#watch fob seal

[ltwilliammowett]

Watch fob seal with amethyst intaglio bearing a depiction of a ship, early 19th century

Source

#naval art #naval artifacts #officer belongings #watch fob seal #early 19th century #age of sail

[ladycamillewrites]

𝕯𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑'𝖘 𝕭𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖙

∙ Thomas Sharpe x f!reader

𝖆/𝖓: written for @springdandelixn ‘s spring sleepover project. Happy Birthday darling 🖤

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: 18+ dark fic!! non/dub-con smut, Crimson Peak ghosts, forced marriage, manipulation, y/n held hostage

“Lucille?” 

“Over here my dear. Look at the foxes hiding in the northern flower meadows” her voice lured you towards the great dining hall. Allerdale Hall was huge, almost as big as your fathers country estate but with way more pretty wildlife around. 

To hell with your father’s sick hunting-addiction. Your studies were more important and surely the more peaceful.

Rushing over to join your friend at the window, your eyes instantly widened in joy at the sight of a vixen with two cubs. They seemed overly entertained by the growing flowers while the mother had her hands full with watching her boisterous offspring.

“They are incredibly adorable, are they not?“ You chirped, barely able to suppress your excitement about the spring season here in Scotland.

Thanks to Lucille and her brother Thomas you were invited to spend as much time as you wanted in the mansion of your friend you once got to know at your families annual garden festivities. Someone brought Lucille along and well, the spark of sympathy was instantly lit. 

You’ve known her for quite a while. Two wonderful years regarding the regular letters and many visits. 

If there only wasn’t Thomas Sharpe; the unfairly fine baronet who always watched you from the shadows with his oceanic orbs shining like the full moon. The hunger in his eyes elicited a cocktail of fear, submission and unexplainable arousal. 

Most improper things. 

However, it was wedding season and your father might wanted to introduce you to some gentlemen when you’d be back. Hoping you would finally agree to marriage. It was a gift and a curse at the same time to be allowed to pick your husband yourself. 

Though, you were curious whether Thomas had found a fiancé.

“Tomorrow we will spot the grey seals at the bay, I’m most certain of it” Lucille smiled patting your shoulder before she weaves past your body.

The smell of Bergamot invaded your nostrils as you looked after your friend, unsure about the reason of her back-off. 

It was Thomas donning an emerald vest with a puffy white shirt underneath, the gold fob watch on proud display. It shone equally as mysterious as those almond eyes.

“How is the wedding season going for you so far, darling?“ He purred, chin hoisted when you opened your silent mouth, unsure about what to reply.

“I- I, erm my father, luckily, allows me to decide when I wish to get married“ you began, watching in awe as his eyes narrowed, knuckles crackling as he pressed them together in a silent predatory display.

Lucille stepped back in your sight, smiling richly to coax whatever your final answer was. The siblings looked not too alike, you noticed as your eyes tried to hold on to something other than Thomas’ expectant demeanor.

“-and also whom. But I rather wait until next year since I am deeply invested in my studies of northern wildlife“ you finished with a meek smile, hoping that your explanation would suffice. Lucille herself wasn’t married although she was older than you and already exceeded the marriageable age. 

Fresh confusion was written all across your face as Thomas nodded at his sister, took a small black box from her and approached you with black leather boots hitting the dull parquet. Nervous, you tugged a strand of hair behind your ear, gaze shifting to squint at the flowering poppies bathing in the dazzling sun.

However, you flinched when the baronet suddenly cleared his throat, attractive bone structure directed at you when he opened the box, drawing your attention. “Would you do me the honor then, y/n?“ His baritone resounded against the old walls of his mansion, leaving your heart miss a beat in utter shock. 

Not knowing where to put your hands, you clasped them together, trembling fists resting in front of your heavy chest. “Thomas, I- I don’t know what to say that comes all so…abruptly“ your stammer sounded rueful, yet reasonably composed and bewaring the appropriate courtesy.

Again, anxious eyes flickered over to Lucille, her face suddenly all darkened with a thousand words of diktat sitting on her tongue. Where was your friend gone? The woman who told you about the different groups of deer visiting her gardens?

“Your father would surely be content with closer business relations, wouldn’t he?“ Thomas said sternly, leaving you no metaphorical room to breathe with the only relevant leverage held against you. You would most certainly do anything for the man you loved most. And Thomas knew.

Forcing an awkward smile, your trembling hand reached out to carefully close the box with the ring that would grant his owner the title of Lady Sharpe. “Please, do not take this as an insult because it most certainly is not“ Tomas' piercing gaze darted up to meet yours “But I would prefer to wait until the next season as I don’t yet feel ready for such a momentous step“. 

Silence. 

Scoffing, Thomas turned away from you, the cool scent of him blew in your direction from the brusque move.

Serious unease started to settle in your veins, poisoning your brain with the carnal urge for freedom. To breathe fresh air. Alone. At least for a moment.

“Excuse me…“ you whispered, sweaty fingertips raising the skirt of your dress to make your way down the stairs.

“Don’t you think my machines would be of great use in your father’s gold mines overseas?“ The deep pitch got you to stop and pause. Your own agitated breathing the only thing audible in the huge dining room as you failed to spot Lucille.

There was only Thomas, his ocean blue orbs glinting across his shoulder as he desultorily looked back at you. “Thomas, I beg you. This was by no means a rejection. I’m just asking you for some time to finish my studies“. Your voice was reduced until every word sounded like a plea.

The self-confident woman had already left Allerdale Hall, it seemed. 

“I suggest you re-think your choice, darling“ he purred with a freeze like a winter storm, cold thrills descending your vertebrae. You didn’t dare to move nevertheless, muscles tense and ready to run. “Either that or you won’t ever leave this house“.

And you ran, muttering an unnecessary “Apologies“ as hasty legs carried you towards the staircase. That was when you started to notice a darkness, watching the curtains being pulled closed as if by witchcraft. 

Panic spread in your system, hands clasped onto the handle as you hurled yourself down the stairs. “Don’t leave“ a jarring voice breathed, causing you to stop mid-stairs, your head turning in slow motion. You did not want to know who else was living in this house right now however, the voice pierced straight into your consciousness. 

Gasping like a child fearing death you stared into the crimson face of what seemed like a ghost, slender limbs blocking the nearby window. With a cry you turned around, pacing downwards to the main door only to cry out harder when a second one of those horrific creatures blocked.

“Staaayyyyy“ they breathed in a terrific choir, filling your face with naked horror.

“I- I’m going to d-die. I’m going to be killed by ghosts“ you muttered, a stressed out brain trying everything to come up with a way out.

Turning on the spot like a cursed ballerina in a music box, you eventually spotted a single door that wasn’t yet blocked by those red, howling creatures. An exit you prayed when shaking hands twisted the doorknob. 

Slamming the heavy wooden door shut behind you, your head dropped against it with an echoing thud. Candle light flickered behind you, a large, elaborately designed closet was the only thing you were able to locate when hurling in. 

You were alone. In safety.

“I wasn’t jesting earlier, my dear“ an amused chuckle found your ears, the unique baritone making it past the rushing sound of hot blood in your head.

Thomas.

Panting heavily, you turned around, body too wasted to step back out and face those living nightmares again.

The tall, lean figure of the baronet stepped out of the shadows, a smug smirk resting on his thin lips. He looked handsome in candle light, you mused, burned out and incapable of summoning more fear. 

“What- What are they?“ You asked instead, slowly stepping backwards, deeper into the room that turned out to be a regal bedroom. Those suffering moans resounding against the wood were too much while their ugly image ghosted around in your head.

Clicking his tongue, Thomas started to circle you like a starved shark, stern eyes traveling your spent body. “Ghosts. And they shall only be obedient to the Sharpes“. 

“Let me go, please. I swear I won’t tell a word about this curse“ you pleaded, feeling dizzy from following the spheroid course of Thomas steps. 

“It is only to be felt as a curse as long as you are not my wife. Therefore I shall ask again before my courtesy is the next thing to turn crimson“ he spat, every syllable weirdly monotonous, unfitting the usual behavior of the fine baronet. He felt like a changed man, even looked different with onyx curls splattered across his forehead instead of being neatly combed back. 

You swallowed hard, gathering the boldness to state your point of view one last time, hoping he would somehow understand. Whyever he should now.

“Thomas, I cannot deny that you’re a handsome man of honor and overly gentlemanly but I beg you to rather propose next year“.

Watching his eyes fall shut and theatrically reopen as if drenched in pitch, you felt your hands and feet turn cold, any signs of a happy ending rusting and crumbling.

Frozen, you endured his approach, potent hands gripping your shoulders. At first gentle but then he turned you around swiftly, forcing your terrified eyes to stare at the door. Resistance was in vain.

“Oh darling, I’m afraid my friends would miss you so terribly that they cannot wait for a promised return that’s worth nothing more than hollow words“ he whispered in your ear, leaning so close that his chin brushed your temple. 

A wicked grin spread on Thomas’ face as he felt you writing underneath his grip, whining like a child as crimson arms reached through the tiny gap at each side of the door. “Thomas, please stop“. “Think of only how content your father would be to have the source of revolutionary machines in his family, huh?“.

And you yielded, screwing your eyes shut as you screamed what he wanted to hear so desperately. “ Alright, I will marry you“.

Instantly, the grip around your shoulder blades softened, transformed in a weirdly pleasant caress. “Good girl“ Thomas cooed from behind, blithely watching the goosebumps paint your pale neck. “Now give me your hand“.

Reluctantly you turned, reaching out to the emerald fabric of his open hanging vest only for him to slap away your hand. A venomous gaze stiffened your back, twitching brows wordlessly forcing you to correct your mistake.

Now offering your left hand, the adequate one, he grabbed it, making it look ridiculously small as he slipped a heavy ruby ring on your finger. 

You paused to stare at it, sick of the realization you had lost a year of juvenile freedom to a sinister, fine baronet. Under duress, not voluntarily.

“May I leave now? I need to apprise my father of this... well, situation“ you spoke again, the bitterness of a intertwined ‘are you happy now?’ swinging within your tone. But Thomas only chuckled, freeing himself of the vest to toss it on the fur carpet. 

“Do you truly think of me as this imbecile, my darling fiancé?“ the last word hit you with the force of a southern coal train. 

Shaking your head in a broken submission, your promptly tried to adjust your words, letting you sound more trustworthy. But the chance was long gone, rotten like the ghosts lurking behind the door. It glued your mouth shut instead. 

Slowly he stepped closer, reaching behind your back as you felt long digits loosen your beige corset. “You think of this marriage as nothing but a business deal“ he began, hot air from his voodooed lungs meeting your sweaty cleavage. Biting your lips you stayed silent, more or less eager for his continuation.

“Well, in fact it is so much more. You are the most gorgeous woman I ever laid eyes on, y/n. You will bear me beautiful heirs to my title“. Your heart contracted violently, fighting against the choice your helpless mind had made. The irrevocable choice forcing you to actually step in the role of a faithful wife. 

“I- what? What are you doing?“ You stammered, trying to hold on to the heavy fabric of your dress as it started to slide down your shoulders, threatening to leave you in only undergarments. 

Growling like a wolf, the baronet gritted his teeth when annoyed hands pulled it out of your grasp. “Please“ you whined, covering yourself with two quivering arms while you knew damn well that your fate was sealed. “You shan’t never hide what’s to be mine. Understood?“ He barked however, silent and graceful while hasty hands unbuckled his black breeches. 

Slowly, swallowing your pride, you let your arms hang down, eyes fixated on the flickering candle behind your fiancé. You would tell him to order more of them, you thought, they smelled nice. 

“Now, this cock won’t suck itself“.

Disbelieving, widened eyes darted back at him, insecurity smeared all across your face like neon lotion. 

Thomas’ brow was raised, his potent jaw bobbed forward in bloody impatience. “Once I had you, no other man will ever touch you. I’m just making sure my fiancé won’t renegade on her promise“ he stated as sober as well water, the poison within a stark black swirl. 

Succumbing to your fate, you dropped to your knees, staring at his manhood that twitched in lusty anticipation. “I- I’ve never…“ you mumbled, awkwardly curling your fingers around the hot shaft. He was huge, bigger than your housemaid had told you men were. 

You didn’t know whether his sympathy for you was feigned or not as Thomas told you how to wrap your lips around the tip and use your tongue to bring him satisfaction until he would thrust into your mouth.

And how you should let him.

Then you began to pleasure him, swallowing hot saliva around his wide girth until you heard him moan and grunt above you, blueish veins straining his neck when his head lolled back. It was a sinful sound, radiating pure masculinity and drenching your panties, if you wanted it to or not. 

Thomas was incredibly handsome, you couldn’t deny his charms. So you gave in trying to focus on breathing as he started to fuck your mouth. Knuckles turned white from the strong grip around the edge of the bed when wolfish growls and curses left his parted lips. 

You felt torn as he suddenly pulled out, hand still buried in your hair to yank you back on your feet. “No“ you babbled, feeling the burn of your scalp wandering down to infect your gut. You were not ready for what was to come. 

“What was that, pet?“ 

“I- I don’t want to“ your whisper felt pathetic. “You do not wish to be a good, obedient wife?“ Thomas hissed through gritted teeth, the blue in his eyes drowning you like a relentless ocean, features sharpened by the candle light. 

Dragging his face in a faux pout the sinister baronet mocked you “I assumed you wanted to see the grey seals tomorrow, darling. We could go together…“ he purred, gradually lowering you onto the duvet of his big bed. “Would my pretty fiancé like that?“.

You stared in his eyes, biting the inside of your cheek until a taste of copper was the product of your fear. “I’d love that, Thomas“ you forced yourself to say, nails digging in the red fabric gathered by your sides. 

A content smile curled his lips before a strong knee pressed between your legs, unfazed by any resistance. “If you are good for me…we’ll go“ he snarled, sliding back down to hook a finger in the waistband of your panties, the undergarment ripping in no time under his swift pull. 

Gasping, your upper body shot up, protesting against the man who stared at your naked cunt as if it was a box of gems he craved to possess and lock behind metal doors. “Thomas, please don’t“ a whine that erupted directly form your heart left him entertained, ignorant fingertips spreading your lips. 

“As I said, darling. Without some kind of assurance, words are rendered nothing but mere sounds“. 

“But why does it have to be like that?“

A big hand came closer as he crawled back up, pressing against your breasts to keep you glued to the mattress. New terror was born in your eyes, fading into absent-mindedness as you felt him drag his cock along your fold, chuckling to himself. 

He would take me either way you thought, trying to accept the burden that was the title of Lady Sharpe. You would have happily married him.

Next year though.

“Fuck, look at you. All wet like a whore yet so innocent“ you frowned at his words, eyes screwed shut to await the inevitable intrusion. “Please be gentle“ you heard yourself mutter, shocked by the taste of complete submission on your tongue. 

“Ah, ah! Eyes on me. I want to watch you as I make you my wife“ Thomas demanded, dropping on his elbow, needy cock lined up with your pussy. The tingle of his loose curls against your collarbone was a poor distraction to the fiery burn as he breached you, growling at the dark of his chamber. 

It felt unlike anything you had ever imagined, the thick ridges of his big cock stretching you beyond your limits.

Whining underneath him, palms pressed against the puffy shirt, lips begged him to pause until he did. “G-Gods… you feel p-perfect. So tight“ his husky moans were needles pricking your cheek as you felt him twitch inside you, the moment of pause weirdly fading the pain into pleasure. 

Until he pulled out, hips slapping against your ass when he began to pound into you, mercy far beneath his carnal needs. “Thomas, I- I can’t“ you whimpered silently, staggered breaths interrupting your senseless plea.

But he didn’t say a word, instead biting his rosy lip from the sheer pleasure your hesitant body bestowed on him. He looked feral, the collected, analyzing baronet who used to make nice business with your dad now hidden behind a black out curtain.

Darkness engulfed you when the candle finally died, leaving Thomas the only thing to hold onto in the cursed mansion that was now yours.

And so you did, clawing your nails in your fiancé’s muscular back, praying for the candle to be magically lit up again. To have mercy on your heart while Thomas’ relentless cock blanketed your body in unfamiliar ecstasy until he came, spilling his hot seed deep inside your core what forced you to followed him, chanting his name in your own crimson peak. 

tags (feel free to ignore if it's not your genre) : @coldnique @gigglingtigger @muddyorbs @gigglingtigger @smolvenger @toozmanykids @lokisgoodgirl @simplyholl

#crimson peak fic #springdandelixn's sleepover #thomas sharpe x yn #thomas sharpe x f!reader #thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe smut #dark!fic #non/dub-con! #fanfic writing #read warnings #18+

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Two)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: As Act One progresses, you'll notice the time skips between chapters get a little bigger. These guys have an eight year relationship and it would take me forever to write out the entirety of it lmao. The point of Act One is to give you insight into their relationship so you understand for Act Two.

The inspiration for this story was the prologue and Act One was never supposed to be as big as it got. I just wanted to lay a foundation for their relationship and got reeeeal carried away lololol In my opinion, the real meat of this story is Act Two. The whole of Act One is just a build up lmaooo

Placebo - Special K

Coming up beyond belief On this coronary thief More than just the leitmotif More chaotic, no relief

I'll describe the way I feel Weeping wounds that never heal Can the savior be for real Or are you just my seventh seal?

No hesitation, no delay You come on just like Special K Just like I swallowed half my stash And never ever wanna crash No hesitation, no delay You come on just like Special K Now you're back with dope demand I'm on sinking sand

Gravity, no escaping Gravity Gravity, no escaping Not for free I fall down, hit the ground Make a heavy sound Every time you seem to come around

They walked down the street, his apartment building luckily on the road the bus stop was on so they didn't need to go far. He fished his fob out, holding it up to the scanner and hearing it beep to signal the door was open. He watched her as she glanced around, wonder on her face as if she was impressed by the foyer as he led her to the lift. Didn't want her trudging up four flights of stairs. 

“This is so… swanky,” she murmured, an amused smile on her face as she looked at him.

“It's alright,” he shrugged as he pressed the button for the lift. He knew it was nice, much nicer than his childhood home. He didn't think it was too fancy though. Wasn’t some fucking penthouse in the middle of the city centre. 

“It’s more than alright, Simon…” she scoffed, “it’s probably best we came here and not my place,” she added and when he looked at her, she had a guarded look on her face that made his brows furrow. He didn't like it. The doors to the lift opened and he led her inside, pressing four and watching the door close.

“Love… you could live in a council house in the middle of Moss Side and I wouldn't judge you for it. I grew up in fuckin’ Gorton, for fuck sake,” he muttered as he squeezed her hand. He didn't need her thinking he was some stuck up snob when he was far from it. She smiled then, raising a brow at him.

“It's not that bad,” she snorted and he felt himself relax as she seemed to lighten up again. “It's just a small studio thing. It's above a florist’s, makes the rent cheaper. I work at Cafe Metro in town, doesn’t exactly equal great pay,” she explained softly, looking a little self conscious. He knew the cafe she talked about. It was opposite the Arndale centre and he’d passed it a fair few times. He tugged her closer, nuzzling the side of her head and relishing in the light laugh that he caused. 

“Maybe you should show me sometime,” he murmured hesitantly, unsure how she’d react to suggesting seeing her again when they hadn't even fucked yet. Instead of recoiling or making a comment to refute him, she smiled brightly as her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

“We’ll see if you get sick of me yet,” she smirked but he saw something flash behind her eyes and he wondered if she’d briefly thought of her piece of shit ex. He had every plan to make her fucking forget his name by the end of the night.

“Don’t think I'd ever get sick of you, sweetheart,” he admitted, unsure why he even told her when he couldn't quite understand his own feelings. He'd known her less than an hour yet he felt like he’d known her a lifetime. The resulting smile from her made everything worth it. It was the kind of smile that stopped the world turning. The kind of smile that caused men to go to fucking war. He was doomed and he wasn't even mad about it. 

The door opened with a ding and he led her once again out of the lift and down the corridor to apartment 4F. He turned the key in the lock, hands shaking with anticipation as he led her in. This wasn’t like him at all, he wasn’t the type to fucking tremble at the thought of touching a woman. It struck him then that he’d never invited anyone to his apartment other than Tommy, Beth and his mum. He’d never brought a girl back here because he could hardly sneak out at first light if he fucking lived here. 

It felt right though, bringing her here and he watched with some hesitance as she looked around and took it in. He felt a little self conscious then. He didn't have much, the bare essentials and since he was off with the Army a lot, it looked slightly unlived in. It didn't help that he was a neat freak, cleanliness being instilled in him from the military. There were a few items though that meant things to him. The quilted blanket his mother had made him that was thrown over the back of the couch, the pictures of Tommy, Beth and his mum around on the walls. The newest addition was a scan of Tommy and Beth’s baby that was tacked to his fridge by a magnet in the shape of an army tank. 

His eyes were glued on her as she took it all in, wandering over to the couch and touching the quilted blanket with a little smile on her face. It was made of black and camo squares. She turned her eyes to him then and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He wasn't used to this. 

“You want a drink or anythin’?” he asked, wondering what he even had in his fridge since he wasn't expecting company. She fluttered a smile at him as she shook her head, sauntering over to him looking like a fucking angel that fell from heaven just for him. She stopped in front of him, toying with the hem of his jumper as he looked down at her. 

“I just want you,” she purred, batting her lashes all innocent like and it did him in. He grabbed her face, crashing his lips to hers with such ferocity that she squeaked and grabbed him to find purchase. 

He felt like he couldn't get close enough as his hands wandered, one splaying over her back and pressing her body flush with his. The other hand slipped over her curves, loving how the silky dress aided him in his exploration. Her body was fucking something else, he couldn’t get enough of her delicious curves and her tiny waist. His wandering hand slipped up her hip, running up her ribs before they cupped her breast. He felt her nipple hardening, confirming his stray thought that she wasn't wearing a bra and he moaned as his thumb brushed over the hardened peak through the fabric. 

She mewled into the kiss, such a cock hardening noise that he growled, grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands settled on her arse as she giggled into the kiss. He moved into the bedroom, setting her carefully on the bed as he regretfully separated from her. 

She watched with heavy lidded eyes as he knelt on the floor in front of her, unlacing her boots and tugging them off one at a time. She had a look on her face as if she wasn't used to being taken care of like this and he found himself wanting to do it more often. He wanted to take care of her, make her happy, make her content. Once the boots were off, he tugged her socks off, making her smile as he stuffed them in her boots so they wouldn't get lost. He watched her from his spot on the floor, hands smoothing up her silky soft legs and his eyes were glued to hers. When he got near the side of her knee, she jerked her legs with a giggle and he found himself smiling. 

“Ticklish, love?” he asked ruefully and she pouted playfully at him.

“Maybe,” she smiled and he placed a kiss at the spot, making her giggle again.

He stood up, pulling her to her feet before his hands grabbed the hem of her dress. He allowed his hands to slide up her curves, grabbing the dress up with it. His hands bunched into the fabric as it got to her waist and he pulled it up, revealing more and more of creamy alabaster skin to his hungry eyes. He pulled the satin over her head and dropped it on the floor, eyes glued to her. 

She stood there in nothing but a black pair of lacy french knickers and his cock was throbbing at the sight. He could see more of her ink now. She had what looked to be flowers poking out from her underwear on the left hip bone and some words along the inside of her left arm at the top. He couldn’t wait to get a closer look. She blinked up at him, a shy look on her face that the animal inside of him preened at. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, love,” he murmured with a rough voice, thick from his desperate arousal. She flushed, a smile curling her lips and he kissed her again, slowly this time as he allowed his hands to wander her body, feeling her bare skin against his rough hands. He groped her thighs again, hoisting her up once more before moving over to the bed. He crawled onto it before depositing her on her back, head on the pillows with her hair fanned out like a halo around her head. He leaned down, grabbing her hands and putting them above her head, lacing his fingers with hers and being mindful of her sore arm that still had his bandana around it. His eyes trailed curiously to the words on her skin, seeing some kind of quote. 

‘Since I was born I started to decay. 

Now nothing ever-ever goes my way’. 

He wondered what it was from, maybe from a book or song lyrics, wondered if he’d get the chance to ask her one day when they weren’t too preoccupied. He nuzzled the side of her face, loving how her breathing picked up and she arched at him. He kissed her cheek, trailing kisses down her jaw.

“Safeword love,” he murmured. He wasn’t really planning on going too far with her today, his main focus was just to prove he could get her off. He hoped there would be many more times for him to explore all the wonderfully sinful things she wanted to get up to. 

“Um… uh…” she stuttered, breathing laboured as his kisses trailed to her neck and he smirked into her skin. “Donuts,” she replied, sounding confused and aroused all at the same time and it just made him chuckle against her neck. He nipped at her then, ripping a moan from her that hit him right in the dick.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked huskily and she nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered and he groaned before biting the delicate skin and sucking on it. She squirmed with a desperate moan and he loved how wanton she was being. He moved away, admiring his handiwork as a bruise was already forming on her pretty little neck. 

Giving her a wicked smirk, he moved off her and stood up, grabbing his jumper and practically ripping it over his head. She watched him with rapt interest in her eyes and it made him feel good. She didn't take her eyes off him as he undid his jeans and tugged them off, leaving himself in his boxers before he crawled back on the bed. He settled between her legs, allowing her to feel just what she did to him as his hard cock pressed up against her wanting cunt and she gasped, hands gripping his waist. 

Her reactions to him were intoxicating, made him feel like he was the most powerful man on the fucking planet. He’d never been one to drag this out, never knew it could feel so good. Just like how he’d never been interested in kissing before. It always felt far too intimate for his liking and yet now, he couldn't get enough of it.

“Ready to have your mind blown?” he asked with a sinful smirk and she flashed him an impish smile as her hands smoothed up his back, causing him to hum softly. 

“Still overconfident, then?” she smiled, looking all pretty for him as she blinked her long dark lashes at him. 

His smirk widened into something predatory as he moved away to kneel between her legs, hands trailing over her soft body as he went. He was settled between her parted thighs then and he toyed with the lacy fabric of her knickers, watching as she stared at him with wide eyes. He hooked his fingers into the fabric, slowly dragging them down her legs and finally getting a peak at the flowers. They were roses, three black ones and one yellow that stood out from all the rest. 

He manoeuvred her legs until he chucked the knickers on the floor carelessly, his large hands going to her knees to part her legs that were now trying to close in front of him. He pried them apart, knowing she was feeling somewhat bashful by the slight resistance he felt and by the blush that swept up her entire body. He let out a delighted groan at the sight of her glistening pussy once it was bared to him and he felt his mouth water. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. That all for me?” he rasped, eyes finally leaving her soaked cunt to look at her. She had this awed look on her face and he hadn’t even touched her yet, but it made a fire ignite inside of him. She nodded and while part of him wanted to chide her to use her words again, he was far too desperate to touch her. 

Teasingly, he dragged his fingers through her soaked folds and she let out a startled gasp, body tensing up in anticipation. She was more than soaked, pretty little thing was more touch starved than him it seemed and he couldn't wait to end her torment for her. 

He slowly started circling her clit, eyes darting between where he was touching her and her face, watching her lips part with little moans and feeling how she writhed against his hand. She was a sight to behold like this, he didn't think he’d seen anything more beautiful and he felt honoured to be the one making her feel that way. 

He slid his fingers down, sinking one into her and his pleased moan got drowned out by the sinful noise she made, her back bowing a little. She was so tight, wet and warm around just one of his fingers, he started to worry he might not fucking fit in her. He eased a second finger inside, feeling her tighten at the intrusion and moan softly, her eye fluttering shut as her head angled back on the pillow. She was a picture of ecstasy and he felt like he’d barely touched her yet. 

He started fucking her with his fingers and he was helpless against the rapt attention she demanded of him in her pleasure. One of her hands bunched in the sheets under her, the other clutching his wrist in a death grip. He found a rhythm she liked, one that had her thighs trembling beside him as sweet little moans left her lips. 

Without moving his hand, he leaned over her, propping himself with a hand beside her head as he stared down at her. His thumb started rubbing against her clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of her and she let out a keening moan, eyes flying open.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. Her pupils were blown wide, he could barely see the blue anymore. “I-I…” her words trailed off into incoherent noises that bounced off the walls. He was pretty sure the whole apartment building would be able to fucking hear her and he wouldn’t be shocked if someone called the police on him, thinking he was committing a murder. He’d never had someone so responsive before and his entire body fed off it. It felt like a drug to him, hearing those noises he was causing, seeing her blissed out face. Her moans got higher in pitch and more frequent, her cunt fluttering around his fingers and telling him she was close.

“That’s it, Charlotte. Cum for me,” he purred, feeling like he needed it almost as much as she did. Those words seemed to snap something inside of her and she let out a hoarse cry, her back arching harshly as she shattered around him. He felt her tighten impossibly around his fingers as he eased her through it, her whole body seizing up before it relaxed and the look on her face was fucking delicious. Totally fucked out. He stilled his hand, not wanting to overstimulate her too much given he still had plans for her. 

He watched her lay there blissfully for a moment, eyes shut and a serene look on her face. She looked like an angel.

“You alright there, love?” he asked with a wry smirk and her eyes fluttered open. Her face was flushed but she gave him a radiant smile.

“I think I might be dead,” she replied with a grin and he snorted at her.

“Sorry about that,” he remarked and her grin widened.

“Don't be. At least I died happy,” she sighed dreamily. He slowly eased his fingers out of her, making her gasp a little. His eyes darted to his fingers, coated with her and he brought them to his mouth without a thought. He sucked them clean with a groan. Fuckin’ hell, she tasted good. He didn’t get to go down on someone often since he was the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type, liked it dirty and quick to get it over with. But he had a desperate need to put his mouth on her cunt and it had been in his head since they'd been back at the bus stop and he promised to get three orgasms out of her. 

When he looked down at her, she was watching him with wide eyes. Her cheeks were dusted with pink but something flared in her eyes that made him smirk wickedly at her as he finished cleaning his fingers off. He leaned down, capturing her lips and forcing her to taste herself. She melted under him, small hands smoothing up his chest as she kissed him back. She was so warm and pliant under him like this and he loved it. He broke the kiss to kiss along her jaw and to her ear, his still clothed bulge rubbing against her pussy that was so soaked, his boxers were getting damp.

“One down, two more to go, yeah?” he asked devilishly, making her squirm as he started kissing down her neck and then her chest. She blinked at him, watching as he grabbed one of her breasts, latching around the nipple with no warning. She let out a loud moan, hand flying to his head, fingers digging into his hair. 

It had grown out a little since his last deployment but he lamented that it wasn't long enough for her to really grab. He thought he’d like it. He sucked on her nipple for a short moment before moving to give the other one the same treatment. Couldn't be playing favourites now, could he? When he had her a squirming mess again, he felt satisfied to continue his journey. He placed kisses down the delicate flesh of her stomach, moving lower and lower.

“Wait!” she called out, making him still instantly. He lifted his head from where he was, devastatingly close to where he wanted to be the most. He wouldn't continue if she wanted to stop though, no matter how gutted he’d be about it.

“What is it?” he asked carefully, running quickly through his head for something he could have done to make her uncomfortable.

“I just… no one’s ever… you know…” she stuttered, gesturing her head to him and what he was clearly on his way to do. He blinked dumbly at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing a little.

“Seriously? I’m startin’ to question your taste in men, love,” he tutted, shaking his head. He shouldn’t be suprised her arsehole ex didn’t go down on her, but he was shocked it hadn't happened even once, even someone else. Something primal surged in his chest at the idea of having this first with her.

“Got you in bed in under an hour, didn't I?” she asked cheekily and it startled a chuckle out of him. She was something else, this one. 

“You're a cheeky bitch, you know that?” he asked, raising a brow at her with a fond smile on his face. Can't say he'd ever had an exchange like this during sex before. She gave him a wide grin that made his heart beat all funny in his chest.

“You like it though,” she countered and he shrugged, because it wasn't a lie. 

“You want me to stop?” he asked her, getting serious for a moment. She nibbled her lower lip and shyly shook her head.

“No, but… do you even want to? You won't hate it?” she asked him, a small frown marring her features. 

“Why would I hate it?” he asked in confusion, not sure what had given her that impression.

“Well… Ethan always said-” she started but he cut her off swiftly.

“Don’t say his fuckin’ name, not here,” he growled and her eyes widened, mouth snapping shut. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, so fucking possessive like that, but the idea of her uttering that arsehole’s name in his fucking bed made his blood turn to lava in his veins. Shouldn’t have been fucking shocked that the tosser probably told her he didn’t like going down on a woman, probably didn’t like the taste or some other stupid shit. He wanted to punch him. 

“I’m sorry, that was bad etiquette,” she huffed, covering her face with her hands but not before he saw her red cheeks from the embarrassment. “I just… I’ve never had to do this before, I’ve only ever been with one person. I’m ruining it,” she lamented, her voice slightly muffled from her hands. 

Something tugged in his chest at her words and he moved over her again, one hand propped against her head as the other gently pried her hands away from her face. She wouldn’t look him in the eye and it made him frown. 

“You’re not ruinin’ it, love. I wanna do this, I’ll enjoy it,” he tried to reassure her. She finally looked at him, eyes darting over his face worriedly.

“Are you sure? I don't wanna be a bother,” she frowned and the tugging in his chest got worse. That absolute fucker, Simon was gonna cave his face in if he ever saw him. Making her feel like some kind of burden to take care of. Taking what he wanted from her and leaving her high and dry. Making her feel like her needs weren’t important. 

“Just let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he implored, leaning down and rubbing the tip of his nose against hers affectionately. Her breathing hitched a little, hands splaying on his chest again as she closed her eyes. She seemed to like the little affectionate touch from him and he stored that away for later. She finally nodded and he smiled, happy he’d eased her worries. She had no use for them here, not with him. 

He moved back down her body, settling on his stomach between her parted thighs and he licked his lower lip at the sight. Despite the hitch they’d had in his plans, she was still sopping wet and he smoothed his hands up her soft thighs. He could see her breathing ragged, her hands by her sides, clutching the sheets she lay on. 

He placed a kiss on her thigh, enjoying the soft noise she made when he did. He was overwhelmed by so much being with her like this. She smelt divine. Not just the slick he’d caused but the smell of her skin. He felt like he was getting drunk off her as he kissed and nipped his way up her thigh, sucking on one area to leave a mark behind. She gasped and her hand went back to his head, her body wriggling on the bed a little. He hummed at the sight of the blooming mark, feeling satisfied with it as he continued his trail upwards. 

When he finally got to her cunt, he wasted no time, his patience well and truly thin. He gave her a long lick from her entrance to her clit and she let out a keening moan. He lapped at her clit for a moment, loving how she squirmed against his face before he latched onto it. 

“Simon!” she cried out desperately and he moaned against her, suckling harder at the little bundle of nerves as her body bucked and bowed. How neglected had this poor little pussy been? He hooked his arms around her thighs to keep her in place, sucking on her like a man starved as she gasped and moaned loudly, without care. She started chanting his name like some fervent prayer and he felt himself get lightheaded from the sensation, never thinking his name had sounded so fucking good. 

It didn’t take long to bring her to her second orgasm and he almost came himself at the noise she made, could hardly stop himself from rutting against the fucking bed to find some friction. He moved away from her, licking his lips greedily before kneeling back up to look at her. She had that blissed out look on her face again and a smug smirk tugged at his lips at the sight. 

“Ready for three?” he asked mischievously and she cracked her eyes open, blinking at him slowly. 

“I think you might have fucked the bones out of me. I’m not sure I can move,” she whined playfully and he chuckled. 

“You're doin’ wonders for my ego, sweetheart,” he grinned and she laughed lightly, looking at him with warm eyes. He moved to pull his boxers off then, shuffling himself out of them and tossing them somewhere. Her eyes drifted down to his painfully hard cock and they widened, darting back to his face.

“Will that even fit?” she asked incredulously and another chuckle rumbled in his chest. She really was doing wonders for his fucking ego. He moved to grab a condom out of the bedside drawer, tearing the wrapper open.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” he drawled, an impish smile on his face as he rolled the condom on and moved back to hover over her, propped up with one arm. 

His other hand grasped his throbbing cock and the excitement that ran through him was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He rubbed the tip around her soaked entrance, gathering her slick, and he moaned softly. She already felt so fucking good and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. He idly wondered how she’d feel without the barrier of a condom. 

Her breathing was heavy, lips parted with desire shining through her blue hues at him. He locked eyes with her as he slowly started to push in and she gasped, hands digging into his shoulders as he let out a noise suspiciously like a whine. Fuck him sideways, she was so fucking tight. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought she was a fucking virgin. It was taking all of his self restraint not to just shove his cock into her until he was in all the way and he resorted to pulling out before dipping back in, pushing himself ever so slightly further to ease her open to him. She didn't look like she was in pain so he kept at it, pushing in a little further after pulling out each time. On the last one, they both let out moans as he finally sheathed himself in all the way.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he hissed, jaw lax and eyes shut as he tried to calm himself before he blew his load like a fucking teenager. He kissed her, needing to stay still for a moment and gather himself. The hand not propping him up grasped her jaw as his tongue tangled with hers slowly, tasting every inch of her. She moaned into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and he didn't think he’d ever felt so weightless before. 

He hadn't dared move for fear of not being able to control himself but he was caught off guard when she arched up at him, making him gasp against her lips. He broke the kiss, opening his eyes to look at her. She was flushed but her eyes had that cheeky glint to them he’d seen at the bus stop and he knew she’d done it on purpose. He started moving then, slowly at first as he allowed them both to adjust to the sensation.

“Feel so good, love,” he purred, resting his forehead on hers as she moaned, pushing back against him. He remembered her saying she liked guys being vocal in bed so he was sure not to hide any of the noises she was ripping from him as he started fucking into her a little faster, watching how her face lit up at each and every one. 

“Such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Takin’ my cock so well,” he moaned and she whined, hooking a leg up and over his hip and he almost shot his load at the angle change.

“Simon… Simon, please,” she begged helplessly, sounding like she wasn’t even sure what she was begging him for, but fuck if it didn’t turn him on more.

“Don’t worry, love, I got you,” he replied, moving a hand to slide under her lower back, just above her arse. He used it to tilt her pelvis just a little but the guttural moan he got from her told him it was enough. He was hitting that spot inside of her and the angle change had his pubic bone rubbing on her clit. She looked like she saw stars for a moment and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her, watching as she snapped like a rubber band by his hand. She was moaning and gasping, body writhing as she tightened like a vice around his cock and he couldn't hold himself back even if he wanted to at this point.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he rambled through his lust filled haze, rutting into her harder and faster as he chased his own release. Didn't take him long to find it. He came with a deep moan, a wave of pure euphoria starting at his dick and spreading throughout his entire body, even the tips of this fucking toes. 

He’d never felt such a release before and he could barely catch his breath. He cupped her cheek, kissing her lazily as they both came down from their highs. He enjoyed the closeness, enjoyed the softness of the moment as he felt himself come back to earth. He didn't want to crush her, so reluctantly, he pulled out with a hiss, tying off the condom before tossing it in the bin near his bed and collapsing next to her. 

“Told you I’d get three outta you,” he smirked breathlessly and she snorted.

“I’m impressed and very, very satisfied,” she murmured, sounding half asleep. He glanced over at her, watching how she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied softly, rolling on his side, some subconscious need to be closer to her. She opened her eyes then, looking at him warily.

“Should I… Do you want me to leave?” she asked, sounding self conscious. He was reminded she wasn't used to this and to be honest, neither was he. He didn't bring girls back here for this very reason, because he’d want them to leave but didn't want to look like a right bastard. It was easier just to slip out of their place instead without them knowing. But looking at Charlotte, he didn't want her to leave and he found himself dumbstruck with the idea.

“No, you can stay…” he said quietly, “if you want,” he added quickly, suddenly concerned that maybe she’d asked if he wanted her to leave because she wanted to leave. She shook her head quickly though, putting his worries to rest.

“I’d like to stay,” she admitted shyly and he felt relief flood his system, a bright warmth kindling in his chest. 

He reached out, rolling her over to face him and she smiled, moving to snuggle up against his broad frame. She fit against him perfectly, face tucked under his head with her arms pressed against his chest. He slid one arm under the pillow under them so it wasn't in the way, his other slung over her waist, hand splayed on her back to keep her as close as possible. He’d never slept with someone before. When his usual partners fell asleep, he’d be wide awake, biding his time before he could rush out the door. He thought it would be more uncomfortable for him but it wasn't. It felt right. He allowed his body to relax with the feel of her soft and warm body in his arms, getting the best night sleep he’d ever fucking had.

#simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x oc

[eriebasin]

A pair of unusual Victorian watch chains, linked together to form a necklace. One is niello, a black mixture of copper, silver, and lead inlaid into engraved silver. The other is silver with gate links and a collection of fobs linked to one end. They include a two watch keys, one set with an agate, and a cameo seal. All pieces are 19th century. 

eriebasin.com

[hiidenneiti]

The smallest of these toy trifles, and indeed of all eighteenth-century porcelain objects, are fob seals (trinkets for watch chains), the focus of this chapter. [...]  Many were given as gifts on St. Nicholas Day or New Year’s Day, presents exchanged between individuals who were bound by ties of attraction and intimacy, typically gendered. The creators of these toys understood and exploited the rhetoric around token gifts, evoking in their designs the feminine sphere and the qualities of cuteness, vulnerability, ambiguity, and wonder in objects that could fit in the palm of the receiver’s hand.

SIIS. eiks noi sitten vaan 1700-luvun versioita kännykkäkoruista / phone charmeista ????

NÄÄTTEKÖ MITÄÄN EROA,,,,,

#small things in the eighteenth century

[agremlinwrites]

A Mother ~ Chapter 1 ~ The Child

Chapter 1 ~ The Child

“The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated.” At the droid’s word, you take out your saber and slash through it, encasing the room with a purple light. The Mandalorian looks between you and Grogu as your son reaches his hands out toward both of you. You take Grogu’s hand while still looking at the man next to you in suspicion. He sticks out his index finger for Grogu to hold, causing your son to coo at him sweetly.

The Mandalorian looks over to you and grabs your arm, searching you for weapons. He takes your saber and blaster and, sadly, notices the small dagger you keep in your boot, "I will take you both to my ship."

"So you can turn us in for money, yes?"

The Mandalorian ignores you and programs your son's pram to follow him. He looks back at you while making his way to the door, "Are you going to come willing, or will I have to drag you?"

You follow him but stick to the other side of your child, who looks up at you sweetly. The Mandalorian leads you through the desert toward his ship; you can't help but wonder who is trying to capture you this time. Most likely an empire wannabe, trying to suck up to a general or, better yet, a sith. As the three of you make your way through a small canyon, you look to the bounty hunter, "What can I call you, dear hunter?" The Mandalorian doesn't spare you a glance; at least you don't think he does. It's a little hard to tell with the helmet. "I can make up a nickname for you if you'd like."

This statement causes him to sigh, "Call me 'Mando.'"

"Hmm, Mando. It'll do for now." Your son hears your playful tone and coos up at you. The Mandalorian continues walking as you stop short; you feel a disturbance in the Force. You close your eyes and try to sense any other life forms. Your eyes snap open as you yell, "Mando! Above us!" Mando turns to see a Trandoshan jumping down from the top of the canyon.

He pushes Grogu away immediately and yells to you, "Protect the child!" You back away quickly toward your son when another Trandoshan sprints toward you, yelling. You front kick him in the chest and then jab him twice in the nose. He tries to smack at you, although he has some difficulty due to the blood coming from his face, you block each attempt and counter with your own hits until the Mandalorian comes up behind him and takes care of him. Finally, a third Trandoshan makes a run for Grogu but Mando shoots him before he can make it.

You and Mando notice the two tracking fobs laying near one body. "You two are pretty special, huh?"

You snort, "Thought you would've realized that since you've seen the delivery payment."

Mando sighs at you then looks at your son. Grogu gurgles up at him happily. Mando shakes his head and spins around, continuing the trek to his ship. The three of you keep quiet for the remainder of the walk back, besides Grogu's cooing of course. You can sense that your son has taken a liking to the bounty hunter, this fact worries you greatly.

'Do not get too close to him, my darling,' You reach out to Grogu through the Force.

He looks up at you with his big beautiful eyes, 'Why?'

'We won't be with him for long.' After you told him this, Grogu kept quiet in your mind but still gurgled and cooed at the man in front of you.

As night begins to take over the day, Mando decides it would be best for the three of you to stop for the night. You and your son sit a couple of feet away from him, and he begins to seal a wound on his arm. You hadn't taken notice of the wound until now. Grogu watches the pained Mandalorian, sadly. He climbs out of his pram and walks toward the armor-covered man. As he gets close, he raises his little hand towards the wound wanting to heal it. You smile softly, proud that he wanted to help. Mando notices him and picks him up, putting him back in his pram. You watch the Mandalorian sit back down and reach for his breastplate. "Let me help you stop the bleeding," he looks up at you; you can feel his suspicion. "It will be easier if someone else does it."

Mando hands you the cauterizing tool and lets you close the wound, but not after a few minutes of contemplation. With his other hand, he works on the breastplate, you look at it while cleaning his arm. You reach over and flipped a switch on the left side of the armor. It immediately chimes and comes back to life. The bounty hunter's surprise is evident, even without the Force. You feel your son come up next to you, trying to close Mando's wound again but he just picks him up and puts him in the pram again. This time, he closes the pram. You go over to the pram and lay next to it, but before you can try to sleep Mando stops you. He holds out your weapons to you, "Why?"

"You seem to be able to protect yourself and you would have tried to escape by now. Take them." You take them from his hands and put them in their proper places before turning to sleep.

As dawn breaks, Mando is anxious to walk again. The three of you are completely silent the whole way to his ship until you make it to the top of a hill and see Jawas scavenging his ship.

"Is that your ship?" You ask with an ounce of amusement in your voice. He says nothing instead dropping to the ground and taking out a scope. He surveys the area before taking out his rifle and killing a Jawa. "What are you doing?"

He shoots two more Jawas as they run back to their Sandcrawler. When the Jawa ship begins moving, so does the Mandalorian. You follow after yelling at him to leave them be. He shoots at the exhaust pipe, then runs and jumps onto the Sandcrawler. You and the pram holding Grogu try to keep up with the Crawler but have some difficulty. You watch as Mando fights with the Jawas on the side of the Crawler as he climbs up, and he almost makes it to the top but he falls when the Jawas break off an old blaster.

"Ouch," you say as you watch him fall, "Should we make a run for it?" You ask your son.

He looks up at you, 'We can't just leave him.'

"Fine." You both make your way to the Mandalorian, when you get there you check him over for any obvious wounds. When you find none, you and Grogu sit in waiting. When Mando did wake up, you knew he was surprised that the two of you were still there. Although, he doesn't dwell on that fact. He gets up and heads straight toward his ship to assess the damage. You and Grogu listen as he tries to start the engines, but it doesn't work. You pick up your son and walk up the ramp, finding Mando sitting in his sleep chamber. "What do we do now?"

Mando looks at the two of you and leads you back out of the ship. "Ready for another walk?" He leads you through the desert again, this time taking you not too far from his ship. You see a figure fixing the wiring on a light pole, as you make it to this new camp.

"I thought you were dead." The figure states, turning to look down at us. A Ugnaught. He makes his way down and Mando explains our situation to him. You and Grogu sit to the side as the Ugnaught fills a bucket with water. Grogu begins chasing a frog around. You watch him carefully knowing he may try to put it in his mouth. "These two were causing all the fuss?" He asks Mando, looking at the two of you.

"I think the little one is a child."

"It's better to deliver it alive then." The Ugnaught states.

"My ship has been destroyed. I'm trapped here."

You speak up at Mando's statement, "Jawas do not destroy, they scavenge. Your ship was unattended, making it their property."

"The girl is right. Jawas steal. They don't destroy." The Ugnaught agrees with you handing Mando a tool to fix his cuff.

"Stolen or destroyed, makes no difference to me," he looks over at you and Grogu when he hears Grogu squeal while chasing the frog, "They're protected by their crawling fortress. There's no way to recover the parts."

"You can trade?"

"With Jawas! Are you out of your mind?" Mando sounds baffled by thought.

"I will take you to them. I have spoken." You smile at the Ugnaught's words. But after, you hear a squelching noise.

"Spit it out!" You scold your son, causing the two men to look at you. They see the frog's legs sticking out of Grogu's mouth as he swallows it whole. "Okay, it's time for bed." Grogu whines but lets you put him in the pram.

The Ugnaught comes over to you, "Is he yours?"

"Not by blood," you tell him, smiling at your son who is beginning to nod off.

"But you love him the same," you nod at those words, "What is your name, youngling?"

You smile at the Ugnaught, "(Y/N), and you, sir?"

"Kuiil."

"It's nice to meet you, Kuiil."

"And you as well, youngling. Rest, we have a long ride ahead of us. I have spoken." You do as Kuiil says and go to rest, staying close to your son and the Mandalorian.

The next morning, you're met with a rainy trip to the Jawas. You stick close to Mando for warmth, keeping your son's pram shut to ward off the rain and cold. When you make it to the Jawa camp, Kuiil greets them in their native tongue. The Jawas draw their weapons when they see Mando.

"They really don't like you for some reason," Kuiil tells Mando.

"Yeah, that tends to happen when someone disintegrates three of their people." You state sarcastically. Mando tilts his head toward you, you can feel the small glare he sends your way but you keep your smile on.

"You need to drop your rifle." Kuiil translates for Mando.

"I'm a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion."

"Do you want to put your ship back together or not?" You look up at him, raising your eyebrows.

He sighs, "Fine." He drops his rifle and gets out of the cart, "Stay here." He looks at the two of you. You give him a thumbs up and a rather aggressive grin.

As he steps towards the Jawas, Kuiil stops him, "And your blaster." Kuiil walks forward making small talk, as Mando looks back at you dropping his blaster next to you. Kuiil waves Mando forward, as you and Grogu watch from afar.

You can't hear the conversation but you do feel Mando getting annoyed. You hear Mando yell before starting his flame thrower in the direction of the Jawas. Two Jawas make their way towards you and you watch as the one talking to Mando and Kuiil stands up, pointing at the two of you.

Mando notices the Jawas near you instantly and screams at them, "Get away from them!"

The Jawas jump away and join the others. A chant of 'suka' begins from the small group. After a moment of deliberation, Mando waves you and Grogu over.

"What egg?" You ask him.

"It's something that will get me my property back. So we're going on a hunt for an egg."

"We?" You ask, surprise evident in your voice.

"We," Mando confirms, causing you to roll your eyes.

You, Kuiil, Grogu, and Mando all pile into the Sandcrawler and make your way towards where this 'egg' is. As you travel, Mando hits his head on the roof of the Sandcrawler quite often. You're beginning to think the Jawas are hitting large rocks on purpose and you're okay with it, entirely. When the Crawler reaches the destination, Kuiil agrees to stay with Jawas as you and Grogu go with Mando.

Mando leads the way around a small rock hill and you see the mouth of a cave at the far end. You and Mando prepare your weapons and walk into the cave, your lightsaber in your hand and his blaster in his. Although your investigation of the cave doesn’t last long as you are both thrown out of it by a Mudhorn. The two of you land in the mud about 20 feet from the cave and you are both left paralyzed for a moment. Mando picks up his rifle and tries to shoot at the Mudhorn as it makes its way out of the cave, but it jams due to the mud. You start firing shots at the beast but it charges the two of you. In a swift motion, it throws Mando to one side with its horn and then does the same to you. 

As the two of you lay on the ground on opposite sides of the clearing, the mudhorn notices Grogu and advances toward him. Mando moves the pram out of the way just in time, making the Mudhorn slam into the canyon wall. It turns, considers you and The Mandalorian, and then goes for Mando. Mando hits it with his flame thrower before getting smashed to the ground, continuing to fire flame at it. When he runs out of fuel, he shoots the mudhorn with his grappling hook causing the mudhorn to pill him towards the cave again. You aim your blaster and hit the mudhorn three times in the head before the grappling hook lets go. It throws Mando with its horn, he doesn’t get up this time. You and your son notice the mudhorn begin moving for Mando again, disregarding you and Grogu completely. 

Mando stands in front of the two of you, holding out his dagger but you and Grogu use the Force and work together to lift the mudhorn into the air. You feel Grogu become tired and you both drop the mudhorn, you run up the left side and slice into the mudhorn with your saber as Mando slams his dagger into the right. The two you just barely make it out of the way as the corpse falls to the ground. You quickly stand and make your way towards the pram, you see your son lying unconscious inside. You still sense him in the Force but know that he expelled too much energy and he will need to sleep for some time. Mando walks towards the two of you, after retrieving his dagger, and sees your son asleep.

“How?” Mando asks, more suspicious of the two of you than he was before.

“I’ll explain once we are back at your ship. It is far too open out here.” Mando lets out a modulated sigh at your response, but turns and walks toward the cave, going to get the egg. When he does, you all make your way back to the Jawas and Kuiil. You notice the ramp up into the Sandcrawler is beginning to close but stops once Kuiil yells out to you and Mando.

“I’ve got it. I’ve got the egg.” Mando states as he walks past Kuiil towards the Jawas who are running down the ramp and crowding him. He hands the egg to them, and they all start yelling ‘Suka.’ They chop the egg open and eat out of it.

“Ew.” You mutter from your spot next to Kuiil. You see Mando shake his head a little too.

“I’m surprised you waited,” Mando tells Kuiil.

“I’m surprised you took so long,” you laugh at Kuiil’s response.

“We got our asses handed to us, so don’t be.”

Once the Jawas are done loading up all of Mando’s ship parts, Kuiil hooks up the Blurrg and you’re on your way back to the ship. You curl up behind Mando and fall asleep rather quickly. Mando wakes you up when you make it back to his ship, night has fallen. Kuiil hands you tools, and you start helping put the ship back together. By morning, you now recognize that Mando’s ship is a Razor Crest.

“I gotta admit that I’m impressed with your ship,” Mando seems content with your comment, “But it's not the best I’ve ever seen.” You state, thinking about Han’s Millennium Falcon. Once finished with the engine, Mando and Kuiil go down the ladder while you stay to check on Grogu. After making sure, he’s still okay you make your way down. You hear another ‘I have spoken.’

“Kuiil, May the Force be with you.” You say to him, he looks at you knowingly and nods back to you. Mando makes his way up to the cockpit with you not far behind, he sits and turns on the engines, lifts off, and then makes the ascent to a high enough altitude to go into lightspeed. Once your destination of Nevarro is set, the Mandalorian looks back at Grogu and shakes the pram a bit. “Leave him alone, he needs rest.”

“What are the two of you?”

You look surprised, “You don’t deserve to know, since you’re still our executioner.”

“I’m not going to kill either of you.”

“Maybe you won’t do it. But you are handing us over to people who will.” You end the conversation, preparing yourself for the fight you will be forced to participate in. You will do anything to protect your son.

[clove-pinks]

Portrait of a Ship's Steward, c. 1829, National Gallery of Art collection, by an American 19th century artist.

I have seen this smartly dressed fellow before, unattributed, and came across him by chance when looking for steamboat pictures. The free pdf linked on the US National Gallery of Art page (American Naive Paintings) calls this 'Portrait of a Black Man'. You can see the steamboat New Philadelphia in the background.

I was able to find quite a few references to the steamboat New Philadelphia online, but American Naive Paintings has a nice summary of both the ship and the man portrayed:

The New Philadelphia was built in 1826 at Kensington, Pennsylvania, and plied the Hudson River between New York and Albany from that date until about 1832. Built for Robert L. Stevens' North River Steamboat Line, the New Philadelphia was innovative in several ways. She was the first steamboat to have two boilers placed on her guards over the water instead of on deck (for passenger safety) and the first to eliminate the bowsprit. In 1826 she set a speed record of twelve hours and twenty three minutes from New York to Albany and in 1833 made record time for the run between Philadelphia and New York. She was also the first Hudson River steamboat to introduce "colored waiters."

The sitter may have been a steward or headwaiter aboard the New Philadelphia. The ship's reputation for innovation and speed was surely a source of great pride to both officers and crew and may explain why a crewman would want his portrait to include his vessel steaming north past the Palisades toward Albany, in what was probably record-setting time.

Placing the command ship in the background, the artist has used the convention commonly reserved for depicting a ship's captain. He also understood the dramatic possibilities of a figure dressed in the latest fashion, striking an elegant Napoleonic pose while casually sitting in a decorated Hitchcock-style chair. The attention devoted to details like the clothing, steamboat, landscape, and chair serves to document the man in a specific place and time and to project material success.

He wears a frock coat with a fashionably cinched waist and velvet collar, and several pieces of visible bijouterie including an impressive rectangular brooch on the concertinaed fabric of his shirt. The silhouette of his coat with puffed shoulders is characteristic of the late 1820s and early 1830s. His black stock or cravat is tied in a bow in front, with the ends tucked into his waistcoat, which is sporting gold buttons. At his waist, a watch key and seal are attached by a blue ribbon with another piece of jewellery (possibly another fob-seal).

Multiple pieces of fob jewellery were a thing, as shown in this detail of an 1826 fashion plate (which also has double rows of gold buttons on the jacket):

#1820s #1829 #fashion history #men's fashion #historical men's fashion #black history #new philadelphia #age of steam #steamboat #steward #portrait #bijouterie #dress history #naive painting #his clothes <3 #us history

[nicad13]

Crossroads: Chapter 4

The Escape

Summary: Din recruits Rayne to join them, then lies about that lingering head injury. Rayne pulls some Enemy Sorcery on a bunch of Stormtroopers. Things go horribly wrong.

The Child earns his keep.

Notes: Another lovely illustration by @catstanbulite. Canon compliant through Season 1. Posting an old fic in advance of the sequel, hopefully coming not too long after Season 3! Get started now! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

Tags/Warnings: PTSD, blood/injury, whump

---

Going to find me someone to share

A common disaster

Run away with me from a life so cramped and dull

Not worry too much about the happily-ever-after

Just keep the Caddy moving

‘Til we’re well beyond that hill

Cowboy Junkies, Common Disaster

---

Running.

Rayne was running.

Din’s kid was strapped to her chest, facing her, huge dark eyes wide open and round, streaked with the reflection of the blaster bolts searing over her shoulders.

She heard the clang of a bolt deflecting off beskar behind her, heard Din grunt under the impact, felt the sting of it near the middle of her back as he unwittingly projected, heard the kid cry out as he felt it, too. She kept going, not turning back, knowing Din was ok, knowing he was covering their escape.

Another bolt hit him in the back of the head –

Her eyes flew open.

The t-shaped visor of Din’s helmet was inches from her face, dim reflected light curving over the surface of the beskar.

She resisted the reflex to push away from it, the realization of where she was finally surfacing in her mind. The Razor Crest. They were on the Razor Crest. The cramped bunk sandwiched between the bulkheads.

The sound of heavy breaths from tiny lungs drew her eyes down to the baby, eyes wide open and staring right at her, mouth open as he drew as much air as he could manage. She settled her hand on his back, spreading her fingers against the trembling she felt there. It’s ok. She pushed the thoughts to him, not wishing to wake Din. It was just a dream.

The baby closed his mouth and frowned, almost as if to say, That’s bullshit and you know it. He calmed down anyway, seeming to sense her desire to let Din continue sleeping.

The bucket seemed to have insulated Din from the commotion. He remained mostly still, but as Rayne watched, he looked to be caught in the grip of a dream of his own. The muscles in his arms twitched and his hands closed around the blanket he had pulled up to his chin. A low moan escaped him, a long, sad sound. Grief and confusion rolled off of him as the wave crested, then receded. After that, he took a few sharp breaths and stilled. His shoulders slumped as his body relaxed and his breathing fell back into a normal, slow rhythm, too quiet to activate the modulator.

She checked the time on her wristband. Finding that early morning had arrived, knowing she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, with an idea itching at the back of her head, she decided to get up.

---

Din woke alone in his bunk.

Snapping up, he pulled himself out to look around the cargo bay. All of the ramps were up and the ship appeared to still be sealed, so that was good. He sat still for a moment, listening. Shortly, he heard the sound of clicking coming from the flight deck.

When he reached it, he found Rayne in the pilot’s chair, swiveled around with her feet propped on the starboard jump-seat, datapad in hand, the kid asleep in her lap. Rayne looked up at his arrival and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey. Everything ok?”

“Yeah. I had some inspiration on the personal fob scramblers and I wanted to write it down before I forgot. He was already awake so I just brought him with me so you could sleep in a little.”

“Thank you.”

“The bots should have some breakfast stuff ready out at the shop. Since your sleeping baby is pinning me to the chair, you can send one of them back here with our stuff and you can have the kitchen to yourself.”

He nodded in response, donned the armor, and headed out. Her tone had been amicable but clear: she was on the clock now, and her time was his money.

He could appreciate a woman who recognized boundaries.

Sure enough, three bots had breakfast ready. They chirped a happy greeting to him and stood at attention, seeming to wait for his order. “Um… Rayne and the kid will eat on the ship.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll eat here.” They chirped again and whirred into motion, two of them carrying their delivery to the ship while the third led him to the kitchen and, thankfully, left him alone.

He stood at the peninsula that divided the kitchen from the living/sleeping area, where a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit waited for him. He did a quick scan for security cameras, not expecting to find any since there weren’t any outside, but just to be sure. Finding none, he turned back to the plate, had a seat, and lifted the helmet from his head.

Not for the first time, the realization that he had slept with an enemy sorcerer dawned in his mind.

And now he was alone in her home. With his helmet off.

What the hell was he doing?

Getting help, you dumb shit.

Help. Right. He took his gloves off and ran his hands through his hair, pressing his palms against his forehead at the headache once again forming behind it. He just could not shake this concussion, and he had to admit that it was starting to worry him.

He picked at his food, appetite taking a sudden nosedive from the hammer in his skull. Fork in one hand, head propped in the other, he forced his breakfast down, barely tasting it, knowing it would help him feel better, even if it took longer than he liked. He washed it down with water. The coffee helped to take the edge off in the short-term.

Finished, he closed his eyes, running over it again in his head.

Rayne’s qualifications as a crewmember.

Good with the kid. Check. More than that, she was excellent with the kid. She’d taught him more in three days than Din had in almost a year. She wasn’t particularly maternal, but she was warm to him, and he seemed to thrive under her watch. Good in a fight. Check. Probably. She still handled a saber like a giant ten-year-old, albeit an incredibly strong ten-year-old, but she could hold her own against him, and he knew she’d been pulling her shots in terms of using the Force. Good with the ship. God, yes, check. He had to admit he was a little jealous about it. Beyond her piloting and mechanical skills, she was clearly a starship person. She understood piloting preferences, returning the dashboard light settings to his pre-sets when she was done with it. She understood fire control, re-charging the extinguishers even though he’d forgotten to put it on the list. She understood keeping a tight ship, going as far as to follow his lead in sliding her clothes under the bunk with her foot before…

Good in bed. Check.

That had certainly not been on his list of prerequisites.

No attachments, he’d told her. When I leave, you won’t ever hear from me again, he’d told her.

Was it really only last night he’d said that? In the room directly behind him?

Here was the problem, then. The Venn diagram of People Who Could Help Him and People He Slept With were two entirely separate circles in his head. The first group, while professionals at what they did, was vanishingly small. They weren’t keen to being hired on, but he knew he could count on them when his back was against the wall. The second group was a nomadic trickle, rolling into his life, usually only docking for a few days, and then moving on, a random few ever circling back on the off-chance that he crossed paths with them again.

Only one person had filled both roles. Ages ago. His first.

Alaria.

He packed the thought away with immediate deliberation. The fact that she was an exception proved the rule. He could not sleep with the people who helped him, and he could not ask help from the people he slept with.

Was there any reason there couldn’t be another exception?

He looked around. Rayne’s home was small but well-kept. Comfortable. The shop was well-stocked and tidy. Her professional reputation was unquestioned. There was no way she would leave this all behind to join him on the impossible task of finding his son’s people.

Except for the fact that she had known about one of them. She was his only lead.

And the way she had looked out of the ship’s windscreen two days ago while they were in orbit, tracking the constellations like she was ready to go out there on her own. Stating as much that she’d felt confined, here.

Maybe she was ready for a break from civilized life.

She’d slept with a Mandalorian, for god’s sake.

Maybe she was ready to get a little uncivilized.

---

He found Rayne sitting on the edge of the ramp when he returned, scrolling through her datapad, the kid in the cargo hold behind her, sitting in the middle of the floor and levitating the large bearing in the air above him. She looked up at his approach. “So I have good news and bad news.”

He turned to sit on the floor at the other side of the ramp, back to the hull so he could see both her and the kid, knees pulled up just enough to rest his arms on them. “Let’s have the bad news first.”

“The Imps are here.”

His helmet tinked against the hull as he let his head fall back, letting out an exhale. “That didn’t take long.”

“Your excursion the day you got here must have caught someone’s attention. I’m actually surprised it took as long as it did.”

“What’s the good news?”

“Chances are at least one of them has the kind of fob Gideon is using to track you. I need one of those fobs to prototype the scramblers. We need to drop an Imp and grab one.”

“That’s easy enough.”

“Okay. So here’s the plan. I’ll make your supply run for you this morning – you set foot outside the hangar and Imps will be on you like fleas on a womprat. We get you guys all packed up and ready to go this afternoon. We take the Razor Crest to the abandoned shipyards on the other side of town so we don’t draw them to the hangar. You two bait the Imps, I drop one with a fob, then you guys get back on the ‘Crest and bounce for a while until I get the scramblers built. I’ll let you know when they’re ready and meet you wherever to exchange. It’ll probably be a few weeks. After that, I have some friends on Coruscant who can probably get you some more leads on your son.”

“You intend to stay here with Imps sniffing around while you build the scramblers.” His tone was less than pleased.

“They’ll disperse once they see you guys leave the atmosphere.”

“No, they won’t.” His voice took a hard crack, the image of broken and bloody armor flashing in his vision. “They knew I left Nevarro and they destroyed the covert anyway. They’ll kill anyone who helps me.”

“That’s why we’ll bait them at the shipyards. No one actually lives over there. It’ll be fine.”

“And if they find you with the fob? You have any idea what they’ll do to you?”

“I do. But they won’t.”

Din let out a long breath. This actually presented an opening for him, but he knew it would still be a fine line to walk. “I have a revision to the plan.”

“Okay.”

“But I have to ask you a question first. It might sound inappropriate, but…”

She broke eye contact, looking back out over the yard, a hard expression on her face. She gave a conciliatory sigh a moment later and her face softened. “Ok, that’s fair.” She turned her head back to face him. “Ask away.”

“I’m working on the assumption that you normally don’t sleep with your clients. So why me?”

She dropped her gaze for a moment, considering. “My general instinct is to fix broken things. Not that you’re broken per se, but you’re definitely at a crossroads. You want to be a better person, and you gave up everything to save this kid and go down this road. I admire that. I’ve never met anyone who’s made that kind of sacrifice. You deserved some happiness.” And maybe see if it would lead you to consider what I think you’re considering. Or at the very least, get you to trust me enough to get your shiny beskar ass to Coruscant to people I think can help you, so if we can just get on with this…

That tight feeling in his chest returned. God, he didn’t deserve all that. “What about you? What do you deserve?”

Her eyes narrowed in a frown, confused by his question.

“Did you… get what you wanted last night?”

“Wh- oh.” She laughed. “Wasn’t it obvious?”

The helmet tipped in acknowledgement. “You were right. It was… different for me. In a good way. I just… wanted to make sure…”

“Din, yes,” she smiled. She hadn’t expected him to be so insecure about this. “What does this all have to do with your plan revision?”

He took a long breath. Now or never. “Come with us.”

Here it was. Let’s see how serious he is. “What?”

“I… need help. I need your help. He needs your help. I can’t… do this alone anymore. The work I do – I can’t have him with me all the time. I can’t leave him unsupervised. I need someone to have my back. If I get injured, I need someone who can put me back together again. If I damage the ship, I need someone who can put that back together again. I need more leads to his people. I need someone who can take care of him if something happens to me. Chances are you’re the only one in the parsec who can help him in the ways he needs.” He trailed off, not knowing what else to say, not caring for the desperation he heard in his own tone.

She held his gaze for a moment, took a deep breath, then looked back out over the yard, as fully aware of his desperation as he was. She thought back to his words late last night. I found you. She thought further back to his very different words earlier in the evening. “This is a hard one-eighty from your ‘no attachments’ spiel last night.”

“It is.”

“What changed?”

“I realized you checked all the boxes.”

“You’ve known me for three days.”

“Am I wrong in my assessment?”

“That I can be your tutor-nanny-bodyguard-doctor-mechanic? No, you’re not wrong. But I’m not hearing anything about what I get out of this. As fine a lay as you are, that’s not enough for me to give up my life and join you on this mission.” C’mon, Djarin. Fight for it. Show me you can think outside that can of yours and see it from my side.

“The first night we were here, you said he’s the strongest user of the Force in the galaxy. I think you’re right. Two nights ago, you said you would do what you could to make the galaxy a better place. Here’s your chance.”

Hoo boy, he’s got me there. She was still looking out over the yard, but the look on her face seemed to acknowledge his words.

“You mentioned something about not getting off-planet enough. Preferring wide-open spaces.”

Another thoughtful sigh.

“The Imps will kill you if they find out what you’re up to.”

If. Big if. Ok, maybe a moderate if…

“This is a paid gig.”

This time she laughed and turned to face him. “Assuming average effort and pay on a bounty, how many days’ work did three days of my time cost you?”

Dammit. He’d gotten lucky on this one – only two days. Two long, full days. Normally though… “About a week.”

She smiled. “Oh, honey, you can’t afford me.” Her tone seemed to suggest that didn’t matter, though.

He sensed she’d already taken the bait. He tipped his head in his son’s direction. “You gonna’ look at that face and tell him no?”

“Uuurrrrrgh…”

Now she was just toying with him. He could play that game too. “I’ll let you fly the ship…” His tone was playful, sing-songing the last few words.

“I’ll tell you what…” she said, leaning back. “I have a few patent designs I’ve been sitting on. I need to get to Coruscant to get any good money for them anyway. Between that and some savings, we’re covered on… let’s call it a year’s worth of fuel and parts for the ship, lodging, plus some incidental gear. You cover food with the bounty gravy. I have a niece off-planet who’s been thinking of setting up her own shop. I’ll have her take over here once things cool down. That way, I can still tap this place if things go longer than a year. Plus whatever other patents I come up with.”

Din was speechless.  

When he didn’t respond after several moments, she leaned forward. “Everything ok in there?”

“Yes. I… Yes. That… that all sounds… that’ll work.”

“Okay,” she looked back out over the yard. “Packing up will take the rest of the day, then. We’ll drop the Imps tomorrow morning and head out.”

“One more request.”

“Hm?”

“Can we please bring your hairdryer?”

She smiled. “I’ll make sure to bring the hairdryer.”

They both turned as the kid laughed and clapped, the large bearing still floating over his head.

---

She’d donned a sand-colored wrap with a hood, not wanting the Imps to get too good of a look at someone who might look like they’re ready to skip town. “Remember,” she told Din. “They do urban patrols in pairs. Anyone shows up, drop them both and drag the bodies inside. Keep their helmets intact so you can respond with their own coms if they get any calls. I should be back in two hours.”

“Buzz me with your wristband if you have trouble.”

“I should be fine. I’m going to drop a few red herrings with some folks who know me that I’m heading out for a while. Give them something to say in case the Imps care if I’m not here and start asking around. Check the shop for any tools you don’t have that we have room for.”

He tipped his head. “Okay.” He hooked his finger around hers. “Two hours.” She held his gaze for a moment, then turned and left.

Her first stop was the bar on the outer edge of the market. She slid her empty hover-cart in a spot around the side of the low adobe building and headed in. The bartender looked up at her entrance. “Rollins.” His greeting was warm as he cleaned the surface of the bar at her usual spot.

“Carzan.”

“Little early for y’ to be in here. Rough night?”

“Nah,” she smiled. A damned good one, actually. “Thought I’d drop by for a milk before I headed out.”

“Which color would y’ like today?”

“Oh, let’s go with the blue stuff.”

“Comin’ up.” Carzan reached into the cooler, pulled out a bottle of bantha milk, popped the lid, and placed it in front of her. “Where y’ headed?”

“Naator. Family emergency.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

“It’ll be ok. It’s been a while since I’ve been off-planet, so it’ll do me good either way. Hey, I cancelled all of my appointments, but if anyone comes by, tell them not to wait on me. I might be a while.” She placed a several times the normal tip on the bar.

Carzan considered the sum and scooped it off the surface. “Will do. That bad, huh?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Not sure yet. Thought it best to clear the calendar.” She downed half the bottle, then gesture to the screen behind the bar showing the local news. “So what’s with all the Imps in town, anyway?”

He shrugged, his expression darkening. “Not sure. They haven’t gotten this far yet. But they’re not messin’ around. They’re under some Moff who made an example of some folks who didn’t cooperate earlier this mornin’.” He turned back to the screen. “Yeah, they’re playin’ it now.”

Rayne watched the screen as Moff Gideon strode to three people on their knees, bound, in the middle of a neighborhood square. He stood between them and the camera, pulled a handle from his hip, activated a black energy blade from it, and made a sweeping motion with his arm. When he walked away, three heads lay on the ground as their accompanying bodies slumped over.

“Bloody hell,” Carzan swore.

Rayne found herself unable to move. Unable to breathe. An icy tendril began to wrap itself around the base of her spine and creep up her ribs.

“What the hell kinda’ sword do y’ think that is?” Carzan asked.

“I don’t know.” Her response was barely more than a whisper.

Oh, but she knew all right. She knew exactly what it was, and she had a very, very bad feeling about this.

It was the Darksaber.

---

She did her best to keep her hands from shaking as she procured all of the provisions. Mostly non-perishables, only enough in the way of fresh stuff to tide them over until they got to where they were going next. Medical supplies. A new wrench to replace the one the kid had swallowed yesterday (and so thoughtfully returned this morning). Fabricating materials. A front-loader baby-carrier. Ammunition. Lunch for when she got back and dinner for tonight.

And a big rubber frog.

She got back five minutes before her deadline, and Din had already picked out everything he wanted from the shop, gotten it squared away on the ship, and made some room for Rayne’s belongings for when she was ready to load up. “Any trouble?” he asked.

“Not really,” she responded. “Any trouble here?”

“No. Ship’s fueled up.”

“Good.”

They took a break for lunch, Din bolting his food in the kitchen without tasting it, then joining Rayne and his son outside as Rayne picked through the second half of her meal, expression pensive behind the amber shades. Something was gnawing at her. “What did you see out there?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh. We can talk about it later. Those headaches getting any better?”

He tipped his head, knowing he hadn’t said anything about them. “I’m fine.” I’m fine right now, anyway.

“Hm.” Distracted, she finished her lunch.

---

“I just need some rest,” Din said.

They stood on the flight deck that evening, the ship all packed up and ready to go, discussing their next move.

“We need a place to lay low for a while,” Rayne said. “You need more than rest. You’re worn down. You’re underweight. I need to get these fob scramblers prototyped before we set foot on Coruscant. All three of us need some training. Three weeks, minimum.”

“Three weeks in here?” Din loved the Razor Crest, but the thought of being sealed up in it with two others in deep space for that long made him want to scream.

“No,” she smiled. “I know just the place. Let me show you.” She did a quick search on the map and brought it up. “Methuselah. No indigenous or settling sapients, tons of temperate forest, fresh water, fish, game, edible greens.”

“How does a place like that stay uninhabited?” His tone was laced with cynicism, wondering what the catch was.

She zoomed the image out. “It doesn’t have much in the way of mineral deposits, so it’s unsuitable for any kind of industry. It’s also tricky to get to. The magnetic field in the upper atmosphere at the poles is outrageously strong – ships get ripped apart unless you go through at the equator, which is guarded by a nearly impenetrable asteroid belt.”

“Of course it is.” He sat down with a petulant sigh. “This does us no good if we can’t get to it.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” she said, smiling. “I can get us there.”

His only response was a dip in the helmet.

“There’s a competition here once a year. Pilots get together to see who can make it through first. Most don’t make it at all. You’re looking at a two-time winner.”

“You’ve gotten through that twice.”

“Yes. And back out, so technically four times.”

“With a ship this size.”

“N- no.” She gave a conciliatory shrug. “Old X-wings. They were easy to get through, though. I could use more of a challenge. It’ll be fun!”

“No. Not with my ship. Not with our lives.”

“Din,” she put her hand over his, recognizing his need for her to take this seriously. “I’m telling you. We need this. I can do it. I know you don’t have much reason to trust me on this, but that’s what I’m asking. Trust me.”

“Did you use the Force to get through?”

“Passively, yes. Precognition. I sense where the gaps between the asteroids will be before they open up.”

“You cheated.” His tone was hard.

She shrugged. “Passive use. I was still mostly on my own at that point and kept forgetting that normal people can’t do that. I don’t have to try. It just… happens. I figured it out after the second win and quit. I’ll have to be more active to get the Crest through. Push a few rocks out of the way. Look a little harder.”

“How much of a challenge will this be for you?”

“I’ll have to concentrate – it’ll take my full attention. I’m more worried about you two. I’d prefer it if you were down in the hold-”

“No.”

“Which is what I figured, so I’ll need you both on empty stomachs. It’s going to be a wild ride, and neither one of us wants any puking up here.”

“We’ve been through rough rides before. We’ll be fine.”

“So that’s a yes?”

Din sighed. “Yes.”

Rayne’s face suddenly grew serious as she turned to the hold. “Get the kid but stay on the ship.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to have company in a few minutes.”

A few minutes later, Din had put the sleeping kid in his crate, moved him up to the flight deck, and locked the door closed on him. He stood next to the port exit of the ship, back to the hull, sidearm drawn, listening to Rayne talk to two Stormtroopers outside in the yard.

“What’s up, guys?” Her tone was nonchalant.

“We’re looking for two fugitives. A Mandalorian who kidnapped a green infant.”

“Huh. Conspicuous pair. Surprised you haven’t found them yet.”

“The Mandalorian was spotted in this area three days ago.”

“Haven’t seen them.” He could almost hear the shrug in her voice.

“They’re traveling in a dual-engine gunship.”

“Haven’t seen one of those either.” Do they not see the dual-engine gunship right in front of their faces?

“We’re going to have to search your establishment.”

Rayne continued. “It’s late. You’ve been out all day looking for those two. You’re tired. Y’know what? The bar down the street has a great bantha burger. You should go try it out.”

“Mmm.” The junior trooper was clearly interested.

“It’s happy hour,” Rayne said. “If you leave now, you’ll make it for the two-for-one beer special.”

Din couldn’t believe his ears when he heard the junior trooper yawn. “Wow. Yeah. I’m exhausted. That beer sounds great right now.”

“I’m not much of a beer person,” the ranking trooper said.

“Mid-week whiskey special is tonight.”

“Now you’re talking.”

Din’s eyes went wide as the ranking trooper conceded, heart hammering in his chest. What am I hearing? What is going on?

Rayne’s voice again. “There’s nothing out here anyway. Just write up your report that you checked and didn’t find anything, and be done with it.”

“There’s nothing out here. Let’s just go back.”

“Have a good night, guys.”

“G’night, ma’am.”

Din holstered his sidearm as he listened to her footsteps ascend the ramp, and tapped the button to close it when she was inside. “What. The hell. Was that?” His voice was rough through the modulator.

She gave him a wry smile. “Sorcery and fairytales.”

He led her to the bunk.

---

He twitched awake.

He was alone. Darkness shrouded the hold. Sounds of the kid’s breathing, still deep in sleep, drifted up from his crate, placed just outside of the bunk.

He slid out just enough to get his feet to the floor and poked his head out. Looking to his left, he saw that Rayne had pulled a chair up against the starboard side of the hull, and sat facing the sealed port exit, his Amban across her knees.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about an enemy sorcerer handling his rifle. He couldn’t tell if she’d loaded it, but he could see the four rounds she’d tucked into the top of her boot, pressed against the muscle of her calf. He hauled himself out and walked over, bare feet padding on the floor. “Hey,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey.” Her hands remained on his rifle, but she looked up to the visor for a moment before looking back to the closed ramp.

“What’s up?”

“Woke up. Couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“You always guard exits with disruptor weapons when that happens?”

That finally got a smile out of her. She reached up to his hand on her shoulder and traced the fingers there. “No. I just… don’t have an excellent feeling about this.”

“Got a better plan?”

“No.”

“Any other visitors on the way tonight?”

“I don’t think so.”

He took a slow breath. “Come back to bed?”

“You want some alone time in there without the helmet or anything?”

“I’m fine. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He lifted his rifle from her lap with one hand and held out the other.

She pulled the rounds from her boot and placed them in his outstretched palm.

---

Rayne stood in the center of her bedroom, early morning sun filtering in through the windows as she took one last look around. Din stood in the kitchen with the kid tucked in at his side, leaning back against the counter, his posture relaxed.

Her home for the last five years. A mostly solitary existence, but a peaceful one. A reasonably profitable one. A boast most people couldn’t make. Her truly necessary possessions, her laptop and all encompassed intellectual property, whatever tools they could fit, and apparently her hairdryer, were all packed up on the ship. They’d moved the bulkier machinery and all but two of the bots to the hidden basement. There wasn’t much else to leave behind. The uncertainty of whether or not she would ever return to it tugged at the corner of her mind.

So much, and yet so little.

She looked to the Mandalorian standing in her kitchen holding the small, green baby with the enormous ears. Not something she would have predicted to ever see in her kitchen. That baby had upended the Mandalorian’s life, turned him completely upside down and inside out.

And now they would do the same to her.

“Ready?” Din asked, voice soft.

“Ready.”

---

Rayne walked the street with her hood pulled over her head, the baby strapped to her chest in the carrier, what Din had called a birikad.

The Imps would be here any minute.

They had made a long, slow pass over the abandoned shipyards with the Razor Crest, deliberately advertising their presence. One of her bots was jacked in on the flight deck ready to lift off, with only minimum objection from Din. Another one strolled at her side, ready to run whatever interference was needed.

The baby was the bait. She was the hook.

Din lurked on the rooftop, ten stories above.

No one ever looked up.

Sure enough, a platoon of Stormtroopers appeared ahead, marching in formation, approaching. She stood her ground and let them come. The baby was quiet, sensing Rayne’s enforced calm before the coming confrontation.

Trooper 113ZC, “Zach,” led the platoon. He’d volunteered for it, for this particular mission. He normally wasn’t so ambitious. Just got along to get along. Imp work kinda sucked, but it beat starving to death. This mission though… this one was interesting. A baby! What the hell kind of nutball kidnaps a baby and drags it all the way around the Outer Rim of the galaxy for almost a year? A Mandalorian nutball, apparently. He’d never seen a Mandalorian before, but had heard the stories of how the Empire had nearly wiped them out, the war-worshiping people representing such a threat to peace and prosperity. If Zach could be part of a mission to bring another one down and save an innocent baby in the process, well, that would be something worthwhile.

It never occurred to Zach to wonder why someone like Moff Gideon was so interested in this baby.

It never occurred to Zach to wonder why Gideon thought this baby was worth beheading people in a village square over.

And when Zach marched up to the hooded woman with a baby strapped to her chest, the baby that the fob on his hip was keyed into, according to the link in his HUD, it never occurred to him to look up.

The woman was only average height, and had to lift her face to him when he stopped before her. She did not pull the hood away, so all he saw of her were the shadows below her brows and cheekbones. Something unfamiliar twisted in Zach’s chest, his orders for her to hand the baby over dying on his lips.

“Hey,” the woman said. “What’s up?”

Zach’s head swam. “We’re… looking for… looking for a baby.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice a seasoned alto, bringing her hand to the bundle before her. “You mean this baby?”

Zach felt suddenly drowsy. “Yeah… that… baby.”

The woman smiled. “You can’t have him.”

“But I… we…” What the hell was going on?

“You can’t have him,” she repeated.

“I can’t have him,” he echoed.

“I want your tracking fob,” she said.

“N- y- yeah, ok.” He reached for his hip, disconnected the fob from his armor, and handed it to her.

She reached out, took it, and put it in her pocket. She smiled. “Thank you.”

“You… you’re welcome?” He didn’t think this was how it was supposed to go.

“Will this track the Mandalorian as well?”

“Yeah. Just… flip the switch on the bottom.”

“Thank you. Are you tired, trooper?”

Goddamn, was he ever. “Yeah.”

“Go to sleep.”

Trooper 113ZC collapsed.

The other nineteen members of the platoon made the mistake of leveling their blasters at Rayne Rollins.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

 The other nineteen members of the platoon collapsed.

Rayne turned and ran.

From the rooftop, Din pulled the scope from his visor and shoved it into his belt. He stood up, turned, ran to the other end of the roof, and jumped off.

His jetpack kicked on, slowed his descent, and shut off when his feet hit the ground running behind Rayne, blaster already in his hand, covering their retreat. He knew she wouldn’t be able to keep the troopers down for long. Running, weighed down by the beskar, he found that keeping up with her wasn’t easy. When she flinched to the left, he followed, trusting her precognition, watching the blaster bolt zing by over their shoulders. He stopped and turned, firing on the troopers who had gotten up and were following, dropping five of them to the ground, dead. He turned back and ran. He saw her flinch again. He took this one in the shoulder, grunting as it ricocheted into the jetpack and then struck him again near the middle of his back before it lost momentum and dropped out. He stopped again to lay down more cover fire, wishing they’d had more time to set up obstacles to cover them on the way back to the ship. He turned again to run.

He was going full-speed when two bolts hit him in the back of the head in a one-two pulse.

His world went white.

And then it went black.

Din lost consciousness immediately.

Up ahead, Rayne staggered, catching herself on the bot running next to her.

Din’s jetpack, not quite yet dialed in, kicked on of its own accord before his body had a chance to fall, launching him twenty feet into the air and turning him over before cutting off and dropping him back to the ground again, sliding ten feet through the dirt.

Rayne let out a strangled yell and came to a stop. “Gamma…” she called to the bot as she undid the straps holding the baby to her. She handed the bundle to the bot. “Get the kid to the ship and lock him in the bunk. Tell Beta to fire up the engines and then come back.” The bot chirped an acknowledgement and sped off.

Rayne turned, facing into the oncoming blaster fire, and ran back for Din. When she reached him, she Forced out another command to the troopers to buy more time. “Get. Down.” The blaster fire paused long enough for her to pull Din up by the chestplate, get his arms over, and haul him up over her shoulders. He wasn’t quite as heavy as she expected, but he would still slow her down considerably. She did the best she could, a kind of shuffling jog, wincing as another blaster bolt caught the plate in his back, just below the jetpack.

Gamma returned, blaster bolts deflecting off of its force-field, reaching out for Din’s body as she handed him over. “Go go go! Lift off as soon as you get him on board!” The bot once again chirped and sped off, Rayne following.

Troopers were now arriving from both sides of the street. She put them down as they took aim, her head starting to ache. Blaster bolts continued to zing all around her.

She ran.

She ran.

She heard the Razor Crest’s engines flaring to life up ahead.

She ran.

She tripped, plowed face-first into the street, rolled out of it the best she could, got back up.

And ran.

Rayne burst back into the shipyard as the Crest was lifting off, portside ramp still down. Leaping, she caught the end of the ramp. “Go!” Gamma relayed her command from the hold and Beta, still jacked in on the flight deck, punched the throttle. The engines roared and the forward momentum dragged her to the corner of the ramp, and she got another hand on it. Just as she swung a leg up to hook her heel around the raised edge, a blaster bolt grazed her left arm and she lost her grip with her left hand, screaming with pain and frustration. The ship accelerated quickly and she could feel herself start to peel off of the ramp, felt the ramp itself start to vibrate, not really meant to be deployed at this speed. “Close the ramp!” Somehow, Gamma heard her over the thundering of the engines and hit the button. As the ramp started to lift, her hope was that she could shimmy around onto it and slide down into the hold.

She’d forgotten about the hydraulic lifter sliding along the side of the ramp in its track, heading right for her.

Oh, shit.

She was ripped from the ramp and was flying through the air.

Flying through the air into the ship.

She flew across the hold, struck the hull on the other side with her hip and a grunt, and crashed to the deck as the ramp sealed shut.

That done, Beta switched over to its pre-programmed emergency escape response and put the throttle all the way down, the ship coming alive all around her with a steady thrum as the engines flung them through the atmosphere.

From the middle of the hold, the baby laughed and clapped.

Rayne glared at Gamma. “I told you to lock him in the bunk.”

Gamma shrugged with a quarking sound. You thought that would work?

She shook her head, then looked back to the baby. “Thanks.”

Instead of responding, he turned his attention to the front section of the hold, to the sound of metal sliding on metal.

Din.

Not trusting her hip, she dragged herself over to him, finding him on his back in a puddle of his own blood, body twitching as he started to seize.

Oh, no.

Her vision swam as her own blood ran freely down her arm from the blaster graze.

She grunted as she rolled him over just enough to access the catches on the jetpack and disconnected it from his armor. She slid it out of the way, backed herself against the bulkhead next to the bunk, leaned forward, hooked Din under the arms, and dragged him up so the back of his head thumped against her sternum, shoulders between her knees. Reaching to the bunk behind her, she pulled the sheet off, took it in her teeth, and started ripping it up into strips.

The ship thrummed around her as Beta took evasive action from Imperial pursuit.

The engines thundered as Din’s lungs filled and emptied between her shins and his blood spilled into her hands and his body twitched against her in weak pulses.

Her eyes rolled to the side and caught the kid standing next to her, eyes wide and round, waiting.

“Hey, buddy. I need your help.”

#the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin

[fashionfreaksmeltdown]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Kansas City Railroad Pocket Watch Chain Jesse James NWOT.

[fabulousfindz4u]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Antique Signed Watch Fob Vest Clip Wax Seal Gold Filled.

[ltwilliammowett]

A swivelling gold fob seal with a compass. English, mid 19th century

#naval artifacts #watch fob seal #compass #mid 19th century #officers belongings #age of sail

[boylerpf]

Antique Carnelian Citrine Wax Seal Fob Charm Necklace

via Boylerpf

#wax seal fobs #watch fobs #antique #watch chain fobs #split ring #gold #engraved #wax seal stamps #antique jewlery #victorian #1860s #pendant

[lghumphriessons]

9ct Yellow Gold Horse Fob Seal Pendant with Onyx set base Hallmarked in London in 1973 - $1,250-

#horse #fob #seal #pendant #london #gold #vintage #hallmark #lghumphries #humphries #sydney #australia #jewellers #jewellery #watches #antiques

[whatisflorencewearing]

March 10, 2022 - BBC Radio 1 with Greg James

Florence visited the @bbcradio1 studios to kick off the new era with @greg_james.

She's wearing a vintage 1970s Gunne Sax cream cotton lace dress with a high neck, balloon sleeves and ruffle details from @turnervintage, a vintage tapestry bag bought at @mankiivintage in Berlin during the HAH Tour and her (still) beloved @gucci Resort 2019 black leather knee boots.

The jewelry includes a French Art Deco watch chain with an antique gold filled onyx locket from @boudoir_vintage, a Georgian seal fob with an engraved amethyst intaglio base from @_butterlaneantiques (similar pictured)...

...and custom-made @gucci plain gold F and W letter rings as part of her ring party.

#florence welch #florence and the machine #fatm5 #dance fever #my love #bbc radio 1 #vintage #turner vintage #gunne sax #gucci #alessandro michele #antique jewelry #boudoir vintage #butterlane antiques #what is florence wearing

[thisbetternotawakenanything]

I have to talk about Shiv’s costuming this episode because she’s wearing a piece of jewellery that I am personally covetous of: An antique pocket watch fob.

Possibly a carnelian one, which would match her lovely top. I am very into the (brownish?)burgundy in the costuming this episode. In recent years there’s been a trend of repurposing these fobs as pendants, which is a great detail for Shiv because they are objects that were once exclusive to men. They are also suitably luxurious because they’re antiques and usually gold with precious stones. You can get a cute reproduction or if you’re lucky a silver one online for only double digits, but they can also set you back into the thousands. The ones with spinning ends or personal seals carved into them are particularly cool.

Anyway, loved this whole look. Dainty diamond studs and her less dainty wedding set still keeping it minimal as we’ve come to expect from Siobhan. Poor Tom. Never gets to match her.

#succession #costume design #succession spoilers #siobhan roy

[say-al0e]

Watchful

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: Boba likes an audience and so do you. What happens when Din needs to speak with Boba but your lover isn’t ready to let you go? Well, he lets Din watch, of course.

Warnings: A little choking, mentions of murder, canon typical violence for Boba, voyeurism, exhibitionism (and I think that’s it?)

Pairing:  Boba x fem!reader (ft. Din)

Word Count: 4.8k (....my bad)

Masterlist

Though you’d been gone for over a month, the palace was exactly as you last saw it. People milled about, blasters holstered at their sides and weapons slung across their back. Credits exchanged hands as tracking fobs were passed to their respective hunters. Spotchka filled jars littered the little nooks and crannies of the stone structure, waiting for the next guest to take a sip.

It was the exact opposite of what you imagined for your future but it was comfortable and familiar and you were glad to be home.

As they had done since the day you stepped foot into the palace by Boba’s side, the guests that roamed the halls averted their gazes as you sauntered by. Those who were regulars rarely gave you a second glance, even when they felt certain no one was watching, lest they draw the ire of the man who was now king. Those who were new quickly learned to do the same.

Boba was protective of what was his. He held the things that mattered to him close to his chest and you were at the top of the list. However, something Boba treasured almost as much as you was control. He was anything but a fool. He knew that people looked, that they fantasized about having you in the way that he did, so he decided early on that he would give them something to look at.

Despite his gruff demeanor, Boba loved to put on a good show. He got off on watching others writhe and pant as they imagined you giving them the same treatment. He lived to show them why, no matter what took you away, you always returned to him. 

Most importantly, he lived to show them what they could never have.

It had happened a fair number of times. Boba had pushed you to your knees in the throne room with Fennec and a handful of men who wouldn’t live long enough to marvel at what they’d seen. He’d caught them staring and, on one occasion, reaching out to touch you. That was not the only crime they were guilty of - he was passionate, not possessive - but it was the one that sealed their fates.

A few times, the times someone actually managed to lay a hand on you, Boba stripped you of the thin layers that shielded you from prying eyes and hauled you onto his lap. He pressed your back to his chest, left your thighs splayed open and your knees hooked over his own, and filled you until the only thing you were capable of saying was his name. And then, when you were dripping with your combined release, he lifted his blaster.

The memories of those moments lingered in the back of your mind any time someone grew bold enough to look for longer than it took to recognize you. You knew that Boba got off on it but you enjoyed it just as much as he did.

As much as you enjoyed Boba’s penchant for taking you in front of an audience, you sometimes wondered what it would be like if he allowed someone else to touch you. He was more than enough for you - he was the love of your life and you would be content to spend the rest of your days in his bed - but the thought remained. You fantasized about it every so often, imagining the rough hands of another mercenary gliding over your skin, but you knew that he would never share.

Boba could be generous when he wanted but you were high on the list of things he didn’t feel the need to be generous with. That didn’t stop you from thinking about it, though. You knew that he pushed harder when he had an audience. He gripped your hair just a little tighter, spoke just a little harsher, finished just a little faster. There was never any competition, you both knew that - you were his and he was yours; that was just the way it was -, but you sometimes wondered what would happen if you could at least pretend.

A wistful sigh spilled past your lips as you wandered the halls en route to the throne room. You dragged your fingers over the sandstone walls and wondered if this would be one of those days that Boba brought you to your knees in front of whoever happened to be unlucky enough to remain in his presence upon your entrance. If not, you wondered how long it would take for him to drag you off to your shared chambers as you had a month of missed time to make up for.

You noticed that the crowd grew thinner the closer you got to the throne room and wondered, idly, where the beings now under Boba’s employ had gone. They didn’t bother him often but it was unlike them all to remain out of sight entirely. You didn’t particularly care where they’d gone as this gave you a greater chance of getting what you wanted. While he liked an audience, Boba preferred it to be small; it was easier for him to maintain control. He liked a challenge but not when he was more focused on the warmth of your mouth wrapped around his cock.

However, the closer you got the throne room, the clearer the reasoning for the sparse crowd grew.

A hunter that you recognized as having been a constant thorn in Boba’s side stood at the foot of the throne. He glared at the man in green beskar, his eyes narrowed and blown black with rage, as he held a blaster in front of him. He almost looked like he believed the weapon would make a dent in the armor Boba wore. From what you could hear, his breathing was harsh and trembled as his cheeks glowed red with fury. He didn’t bother turning in your direction upon hearing you enter but he did go rigid at the sound of footfalls.

You couldn’t see Boba’s face - he’d returned to keeping the helmet on whenever he ventured out of his quarters - but you saw the way his hand twitched when you entered. His visor remained trained on the man in front of him as he sat statue still on the throne. He made no move for a long moment, as if calculating his next step, before he pulled his own blaster and aimed it directly at the man in front of him. Boba pulled the  trigger and the man fell with a thud, his blaster clattering to the ground beside him. At the sight, you heaved an exaggerated sigh as you leaned against the stone entryway.

“I suppose it’s nice to see that nothing’s changed while I’ve been gone.”

Fennec, who’d given no indication that she’d heard you enter - though you knew she had; Fennec sometimes seemed to be more aware of your presence than even Boba himself - tilted her head in your direction. Her dark eyes flashed with what you recognized as amusement as she met your gaze head on. She smirked at your quip but offered no reply as she moved around the throne to the small bar and reached for the familiar jug of Spotchka.

Boba’s helmet turned to you as he lowered his blaster and returned it to the holster. His visor remained fixed on you for a beat as he sat, unmoving, and you raised an eyebrow at him. The silence was filled with the clinking of bottles and the far off chatter of visitors who knew better than to investigate the sound of a blaster shot. Fennec glanced over her shoulder at the two of you, her own eyebrow raised, and that seemed to be enough to prompt Boba into action.

He remained silent as he stood from the throne and descended the steps. As his boots hit the stone floor, you half-expected him to stop and reach out to either pull you into an embrace or to grip your wrist to drag you off to some dark corner of the palace. What you didn’t expect was for him to pick you up and toss you over his shoulder without so much as a missed step.

You made a noise of surprise as the air rushed from your lungs upon impact with his armor. The world turned violently upside down and Boba’s broad back filled your vision as you blinked. His hand gripped your thigh to hold you in place as your hand braced against his armor to keep yourself from bouncing as he stomped down the hall. He was already out of the throne room and stalking down the corridor that connected his two spaces when you lifted your head and met Fennec’s eyes.

She tilted her jug in your direction, a smirk on her lips, before turning and disappearing into the small nook off the throne room she claimed as her office.

You felt a thrill shoot down your spine as Boba stalked down the hallway. He knew how much you enjoyed being manhandled, picked up and tossed around and bent into shape for your shared pleasure, and you weren’t going to complain, even as beskar dug into your skin and made it difficult to breathe. However, you couldn’t resist rapping the metal with your knuckles and asking, “You couldn’t have given me some warning?”

Boba’s grunt was barely audible beneath the helmet but the sharp, “Don’t be a brat, little one,” was uttered loud and clear. It rang in your ears and echoed with the sound of his palm cracking against the back of your thigh. Though you tried to bite your tongue, a quiet moan escaped at the feeling of his hand on your skin. It was the first touch you’d had in weeks and you were eager to feel more of him.

The journey to your quarters was quicker than usual thanks to Boba’s brisk pace but you barely noticed as your eyes remained glued to the deep green of his armor. You only realized where you were when the door that sealed you away from the rest of the palace was shut and Boba dropped you to your feet.

He pressed you against the wall, his body crowding yours, as his hands reached for the lip of his helmet. It was quickly removed and placed aside with his gloves as his eyes met yours. You studied his face, searching for any sign of new scars since you’d last seen him, and Boba allowed you a moment to drown in the overwhelming feeling of him. Seeing him again after any time apart was always like this, like a sip of cool water in the barren desert, and you intended to get your fill.

His mouth met yours before you could blink. His lips were slightly chapped from the Tatooine heat and blistering hot against your own. His kiss was firm but spoke volumes about the way he’d missed you as his hands began to move. One hand fell to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, while the other moved to your throat to tilt your head the way he wanted. 

You moaned at his touch and attempted to shift impossibly closer, desperate to feel him completely after so long without his touch.  Boba’s lip twitched, his pleasure at your eagerness obvious, and his grip tightened. He kept you there, his mouth slotted over yours, and shared your breath as you drowned in his affection. The hand on your hip moved, his fingers drifted to pop the button on your pants, before his hands shifted to gather the material of your tunic. He pulled away long enough to drag the material up and over your head, tossing it without a thought onto the floor, before his mouth fell to your neck.

His hands roamed your skin as his teeth scraped the sensitive skin of your neck. Your head lolled to the side to give him better access as he cupped your breasts with hands warm and calloused from years of use. His fingers pinched and tugged at your nipples and he hummed a low noise of satisfaction against your neck as he felt them pebble between his fingers.

He laved your breasts with attention for another breath before one hand shifted and dragged down your stomach. He used his foot to kick your legs apart, just enough for him to slip his hand between your thighs, and your breath caught in your throat as his fingers brushed through your dripping folds. His knuckle brushed your clit and a choked moan wrenched itself free from your throat as Boba’s teeth sank into your shoulder.

“That’s it, little one,” he encouraged, his words muffled against your skin, “be good for me. You can touch yourself all you’d like but it’ll never feel like this, will it?”

“No,” you answered easily, “never feels as good as you. Please.”

Boba said nothing as he pulled his hand from between your thighs. Before you could whine at the loss, he yanked your pants down and left you bare before him. He pulled back just enough to get a good look at you and a shiver ran down your spine at the intensity in his gaze. You knew that you looked like a sight but you could only hope that he was pleased with what he saw as your chest heaved with every breath. Your lips felt kiss swollen and you knew that he’d left his mark on your neck.

He raked his eyes over you fully once, twice, three times before he crowded against you once more. His mouth descended on yours, his tongue quickly licking into your mouth, as his hand dipped back between your thighs. He wasted no time in coating two of his fingers with your slick before notching them at your entrance. He swallowed your gasp when he pressed them inside and brought his free hand to your throat to hold you up as your body sagged against him.

Your mind was swimming and your heart felt as if it would beat out of your chest as Boba pressed into you. He worked his fingers inside of you and you felt the drag of them against your walls as you shifted your hips to gain more friction. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip when you moved and you stilled, eager to please him after so long of being without his touch.

“Be good for me,” he reminded you, the words spoken against your mouth as his thumb rubbed circles over your clit. “Cum, girl,” he commanded, his voice a rough growl as his fingers moved faster, “cum and I’ll give you my cock.”

You shook in his grip as your orgasm hit you. Boba hummed, pleased, against your mouth and continued moving his fingers until you began shifting away from his touch. He pulled his hand from between your thighs and, as you whimpered at the loss, he pulled his cock from the confines of his pants. You heard the slick sound of his hand working over his cock after a moment and attempted to tilt your head to take a look at him. However, Boba kept you firmly in place as he shifted impossibly closer. He tapped at your thigh, a signal for you to move, and on shaking legs, you attempted to wrap one leg around him as best as you could.

One of Boba’s hands gripped your ass, keeping you pressed tight against his body and supporting your weight, as the other gripped his cock. He ran his length through your folds and coated himself in your slick before notching the tip at your entrance. You waited, your eyes trained on his face and breath caught in your throat, for him to finally sink into you after weeks of emptiness.

Just as Boba pushed the tip of his cock into your heat, a knock sounded at the door. You cried out as a sharp pang of annoyance and disappointment shot down your spine. It was likely Fennec - there was no one stupid enough to interrupt Boba in his chambers - but you knew she would only interrupt if it was important.

To your surprise, Boba ignored the knock at the door. The quiet growl that rumbled low in his chest was the only indication he’d even heard the noise as he continued to sink into you. You keened at the stretch of him and made no effort to control your volume as you felt every vein and ridge of his cock dragging through your walls. You gripped at the armor covering his bicep in an effort to ground yourself. The air felt as if it had been punched from your lungs as he filled you completely and you swore you could feel the tip of his cock in the back of your throat as he settled between your thighs.

“That’s it, little one,” he breathed, his voice steady with only a hint of breathlessness betraying the effect you had on the king, “take all of me.”

He shifted, grinding his pelvis into yours and pulling your thighs apart just wide enough for him to mold his body against yours, and you choked out a moan at the feeling of him. His armor pressed against your bare skin and you felt goosebumps erupt wherever you touched the cool beskar.

Another knock sounded and Boba stilled. His eyes flashed, the brilliant brown disappearing behind the lust-blown black, and the hand that had been at your throat moved to your mouth. His fingers slipped past your parted lips and you moaned at the familiar taste of blaster residue and leather that still lingered when he pressed two fingers against your tongue.

“Fett,” an impatient voice called out. The man, not Fennec, clearly heard the movement behind the door and groused, “We need to talk.”

The voice was familiar. It registered somewhere deep in the recesses of your brain but your ability to put a name to the voice disappeared the moment Boba shifted his hips and began to thrust. His cock barely left your cunt. He only pulled out enough to get a bit of leverage as he dove back in and you keened around his fingers as he flashed you a feral grin.

“Be good for me, little one,” he ordered, his voice low and his teeth on display as he continued driving into you with slow, deep thrusts. He met your eyes, waiting for any disagreement, and when he found none, turned his head to the door. “The door’s unlocked,” he called, this time loud enough to be heard in the hallway.

Your eyes fell shut as the doorknob turned and Boba made a noise of disapproval as the hand at your mouth moved to your throat. His fingers pressed just enough to pull a ragged breath from your lips as your eyes fluttered open. “Keep your eyes open, little one,” he breathed as he continued thrusting without so much as missing a beat, “want you to look at our guest.”

Your eyes remained open as the thud of boots echoed in the hallway. Your vision was blurred and your head was lolled to the side but the gleam of silver beskar caught your eye. You clenched around Boba as the Mandalorian came into view and he chuckled low and deep in your ear.

The only person who’d ever seen you this way and lived to remember the sight was Fennec, though you assumed that the Mandalorian would now be joining that club.

The Mandalorian froze just a few steps from where Boba held you pressed against the wall, his cock splitting you open with every thrust. You felt incredibly vulnerable, open and on display, but the thought only made the lust burning in the pit of your stomach grow that much hotter as Boba’s pace never faltered. He continued driving into you, his cock pressing deep inside of you while his hand gripped your throat. He squeezed once before letting go and dragging his hand down your sternum, over your stomach, before coming to rest at your clit. As his fingers rubbed lazy circles over your clit, he turned his head to glance at the Mandalorian.

“If it’s so urgent, start talking.”

The Mandalorian stood frozen in place and you choked out a quiet whine as Boba’s hips moved just a bit faster. He continued diving into you as deep as he could, his cock pressing as far as your body would allow, and you scraped your nails against the beskar as each thrust pulled a ragged moan from your lips.

“I’ll come back,” the Mandalorian finally answered, his voice breathless as he began to turn away from the sight in front of him. “It can wait.”

“Stay.” The Mandalorian froze at your rasped plea and Boba grinned as you rolled your head to stare at the silver beskar covering the man’s back.

“My princess likes an audience,” Boba informed him, the words falling from his lips as casually as if he’d been talking about the weather. “You can look, Mando. And when I’m done with her, we’ll talk.”

The Mandalorian turned slowly, his movements stiff as his visor focused on Boba. You assumed he was sizing up your lover, curious as to whether this was a cruel trap, but when he found nothing but sincerity and a bit of harmless mischief in Boba’s eyes, the Mandalorian turned his helmet toward you.

He took a few hesitant steps closer and you marveled at the sound of his ragged breathing. His helmet was impassive, a mask covering his wandering eyes, but you felt his heavy gaze on you as Boba quickened his pace once more. His hand tightened around your throat, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, as he drove into you with reckless abandon.

You felt your back scraping against the wall as the grit of it bit at your skin. Boba’s hand gripped your thigh as he held you in place and you moaned at the feeling of him pressing into you as your glanced at Din’s visor. You could see yourself reflected in it, could see the way your eyes glazed over and your lips parted as your chest heaved with each thrust, and you ached to reach out and touch him.

You’d met the Mandalorian on a few occasions, usually when he stopped off to visit Boba before returning to his own hunting, and he’d always intrigued you. You’d felt his eyes on you every time you met, his watchful gaze lingered no matter where you moved, and you wondered if it was his friendship with Boba that saved him or the helmet he wore. 

You assumed it was the former - Fennec was still alive, despite her having seen you in this position more than once - and you knew that Boba trusted the Mandalorian more than most. He considered him an acquaintance, if not a friend, so you had no worries that this would end badly for him.

You reveled in the feeling of the Mandalorian’s eyes on you. It was exhilarating hearing his ragged breathing and watching his hand clench at his side as Boba drove into you. It pushed you higher and higher, made it harder for you to catch your breath, and Boba could feel you clench around him every time the Mandalorian’s hand twitched at his side.

“She likes this,” Boba informed him, his voice rough but full of mischief as he tilted his head and glanced lazily at the Mandalorian. “Every time you move, she gets tighter.” He narrowed his eyes at the Mandalorian before cutting them at you. He gave you a wicked grin before he tossed out, “Show her what this is doing to you, Mando.”

At that, you keened. A high-pitched noise you swore you’d never heard leave your own lips echoed through the room and Boba’s eyes narrowed as you nodded frantically. “Please,” you sighed, your hand reaching out for the Mandalorian, “want to see you, Mando.”

The Mandalorian didn’t have to be told again. He knew Boba well enough to know that he wouldn’t offer unless he meant it. With that firmly in mind, he eagerly tossed the glove covering his right hand to the floor before he reached for the button of his pants.

Your eyes remained on his hand as it moved over the rough material of his pants. You absentmindedly ran your tongue over your lips to wet them as you watched him free his cock from its confines before he tilted his helmet and regarded you. He seemed to be considering something as he stared at you and the thing that spurred him on was Boba’s hand at your throat, turning your head in his direction. The Mandalorian’s hand lifted to your face, his palm just beneath your chin, and you stared at him with furrowed brows.

“Spit, little one,” Boba ordered, his thrusts growing sharper as he angled himself to hit the spot deep within that had you seeing stars.

You groaned at the order and followed his command eagerly as you spit into the Mandalorian’s palm. You watched with hazy eyes as he used your saliva to glide his hand along his cock. He was beautiful, bigger than you imagined but not quite as thick as Boba, and you imagined the weight of him on your tongue. You wanted to touch him, to have him touch you, but you imagined this was as generous as your lover would be for the time being and remained grateful that he’d given you this much.

You watched, your lip captured between your teeth, as the Mandalorian stroked his cock while Boba’s fingers worked your clit. You felt your second orgasm barreling toward you, ready to drag you under and engulf your body in flames, and Boba picked up the pace as he nearly lifted you entirely from the floor.

“Go on, little one,” he huffed, his voice gruff in your ear as he nipped at your shoulder. “Show Mando how good you are and cum for us.”

You felt the flames of your orgasm licking at your skin, shooting from the tips of your toes and slowly engulfing your body in the most wonderful heat, as your eyes lingered on the Mandalorian. You wanted to give in entirely, shut your eyes and focus on the pleasure coursing through your veins, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him as he stroked his cock. Boba’s hand gripped your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin, as he hit the spot inside that sent your toes curling and a moan pouring past your lips.

You fell over the edge with a cry of Boba’s name, the word leaving your lips in a broken moan, and shut your eyes as the heat fully engulfed you. You heard the rushed slick of the Mandalorian’s hand working his cock, felt the quickened pace of Boba chasing his own orgasm, and couldn’t focus on either as you felt them both meet their end. Boba filled you entirely, his release warming you from the inside, while the Mandalorian’s release painted your side.

The three of you stood there in silence, your harsh breathing drowning out theirs as you fought to catch your breath, before Boba pulled out of you and set you down on shaking legs. He tucked himself back into his pants and dropped his eyes to watch his release drip down your thighs. The Mandalorian did the same, returned his cock to the confines of his pants before bending to pick up his glove, and you giggled at the sight of them.

Boba, used to your behavior, rolled his eyes as he picked you up and carried you to the couch that lined the wall of your sitting area. He deposited you unceremoniously before he turned to the Mandalorian. “You had something you wanted to talk about?” The Mandalorian nodded and Boba copied his gesture before he turned to look at you. “I’ll be back, little one. What do you tell our guest?”

His eyes glittered with something you’d never seen and it sent another rush of flames licking at your skin as your eyes turned to the Mandalorian. “Thank you, Mando.”

He nodded stiffly, the helmet tilted slightly away from you, and you bit your lip as you let your legs fall open to reveal the mess between your thighs. He made a noise beneath the helmet, one not clearly picked up by the vocoder, and you smothered a grin as you watched Boba roll his eyes at your antics.

He didn’t look back as Boba guided him out of your shared quarters but you knew this wasn’t the last you’d seen of him. You just hoped that next time, Boba might let him do more than watch.

___________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I can’t remember what request I started writing this for but someone requested Boba and here we go. Also this week has been the worst. And I’m sorry for not writing more. I’m just so busy and when I get home from work, I don’t want to do shit. But! I kicked in my door on Friday, which was pretty cool. And I hopefully get new contacts/glasses tomorrow. But we’ll see. I haven’t gotten new ones in ages. Was supposed to get them in May but, obviously, that didn’t work. So. Fingers crossed. Anyway, yeah. Birthday fics will start happening soon. I’m turning 25 so I’m being self indulgent to take the sting out of getting old.

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