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dustofthedailylife · 9 months

Text

It Must Be Love

-> Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Blade, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Gepard, Welt x (gn!) Reader

Summary: When they realized they had feelings for you...

Tags: Fluff, SFW, mention of injuries (Blade), just them realizing they're completely smitten

A/N: My last fic before my Japan vacation! I got a lot more in my WIP stash that I'll get to after. Excited to get to that when I'm back, or maybe I can finish one or the other fic in the evening on my vacation when I'm in bed. We'll see. Stay amazing until then! <3

BLADE

When you joined the Stellaron Hunters he shot down your every attempt of trying to get to know him and stayed clear of you. He was curt and only ever spoke with you if it was necessary. In his opinion, there was no need for you two to be acquainted. And it would be for your own good anyway.

It wasn’t until you came back gravely injured from a mission and were passed out for days, that he wouldn’t leave your side.

He sat on the armchair in your room most of the time, and was either sleeping or meditating with his eyes closed. He occasionally switched your bandages and cleaned your wounds while insisting he’d be the only one to do it. After all, he involuntarily had quite the expertise with injuries himself.

And when the day you began to stir awake again finally came, and he heard the quiet plea for water come over your parched lips, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

He told himself over and over again that he didn’t care about anyone and wouldn’t dare to allow himself to care anymore. In fact, he may have even thought he wasn’t capable of it anymore. But feelings are often beyond one's control or rational explanation. And deep down he had always known that he cared deeply about you.

He had only steered clear of you because it had been evident to him, that if he allowed himself to care, there would be no going back. Alas, it now was too late for that as well. Yet it did not matter any longer. All he cared about was that you were still alive.

“Never get hurt like this again.” He scolded with a voice seemingly devoid of any emotion, as he lifted a bottle of water to your lips so you could drink.

But despite the underlying sharp tone in his voice, there was sincere concern in his eyes only a few people ever got to see. And he knew he was no longer able to hide it.

DAN HENG

Himeko brought you along one day and introduced you to the Astral Express Crew as their newest member, a bundle of energy much like March. And everyone seems ecstatic to welcome you aboard. Everyone but Dan Heng. He curtly introduced himself without shaking your outstretched hand, before vanishing back to his room again without another word.

It would be a lie if he said he didn’t find you attractive, but Alas, he couldn’t allow himself to get closer. One more person on the Express only meant there were more people he had to keep secrets from. Besides, you seemed just as lively and energetic as March was, and if he was sure of one thing it’s that one March was already enough. So that was even more reason to steer clear of you for his own peace of mind.

So in turn he tried keeping you at an arm's length. The only problem however was, that you apparently weren’t deterred by his cold demeanor and practically threw yourself at him at every chance you got.

You would often knock on his door to bring him some freshly brewed tea, rummage through the archive or call him quirky nicknames you came up with. He could only roll his eyes at them, but secretly he began to like them and caught himself smiling whenever he thought of them.

At first, he managed to remain distanced and only spoke to you when it was strictly necessary, but he soon began to warm up more and more. Until he would eventually find himself beginning to crave your presence every day.

And it was when he found himself looking at the empty chair you used to sit on almost every evening now, that he became aware of his feelings for you. The naggings and nicknames that used to bother him, now made his heart beat quicker and a tingly feeling made itself known in his stomach.

The simple image of your smile made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. The sound of your voice always managed to soothe his nerves. And your absence made him feel incomplete.

It was then he had to admit to himself that there was no longer any point in denying it. He had inevitably fallen for you.

JING YUAN

When there was more administrative work to do on the Luofu due to the recent happenings, Qingzu, who was assisting Jing Yuan with the additional workload, proposed to hire someone else to help as well. To be precise, help with caring for the general’s lion, since it was usually Qingzu’s task. But since she was preoccupied with other matters right now, there was a distinct lack of time.

And that’s when you were hired.

You were tasked to care for Mimi in Qingzu’s stead from hereon out and seemed to immediately get along with the animal quite well, too. It certainly put Jing Yuan’s mind at ease to know that his lion was adequately cared for.

One day, when Jing Yuan returned earlier than usual from his duties he found you peacefully asleep on the sofa, your head comfortably nestled in the fur of the equally asleep lion. But he didn’t dare to disturb your slumber and returned to his desk with a smile on his face since he too felt the weight of sleep oftentimes throughout the day.

Once you awoke you practically jumped up when you saw him sitting at his desk already, ushering a shy “Oh, General. I didn’t expect you to be back home at such a time already. Forgive me.”

He just let out a soft chuckle in reply, assuring you that there was no need to worry and that it actually put his mind at ease that you got along so well with Mimi.

After this, he made a conscious effort to come back home earlier more often. And every time, without fail, he would find you sleeping together with his lion in the afternoon sun. Your peaceful expression and the quiet purr of his lion truly was a sight for sore eyes

And if his lion loved you, what was he supposed to feel if not the same?

GEPARD

Gepard saw you for the first time when he stopped by his sister's workshop. He caught a quick glimpse of you before you vanished into the side room of the workshop again.

Of course, his sister immediately caught him staring. Because he stood there stunned and only stared holes into the door you vanished through.

If Serval was good at one thing, it was reading Gepard like a book. And she only needed one look at his face to know exactly what he was thinking. Of course, she took the opportunity to tease him about it with a big grin across her face, much to the embarrassment of Gepard who only cleared his throat and diverted the topic, unable to hide the red blooming across his cheeks.

He soon found out that you were a singer and songwriter and that you and Serval sometimes performed together in a local club. And he found himself venturing there on his off days to watch your show.

Serval introduced you to him and eventually, you began to become closer. Asking him if he would come to your next gig as well. And of course, he did. In fact, he did so often that he had all your songs memorized down to a T now and often found himself humming them absentmindedly throughout the day.

And suddenly, as one of his subordinates asked him which song he keeps humming all the time now, he became aware of the feelings he harbored for you.

The warm, prickly feeling within his chest. The way his heartbeat quickened, or the corners of his mouth turned upwards involuntarily whenever he saw you, talked to you, or thought of you.

It was undeniable. He had fallen in love in love with you.

WELT

Welt and you were just colleagues. At least that's what he was trying to convince himself of at first.

Research and worries about your mission often woke you up at night recently, so you often got up to brew a fresh pot of coffee. And Welt found you sitting in an armchair in the parlor car one night when he, too, got up in the middle of the night because his thoughts had kept him awake.

You offered him a cup of coffee as well before you sat back down. Each just sipped their coffee in silence. You gazed at the stars outside of the window of the Express while he tried to read some book to keep his mind off the thoughts that had kept him awake.

Yet, he found himself unable to concentrate on it and instead stole glances at you while rattling his brain about what he could talk about with you.

Eventually, you were the first one to break the silence. Initiating a conversation about the vastness of the universe and the thing that are yet beyond any human comprehension. Asking questions no man knew an answer to yet. And he was more than happy to indulge in the conversation.

You ended up talking until the morning hours that night without the conversation ever dying down. He enjoyed the talk you had so much, he found himself thinking about it for weeks after.

Long deep talks over a fresh pot of coffee in the middle of the night should soon become a habit for both of you.

And he came to crave them so much that he even started setting an alarm at night and went to check if you were there again as well. And most of the time you were.

One night, when he looked at you and saw the light of the stars reflect in your eyes once again, he too had to admit he was looking straight at a star himself.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about HSR or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan x reader #gepard x reader #welt x reader #hsr fluff #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #hsr drabbles #hsr imagines #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 hsr

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pastanest · 5 months

Text

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: just a short lil blurb idea I had whilst procrastinating from finishing my other two WIP’s xoxo

warning: implied age gap of reader being a “young woman”, but no specific reference to Spencer’s age, I just envision this as a very post-prison thing for him to do

Listen

“Excuse me, lady, but you don’t get to waltz in here and start ordering my officers around. This your first day on the job or something, sweetheart?” The local chief of police smirks down at you, condescension dripping from his every word.

That, coupled with his casual misogyny, is enough to have you smirking right back at him.

Shocker, another old-fashioned cop assuming that a young woman like you doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s almost laughable. Almost.

“FBI Agent first, ‘lady’ second, and ‘sweetheart’? Not under any circumstances. I’m here with the rest of my team to assist you on a case that you’ve requested our help to solve. You don’t like the way we do things? Raise a formal complaint. If you want this case solved, you’ll do well to listen to the advice given. This is far from my first case, and you are far from the first police chief to invalidate that.” Your voice is the epitome of cool, calm and collected.

Naturally, that only aggravates the ignorant man in front of you. More predictable than a- well, actually, there are few things more predictable than the fragile masculinity found in a man like this.

“I’ll be happy to listen to your boss before I take any orders from a girl with a mouth bigger than it ought to be.” The local chief of police eyes you up and down, as if to intimidate you by comparing your stature to his.

Much to his surprise - and absolute dismay - his efforts are in vain. This is made clear when a quiet laugh passes your lips and you lean back against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest and looking to your left.

Moments later, as though emerging from the shadows, Doctor Spencer Reid takes the few large strides necessary to reach your side. A formidable force, exacerbated by the dark scowl that’s etched into his features and directed at the local chief of police. Having not long returned from visiting a crime scene, he had overheard the conversation between you and elected to wait before he stepped in, hypothesizing both how far the ignorance would go, and how long he would be able to hear it before seeing red.

“If you value the continued use of your jaw, I’d advise you close it and listen. Disrespect Agent (Y/N) again and this entire precinct will suffer the consequences of your ignorance.” Spencer’s threat is eerily quiet and, while unprofessional by nature, the intent is understood to the extent that even a local chief of police wouldn’t dare call it into question.

The man caught in Spencer’s glare visibly shrinks, clears his throat, and pretends to find something to very quickly busy himself elsewhere. The glare follows him until he’s out of sight.

“I could have Garcia file a report severe enough to end that man’s career.” Spencer murmurs, gaze fixed on the door that the ignorance left through.

Turning to face Spencer, you smile up at him sweetly and pat his chest, your palm against his tie when the contact snaps his eyes back down to look at you.

“I think making him ruin his briefs in the workplace is punishment enough.” You joke lightly, your words enough to cause a smile to curl at the corner of Spencer’s mouth, a silent understanding caught in your locked gazes.

Nobody disrespects you and gets away with it, not so long as Doctor Spencer Reid is around to commit verbal homicide.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #x reader #spencer reid headcannon #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #spencer reid imagines

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moraxsthrone · 1 year

Text

◊ title — scent (phase 2)

◊ pairing — zhongli/morax x f!reader

◊ wc — 3.3k

◊ notes — guys. the way it took so long to write this bc horny. sorry not sorry. hopefully you'll find that it was worth the wait. also, i lied. this will be a 4-part series (not a 3-parter) - the ideas are coming faster than i can get them out. how fitting that i finally finished this on mother's day - just a fortunate coincidence.

◊ be warned — nsfw. mdni. feral!zhongli/morax. heat/rut. dragon features/anatomy/instincts. oral/tongue fucking (f. rcv'ing). squirting. cum drinking. rough, animalistic sex. biting/marking. knotting. breeding. scent marking. light aftercare.

← phase 1 ◊ phase 3 (wip)

...end of phase 2 (48 hours before you ovulate)...

“hey babe!” you greet your husband cheerfully while closing the door with your foot.

zhongli is sitting at the little breakfast nook that sits adjacent to your kitchen, reading a book and enjoying a cup of his favorite afternoon tea. he’s so engrossed in his novel that he doesn’t look up, just answers you with a low hum as you set the shopping bags down on the countertop. he’s mid-sip when you lean down and give him an innocent little peck on the cheek. his teacup is still pressed to his bottom lip when you twirl around and walk away from him to start putting groceries away.

he’s still looking at the book that he holds in his ungloved hand, but is oblivious to the words in front of him. his gaze slowly lifts from the pages, looking over the top of the book to watch you move around the kitchen, putting the provisions in their respective places. you’re wearing those cute little shorts and he’s willing to bet mora that you’re not wearing anything underneath if the intensity of your scent is anything to go by.

you bend over to place a couple of items in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator, unwittingly giving him a little peep show when the crease of your butt cheeks peek out from underneath those scandalous shorts. zhongli is looking closely, and sure enough, you’re not wearing any panties. what began as a small spark of heat at the base of his spine when you gave him that innocent kiss a minute ago has been ignited and is now a raging wildfire that is rapidly spreading to his loins.

you’re fertile. he can smell it, and the delicious scent of your heat has triggered his rut. it’s not something he has any control over. similarly to how he’s clenching his jaw, he’s only partially cognizant of it.

he just instinctively knows that you smell of unhad sex.

and he must have you. he must fill you with his musk and scent you. but before he does any of that, the ghost of your earthy scent is haunting the back of his tongue.

first, he must taste you.

you say something but it’s gibberish to him when all he can hear, see, smell, or taste is your heat. it must’ve started somewhere around mid-day. when he woke up next to you this morning, he could faintly smell you, which is typical. but now he is all but drowning in the rich, ripe scent of your pussy. and you aren’t even aroused yet.

but if zhongli has anything to do with it, that’s about to change.

deep down he knows that you need to be wet to receive his cock. more than that, though, he wants to smell your arousal.

you’re still busying yourself with putting away groceries, humming the song that’s been stuck in your head all afternoon, having no idea that your husband’s dick is hard, his balls are aching, and he’s about .58 seconds away from bending you over the nearest surface.

“what would you like for dinner tonight, li?” you ask, standing on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf in your pantry. but he’s too ensnared by your creamy thighs to have noticed; he couldn’t hear you over the blood pumping furiously through his veins. when you don’t get a reply, you turn around to look at him. “li?”

he blinks and clears his throat. “wh-what?”

you repeat the question, to which he stammers out a response while loosening his tie. “whatever you want is f- fine with me, dear.”

you close the pantry door and furrow your brow at him, noting his flushed complexion. he appeared to be perfectly fine a minute ago. “zhongli, are you feeling okay?” you fret, making your way over to him. at his age, he could be having a heart attack or something… “darling, you look feverish…are you coming down with something?”

you bring your hand to his forehead. he’s burning up. you’re close to him again - too close - and you’re ripe for the picking.

before he fully realizes what he’s doing, he quickly stands up, the legs of his chair skidding across the tiled floor. your eyes go wide when he grabs you by the waist and in one swift movement, your ass and thighs are unceremoniously dropped onto the surface of the small dining table in front of him. your mouth opens, but before you can say anything, it’s filled with the former archon’s tongue.

his kiss is fierce, raw. animalistic even. there’s no romance behind it, only sheer need and passion. you feel like he’ll eat you alive…but he’s only just begun. as his hot muscle swirls around yours, he wedges himself between your legs, forcing them apart with his hips. his hands are everywhere - groping, pulling, pushing: your neck, your tits, your waist, your thighs. unable to get a word in edgewise, you whine into his mouth and he finally pulls away, mouth still open with a thread of saliva connecting your lips.

“zh- hahh-” you whimper when you feel his teeth on your neck.

he’s not biting you (yet). he’s merely keeping you where he wants you while he brands you with his mark. you wonder what’s gotten into him as his hand massages your naked thigh. he’s only like this when you-

oh.

has it been two weeks already? it seems like only yesterday that the two of you were talking about maybe starting a family.

a little mewl escapes your lips as the thought hazily occurs to you that you haven’t kept up with your cycle. but it’s okay…you haven’t had to because he has.

knowing your husband’s draconic rut has been triggered by your heat sends a pang of desire shooting to your core and you moan for him. his mating pheromones go undetected by your human sense of smell; however, the reptilian part of your brain is pinging like crazy, telling your body it’s time to breed.

you’re frantically working to unbutton his shirt, your bare legs encircling his hips, but he pries them apart again with a low grunt. he hooks his hands behind your knees, making you yelp when you’re jerked forward, his forgotten teacup rattling against its saucer when your back hits the table. he’s looking down at you, lips parted, eyes glowing, dark scales appearing briefly above his open collar before diminishing again - evidence that as feral as he seems right now, he’s still able to hold himself back…for now.

zhongli never breaks eye contact with you when he curls his brilliantly glowing fingers into the waistband of your shorts, his rich amber eyes boring into your very soul as his chest rises and falls. he yanks on the cloth barrier so hard you hear the stitching surrender to his power as your ass is forced upwards off the wooden surface.

the scent of your pussy is filling every one of his senses…it’s almost all he can even feel. he’s dying to taste you. needs to taste you as though your slick is holy water and he is a sinner. inside his tented pants, zhongli’s cock is glowing, leaking, throbbing. there’s a dark spot forming on the cloth as proof. he needs to shove his readied cock inside you like the desert needs rain, but first he’s dying to drink you. your scent is so palpable he can taste you on the back of his tongue and it’s driving him insane.

beads of sweat are collecting at his hairline as he picks up where you left off with unbuttoning his shirt. but he quickly loses patience and tears it away from his shoulders with a clipped growl, a couple of buttons flying off and landing gods know where in the process. he’s shirtless now, his beautiful arms glowing and carbon black scales emerging on the tops of his shoulders.

he pushes your thighs back towards your chest and lowers his face to your cunt. he just hovers there for a moment and breathes you in, his eyes rolling back in his head as they flutter closed. the distinct scent of your arousal combined with your readiness to breed sends a new rush of blood to his cock and it jumps in his pants.

“zhongli…please…” you keen for him, and he drops to his knees to worship at your altar.

normally, he’d take his time with you - ghost his lips along your inner thighs, kiss around your labia, tease you just a little. but he doesn’t have the patience for that right now.

he descends on your cunt, his open, watering mouth latching onto your aching clit, his long tongue circling it for a moment before he plunges it inside you.

gods, your flavor.

he tongue fucks you, filling you with a long, deep moan because you taste so fucking good to him. your hands fly to his earth-colored hair - something to ground you while he devours you. you can feel the hitch of his hot breath on your labia, not knowing that the golden tip of his cock is glowing and rubbing deliciously against the rough material of his trousers as he rocks his pelvis into nothing. pulling his tongue out, he licks a long, wide stripe up to your clit again.

you hear your name in his deep, even voice and open your eyes. “look at me when i’m eating your cunt,” he commands, and you comply. far be it from you to go against your husband’s - your god’s - wishes.

zhongli’s diamond-shaped pupils have been replaced by serpentine slits that hold your gaze while he sucks your soul from your hard bud, growling and tugging at it with the suction of his lips as his hips jerk, rubbing the moist head of his cock against the front seam of his slacks.

“hhhh~ li…fuck, feels so good baby, yes…” you praise him, but he already knows how good he’s making you feel. your husband mastered your body long ago. he knows your tells, the meaning behind every little sound you make. he can anticipate the way your body will move before he even touches you. but more than that, he can smell your growing lust.

he hums in appreciation and gives your clit several hard flicks with his flexed tongue, making you whine before thrusting his long, wet muscle into your pussy again. you buck your hips against his face, but his strong hands are spread over the backs of your thighs, holding them back. he curls his tongue inside you, pulling it along your walls, lapping at your juices.

you lightly pinch your nipples, rolling them between your fingers and pulling on them gently as zhongli returns his attention to your throbbing clit. he flicks it then flattens his tongue and drags it up and down, back and forth, the texture of his tastebuds rough against your tight little bundle of nerves. at the same time, you feel two of his fingers press against your hole.

“ohh- oh fuck, li!” you whine for him as he slips them inside, working them knuckle-deep in search of the spot that he knows so, so well. he finds it quickly with great ease, and begins massaging it with his fingertips while his lips and tongue work your clit over.

his hair is a mess in your hands; you’re a mess on your dining table. you can feel the cocktail of your need and your husband’s spit trickle down to your ass crack, knowing you’re about to make a mess in his mouth. but that’s exactly what he wants. he doubles down and starts tugging on your g-spot, moaning when he feels you tightening around his fingers.

zhongli knows you’re close, so close.

he continues to hump the air reflexively, sucking your clit harder, pulling it deeper between his wet lips as though he’s trying to swallow you whole.

“haahhh!” you gasp. “fuck, baby!” you fist his dark brown locks between your fingers. “zhongli…ohgodyou’regonnamakemecum!”

he releases your clit with a wet pop and you feel your abused little pearl being flicked furiously back and forth over the tip of his sinfully skilled tongue. your head rolls back on the table, briefly glimpsing your kitchen behind you before you squeeze your eyes closed.

your pelvis is rocking helplessly against your husband’s soaked face but his lips are latched securely around your clit when your cum squirts inside his waiting mouth. his brow knits and he groans against you as he swallows again and again, drinking you down to the last drop. it makes him impossibly harder and his aching testicles are heavy, full of his sperm that he needs to release inside you.

with his craving for your juices temporarily sated, the raging need in zhongli's loins is now fueling his prime directive:

breed.

he stands and lifts you up, bringing you to your feet before spinning you around and pushing your chest down onto the table. you whimper, pussy clenching at zhongli's show of physical power. your pebbled nipples rake across the surface below when he ruts his hips against your butt, and you can finally appreciate just how hard he is. he could’ve taken you on your back, but he’s primally driven and compelled beyond reason to mount you from behind.

zhongli the funeral consultant now more closely resembles morax the god of old. he’s even starting to show signs of his dragon form and operating purely on instinct at this point. your scent has become more complex, nuanced - the way you smell when you’re approaching fertility combined with your arousal, and now the mixture of his saliva and your cum…

there’s only one scent missing.

from behind you comes the tinkling of his belt buckle and the sound of his zipper. zhongli pushes his pants down just far enough to free his cock and testicles before he’s bending over you. you know his fangs have emerged when you feel them drag lightly across the back of your neck. his breath is hot and his cock is so hard, bouncing eagerly against your wet folds, drooling precum onto the floor below.

he spreads your ass apart with his strong radiant hands, kneading and pushing and squeezing bruises into your soft, sensitive flesh. you keen, bending lower, arching your back as you fold your arms and rest the side of your face on the hard surface beneath you.

“zhong- hhhn fuck…” is all you can manage when the tip of his erection bumps against your clit. gods, the way your scent hits him when you beg him to put his cock in.

his cockhead bounces along your slit a few more times before it finally catches on your hole and he thrusts in hard with a low grunt. the way it glides in, hard and slippery because you’re so ready for your mate to claim you, preening and presenting for him like a cat in heat.

his jaw flexes at the way you choke on your cries when your hip bones dig into the edge of the surface he’s fucking you into. it hurts, and there will be bruises later, but you can’t bring yourself to stop or slow him down. his cock feels too good filling you up so full, tugging at your gushy walls, the ridge of his cockhead peeking out every time he retreats, then splitting you apart when his hips slam against your ass again.

he hunches over you, fully mounting you, his tail having emerged and wrapping around your leg to hike it up and hold your bent knee out to the side so he can break your pussy off harder, deeper. your cheeks are streaked with wet eyeliner when the fuzzy tip of his tail tickles your clit, your juices getting it wet.

zhongli isn’t fucking you anymore - morax is the one driving his fat cock into your squelching cunt now. there are those who would clutch their pearls at the idea of being bent over a table and fucked by an archon, but your eyes are rolling back in your head at the feeling of being spread open by his celestial dick. for you, it’s a matter of course. he’s your husband - you’ve been in love with him for years and you adore him in every one of his iterations, even if you have your own special ways of worshiping him.

your feral god-husband’s vividly glowing arms are wrapped tightly around your sweaty chest, the wooden legs of your dining table scuffing the floor as he grunts in your ear. “fuck, that’s my good girl. taking my cock so well. so ready to take my seed, yeah?…”

“y-yes! need your cum, morax! breed me, my lord hahh~”

he loves it when you call him by his ancient name. it reminds him that he’s still got it - the power and virility of his youth. he swears under his breath, digging his talons into your hips as he yanks you back on his cock. it’s too much. it’s too much and he feels his balls pull tighter against his body when he growls and snarls behind you. you whimper at the feeling of his knot swelling deep inside you, knowing it’s forcing your walls open so he can pump you full of his sperm. he opens his mouth and bites down on the back of your neck with a deep, guttural growl.

you cry out the god’s name again and again, chanting for him, urging him to cum for you as his big, scaly tail tightens around your trembling thigh. the soft tuft of orange fur at the tip is matted with your juices. it licks and lashes against your clit as his humanoid hips dig into the plush of your ass, snapping against you in fits and starts.

“ohh-oh, morax, gonna cum for you!”

dark brown scales shimmer and separate along his spine as it curls with every frantic pump of his pelvis.

“that’s it, my dear. cum on my cock…now!” he orders.

you tense and throw it back on him as you fall apart on his cock. his balls contract in their sac as you milk his ready, sensitive length, choking on your own sobs of his archon name when he throws his head back with a roar and cums hard. the first ribbon of his divine seed splashes against your clenching walls, his cock jerking violently as he empties his full balls deep inside your womb, coating your messy insides with his hot, sticky semen.

◊ ◊ ◊

his sweaty chest is heaving against your back, his lungs filling and collapsing as the waves of his orgasm slowly fade. you can feel the heat of his labored breath as he licks and kisses the bite marks on the back of your neck, making you coo at him for soothing the pain. your husband can smell the oxytocin as it floods your brain; he instinctively knows to remain close to you in these crucial moments of bonding. dragons mate for life, so he’s biologically coded to crave the loving attachment just as much as you do.

nuzzling his nose behind your ear, zhongli mutters his love and appreciation for you, making you smile weakly with the side of your face still resting on the table. he leaves lazy kisses on your neck and you feel his smile against your moist skin when you tell him how happy it would make you to be the mother of his young.

he still has a full erection, his balls filling up with more seed. he’ll need to release again soon. he slowly pulls out of you, a mess of his cum and your slick spilling onto the floor below when the bulbous head of his cock pops out of your tight ring.

you’re jolted from your dreamy afterglow, eyes opening wide as you yelp, suddenly finding yourself being carried bridal style towards your bedroom. now that he has scented you with his musk, zhongli wants to take you to your shared nest where he can begin breeding you in earnest. he can sense that you’re still hours away from ovulation, but he’s going to keep your womb so swollen with his seed, so full of billions of his sperm - ready and waiting to swarm your fertile egg the moment it drops.

← phase 1 ◊ phase 3 (wip)

◊ zhongli/morax m.list

this is dedicated to my zhongli sisterwife @crystalflygeo whose utterly fearless, shameless style of writing has filled my morax spank bank inspired me to write with bold and wild abandon. i can't even fully fathom the sheer number of ideas this wonderful human being has filled my head with. we share (1) singular zhongli brain cell and i love her with my whole heart. she literally begged me to write this fic so you all have her to thank for it.

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runnning-outof-time · 2 months

Text

Change His Ways | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy falls for a woman out of his reach and does whatever it takes to get closer to her.

Warnings: Tommy’s certainly not canon here, language, smoking, religious themes (Tommy goes to church)

Word Count: 4025

A/N: I dusted this WIP off because I was itching to keep writing after I finished my celebration blurbs. The idea has Tommy ooc, but it was one that I just had to write down while reading a book - I’ll share a bit more about it down below for those who are interested (it’s based on a true story). Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in stories similar to this one!

Tommy's world stopped the second he saw her. She was in Polly's main room, gathering her cleaning supplies as he stepped into the home. He watched from the doorway as she tried, but failed, to take them all into her arms, the bucket and broom falling to the ground. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Gray," she quickly apologized to the woman standing next to the fireplace for the commotion, crouching down to - try and - gather it once more. Polly didn't say anything, only watching on as the younger woman struggled.

"Let me help you, miss," Tommy spoke up, balancing the cigarette he was smoking between his lips before he stepped over to her, leaning down to grab the stick of the broom before she could.

"Oh, thank you, mister," she smiled over at him, her (y/e/c) eyes instantly mesmerizing Tommy. He almost forgot what he was doing.

"Where do these need to go?" he asked after clearing his throat and pulling himself from his thoughts.

"Just outside. My father's picking me up," she responded, smiling over at him gratefully. He felt like she had knocked the wind out of him.

"Alright then," he nodded, standing in time with her and taking a bucket from her full hands so that she'd have less to carry. He then let her lead him out to where an older looking farm-typed truck was waiting. The man sitting in the driver's seat just glared at Tommy, who ignored his presence altogether. "Should be it," he remarked as he sat the broom and bucket into the back of the truck.

"Thank you, really," the woman smiled at him.

"You're welcome," Tommy nodded politely before she got in the truck and he walked back up the path to his aunt's house. Polly was standing in the entryway with her arms crossed when Tommy re-entered the house. "What, Pol?" he questioned, brushing past her into the main room.

"She's a good woman, Thomas," she heeded a warning. A warning that Tommy disregarded completely.

Tommy showed up at Polly's every day for a week until he figured out what times the unnamed, beautiful woman was present at the house. And each time she was, he would help her with the things that she needed to carry out to her father's truck.

He didn't quite get to his destination today because the very person he was looking forward to seeing was walking along the sidewalk about three blocks from his aunt's house. He slowed down his car with his brow furrowed, and bent his head down to look at her. "All ok?" he asked after he watched her take a few more struggled steps. "Your father coming to pick you up?"

"Not today," she shook her head, the tone of her voice showing how much she was struggling to keep everything in her arms. "He's been held up at the farm."

Tommy was out of his car the second he heard her answer. He walked around the side of it with a quickened pace before he took the bigger cleaning supplies from her arms. "I can take you home," he offered, already opening the back door of his car before she gave him an answer to set the supplies he'd taken inside.

"Oh I can't bother you like that," she tried to decline his offer politely, but Tommy didn't want to hear it.

"I insist," he stressed, his eyebrows raised slightly to show his seriousness. He held his eyes on her and saw her weary expression form into a smile. She nodded her head in agreement before he opened the passenger's side door for her to get into the car. Once she was in, he shut the door and walked back around to the driver's side.

"Do you have a name, sir?" she asked him almost immediately after he'd sat in the front seat, "because I feel like I should know the name of the man that has so kindly offered me a ride."

"It's Thomas Shelby," he said, clearing his throat before adding: "you can call me Tommy though."

The woman smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you, officially, Tommy. Thank you for driving me home," she spoke politely. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she added, her cheeks heating up slightly when she realized that she hadn't formally introduced herself to him.

"It's nice to officially meet you as well, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but smile as he tried her name out for himself, "and there's no need to thank me...the pleasure's all mine here," he concluded his sentence by turning his car back on and pulling away from the sidewalk so that he could take her home.

There was an older man leaning up against the side of a rusted farm truck as Tommy pulled into the driveway that (Y/N) said was hers. He looked rather intimidating standing there, and if Tommy wasn't in the line of work that he was, he definitely would have been put off by him.

"Hi, daddy," (Y/N) smiled as she got out of the car so that she could grab her supplies from the back. She was too slow, however, because Tommy already had it in his hands.

"Where do you want this?" he asked her.

"Just by the shed over there," she answered as she motioned to said shed, "I can place them where they need to go later." Tommy nodded and then walked the short distance so that he could rest the supplies against the wall of the shed. "Thank you, Tommy," she sent him a bright smile once he'd finished.

"You're welcome," he nodded, deciding that being paid in her smiles would be better than any lump sum of money he could ever receive.

"You Thomas Shelby?" (Y/N)'s father then came into the situation, his voice making Tommy's expression go serious as he turned to face the older man.

"I am," he nodded, extending his hand.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?" her father got right to the point, glancing at the hand but not shaking it.

Tommy found himself feeling like a young boy again, and it made him wonder just how interested he was in (Y/N) for him to be feeling like this. "I brought her home. She was struggling with carrying the supplies," he explained himself.

The older man looked Tommy up and down before nodding slightly. "Ok," was all he said before he turned and started to walk over to one of the barns on the property.

"Thank you, Tommy," (Y/N) sent him another smile, pulling him out of the confused stupor that was brought on by the previous conversation. "I hope you make it home safely."

"You're welcome, (Y/N)," he responded, loving how her name sounded coming from his mouth. He then returned her wave before he walked to his car and got into it, backing down the driveway and away from the beautiful woman who was standing and watching him leave.

"I think you're a bloody idiot for coming up with that idea," Polly spoke her mind after Tommy had finished explaining to her where he'd gone a few days ago.

"That's why I'm doing it properly," Tommy tried to work a different angle.

"Properly or not, the (Y/L/N)'s are a God-fearing family, and I can't remember the last time you stepped into a church with the intent of speaking to the Maker," she remarked, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. Tommy sighed in response, shaking his head as he brought the cigarette back up to his mouth. He and Polly then stared at each other for a few moments before the woman sighed and hung her head, "but you'll still give it a try anyway," she stated in defeat, knowing just by his glance alone that her nephew's mind was made up.

Tommy cleared his throat as he stood from the chair in Polly's living room. He grabbed his coat and pulled it over his shoulders so that he was ready to leave the house. Polly tried to call after him, but he wasn't listening to her words as he opened the door and exited the dwelling. After getting in the car and starting its engine, he began driving to (Y/N)'s house with the full intention of winning her father over.

"You cannot court my daughter," (Y/N)'s father spoke firmly from where he sat across from Tommy in the front room.

"She's a very lovely woman, and I will be a gentleman to her," he tried to sway the older man, laying on the Shelby charm in full force, "all I am asking is for a date with her." If only his family could hear him now.

"If you want to see my daughter, you'll see her at church," her father decided, nodding his head once to show his decision was final.

"Mr. (Y/L/N)..."

"Save it, Shelby," the older man cut Tommy off, standing to leave the conversation. Tommy watched him walk, knowing there was nothing more that could be done. He also stood, showing himself out. He looked to the farmhouse after opening the door to his car and saw (Y/N) standing in one of the second floor windows. A sigh escaped his lips. He knew what to do.

Tommy met the (Y/L/N)'s at their church that Sunday. No one bothered to question how he knew where they worshiped, and he was thankful that he didn't need to explain.

They all sat in the same pew, Tommy to the right of (Y/N), of course, while her father sat on her left. He didn't listen much to the sermons, or participate in singing along with the choir.

He did, however, try to get even closer to (Y/N). After a few glances down, he slowly inched his hand closer to her lap. At first he attempted to take hold of her hand. She moved it away the second she felt his fingers brush hers. But she didn't look his way though, still focused on what the preacher was saying. So he let his hand stay there. Instead of holding hers, he flipped his palm down and draped his fingers over the curve of her thigh.

His hand had just started to warm from her body heat when he felt a sharp, but silent, smack land on the back of it. It made him remove his hand and quickly look her way. She was still looking straight ahead. Tommy kept his eyes on her, his brows furrowed. He was sure that he hadn't imagined that; she'd just smacked him.

The feeling of his eyes on her made (Y/N) glance to her right. She knew he wouldn't look away until he addressed her. But her father would instantly know that her attention had been taken off of the message being told. Ever-so-slowly, she leaned closer to Tommy, getting close enough so that he could hear her whisper. "There should be no touching in the Lord's house. It's considered blasphemy."

Tommy couldn't respond because she sat straight again the second she finished speaking. He took one last look at her before looking straight again, his hand resting on his thigh once again.

Tommy continued going to church with (Y/N) and her family every Sunday, and eventually they got into a routine of him walking her back home.

Every Sunday, they'd stop at the beginning of her dirt driveway, and she'd thank him with a kiss on his cheek. They'd then say their goodbyes and she'd begin walking to her house. Tommy would stay and watch, waiting until she was on her porch before he left.

This Sunday was different. (Y/N) was unusually quiet on the way home. The walk that was normally filled with her sweet laughter and entertaining stories was now overruled by silence.

They stopped at the end of her driveway, and (Y/N) turned so that she could face him. Tommy's eyes were immediately on her, and he noticed that she was looking at the ground. "I won't be in church next Sunday," she finally spoke, playing with her fingers in hopes it'd give her something to focus on. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes then, seeing that he was looking out at the fields for a moment. Thinking now'd be the best time to say goodbye, she lifted her head and leaned in to press her lips to his cheek.

Tommy turned to talk to her at that same moment, and he was met with the most rewarding accident he'd ever been given in his life when his lips met hers. The kiss was soft, quick, and innocent. Too quick for his liking.

(Y/N) pulled back with a gasp the second she realized what was happening. She looked at him then, her eyes now opened wide; looking as if she'd just seen a ghost, or a horrible crime be committed. I've fucked this up, Tommy thought to himself, the breath caught in his throat. The worst part about it was that he didn't quite know what to say that could make the situation better.

So he just stared at (Y/N), watching as her eyes searched his for what seemed like eternity. Then, after what felt like forever, (Y/N) leaned in and pressed her lips to his again. She kissed him more soundly this time, and he took hold of her waist to make sure that she wouldn't leave him too soon. When she eventually moved to pull back, he let her, keeping his eyes closed when she stayed close and rested her forehead against his.

"Why?" he asked once their breathing had returned to normal.

"Huh?" she was clearly confused by his sudden question, and she finally pulled back to look at him once more, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Why won't you be there, love?" he asked with a soft laugh, squeezing her waist softly as he remembered that he was still holding onto her.

Realization struck her and her confusion melted into a sheepish smile, remembering what they were talking about before the kiss happened. "My family and I are traveling to see my grandparents. We'll go to the service at their church since we'll be staying through the weekend," she explained the reason behind her initial statement.

"Should I find you there?" he asked her then, wondering if he could still make things work. He'd been seeing her every Sunday for a month and a half now, and he'd be lying if he said that he didn't look forward to it every week.

"There's no need for that, Tommy," she giggled, her stomach filling with butterflies at the sweetness of his voice. "I'll be home before you know it."

"Then I'll be waiting," he nodded, showing his sincerity as he squeezed her waist once more, his actions making her smile. His eyes flitted down to her lips then, their closeness and inviting nature becoming paramount in his mind again. "Can I?" he asked permission before doing anything, something he never could have imagined himself doing weeks ago.

"Please do," she smiled at him, her hands finding his collar as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once more.

"Fuck," Tommy huffed, pressing his fingers to his eyes in frustration.

"So what do we do, Tom?" Arthur asked his brother, clasping his peaked cap in his hands. "He's there. He's for the taking. We could just..."

"No," Tommy cut him off abruptly, leaning forward so that he could rest his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands, "no, there'll be problems if we do that."

"Then what?" John chimed in, a bit of an incredulous look present on his face. "We know he did it. He shouldn't get to even think he got away with it."

"We do it another way," Tommy insisted.

"What way?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know yet," Tommy huffed, finally looking at his brothers before he continued, "but you fuckers better not try anything." He accented his direction by pointing at each of the two men as he spoke, his eyes wide to convey his seriousness.

Silence fell in the room then. John and Arthur shared a look before focusing back on their brother. They were both thinking the same thing...but who was going to be the one to say it?

Arthur looked to John again. "Seems like our brother's gotten himself a new perspective," he commented aloud, seeing Tommy's eyes snap to him from the corner of his.

A grin formed on John's face as he heard his older brother speak. Arthur was the one to cast the first stone. Now the floor was wide open. "I think it's because he's been going to that bloody church each weekend," he shared his thoughts on the situation.

Arthur shook his head. "Nah. The only reason he's going there is so he can give that girl a quick shag. You think it'll be worth it, Tom?"

Tommy was now seeing red. "What the fuck are you two going on about? Eh?!"

"That girl from Pol's place. (Y/N), was it?" John answered, even though the previous question was meant to be rhetorical.

"Yeah, yeah. That's her name. She's real pretty," Arthur commented, a smug grin now present.

Tommy couldn't take the comments anymore. He slammed his hand down on the desk, commanding their attention immediately. "Enough!" he bellowed, his eyes wide with anger. "You're not going to talk about her like that. In fact, you're not going fucking to talk about her at all. Understood?" He let out a heavy breath then, looking between the two of them before he swiped at his hair, returning the strands that had fallen over his forehead back to their resting place.

Neither John nor Arthur responded verbally to their brother's statement. Arthur let out a grunt of agreement and John merely nodded, both surprised by the show of emotion they'd just witnessed.

Tommy nodded in response to the silence. "Good. Now go out and figure out how we can get this guy. We need to do it cleanly," he gave them an order, one that made the two of them nod before turning and heading to the door.

John exited without another word, but Arthur stopped with his hand on the door's handle. He looked back to his brother, who had both of his palms placed flat on the desk as he finished recollecting himself.

"She really means something to you, doesn't she?" he broke the silence hanging in the room. His question made Tommy look up. They held eye contact for a few moments. Not a word was said. Arthur got his answer though; he could see it in Tommy's eyes. So instead of prolonging the staring contest, he nodded and exited the office.

Tommy let out a huff as the door shut, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the chair. (Y/N) came to mind then, and he relished in the thought of her as it made his stresses wash away.

Tommy just happened to be sitting out on the floor of the betting shop when the most out of place looking person entered the building. He clocked the man speaking to Scudboat and continued working on the papers in front of him as he tried to listen into the conversation.

"Is Mr. Shelby in?"

"He's busy. You'll need an appointment. That can be arranged with his..."

"I just need to speak to him for a moment."

"You'll need to arrange an..."

"He's fine to speak with me, Scudboat," Tommy cut into the conversation, coming over to where he and (Y/N)'s father were standing by the door.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby," Scudboat bowed his head as he left the conversation, knowing he was no longer needed.

"What can I do for you, Mr. (Y/L/N)?" Tommy asked (Y/N)'s father then, his eyes trained on the man who still looked so out of place.

"I'm not here to spend any money," the older man quickly replied, a rather sour look present on his face.

"I never thought you were," Tommy responded, hoping that his level voice would ease the other man's inhibitions. "Has something happened to (Y/N)?" he asked then, his brows furrowing as a feeling of worry washed over him.

Mr. (Y/L/N) looked around the room for a moment before his eyes found Tommy's again. "Can we speak somewhere more private?" he requested, the inflection of his voice not giving Tommy any concrete answer to his question. He hated that.

"We can," the gangster nodded, then moving towards one of the private offices - a little too quickly for his liking. "Has something happened to (Y/N)?" he asked again once the two men were behind the closed door.

(Y/N)'s father sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head every so slightly before he began speaking, "I know what you do...and I know that it's not right, nor good..." he started, his eyes darting around the room so he wouldn't have to hold Tommy's stare. "But I've seen you with my daughter, how you've tried to open up and let God into your life..." he paused again, taking another deep breath. Tommy wished he'd say what he needed to already. "She sees something in you that I can not, Mr. Shelby, and I hope that you see something in her that goes beyond physical desire."

"Way beyond, Mr. (Y/L/N)," Tommy was quick to tell him, "she's...she's changed me in ways I'd not thought possible."

"Good," the older man nodded, looking pleased with the response he'd gotten. Silence hung in the air then, and both men stared at each other. It was almost like one was waiting for the other to crack; for the other shoe to fall. Mr. (Y/L/N) was the one to speak first. "You have my blessing. You can court my daughter."

Tommy exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding upon hearing the other man's statement. He immediately extended his hand. "Thank you, Mr. (Y/L/N)."

"Treat her well, Thomas," her father sternly said, accepting the handshake Tommy had offered.

"I will."

Tommy and (Y/N) arrived at the road to (Y/N)'s home, and (Y/N) turned to face him like she always did. She smiled at him, sweetly thanking him for walking her home from church. Tommy smiled at her, tipping his hat and making her giggle - like he usually did. (Y/N) then leaned in and pressed her lips to his, giving him the quick kiss that she'd always leave him with. This time, however, Tommy's hands found her waist and he held her close to him when she pulled away.

"Be mine," he whispered against her lips, pulling back slightly so that his eyes could find hers.

"Tommy," (Y/N) breathed in response to his statement, "my father..."

"He gave me his blessing," he assured her, "will you be mine, (Y/N)?" he asked this time.

A smile spread across (Y/N)'s lips as butterflies erupted in her stomach. This is what she'd been waiting for. Everyone had told her that Tommy Shelby was a man who was to be feared, but that was not the Tommy Shelby that she had the pleasure to know; to get close to. And now he was asking her the question she'd hoped he'd ask ever since the first kiss they shared.

"Yes, Tommy," she answered with a slight nod, excitement bubbling up inside of her, "yes, I'll be yours."

Her words made a smile form on Tommy's face, and instead of saying anything in response, he leaned in and kissed her, showing her how happy he was to hear her answer through the passion he put into the kiss. She was the only person who'd get him to change his ways...and now she was his.

**a little bit about the background: this was based off of a vignette that I read in a book about America in WWI — a man, who was rather rowdy, into no good things, took interest in a woman, and the woman’s father told him that the only way he’d get to court her is if he came to church. The man essentially changed his lifestyle around for her because he was so interested in her and they eventually got married — so just like Tommy, he got the girl.

———

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

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moonlight-prose · 7 months

Note

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #my writing

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unexpectedtechnicality · 3 months

Text

4 Times Cody Felt Obi-wan Use the Force, and 1 Time it Was Someone Else

This is the first time I’ve published a fic! But I got very excited for Cody day and quickly finished up this little wip I had going.

Rating: T to be safe, Cody gets pretty injured at one point, but nothing is very graphic.

Light Codywan, about 4,900 words.

I’m very new to this, please let me know if there’s anything I should be tagging!

Rex, Cody decided, was a liar. Rex had fought on Geonosis. He claimed the jedi were astonishing warriors, brilliant strategists, excellent all around.

Well, maybe the problem wasn’t Rex’s integrity. After all, he hadn’t met his general until after the Battle of Geonosis. And he had never met Cody’s for that matter.

Not that High General Kenobi wasn’t an astonishing warrior, brilliant strategist, or seemingly excellent all around kind of guy. Just…Skywalker had gotten it somewhere, and “somewhere” was starting to sound a lot like “Kenobi.”

The original plan had been solid. Cody honestly couldn't have improved upon it. The problem had come when the charges went off early, cutting off their narrow rock bridge back to the Negotiator and stranding Cody and the general on the other side.

Technically that wasn’t the general’s fault. But if they had left a few minutes earlier…

“I’ve got an idea.”

Cody’s musing was interrupted by the general, who was staring off the edge of the cliff into the mist.

“Sir?”

“The canyon leads back around to the rendezvous point, it’s just a few kliks further.”

Cody stared at him. He couldn't really mean–

The general looked up serenely. “We’ll have to jump.”

Cody peered down into the mist. The ground was not visible. “Sir, we have no idea how far down it is.”

“It’s perfectly alright Commander. Just a slight detour.”

Sensible, Rex had said. They’re good leaders, they think things through. Cody was never listening to a word his brother said again.

Blaster fire sounded somewhere behind them. Kenobi smiled. “Now or never, Commander. I’ll go first, wait about 10 seconds and then jump.”

Before Cody could protest, he was gone. Kriff. His general had just committed suicide rather than be taken by the enemy and expected Cody to follow. This couldn’t be what the Kaminoans meant when they said good soldiers followed orders. What the kriff!

“Jump, Commander!” The general’s voice floated up from below, almost like it was too far to be heard properly. Had he even heard it at all?

A full platoon of droids appeared behind him. Cody glanced at them, weighed his options, cursed his short existence, his general, and Rex for good measure, then jumped.

He plummeted through the mist, tense, waiting for the crunch of his bones against the rocky floor. But before he could reach the bottom, the air seemed to condense around him. It was as though time slowed down. The mist thickened, and it nearly felt like he fell softly into a net, like he was still in drop training. Something felt familiar about it. Like someone he knew, or–

The mist cleared and there, a few feet below him was General Kenobi, hand outstretched and brow furrowed in concentration. Gently, he lowered Cody until his feet were on the ground, and the strange feeling surrounding him dissipated.

Kenobi grinned. “See? Perfectly fine.”

Cody could only nod vaguely, slightly stunned. “Yes….ah, sir.”

“Now come on, we don’t want to keep our men waiting, do we?”

Cody smiled, and despite his bucket still being on his head, it felt like Kenobi knew. “No, sir.”

Cody jolted awake, his comm blaring. It was his off shift, and they were slow traveling through neutral space. What could have possibly happened in the few short hours he had to sleep? He scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced to his left, where his chest plate was floating next to the lumpy pillow from—

Hang on.

Suddenly very awake, Cody surveyed the room to discover that something had happened to the artificial gravity on the ship and he was now floating in the middle of his quarters surrounded by his own armor and meager belongings.

Just great.

I’m assigning every man in maintenance to latrines for a month if this is someone’s idea of a practical joke.

Cody located his comm, floating a few meters away near the door. Angling himself that way, he kicked his feet and swam the best he could with his arms. After a few minutes, he managed to grab it and stop the infernal beeping.

“Go for Cody,” he snapped.

“Ah! Commander, sorry to wake you. We have a bit of a…situation.”

“You don’t say.”

He could practically hear the smile in Kenobi’s voice. “Yes, well, if you could meet me on the bridge?”

Cody rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Putting on his armor proved to be quite a challenge when all of it was floating in a different corner of the room. Cody ended up kicking off every wall, and the ceiling several times just to get kitted up. It took far longer than normal. Every time he wasn’t intentionally moving, he was drifting.

Slapping the control for the door while speeding at it was probably not the best strategy, but luckily it opened before he could slam into it. Then Cody began the arduous task of propelling himself to the bridge. Eventually he settled into a bit of a rhythm: kick off a doorway or wall, attempt to “swim” the right direction, then give up and desperately flap about until the destination was reached. Rinse and repeat.

The way to the bridge passed the mess hall, as well as several busy corridors. He passed brothers who seemed to be moving with ease through the space, tumbling slowly through the air, gliding from one doorway to the next. He passed Waxer and Boil as he flailed his way past the mess, both of whom took one look at him and burst out laughing.

KP for a week shut them up quickly enough.

When the bridge was finally in sight, Cody had just about had enough. The door slid open to admit him, presenting one of the strangest things he had ever seen.

The bridge was the picture of order. Officers floated near their work stations, calmly anchoring themselves with one hand or foot tucked into a chair or railing. As he watched, an engineer pushed off the central holo table and soared gracefully to the hyperdrive console, inputting numbers from above with ease.

At the center of it all, floating upside down with his robes billowing around him like a flower, was General Kenobi. When he saw Cody, gripping the doorway for dear life and gaping beneath his helmet, Kenobi smiled and lifted a hand, beginning to slowly turn himself upright to his usual spot on the walkway.

Cody gave himself a little shove, aimed for his typical spot next to the general, and crossed his fingers.

“Good to have you, Commander. As you can see, we got into a minor skirmish with a passing neutral envoy. We came to a temporary truce, but I’m still in discussion with them to see if they will continue to attempt to blow us out of the sky. One of their shots knocked out our artificial gravity.”

Cody was struggling to keep himself near the general. His initial push had gotten him nearly where he wanted to be, but he was drifting forward. He tucked in slightly, trying to roll himself back.

“I would like your opinion on a plan of attack should it be necessary. Over half the battalion is on rest right now, and I’d hate to rouse them.”

His roll had failed. Now Cody was drifting upwards to Kenobi’s right, slowly turning away from him. Letting out a frustrated groan, Cody attempted to twist himself back to rights.

“One option would be to— Cody?”

“Sorry, sir. Give me a minute.” He renewed his twisting efforts with more vigor. How was Kenobi staying in one place when— oh. The kriffing force. “General, uh. Would you mind—?”

“Oh! My apologies Cody. Yes, one moment.”

A light, warm pressure materialized at his right hip, then his left, and he began to turn to face the general and drift down to stand next to him. It was almost as if someone had put their hand– no, not someone. Kenobi. It was most definitely Kenobi’s hands resting comfortably at Cody’s waist, and now anchoring him to the floor. He turned to look at the general, and found his face much closer than expected, eyes seeming to bore right through his visor.

Cody felt his face heat under his bucket. “Uh. Yes. Thank you, sir.”

The general cleared his throat. Was it Cody’s imagination, or was he blushing too? “Of course, commander. Can’t have you floating away, now, can we?”

Force-Kenobi’s hands stayed comfortably at Cody’s sides the rest of the battle, and Cody…found he didn’t really mind.

His ears were ringing. Cody blinked, trying to clear his vision. What—?

There was a blast somewhere to his right. Instinctively, he tried to curl up to protect his head. Fire erupted across his left side, shoulder to knee, ripping a ragged scream from his throat. He flopped back onto his back, gasping for air. He must have been hit by a blast earlier. No way to tell how long ago.

“There!”

A med speeder pulled up next to him, and Neat, one of their junior medics hopped off.

“Don’t worry commander, we’ve got you.”

Last I remember Obi– the general was by me. The thought sent adrenaline spiking through his veins, pain forgotten.

“Neat.”

“Sir?”

“The…the general, he–”

“He’s safe, sir, please don’t move.”

Neat began running a scanner down his side, but Cody needed visual confirmation on Obi-wan. Obi-wan. He had asked him to call him Obi-wan, alone in his quarters, just a week earlier. If something had happened to him before Cody could figure out—

“Cody!”

Obi-wan came skidding to a halt next to their little party and dropped to his knees beside Cody. “There you are,” he panted. “Neat?”

Neat scowled. “He won’t lie still,” he griped, as Cody pushed up on his elbows to check if Obi-wan was hurt. “Sir, please—“

Finishing his once-over of Obi-wan (a few scratches and bruises but otherwise unharmed, unfairly he seemed to be glowing slightly in the setting sun), Cody finally let himself relax. “Sorry, Neat. Go ahead.”

As Neat did his scan, Obi-wan sent him a slightly reproachful look. “You took the brunt of the blast, Commander, not me. I’m perfectly fine.” He glanced at Cody’s side, brow furrowing.

The pain was starting to creep back, like several hot pokers lined up against his side. Cody leaned his head back against the ground. “Had to be sure. Couldn’t remember.”

Obi-wan frowned, looking even more worried, and the scanner beeped to indicate a finished report.

Neat swore. “There’s a lot of shrapnel in his side. He’s loosing a lot of blood. I need to remove what I can to staunch the bleeding now and then get him back to base to get the rest out. Possibly put him in bacta.”

Cody was starting to get worried. He tried to look down at the wound, but Obi-wan stopped him with a gentle hand under his chin. “It’ll be fine, Cody.”

Cody. They’d agreed no first names during battle (though Cody wasn’t counting the sanctity of his own mind, the one thing that was truly his own), if Obi-wan was calling him Cody, it was bad.

“General, I’m going to start operating, I might need you to help hold him down.”

Obi-wan shifted, taking Cody’s right hand in his own and holding tight. “Ready.”

Cody braced himself, but when Neat first started prodding at his knee he couldn’t hold back the grunt, gripping Obi-wan’s hand and twitching away from the pain. Neat waiting half a second, then started back in. Every touch felt like a brand, or like the time he had picked up the wrong end of a smoking blaster as a cadet. There were tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Obi-was rested his arm across Cody’s chest to keep him still.

Neat continued his field surgery. “This one’s in deeper. Take a breath, commander.”

Cody tried to do as he was told, but it was like a lance shot through his thigh. He bucked against Obi-wan’s hold, and Neat swore again as everything was jostled.

“General,” Neat pleaded.

“One moment.” Obi-wan shifted, moving so Cody’s head was resting on his knees. “I’m going to try something different. Cody?”

Cody nodded, hissing through his teeth, trying to ride out the pain. He watched above him as Obi-wan closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath.

The strange sensation of the air solidifying around him that Cody was beginning to recognize as the force surrounded him. A warm feeling, like a heavy, plush blanket pressed down around him. Experimentally, he tried to shift his right leg, and found that aside from breathing, he couldn’t move at all.

It’s should have alarmed him. But the soft, warm feeling wasn’t suffocating…it was comforting. It felt familiar, like the net had, and the hands when the artificial gravity had been broken. Like he was wrapped in a blanket of Obi-wan, or his presence, or something. He vaguely registered Obi-wan telling Neat to continue. Obi-wan rested one hand on the side of Cody’s head, cradling his face, the other supporting the back of his head, and Cody let himself relax into the touch.

The pain was still there, in his leg, now moving up toward his hip, but it seemed…muted. He blinked up at Obi-wan, the picture of serenity.

Alright?

If he could have, Cody would have jumped at Obi-wan’s voice in his head. But it just seemed…natural.

Yes, he thought.

Sorry, I should have asked if this was okay. I was worried.

It’s okay. It’s…nice, actually.

Neat had reached his side now, the familiar cool feeling of bacta covering his thigh. One tug made Cody flinch, and the force-blanket pressed down a little tighter, like he was wrapped up in a bedroll.

The warm, safe feeling was still present all over, but it was starting to condense in one spot, right at the base of his skull, under Obi-wan’s finger. A little bright spot, almost like someone had turned on a light in his brain somehow. It felt right though, especially in his slightly woozy state, so Cody didn’t question it.

Obi-wan and Neat were talking above him, but Cody couldn’t quite make out the words. That was alright, he thought. They would take care of him. Obi-wan said something that almost looked like “sleep.”

A nap didn’t really sound bad. Maybe he’d just shut his eyes for a few minutes. Obi-wan smiled down at him.

I’ll be there when you wake up.

And he was. Everything back to normal. The blanket-feeling was gone. But if Cody really concentrated, he could still feel that little spark in the base of his skull. The little spark that felt like Obi-wan.

At this point, Cody wasn’t even surprised when he and Obi-wan were separated from the rest of the men during the battle. This time, it had been a strange feeling in the force that Obi-wan had insisted on following, leading them through a strange cave system in the middle of the gigantic jungle that may have once been a temple of some kind. It had allowed them to sneak behind enemy lines and take out the tactical droid, allowing the 212th to finish the battle with relative ease, however, the feeling had also gone away quickly after, and Cody was beginning to think Obi-wan did not, as he claimed, remember the way back.

“The left tunnel. I’m sure of it.”

“Are you sure we haven’t been this way before, sir?”

“I thought we agreed on first names when we were alone, Cody.” Obi-wan set off down the left tunnel.

Cody snorted, but followed him, helmet clacking against his thigh plate where it was clipped at his hip. “We did. However we are technically on duty, and you’re being a stubborn bantha. Sir.”

Obi-wan turned with an expression of mock outrage. “Me? Stubborn? My dear commander, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Have you no faith in me?”

He gestured in front of them, and sure enough, there was finally light at the end of the tunnel. Cody just shook his head, smiling.

They emerged into the massive, muggy jungle and Cody immediately booted up his comm and nav, which hadn’t been working in the caverns anyway. The map of the surface he had downloaded popped up, with the little orange beacon marking their base. Several kliks away.

“I thought we entered the caves just a klik from camp?”

Obi-wan frowned. “We did. Where are we now?”

Cody lifted his arm to show him. “You’re sure you didn’t get turned around in there?”

“Of course not, clearly the caves changed,” Obi-wan said primly. “Well, I suppose we could go back in.”

“Absolutely not. We are staying out here and following the route back. It’s the same distance, just with sunlight.”

They walked in companionable silence through the giant trees for a while, stopping every so often to check the map. They must have passed at least a dozen trees with trunks so wide Cody couldn’t see the other side before he broke the silence.

“Obi-wan, can I ask you something?” The other man nodded. “A little while back, when I was injured and you…helped Neat operate, I think something else might have happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“While you were…talking in my head, it started to feel like there was…a spot. A light? A little patch of warmth, right at the base of my skull. And afterwards, when I was out of bacta, it was still there. It is still there. At first I thought maybe it was something medical, but Neat scanned me again and said everything was normal. The more I thought about it, the more I tried to…interact with it, I guess, the more I realized…it feel like you. Like you inside my head somehow.”

Obi-wan looked pensive. “Fascinating.”

“Do you know what it is? It doesn’t feel harmful.”

They waded through a small stream, and Obi-wan offered Cody his hand to pull him up onto the far bank.

“In the Jedi Order, master and padawan pairs typically form a force bond. A link that lets them communicate directly with each other, often feel what the other is feeling, form a deeper relationship with that person. Usually, it’s only possible for someone force sensitive to form bonds.”

Cody pushed a branch out of their way as they climbed over some roots. He could see where this was going. “But clones aren’t force sensitive, so…that’s not what this is.”

Obi-wan hummed. “I’ve heard of a few rare exceptions. The force is in all things, Cody.”

After a few minutes, Cody worked up the courage to ask. “Do you feel anything? In your head?”

“It’s difficult to tell. I do feel quite strongly about you, but I can feel you externally in the force. I also have several other bonds. Anakin and I never fully dissolved our training bond, and I have a small bond with Ashoka as well. I have a different type of bond with Quinlan, and sometimes I can still feel the remains of my bond with Qui-gon. I suspect it would be easier to tell if we communicated through the force but you and I never seem to have the need,” he said, smiling gently at Cody.

Cody smiled back, and some of the anxiety he hadn’t even realized he was feeling melted away. He glanced down at his map. “Should be just over this ridge.”

They came over the top of the hill together, and Cody had to bite back a groan of frustration. In front of them was a downed tree, one of the super massive ones with the unimaginably wide trunks. The sun was going down. They didn’t have time to go around, and the trunk was so high Cody wasn’t sure they could climb over. His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution.

“Ah,” Obi-wan said, surveying the surrounding area. “I suppose we have to guess which was is shorter. We went left before, this time maybe we go—“

“Throw me.”

“I’m sorry?”

Cody grinned. “We go straight over. I run, and jump, and you throw me. Then you leap over after. We use the force.”

Obi-wan grinned back. “I don’t always say I believe in destiny, but surely Cody, you were sent to me straight from the force. Ready?”

Cody backed up, setting his stance. He was going to aim right for the center of the span of trunk in front of them. He nodded to Obi-wan, then took off running. Once he had reached top speed, he leapt into the air, and watched the trunk fly closer to his face until—

A warm, sweet smelling breeze, like freshly brewed tea swept him up, carrying him up, up, and over the trunk. He was so high the LAAT/is at the base below him looked like small animals, surrounded by swarms of tiny ant-troopers packing up to fly back to the Negotiator. Laughing, Cody did a somersault in the air as he flew over the tree, then spread his arms like he was parachuting and let the Obi-wan-wind carry him all the way to the ground, where he tumbled into the grass, still giddy.

A moment later, Obi-wan landed, cat-like, next to him, and helped him to his feet, laughing and pushing wind-swept hair out of his eyes.

“You’re right commander, that was much more fun than going around.”

+ 1

Cody crept through the hallway, blaster pointed ahead of him. A light flashed on his HUD, Boil checking in. Waxer was due in 5 minutes, then Wooley. They’d set up a rotating check in system as they fanned out to scour the seemingly abandoned ship they’d been sent to investigate. If you asked Cody, splitting up was just asking for trouble, especially since no one was with his trouble magnet of a general. But it was the quickest way to get them out of here, so he’d acquiesced.

Something rattled behind a door as he passed. He sighed, then pressed himself up against the wall, out of sight, and keyed the door open. Nothing jumped out, so he peeked around the corner.

It was a medium sized storage bay, and he was suddenly very thankful his door was obscured by crates, as he could hear vague voices coming from somewhere else in the room. The door slid silently shut behind him as he slipped in, trying to find a vantage point to see who was there through the crates.

He found a reasonably defendable spot in the corner and considered updating his men, but when he brought up his comm system it was like there was some sort of interference. Strange. No matter, they had his last location and his next check in was in only a few minutes, so someone would come join him eventually.

Through a gap in the crates, he could just make out two figures, one in a cloak and speaking to another cloaked figure who– oh. One figure, one hologram. Strange. They’d found no sign of crew aboard this vessel. He turned up his mic, trying to make out what they were saying.

“...plan has worked perfectly. They’ve already arrived,” the hologram was saying.

“Then they will soon be dead,” the other replied, and Cody’s blood ran cold. He suddenly had a very, very bad feeling about this mission. He knew that voice.

“I will leave you to your work.” The figure standing in the cargo bay removed her hood and knelt, confirming Cody’s suspicion.

Ventress.

Kriff. He had to get out of here, or signal his men, Obi-wan. He checked the time. His check in had passed two minutes ago, they’d be getting worried now. Slightly frantic, he tapped at his comm, willing it to work. What was the point of the kriffing antenna on his shoulder if he couldn’t get through? He remembered what Wolffe had looked like when he visited him in the med center after his encounter with Ventress. He couldn’t face her alone.

The crates surrounding him suddenly blasted away, leaving him exposed in his little corner. Cody looked up to find Ventress stalking straight towards him.

“Poor little clone, where did your friends go?”

Cody leapt to his feet, blaster already primed to shoot, when a wall of pure something slammed into him, forcing him to drop his blaster and throwing him against the wall behind him. Immediately he scrambled to get up, but Ventress threw one hand out, and a freezing cold vice closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground.

He clawed at the invisible grip, but there was nothing there. He choked, straining to get a breath, but it was pointless. She dragged him through the air, until he was just a few inches from her face. Cody’s bucket floated itself off his head, flying away and clattering to the ground somewhere. The pressure on his neck eased ever so slightly, and Cody sucked in as much air as he could before it tightened again.

“Aren’t you a handsome one?” Ventress crooned, tracing one fingernail down his scar in a grotesque facsimile of how Obi-wan sometimes did when– focus, Cody. “Now. As much as I’d love to just kill you and get on with it, you know what part of the ship our dear Kenobi is on, don’t you?”

Cody tried to jerk away from the clawed fingers tracing his temples, but found the ice cold vice had spread to his entire body. He could breathe now, barely, but he couldn’t move even a single muscle. It was nothing like when Obi-wan had used the force around him before. That was…gentle, personal, it felt safe. This was anything but. Never before had Cody understood the raw power force users had at their disposal. It wanted to rip him limb from limb. Fear gnawed at his stomach. If only his comm had worked–

“Somewhere in that head of yours, we just have to find it.”

In his head. That was it! Desperately, as Ventress bared her teeth, Cody reached for the last warm spot on his being– a force bond, Obi-wan had called it. HELP, he thought, OBI–

Pain like he had never felt erupted from his temples, and he vaguely registered Ventress laughing as twin ice picks drove themselves through his skull, behind his eyes, in his brain, in whatever it was inside him that made him, him.

Cody screamed, frozen in the air, no way to escape as she tore through his mind, looking for whatever it was she wanted, Cody couldn’t remember any more. There was only the freezing, burning pain.

It could have been hours, could have been minutes, but without warning, the pain stopped, and Cody found himself flying through the air and into the far wall. Pressure like a million duracrete bricks immobilized him a few feet off the ground, limbs splayed out like a pinned bug. Blinking the haze out of his eyes, he was confronted with two blurry forms whirling around the room; red and blue lights flashing. As his vision finally cleared he could make out Ventress, locked in combat with–

Thank the stars, Obi-wan. There was a fierce expression on his face as he met Ventress blow for blow. As Cody watched, Obi-wan glanced his way for a split second, then went back to the fight with renewed vigor. Unable to do anything, Cody found his eyes drifting shut.

He woke a short time later when he tumbled to the ground in a heap, the force holding him to the wall having vanished. Obi-wan was hurrying over to him from across the room, Ventress presumably having run away. Cody groaned.

“Full evac, effective immediately. I’ll meet you back at the ship with the commander,” Obi-was was saying into his comm, several tinny “yessirs” echoing out of it.

“Cody, are you alright?”

Cody carefully felt along his throat with one hand. “Fine, I think. How–” he grimaced. His body felt like one giant bruise. He was still freezing. “How did you find me?”

Obi-was smiled wanly. “You called. I suppose it is a force bond, and does work both ways, though I can think of several other ways we could have tested it without you being in mortal peril.”

“I’ll try to remember that for next time.”

Obi-wan shook his head, reaching one hand out to the side. Cody’s bucket flew into it like it was magnetized, and Obi-wan carefully fit it back over his head, then gently pulled him to his feet. Cody half-expected Obi-wan to call on the force and simply levitate him back to their ship, but instead he hefted Cody’s over his shoulder and wrapped his own around his waist. His other hand came up to support Cody’s chest.

Cody leaned into him as they trudged back to the ship, letting Obi-wan take a fair amount of his weight.

“For the record,” he said, “I like it much better when you’re the one throwing me around with the force.”

“Careful commander,” Obi-wan teased, raising an eyebrow, “If someone hears you say that they might get the wrong idea.”

Cody glared at him, and concentrated all his effort on lifting one arm to smack him lightly in the chest. Obi-wan laughed, and Cody felt the world slide back into place around him.

“But yes, Cody, I much prefer that also.”

#Coday #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #codywan #star wars #Star Wars fanfiction #star Wars fic #fan fiction

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