Then her smile fell and she took a drink. “Then one day, he was gone. And I thought I would never have a friend again. Never thought I could love someone or be loved.”

“Admirable that you haven’t chased him with a sharpened stick by now,” Gale said while she uncorked another bottle of wine for him.

“Anyway. I wandered for quite a while, alone. Sometimes I picked up an animal companion, but there was a lot of time where it was just me and the stars. Solitude felt good. I would meet people, but I might as well have been a construct, for all the care I afforded them. There was this village, it’s not there anymore. They grew the best apples. For decades I traded with this one fellow whenever I came through. We would share news, like what creatures had been seen lately, how the weather was shifting unexpectedly. He would offer me this delicious apple brandy, ‘recipe passed down for ten generations!’ he would boast. He let me set up my tent behind his house and his wife would insist on feeding me. When his children were little, they would play with whatever companion I had at the time. Then his grandchildren would play with them.

“Eventually, as most Aethen do, he died. The next time I came through, his son gave me one last bottle of the family brandy and thanked me for being his father’s friend. I didn’t even know we were friends.” Eletha toyed with her bottle and took a puff of her pipe, clearly trying to calm herself. “It was weird, how much it hurt. I hadn’t lost anything more important than a comfortable pair of boots since Astarion left.”

“A good pair of boots is hard to come by,” Gale said enthusiastically, happy to relate. He realized it probably wasn’t appropriate, given how Eletha seemed to be hovering on the edge of tears. Then she laughed and raised her bottle to his glass in cheers.

“The point being. After that, I was able to admit that sometimes, I was lonely. Little by little, I stopped being so cold. Actually learned people’s names. It still took me a while to realize when I was friends with someone.” Eletha looked over to Astarion, who was conversing, or rather flirting, with Halsin. A fond but sad smile graced her lips. “I look at him and I remember what it was like, being alone, afraid of the pain that comes with letting something in just to have it taken from you through no fault of your own. A human’s life is like the blink of an eye compared to mine, so what is an elf’s to an immortal? A single beat of a hummingbird’s heart?”

Gale was formulating a clever but sincere response when Eletha looked him in the eye so intensely that it made him stop.

“It must have been hard for you too,” she said bittersweetly. He looked down at his reflection in his wine. It was. It was hard for him. Then Eletha giggled. “There. Have I thrown you off my scent?”

Gale chuckled despite the lump traveling up his throat. “Honestly? No. You’ve only managed to become more interesting and complex.”

“Damn! I’ll have to find some way to become more repugnant.” With a sigh, Eletha stood. A wicked smirk tugged at her lips as she spied Astarion moving back to his tent. “I have some ideas. Please make sure Wyll doesn’t drink too much, I already warned him about the dangers of becoming me.”

“A drunken drowning would be quite the anticlimactic end for the Blade of Frontiers, I agree.” Gale watched as Eletha walked away and hooked arms with Astarion. It was strange, watching the two. They would throw on a different mask in the blink of an eye, become someone else to suit their needs or whims. Aside from them, the most duplicitous was Shadowheart, and even then, she was just guarded. People said he was hard to read sometimes, but Gale always felt like he was being honest when the situation didn’t necessitate secrecy.

It was sometimes hard to believe that they were ever in love. The rest of the time, it made perfect sense.

“Fancy taking a walk? Get away for a bit?” Eletha asked Astarion conspiratorially as her hand caught his elbow and snaked up his bicep. He lifted his eyebrows in surprise before putting on his own wicked grin.

“Oh? You want to go out into the woods, alone, with me? What will Gale think?”

“It’s a walk, darling. You look like you need to get out of here,” she answered, imitating him. He was flattered.

“Then lead the way.”

They walked quite a ways; Eletha smoking her pipe and Astarion taking sips of wine as they went. Eventually they came upon a hollow of trees illuminated by the brilliance of the moon.

“You know, I don’t know that I’ve had so much fun as when we were chasing each other across those rickety beams,” he told her with a practiced twirl of fondness as they found a suitable place to sit. Eletha chose to lean against a tree and he sat down beside her. “Even the cobwebs in my hair were worth it.”

“Rare to have fun instead of fighting for your life,” she pointed out lazily, soaking in the moon’s light.

“I would have changed my tune about you sooner if I’d known you could be so bloodthirsty,” Astarion purred, trailing a teasing finger along the back of her hand. “You were magnificent back there. Makes me wonder what other talents you’ve been hiding.”

Eletha sat up with a soft grunt. “Alright. You’ve caught me in a rare mood.”

“Oh?” Astarion was surprised for a moment. Last time they were in the woods together, just the taste of his lips made her sick. Well, that’s how he saw it, anyway. “A good fight has that effect on people, I just assumed you were immune.”

Eletha knelt in front of him, one knee on either side of his. She took a drink of his wine and some of it escaped in a little trickle from the corner of her mouth. Astarion reached up to sensually wipe it off and lick it off his fingers, maybe make a comment about her being as messy as him or just a generic postulation about how she tasted. Eletha smacked it away a little forcefully before running her fingers up the underside of his exposed forearm from elbow to wrist. 

Empty wine bottle tossed aside, she leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. Astarion lifted his face to capture her lips in a fervent kiss, but she dodge him. With her hot breath on his ear, she whispered, “When was the last time someone took care of you?”

Astarion had an answer for that: never. At least where vampire Astarion was concerned. Despite the fact that it was completely unsexy, he opened his mouth to answer what was clearly a rhetorical question.

Then her mouth was on his neck and a gasp escaped his lips in a cold puff. Her fingers, rough yet dextrous, teased his own before finding his belt. Astarion moaned as her hot tongue ran along the bottom of his ear. The moan turned into a desperate whine when she retreated.

Sitting back on his thighs, Eletha spared him only a passing glance before focusing on undoing the fastenings on his breeches. When he reached for her, this time aiming to pull up her shirt, she smacked him away once more. He tried again, not easily swayed, and she captured his hand, just to kiss and run her teeth along the inside of his wrist.

Readjusting, Eletha untucked his shirt. Lavishing his stomach with kisses, licks, and gentle scrapes of her teeth, she tugged down the waistband of his breeches. Astarion groaned in the back of his throat as she brushed her lips over his cock through his underwear. She left kisses from tip to base as she painstakingly pulled down the offending garment. He actually quivered as her tongue left a stripe of spit along its length.

Normally, Astarion wouldn’t let himself be so easily pleased. He’d fake this reaction, of course, and pepper in reactions that reflected what his mark desired most in him. Some wanted the commanding, debonair noble while others wanted a mewling plaything. But Eletha wasn’t a mark and she’d proven time and again that his body wasn’t the price for her protection.

It really was shocking to him how good it felt when he could let go of the performance. He had to fight against the innate instruction to turn off, just go through the motions. Astarion even tried to stop her so that it could be her ‘turn’ and he could show her how good he was, but she swatted him away. When he persisted, she laced their fingers together and just… held his hand. It felt almost as good as her lips and hand wrapped around his cock.

There was just a tiny worry in the back of his mind. Was she doing this just to please him? Were these just motions?

Then he noticed that her hand felt hotter. Her strokes became more insistent. He could feel the back of her throat and the filthy groan she made traveled down his cock. Gasping, Astarion bucked his hips just slightly and when she came up, moaning for air, strings of spit connecting them, he whined again. The look in her eyes was hungry and her lips smirked with pride. 

Thus began his undoing. With her left hand in his right, he laid his left hand gently on her head, following her rhythm with small rolls of his hips. Occasionally, unwilling to be done so soon, he would tug her hair just the slightest bit to pull her back and give his nerves a rest. She was relentless, swirling her tongue around him, groaning like a starving man eating at a king’s buffet.

Astarion felt a jolt of pleasure he’d never felt before and threw his head back with an unabashed moan. His hand had to leave her head, lest he push it down further in his blind ecstasy. Squeezing each other’s hand, Eletha took everything he had to give and made sure there would be no mess except for the wrinkles in their clothes and the disarray of their hair.

Boneless, Astarion watched her through hazy eyes as she made him modest and fixed her own clothing. He managed to offer her a husky chuckle and a half-cocky smile. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in some more fun?”

“That was fun enough for me, but thank you,” Eletha said politely, gathering up their discarded things.

“Why?” Astarion asked, maybe a bit too much like a plea. “Why do this for me?”

“Because I’m a little drunk, had some wizard’s weed, and well-”

Now that hollow far-away look came to her eyes. Eletha just… stared straight ahead, as if she could see something happening deep in the earth. 

“Eletha…?” Astarion’s bliss shifted into something akin to fear. He reached out hesitantly, debating the ramifications of touching her while in this state. “Lorelai.”

Eletha’s head snapped around, startling him. For a moment, with her body rigid, she seemed to be seeing someone else in his place. There was terror in her eyes. Then her shoulders relaxed and she was herself again. Smiling as if nothing had just happened, she said, “What’s a party without a little fun?”

“Right…” Astarion agreed, dragging out the syllable.

“I’m gonna try to get some sleep. You should hang out with Gale. He really misses his little tressym friend. Sounds like you would be a good replacement,” she explained cheerily as she got to her feet, dusted herself off, and marched back to camp.

Astarion was magically transported to Gale’s tent. Not really, but he couldn’t quite remember getting from the glade to camp and making the decision to sit down with Gale of all people.

“Are you alright, Astarion?” the man asked him, offering him a glass of wine.

“I’ve had the strangest experience.” Gale gave him a critical look-over. “With Eletha, I mean.”

“I’m not really the kiss-and-tell sort,” he told him only to receive a look that said ‘do you hear yourself?’ Ignoring it, he added, “It can be very easy to fall back into the arms of an old lover. I am sure it is… complicated.”

“Did your dear Mystra ever… tend to your… needs… and refuse reciprocation?” Astarion asked hesitantly, searching for the words that both conveyed his intention and couldn’t be misunderstood by Gale.

“Well, if I set aside the fact that our intimate affairs are not quite analogous to those shared between mortals-” Gale started rather academically and a little smugly. Then he actually thought about it and his face fell back into neutrality. “No. I wouldn’t say that was ever the case.”

“It’s a strange feeling,” Astarion remarked, still trying to untangle his thoughts. “Also. That may have been the best orgasm I’ve ever had, and now I’m disappointed that she went to bed.”

Gale cleared his throat. “I’m sure she has her reasons. As… elusive as they might seem.”

Astarion tilted his head and put on a smirk. “Fancy a go? Someone like you might be able to teach me a thing or two.”

Gale chuckled and raised a warding finger. “I’m afraid you will have no such luck with me, Astarion.”

Astarion pouted. “Come on. You’re not curious? All this time out in the wilderness and you don’t feel the least bit pent-up? I’m not some backwater farm girl looking for a tumble, you know.”

“Whether I have those feelings or not is irrelevant. Who knows what a sudden increase in excitement could do to the orb? A moment of destabilization when I’m unable to control it and we’re all dust.”

“That sounds very exciting, if I may say so,” Astarion purred, a hand finding Gale’s thigh under the table. Gale huffed as he moved it away, making Astarion laugh. “Ticklish, Gale? A mighty wizard defeated by just the brush of a hand?”

“Careful. The tadpole won’t protect you from this wizard’s magicks.” Astarion found Gale’s thigh again and managed to slide up a little before Gale moved away even further. “I know you’re having fun, and I don’t slight you for it, it is a bit amusing, but I am afraid you’ve come to the point where if you persist, I will consider it harrassment and be forced to retaliate most fiercely.”

Astarion sat back up, retrieving his hand from beneath the table. “I apologize, Gale. I thought I might convince you to loosen up a little.”

“Your apology is accepted. Perhaps under different circumstances, I would have taken you up on your offer.” Astarion picked up his wine glass and held it towards Gale’s. Curious, Gale held his up as well and Astarion clinked them together.

“Here’s to different circumstances, darling.”

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 34

First / Previous / Next

Kerry knew better than to duck when the vase was thrown. Luckily, it struck her shoulder instead of her head. Even more luckily, it managed to snag on one of the buttons of her uniform so it shattered. She worried what would have happened to her if it had just bounced off harmlessly.

"Pick that up!" The Empress screamed.

Kerry bent low and started scooping up the pieces of vase. It was from Earth, and easily a thousand years old. Priceless. The Imperial bedroom was floor to ceiling packed with more gimcrackery than Kerry had ever seen. Most of it was worth more than she'd ever see in her life. A broken priceless vase was only a drop in the proverbial priceless bucket. Another attendant bent down to help her, but the Empress snapped her fingers.

"No, not you. She has to do it on her own."

Saying sorry with her eyes, the other attendant stood back up and remained at attention. This had been going on all day. All week really. Everyone at the palace was walking on eggshells. The Empress was in a mood most foul.

Empress Meredith The 3rd was not having a good year. Early on, she lost three Super Dreadnoughts to something. Something nobody has been able to properly explain, even with high amounts of encouragement. The only thing anyone knows is that Dreams of Hyacinth was destroyed and took out the other two Supers - her three oldest ones! - on the final approach to Minaren. The damned K'laxi - useless, all of them - have no idea who did it, no person or group has stepped forward to claim responsibility, nothing. Ships don't explode for no reason, she shouted at her Admiralty, but they had the temerity to explain that yes, sometimes they do. Starships are large, complicated machines and even with the highest quality maintenance - something that may not have been carried out at all times (the Admiral with a known death wish stated this) - they can explode for no reason.

The K'laxi had even questioned a frigate that was passing by at the time, but they didn't see anything, and the K'laxi didn't think it was worth their time to execute or even imprison the captain of the frigate. They asked them if they had seen anything - of course they hadn't - and let them go on their way. Useless!

If that was not bad enough - and it was - Meredith discovered 5 weeks ago that she didn't have a connection with the Nanites anymore. She could implore them to answer her questions all she wanted; silence was their only reply. She tried to use her Voice on her attendants and while they rushed to obey her whims, they did not do it with the absolute robotic precision they used when they were Voiced. So far only her most inner circles of handmaidens, attendants, valets and other hangers on knew. Her Admirals had no idea and none of the Venusian nobility knew, and she was keenly aware that it had to stay that way.

She stood up from her couch and paced her room. This was supposed to be easy! You walk around, you give some orders, you open a new hospital or school, smile and wave for the sensorium and that was it. Then back to the Palace for some well-earned sex with whoever was her flavor of the week and a big dinner. She was facing the impossible. Intrigue. Politics. The Unknown.

One of the handmaidens standing to the side of her bed held out a goblet, half full of a burgundy liquid. Meredith snatched at the wine and drank greedily. She knew how to sip demurely, but behind closed doors she could be herself. Belching, she handed the crystal goblet - also worth more than the handmaiden made in a whole year - back and waited for it to be refilled. This time she drank it more slowly as she paced.

"They're not listening. They can't hear me? They won't hear me? What's going on? I've been a good Empress. I've done all the right things. Kerry!" Kerry's head snapped up and she stood rapidly. The pieces of vase in her uniform shirt lifted up like a basket. "What am I doing wrong?"

"I'm sure you're not doing anything wrong, Empress."

"Then why did they leave?!" Kerry and the others saw then that Meredith wasn't just furious. She was deathly afraid. As if for the first time, she saw Kerry's uniform. "Why is your uniform like that, Kerry? What are you holding?"

"Er, it's the vase you threw at me. You ordered me to pick it up."

Meredith blinked back tears. "And you did? Did the Voice work?"

"Ah, no Empress. I was following regular orders that you gave me."

"Why did you do that?"

Kerry blinked. "Because... this is my job?" She said very slowly.

Empress Meredith stood very slowly. The four women in the room watched her as she strode to the main entrance to her bedchamber, and locked the door. She strode to the servants' entrance and locked that door. She lifted up her mattress and pressed a palm against the lock in the center, and it beeped happily at her.

She walked into the pantry and brought out 4 bottles of wine. A red, from the mountains of Parvati, said to be some of the best in the Galaxy. In the cabinet opposite the wine cooler, she took out 4 more crystal goblets.

She set the wine and the goblets on the table and gestured towards the woman who was pouring the wine earlier, Tina. She shrugged and opened the first bottle with a musical pop. The cork was made of Parvatian corkwood and was fragrant. Empress Meredith the 3rd, leader of Sol, Luna, the Outer Planet Alliance as well as her Colonies and Protector of The K'laxi poured five glasses of wine.

"Kerry, throw that out. Ladies. I need your help. You four are some of the only people who know about my... condition. What do I do?" She gestured towards the wine.

Tina grabbed a glass first and took a sip. "Well, can you tell anyone else?"

Kerry took one next. "No, she can't. The minute she tells someone else she's dead. If people find out the Empress That Can't Be Disobeyed can be, they'll kill her and put someone else on the throne."

"Or worse." Alina, the woman opposite Kerry at the bedchamber door pipes up and takes a glass.

"Is it really that bleak?" Emery takes the last glass of wine and sips it demurely. "Surely everyone in the Nobility and Admiralty won't want to kill you. You must have some people who are loyal to you utterly."

Meredith takes the last glass and flops onto her bed. She pats the mattress and the women sit. "There are some families that are completely loyal, but it's more out of inertia than any kind of love of the Empress. Tch, if the K'laxi found out they'd declare independence before the return ping confirming the beacon was received."

"Okay, let's look at it another way: How do you know they're gone? Other than not having The Voice?" Bruised shoulder aside, Kerry felt sympathetic. Meredith was in the middle of having her world crumble around her.

"I can't hear them."

The girls eyes' widen. "The Nanites talk to you?"

"They used to yeah. Based on how Mom spoke of it, they talked to her more than me. Grandmother complained that they basically never stopped talking."

"What do they say?" Kerry finishes off her wine, but doesn't go for more. Meredith pours her another glass anyway.

"Ugh, they always are trying to tell me what to do. They have ideas. They want us to build more Gates. I keep telling them the wormhole generators work better, but they're like "no we need more Gates." Meredith sighs and rolls her eyes. "They're very boring."

"They want more Gates?"

"Yeah, I think it's how they get into our dimension or something. They tried to explain it to me once, but I practically fell asleep."

"Wait." Alina pauses with the wineglass partway to her lips. "If they use the Gates, what would happen if you went to a Gate? You could talk to them directly!"

"And leave the palace?" Meredith rolls around on the bed, dramatically groaning with her arm over her eyes. "It's so far, and I'd have to ride in a ship, and I'd have to deal with a wormhole link and, and, and..."

Tina's eyes flick to Kerry and Alina and Emery's. They return her gaze.

"Is that worse than others finding out you lost your powers though? We'll never tell, but it'll get out eventually."

"What if just the five of us went!" Emery is animated and on her third glass of wine. "You could take a small ship and just us. Tell everyone you're on some kind of Empress Pilgrimage. Link over to wherever the closest Gate is, talk to the Nanites and come home. Maybe do some light shopping at whatever station is closest."

Meredith raises her arm off her eyes and looks at Emery. "That's an incredibly dangerous idea."

Emery's face falls and she tilts her chin low. "I'm sorry Em-"

"I love it!"

The four handmaidens look shocked.

"It's so stupid! It's so dangerous! It's so exciting. Let's go. Right now?" She takes a whole bottle of wine and starts drinking directly from it.

Kerry sputters. "Now? How are we going to leave?"

Meredith polishes off the wine and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Just like Emery said. Empress Shit. I'll just tell people I need to go and only you can come with me and they'll do it. If they say no, I'll have them killed."

"We can't pilot a starship though!" Alina reaches across Kerry and takes another bottle of wine and pours a little more, only slightly unsteadily.

"They drive themselves! It's easy. You just say "Ship, take us to wherever." and it does it." Kerry is on her third glass of wine, but has noticed that Meredith is getting sloppy. She's downed two bottles herself in just a few minutes. She gets up from the bed and grabs three more bottles.

"You're just going to go by yourself with 4 handmaidens? Won't that cause problems?" Emery may have finally realized the gravity of what they're planning.

"No! I'm going with my honor guard!" Empress Meredith grins lopsidedly. "We'll stop by wardrobe on the way to the docks. You four need new uniforms." She hiccups. "Come on. We're going to tell those fucking Nanites to give me my powers back. Maybe some powers for you four too." She nods at Emery. "And some shopping. It's been forever since I've gone on a shopping spree."

Emery squeals in joy, her face flush. The five of them weave uncertainly out of the Empress' chambers and stagger towards wardrobe for their new honor guard uniforms.

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wip Whenever

Helloo! I got tagged by both @skyrim-forever and @redyn-nerevarine for wip wednseday. Been a bit all over but we have a few line arts, render progress and writing. So first arts. First Boys have hair and now require facepaint.

Some Morrow!Josh with a plait because why not?

Some Joshi with a new invention (will elaborate in a separate post)

The theme has been Sluttymerrobe

Writing will be after the cut. Just a lot of Joshi being a Dwemer nerd. From chapter 13 of Sleepers Awake.

“I assume you are bothering me because you’ve come back with results, Mister Sero?”

Teldryn exhaled at the head excavator’s gruffness, though he thought better than to talk back…as much as he wanted to hurl an insult. The last thing he needed was to have this opportunity fucked because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut…he’d already compromised his position enough simply because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

Gods he was hopeless.

“I found your notes,” Teldryn simply stated as he rummaged around in his satchel, pulling out the slightly singed pile of loose papers and tossing them lightly on the giant, stone table that Senilias was working at.

Senilias reached for the pile without looking away from his work— what seemed to be extensive notes about the single, disembodied centurion spider leg that lay in front of him. He wondered briefly if Senilias would let him read them, but he decided against it.

“And Anes?” he asked, finally looking up at him, “Sero why are my notes singed?”

Teldryn sighed and folded his good arm over his chest, “Vendu didn’t make it. Fell to one of those constructs long before I’d made my way down there.”

Senilias nodded, his face not giving away any hint of expression. No sadness, no worry— fuck not even anger! It was driving Teldryn mad!

“I feared he might be dead,” Senilias mumbled, flicking through the notes Teldryn had given him, “This is terrible news, I should never have let him explore the ruins alone. Did you find my letter whilst you were down there?”

Teldryn sighed and tossed the scroll onto the table, “I’m assuming this is it? An hang on— you knew that Vendu was gonna be down there?”

The Imperial unfurled the scroll, a slight frown on his face, “Anes had come to me a few days before you arrived announcing that he’d managed to open the lower levels. It’s why I wrote this letter to Edwinna,” he tapped at the scroll in his hand, “I was hoping that Anes would have taken a few notes of what he found down there. But it seems that—”

“He probably didn’t get a chance since the place is fucking lousing with constructs,” Teldryn grumbled as he took a seat on the table, much to the Imperial’s distaste, “I think he found something though. Just didn’t get a chance to document it.”

“What do you mean?” Senilias frowned at him as he organised the loose notes back into a neat pile.

Teldryn reached into his satchel again and placed both the stone he’d found and his journal with the translations he’d made beside him. He pointed to the large, heavy stone and slid it carefully towards the Imperial, “Vendu died trying to retrieve this.”

Senilias Cadiusus’ eyes widened as he reached for the stone, turning it in his fingers, “Hmm, I wonder if you know just what this is Mister Sero?”

Teldryn sighed to himself and opened his journal to the page he’d made his transliterations from, “I recognised the top lines of writing, made my own notes on— Hey!”

Senilias snatched Teldryn’s journal from his hands, his eyes switching from the stone to the journal and back again.

“Where did a native mercenary pick up a working knowledge of Aldmeris?” Senilias asked almost in disbelief, “Usually that’s reserved for elite Imperial education.”

“An what makes you think I didn’t have one?” Teldryn grumbled chewing on his bottom lip.

“Well, usually your sort—”

“My sort?” Teldryn pushed, tilting his head a little. He could see the Imperial turn a little pale; he wondered if he really needed to push his point any further. Usually, he would but dammit did he need to stay in this guy’s good graces if he wanted to keep doing this sort of thing. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“I come from a well-off family from Blacklight out on the mainland,” Teldryn explained calmly, “Got myself that so-called elite Imperial education you talked about.”

“I ah,” the Imperial stuttered, passing him back his journal, “It’s impressive, Mister Sero.”

“I figured that Vendu might have had some knowledge of Aldmeris too?” Teldryn postulated as he placed the leather-bound book into his satchel, “I found that stone in the grip of a centurion that had collapsed into its sphere,” He traced a circle in the air with his finger, “An Vendu lying dead next to it.”

Senilias nodded at him, “Anes was a scholar of the Dwemeri language. We had both been hoping that we might find a translation key on one of these expeditions. Much of what we know about the Dwemer comes from records written in Aldmeris from the late stage of their empire.”

Teldryn smiled and tilted his head, “Yeah I know that, an as far as I’m aware we still can’t read the Dwemeri script.”

“I guess Hasphat Antabolis recommended you for a reason,” Senilias sighed, “You’re right. So far we’ve only had Aldmeri transliterations at best. Nothing like this.”

“I think that’s the translation key you’ve been looking for then,” Teldryn smiled in reply, “So I guess you got something for your report?”

Senilias nodded, sliding the tablet back to him, “You should take this to Edwinna Elbert in Ald’ruhn immediately. Take this letter with you when you go.”

Teldryn’s gaze moved towards the scroll as Senilias rolled it towards him. He caught it in his hand, leaving sooty handprints on the surface of the vellum.

“With that stele you’ve found, Edwinna will be more willing to let this all slide,” Senilias explained as he reached for the pile of notes he had reorganised earlier, “I will continue my work here, now that you’ve unlocked the lower levels who knows just what’s waiting to be discovered!”

(or not, Joshi set everything on fire by accident.)

[stepmarchen]

An appreciation for Ch. 91/92

I don't think I can stop talking about how much I love Ch. 91/92 and the animal symbolism.

During the hunting tournament, Jeremy and Nora begin their hunt when they come across a wild rabbit. Instead of killing it, they contemplate giving it to Shuri as a gift (alive).

We all know that the rabbit symbolizes Shuri but it's somehow even funnier to see that the way Jeremy holds the rabbit is even a metaphor to the changes in their relationship.

He switches from a tight fist to a gentle pedestal, not unlike how Shuri started off being scrutinized by Jeremy then eventually being supported by him.

Jeremy asks Nora "If he's ever had Rabbit Pate" to which Nora says "No, is it good?" It's playful banter considering they've already agreed not to kill the rabbit, but also serves as a reminder that the two are both dangerous in their own right (just not to Shuri).

Eventually, Theo's fanboy, a fellow trainee of the imperial knights shows up to antagonize the two for their disloyalty to Theo. He winds up snatching the rabbit, dangling it above their grasp, taunting them.

Jeremy and Nora don't seem to be bothered by him, they focus on the bigger picture, as an eagle (Theo) comes swooping in from behind to sink it's claws into the rabbit.

Just moments before it goes for the kill, Jeremy hands Nora an arrow that Nora shoots into the eagle, also taking down the fanboy's red cape with it. Although they are rivals, Jeremy and Nora will always work together when it comes to Shuri and isn't that such a beautiful thing?

Meanwhile, it foreshadows two moments: Theo's plan to monopolize Shuri (even if it means ruining her) and his impending doom. The red cloak is a common symbol of the empire but it's also like blood spilling.

In his shock, the fanboy releases the rabbit and it goes hopping away into the woods. Like this, Shuri escapes her demise with the help of Jeremy and Nora... only to eventually meet a similar fate that she will have to overcome.

Look, I know this was all obvious, but I've got to remind you of it again.

[ladyzirkonia]

Summary: How the Ex-Imperial ended up here? He didn't know but at least he's questioning his life choices (finally)

Warnings: Nothing just some silliness and Rampart kind of still being Rampart

Word Count: around 800

author's note: Hello my friends it's about time for some Rampart shenaningans. (filling the gap of Rampart fics for me on this site) Completely self-indulgent. Inspired by the travel-biscuits conversation of the Ex-Imperials in Mando (what I absolutely love) and this post about Imperial code cylinders. Thank you @smw-on-kamino for proof-reading. 🖤

Rampart walked around the base with his arms behind his back, a habit he had not given up to this day. Most people here seemed to be avoiding him, but he didn't seem to care. He took in everything around him until he spotted a figure in the distance that made him want to turn around. That incredibly annoying loud voice that gave him a headache even from a distance, and that incredibly ugly orange jumpsuit tied lazily around her waist - ugh, how could he not have seen that from miles away? But before he had the chance to turn around, she had already spotted him and was waving at him like a lunatic - stars, this woman had been a pain in the ass since the day they first met.

But suddenly he recognised what she was playing with: the small, thin object that she was playfully tossing in the air and catching, which he knows all too well. He looked at her in disbelief for a moment, before quickly walking towards her and trying to catch it while it was in the air. But she was quicker and snatched it from him in mid-air with a big grin on her face.

"What the hell are you doing? Do you even know what this is?" he spits at her almost furiously. His annoyed expression made her grin even wider.

"I don't know... it looks like a pen?" she replied sarcastically.

Rampart couldn’t believe what he was hearing and scoffed in his arrogant way. "I shouldn't be surprised at this level of incompetence. I am surrounded by a bunch of dim-witted Gamorreans. It's a miracle the Empire hasn't wiped you out by now."

She laughed unimpressed and continued to play with the small object in her hand as she looked at him. "Don't be a mean girl, Rampart! Share your unparalleled competence and knowledge with me."

Rampart grumbled, but at the same time he couldn't help explaining in an arrogant and self confident tone. "This is an Imperial code cylinder. All officers of the Imperial Navy are equipped with at least one of them. They serve to prove their rank and identity at certain checkpoints."

He looked at her, self-satisfied - ah, lecturing people, how he had missed that.

She looked at the small object in her hand.

"Oh wow, so it's actually valuable?"

"I beg your pardon?! Valuable?" He seemed barely able to comprehend the extent of her naivety and incompetence.

"This is a complete waste in your hands, give it to me!" he replied in his usual commanding tone.

"Oh, absolutely not. Have you forgotten that I outrank you?" she replied teasingly.

He laughed in disbelief and gave her that typical arrogant Rampart smile.

"You? Since when?" he asked in a tone that sounded like the most absurd thing he had ever heard. He knew she was just trying to get under his skin as usual, she had been like that since they first met and it was driving him crazy. So he tried to look completely unfazed by her words.

"Oh, since today. You can call me Captain now, Wizard, huh?" she said with that damn grin on her face.

Rampart just shook his head slightly, doubting his decisions once again, how could he end up in the middle of all these madmen?

"That's not going to happen," he said mockingly.

But she just grinned again and started to take something out of her pocket. It was a small packet of red Imperial travel biscuits, and she held it out in front of his nose. Rampart immediately recognised what she was holding and stared at her in disbelief.

What... where in the seven hells of Corellia did you get this?'' he asked her in disbelief, but couldn't help but be impressed.

''You know, I have my ways. I thought you might like it,'' she replied, this time with a genuine smile.

Rampart just laughed somewhat snarky and crossed his arms. You don't really think you can bribe me with a few biscuits, do you? Ridiculous.''

She just shrugged unimpressed as she slowly removed her hand from his face. ''Then I'll just keep them, I've always wondered what they taste like anyway.''

He grumbled, and before she could pull her hand back, he grabbed the small package.

"The yellow ones are better," he muttered, annoyed as he put the small package in his pocket.

She laughed in response and then, without warning, hooked her arm through his before he could get out of the way. He froze for a moment; this shameless woman irritated him immensely. He tried to cover his irritation and shock at her closeness with another snarky comment.

"You are kriffing annoying and a pain in my ass, Captain," he said sarcastically, trying to get rid of her. It was a sight to behold as the former Imperial tried to shake off the relatively small but stubborn person.

"As intended. Be nice and I'll get you the yellow ones next time," she teased, finally pulling him along with her.

[pastel-omegas-blog]

Regarding the one shot of mc and leon sharing heat, does mc end up being pregnant?

Just imagine them having baby and taking care of em😭😭😭 my apologies, i just can't forget the baby being dead in the original plot

-Darling anon

Ooooooooh this is nice

Bet imma do it.

LEON AND MC RAISING A PUP TOGETHER~

Again for my quotev readers, this isn't canon to the alt D.D timeline.

LEON

First of all it's important I establish this.

There will be no pups unless he has finally achieved what he wants, full control over the Trovian Empire is just a small factor to what he really wants.

Sure he has a sex drive so high that he's repeatedly pumping his seed into M/N whenever he has the chance, he doesn't need a knot to keep it all plugged in cuz once he's satisfied he just cuddled his adorable omega and goes off to sleep with his dick still in him.

But even with his mad pumping he is always ready with the drugs or a high level månå spell to prevent any chances of pregnancy.

He's not afraid that M/N carrying his children will ruin his plans.

It will, but he's more scared of the potential danger he'll put his mate in if he does.

Marrav would have the h/c man executed without a second thought and even if he manages to get them to safety it'll be a constant battle trying to stay hidden and protected.

So pups are only entering the picture when the blue haired omega is absolutely sure he's conquered and achieved his goal, and once he's done he'll make M/N his pretty little husband legally.

There would be a massive wedding to celebrate

Now that there's nothing stopping him you bet he's trying to pup up his cute little husband the first chance he gets.

And it honestly wouldn't take long for the other to get pregnant.

Probably like two months into marriage M/N's already beginning to show signs of pregnancy.

Leon would be so much more gentle and cuddling with his lover, even putting up with his sudden moods changes.

Honestly preggo mc would be an absolute brat from his normal kind and loving self, but Leon would miraculously power through this with an infinite vast of patience.

He just spoils his mate the whole time, while being conscious of the things the other would eat or do so he would be fit and healthy

As it gets closer to when the pup Will be born he starts to get a little bit...... well scared.

Leon knows the horrible things he's done and quite frankly he's not ashamed of them. He just thinks with all the evil he's committed he's suddenly happy and is finally going to start a happy family with the one he loves that something bad will happen.

Like karma is going to come out of nowhere and give him his comeuppance and snatch away his happiness.

He would think himself unworthy of trying to raise a pup so pure and full of innocence with his hands that are stained in blood and grim.

Even if M/N tries to assure him that he'll do great the former saint can't help but let his thoughts eat him from the inside.

It's not until the birth of his pup does that thought disappear.

' The great lord stood outside the birthing room of his imperial palace, his face emotionless, but his heart filled with anxiety as he stood outside the doors.

The sounds of M/N's agonizing whiles almost make him burst the door open, but he remembers the doctors orders enough to stop himself.

His månå levels were to high, so staying in a room with his husband who was too susceptible to månå overload in his current state would make the birth more complicated so he had to be patient.

After what felt like hours and the cry's if pain and anguish had calmed down, the doors finally opened.

He didn't think before his body lurched itself forward, pushing aside who ever was at the door as he moved towards the bed to check on his mate, his ears picking up the soft cries of............. Pups ?.

Purple amethyst eyes widened in surprise and as he sees his mate, obviously tired and pale with not one but two bundles in his arms, crying with so much energy.

M/N sent a weak smile his way as he hugged the bundles closer to his chest, soft tuts if blue hair peaking out of the covers.

" Their beautiful Leon " he whispered with so much love in his voice his e/c eyes brimming with tears that had started pouring down his cheeks. " Our daughters are so beautiful~ " he cried out with joy, his scent spreading round the room to show as happiness started to fill his heart calling out for his mate to come join him.

Leon moved forward to his little family his hands going to rest in his husband's shoulder as he stared in awe at the two little bundles of joy that had stopped crying, their shiny e/c peeking open to stare at their parents. M/N cried harder and Leon joined him, not being able to contain his own happiness.

With shakey hands he reached out for his daughters carefully bringing them to his chest as he sat down beside his mate, gently pressing a kiss to the s/c man's sweaty forehead and gently bringing him to rest in his side. Staring contently at his precious treasures the blue haired man promised that he would do what ever it took to keep the newest additions to his kitty family safe.

Pressing a kiss to each pups forehead and going to steal one from his husband the man felt happy and safe in the moment.

Knowing now that no matter the costs nothing would harm his little roses.'

[yeehawgeek]

liveblogging my reaction to tbb s3 ep 4

“i can see that” so sassy i love her

oh that’s the scene from the trailer

OFC omega wants to go back and free the other prisoners

nala se is like “whhaaatttt the escaped? damn that crazy”

yk what i wouldn’t be mad if they killed nala se off tbh

is crosshair wearing a straight up baseball cap

“i can take out at least half before they know what’s happening” glad to see that omegas confidence from last episode is rubbing off on cross

is omega going to gamble again

omg she is

ofc theres a crowd

fuck off imps

omg omega kick his ass in whatever you’re playing

HE CALLED CROSSHAIR HER DAD

hell yeah baby girl

oh shit they found the ship

“gambling is illegal in these parts” motherfucker YOU were gambling, you’re just salty that a 13 year old kicked your ass

NO WHERES THE PUPPY

ofc the imp snatched her

looks like cross might be infected with morals

he’s so upset about it lmao

aw poor batcher

is there a space elephant there? cause i hear an elephant

fuck off with your fines

OH NO HE KNOWS

oh there are so many critters

that’s beautiful

baby’s second stolen imperial ship

FUCK OFF HEMLOCK

“im headed to a remote location” honey please don’t go to pabu

“it’s been months, we dont know if they’re still ali-“ “they’ll be there”

OMG REUNION

i love big brother wrecker so much

HUNTER

YOU BETTER HUG HER

YEAHHHHHHHHHHH

omg how long has it been since they had cross on their side

oh no hunter looks angry

THATS IT

we better have like a huge argument between wrecker/hunter and crosshair next episode

[kokomis-writing-pile]

A Warhammer 40K FanFic

Author's note: This is strictly for fun. I have my Warhammer-loving husband proofread and edit my chapters. If he says it is good, then it's good by the only person's standards I wish to meet. Lyra and Reid are our own characters based on us.

Chapter 1: Survivors

Roars and harsh scraping of metal erupted through the blood-red, dusty sky as a large number of grotesque soldiers clad in light armor, welding guns, and blades rushed the wide-open field littered with corpses and debris from an excruciatingly long battle. Blood pumped adrenaline into the opposing Adeptas Sororitas donned in power armor as she stared the enemy in the face, pulling the trigger on her bolt pistol and taking out what man she could. If she was going down, she was taking as many as she could with her. It was not until a split second later that she noticed movement several feet away on her side of the battlefield. Cutting her eyes, she saw it was an Imperial Guardsman, but she could not tell what condition he was in. All she could see from where she stood was a soldier whose olive-green trench coat was caked in blood whether it was his own or the enemy. Regardless, if he was still moving, he could still fight.

In a quick dash, she moved to her allies’ side giving him enough cover fire to get on his feet. It was as if he was bestowed a blessing he did not deserve as he stared up at her for a brief moment through his gas mask. It was clear what had happened now as he looked around at the massacre. Their entire squad was obliterated and they were the last two survivors. The Kriegsman jumped to his feet, snatched his lasrifle from the ground, and took aim. One, two, five, several men shot and downed but it still was not enough for them to back off. The woman noticed one of the opposing Ogryns ready his grenade launcher and the only thing she could think of was to grab ahold of the Kriegsman next to her and yank him out of the way behind some rubble. It gave them a moment to reload and reassess their options.

“Glad to see at least I am not alone in this,” she spoke boldly. “I know your reputation, Kriegsman, but do try to stay alive.”

The man looked at her and took a deep breath reloading his gun. “As you command, sister,” he responded almost regrettably with a curt nod. “I will fight with you ‘til my last breath.”

Once the break in the enemy’s fire had come, the Kriegsman and Sister rushed from behind the rubble and unloaded upon them once more. They could not make any advances and they could not really retreat. An attempt was made to contact the ship or anyone for that matter, but there was never a response. It was an assumption that the coms ceased to work or there was too much interference.

The Kriegsman noticed a body with grenades still present just a few feet away and decided to make a break for it. The sister covered him as he did but ducked covering her head from another explosion. Managing to grab them, he rushed forward pulling the pins and tossing the whole belt as hard as he could. They flew through the air until they landed at the feet of the army exploding on impact and taking a massive chunk out of their line. Then it made its presence known. The huge suit of unholy power armor covered in blood moved through the army, a giant chainaxe in one hand, heretical combi-bolter in the other. For two people, it seemed a bit excessive for a Chaos Lord to present himself, but it was just their luck it seemed. They could not defeat that. There was no way to defeat that. Their fate might as well have been sealed but that did not mean they would stop trying. Cowardice did not know a place within the imperium of man. If it did, it was killed swiftly.

“KRIEGSMAN! GET BACK HERE NOW!”

There was no response, only a frozen man unable to move. At first, she thought he might have been frozen with fear and truthfully, she did not blame him. It was a logical and human response. Though Kriegsmen were known to be fearless, maybe this was a moment of truth to see just how fearless they really were when no one else was around.

The giant took many large steps toward the pair, closing the gap rather quickly until he was within arm's reach. He raised his blade ready to slice the man who swore to fight with her but then, nothing. The Kriegsman raised his fist and extended his fingers as if flicking water off his glove. A hole had blown straight through the Chaos Lord's armor and body so effortlessly that gore was strewn about the battlefield in an instant. The moment this gargantuan being fell over, the rest of the army turned tail and ran as fast as they could in utter fear as their champion fell. The Chaos Lord’s body exploded with empyrical energy, the explosion blowing the Kriegsman several feet away and into some metal rubble. The sister had no idea just what she had witnessed but it was certainly the work of the divine and maybe her prayers had been answered. He had fought until his last breath just as he had said and she was the last one standing, or so she thought. Out of reflex, she ran to him sliding across the mud and muck as he lay limp against the metal supporting him. His leg had been blown clean off at his knee, his mask had taken extreme damage resulting in the left side of his face terribly injured, and he was lucky he had a chest plate to protect his most vital organs. Those were the only obvious and noticeable injuries.

Leaning in, she felt for his pulse and was surprised he still had one after all that but his breathing was very shallow. The sister grabbed him, pulling him up into her arms to carry him to a much safer location to treat him. She could have left him to die, but if he was meant to die he would have been killed outright by that monster. Something was special about him and she was not going to let that be snuffed out so hastily.

After getting him to safety, she leaned him against the shelter’s wall and checked his pulse and breathing once more. He was still hanging on. She looked him over before taking some of the cloth from her garb to wrap tightly around his bleeding leg to slow the flow of blood.

“S- I- Lyr-” static came over her coms. “Sist– Come i-”

The sister opened her coms and began talking, whether they could hear her or not. “I’m here. This is Sister Lyra.”

There was still static but obviously, someone was trying to come through until the signal cleared. “Sister Lyra, this is Moz do you read?”

“Yes, Moz! Thank the emperor. I’m here. A guardsman and I are in dire need of your retrieval.”

“Understood. Send me your coordinates so that I may find you.”

Lyra leaned back for a moment and sent a signal to the pilot, Moz. “I sent them. Please, be quick about it. I need medical, immediately.”

She turned her attention back to the man in front of her and he was still unmoving. His chest rose and fell ever so slightly. Maybe if she just removed the mask, she could monitor him better. Lyra reached over and went to tug on his gas mask only for her wrist to be snatched in a panic. A single eye stared at her before realizing who she was and hesitantly let go of her wrist. Lyra pulled his mask off, tossing it aside for the moment. His face was nearly non-existent on the left as blood poured all over him as it was the only thing keeping his face intact. Taking yet another piece of cloth, she wrapped his head to stop the bleeding and keep what flesh on the left side together as she could. He hissed in discomfort but stayed still as she tended to him. He looked down at his leg noticing that it had been removed then felt the autogun wounds and bruises on his arms when he tried to move. He looked up at her curiously and she knew what he wanted to ask.

“How-” he started. “Sister, just leave me. I can be of no use to you. I'm sure I'll be disposed of once we're back on the ship…I didn't serve my purpose.”

“Pilot Moz is coming, you’ll be taken care of, and you’re going to live whether you like it or not. Do you understand?” she replied curtly.

Looking slightly taken aback by her tone, he agreed with a grumble. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You served your purpose. I don’t know what happened, exactly, but one second you were frozen solid and the next the beast was dead. I believe you were touched. That means you still have a fight left in you, and you're meant to live. So throw a fit, kick, and scream, whatever you like, you’re alive until further notice. What’s your number? Or.. name if you have one. Do Kriegsmen have names in the 83rd regiment?”

The man shifted and sighed. It certainly was not exactly what he wanted to hear but at least he did her a great service by keeping her safe with whatever he did. He could not remember.

“Reid Caldwell…Might I know yours, Sister?”

“Lyra Mickeal.”

The sound of a carrier hummed and shook the ground as it landed nearby. Two veterans left the ship to assist the pair returning to the ship as quickly as possible. As soon as they had returned to the ship, the Kriegsman was taken away for medical treatment following Lyra's orders and she was left writing the report noting every last detail of their mission and the disaster that had followed.

[baronneutron]

Nico Vyzeem, Wroonian Pilot; created by me with art by Will Nunes

Here is the original brief description I wrote: "Born and bred to fly the stars, Nico is a former Imperial civilian pilot now seeking his fame and fortune as an independent astro-aviator." I loved Rogue One, and took some inspiration from the character of Bohdi Rook. To me, he did not seem like he was in the Imperial Navy, but I know the movie wasn't very clear.  To me he seemed like how in the real world there are people who work for the government and with the military, but are not IN the military themselves.  So, I took that idea and had that he went to a galactic equivalent of the Merchant Marine Academy and then worked as a civilian pilot for the Empire for a term. I added some elements to the Wroonian culture (since it is pretty bare bones anyway), a being called "The Kestral of Life".  The Kestral is something that perhaps used to be an aspect of a religion or a belief system for Wroonians in ages past, but now is just something that has barely any meaning.  I was coming from the angle how in the real world many people have crosses or crucifixes in their house or on a necklace, but they really just do it because its always been done in their family.  So, for modern Wroonians, it is simply a traditional or cultural symbol, something worn or hung on a wall that is just done without too much meaning. Nicuzzal "Nico" Vyzeem grew up with this symbol, and sure he wore it as a pendant on a necklace most of his life, but like most Wroonians he didn't believe it was real.  That is until he was persuaded that the myth and symbol was inspired by something real, that there really is a being called The Kestral of Life.  The intentional misspelling of Kestrel was supposed to indicate it was not a little bird from our real world, it was really a being of great power, more like the Phoenix or one of the large SW space beings or perhaps even an aspect of the Force, and if you found it The Kestral would grant you your heart's desire.  Within the game (as I am sure most of you who play know) there is part of the character creation process called "Obligation" and "Motivation", so I tied both of these into The Kestral myth for Nico.  However, I told my GM this is simply what Nico believes, it doesn't mean its true.  At various times in the game, my character lied to everyone in order to find more clues as to how to find The Kestral of Life. I played this character in a campaign that lasted nearly 2 years. We started off with 3 players then moved to 5, and we had a lot of fun, despite feeling frustrated much of the time due to the story.  We started with the original 3 being crew on a tramp freighter, and while the Captain was a smuggler, he was also part of a larger syndicate of criminals/pirates whose main bread and butter was slavery.  Our PCs didnt know that to start, but we soon learned as we became patsies in a scheme the Captain had with an ISB agent, and we were left in jail while the Captain got let go and split the earnings with the ISB dude. This had us behind bars while the larger slavery-pirate syndicate moved in and started snatching people in the little town where the local Marshall had us imprisoned.  Since it was just him and one deputy, we convinced him to let us go and we would help defend the town. While we made a difference, we didn't save everyone.  Our little group then promised we would do what we could to find and rescue those kidnapped.  The town gave us a busted up Barloz, and we fixed it up and off we went with no credits other than what they collected when they "passed the hat"; we named our ship Dressen's Triumph.  The whole campaign for nearly 2 years was trying to track and rescue the townsfolk.