maybege

DILF!PAZ SURPREMACY 18+ | she/her | 20s | you can call me may | masterlist | AO3 MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

[maybege]

WHERE IS MY HUSBAND!

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a big romantic gesture. (Part 5 of Man I Need)

Pairing: Ice Hockey Coach!Alpha!Boba Fett x fem!Omega!Reader

Wordcount: 5.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: bad/complicated parent/child relationship, reader with anxiety, descriptions of a panic attack, angst, older man/younger woman, workplace relationship, pet names, mating bites

Here we are!! I hope you enjoyed this AU as much as I did. For now, I will have a little rest during June to both get some creative and physical rest. In July, I hope to be back with something new. Until then, please let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog – they are the best fuel for writing.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The next few weeks passed in a blur of tears, tissues and an unhealthy amount of chocolate ice cream to the point where you got concerned looks from the cashiers at your local grocery store. But you could not bring yourself to care. Stars, it was a miracle already that you could bring yourself to change your clothes every few days.

Maudii had the patience of a saint but after the third week of you sulking at the kitchen table, your eyes filling with fresh tears as she made herself her morning coffee, she decided safe distance was the best bet when it came to your current state.

You couldn’t really blame her.

And so, you spent your days ignoring your phone, staring out the window, counting the snowflakes that landed on the windowsill and all the people that walked on the sidewalk across the street. Snow had finally started and under different circumstances, you would have found it incredibly romantic. You would have put on a lovely winter playlist and re-organized your closet and bought yourself flowers and asked Boba for walks in the park.

Instead all you got were messages from your parents (your mother), grocery deliveries (your father) and – when you still didn’t answer them – flowers. And although they were absolutely stunning, you made it a point to throw them away on principle. Maudii made the joke that “considering that they know where you live, they make very little effort of actually showing up” and you couldn’t agree more.

It was like the frustration you had suppressed for so long came back tenfold, turned into a rage that almost scared you. You wanted to scream and stab your pillow and throw mugs against the wall and then make a nest and cry yourself to sleep just to repeat it all over again the next day. You wanted to call your parents and tell them to never call you again, you wanted to call Boba and beg for forgiveness and volunteer to work somewhere completely else so maybe your father wouldn’t fire him when he found out.

But who even said Boba would take you back?

You were currently googling job opportunities up in Hoth, when a knock on your door sounded.

“Not in the mood, Maudii,” you grumbled, unmoving from where you were snuggled up in bed.

“It is not Maudii,” a strange voice said and your head snapped up, your phone falling to your chest.

There, standing in the doorway, was your mother. Dressed in her cream-coloured two-piece she looked so out of place in the room with peeling paint and printed photos taped to the walls. Of all the people, you had never expected her to show up.

She did not wait for you to greet her. “It’s your birthday, honey, so I think we should go out.”

“I don’t feel like going out.”

“Now don’t make such a fuss,” she sat on the very edge of your bed, “I got reservations for the best spot in town, just the two of us. That has to take your mind off whatever alpha you’re love sick over, hm?”

“I – what?”

Images flashed in your mind of Boba in the park, him smiling at you, winking when you handed him notes, the feeling of him kissing you. How could she have known? Did she know? Fuck, did you look caught? Was your face betraying you?

“Of course, I was worried when you suddenly disappeared from Coruscant to … here,” she wrinkled her nose like she still didn’t understand, “But when I came here and saw you cosy up with that coach, I realized that my baby moved for love. And isn’t that so romantic? I am sad to see that it did not work out.”

“You … what?”

“I am sad to see it didn’t work out,” and she did look genuinely hurt on your behalf. That didn’t lighten the bombshell she had just dropped on you.

“You knew … you knew about Boba?”

“Well, I had my suspicions,” she shrugged, “But before I could ask you about it, it seemed things already simmered out. At least according to how grumpy that man is. What happened?”

Shock gave way to confusion gave way to disbelief gave way to anger.

How could she say these words and not realize what had happened? How could she not look at you, look at your father and look at herself and realize that the only thing that had happened was –

“You,” you stood up, wiggling your toes, “You happened, mom. I – I can’t believe you sit here and tell me about it as if you and dad didn’t destroy my life!”

“Now, I don’t know what –“

“You had your suspicions that I was with Boba and you let dad say that to me,” you screamed, “You let – you let him say that he would fire Boba and – and –“

You paced around the room, too many thoughts wanting to spill out all at once. It was an avalanche and you were ripped with it.

“If you really love me, you have to let me go. I – Do you realize how unhappy I have been these last few years?” your voice rose and she flinched but you could not bring yourself in the moment, “I have done everything I could to make you proud but I am – it’s like I can’t breathe when you are around me. Living here, working for the team, it finally felt like I was building something for myself and you still couldn’t let me have it. If you ever want me to truly find myself, you need to leave me be.”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and you took a deep breath. Each word was a weight off your chest and you were ready to feel tons lighters. “Talk to dad,” you implored her, “Get him to sell the team or at least to stop meddling in my career. Stop sending me expensive champagne and flowers and that bread that I told you I don’t like. Let me live my life, let me get a job on my own. Let me – let me be with people who I want to be with. Coach – Boba,” your heart broke at saying his name out loud, “He did pursue me and he was right to. I – I love him, at least I think I do, and I can’t keep myself from being happy just out of fear of disappointing you.”

Your mother was quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet. For a woman who was so eloquent, she watched you silently for a long time. She didn’t look angry, at least, but you also weren’t sure if you cared if she was. All you felt now was pure exhaustion and relief. You had said your piece and if she still could not see what you meant, then … then you needed to think about how to get out of Mandalore for good.

“Vanilla.”

“What?”

“I thought you had a new room spray or something to cover that mildew smell,” she gestured to a corner on the ceiling where there had been water damage a few months ago, “But it’s you. You are getting your scent.”

Your heart stopped for just a moment as your world turned upside down before it started beating twice the speed.  Your scent (or lack thereof) was never something you tried to linger on but now that you focussed on it, there was the faint scent of vanilla in the air. Could that really be you? After years of not having one, you had kind of made peace with the fact that you would not be like other omegas in that regard.

But if even your mother noticed and you detected the same scent, there had to be something to it, right?

“I never wanted you to be unhappy,” your mother said softly, her hand stroking over your cheek in what reminded you when you had been five years old and scared of the monsters under your bed, “I foolishly thought that you were just like us. That life in Coruscant was meant for you and you just needed time to realize it. But maybe … maybe your happiness doesn’t depend on a place but a person.”

“My happiness is dependent on letting me be free,” you mumbled, cheeks blazing as you finally admitted, “I … I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, my darling,” she pulled you in a for a hug, her voice cracking, “I am sorry that I did not see it sooner. That I was too blind to recognize you for the wonderful young woman you have become and trying to force you into something you didn’t want. But if you are willing, I – I would love to try again. To show you that we do love you and we want to be in your life, even if we have to learn how we can best do that.”

“I – I would like that, too,” you murmured, returning the hug, clinging to her shoulders.

“Okay, so how about this?” your mother gently let you go, “I will have a talk with your father about all this. And when …” – she winced – “If you are ready to maybe have a chat, you send me a message, okay?”

Damn it, why were there tears in your eyes again?

“Okay,” you nodded, wiping your nose on your forearm, “That sounds good. Thank you, mom.”

“No thank you, for giving us another chance,” she smiled, already halfway through the door before she frowned, “Now that I think about it, we didn’t send you any flowers.”

Managing a trembling smile, you watched her leave the apartment, taking a deep breath once the door fell close behind her.

That had been … different from what you had expected. Better, sure, but also somehow worse because the first and only thought that crossed your mind was how you should have had this conversation much sooner. Much, much sooner.

Like … years ago, maybe.

Because it definitely felt like years’ worth of tension were finally lifted from your chest, allowing you to breathe a little easier. You let yourself fall down to your bed, right into the pillows and blankets that you should probably wash at some point. Later. Now was the time to relish in the newfound freedom for just a moment. It calmed you down to know that it was up to you to initiate contact with your parents now. That there would be no more messages, no more groceries, no more flowers …

You sat up so fast, you were still feeling dizzy by the time you hurried through the kitchen, skidding across the tiles as you ripped open the lid to the trash can. The flowers your parents had sent today – they hadn’t sent them. Someone else had. And you needed to know who.

You didn’t care that you were discarding that old cereal box or the empty milk carton as you lifted them up, the beautiful petals looking worse for wear from when you had dropped the bouquet without another look at them. Now, though, you were looking through each bloom, frantically reaching for the cream coloured card that was nestled on top.

Happy birthday, princess. May you find the courage to achieve your dreams.

When Maudii came back from the grocery store, she didn’t ask why you were sitting next to the trash can, bawling your eyes out and clutching a card that barely smelled like coffee.

*

All he wanted to do was call you and ask you whether you liked the flowers.

*

You could only call in sick for so long before it became unbelievable and although you still very much felt like you were on the brink of a breakdown, you decided that it was time to go out and face the world.

You had faced your mother, so really, you had already put the worst behind you.

Still, the moment the cold sunny air touched your skin, the desire to crawl back into bed and hide from seeing anyone – and especially a certain someone – became more and more tempting with each step.

How could that be? It had been barely a few weeks that you had entertained the possibility of more with Boba Fett and your life and your career. Could that have been enough to irrevocably damage the good enough feeling you previously had strived for?

“You’re here, good,” Manuel, your supervisor, greeted you, “You okay, kid?”

The look of fatherly concern on his face almost made you cry but you managed a trembling smile and a nod and that was already a win for today.

“Tara managed your inbox for you, if you have any questions,” he explained, standing at the entrance of your cubicle while you unpacked your bag, “But better save them for later, we’ve got the big game meeting today.”

“The, uh, the game meeting?” you squeaked, “I didn’t think I would go today …”

“Of course, you will, your new question roster for the pre-game interviews will be introduced,” he announced with a grin, “That was your work and you should get the credit for it.”

The Big Meeting happened every few home games, or so, and was a giant cross-department meeting on the morning of a game. Not only did all eight coaches attend but so did the press department, the marketing division, the in-house gastronomical services and some people from higher up. Which meant that not only were you guaranteed to see Boba today, chances were high you would cross your father as well.

A bit much for the first day back maybe.

Sure, you may have hoped that – today being a game day – you would have the office to yourself because everybody was busy preparing for the chaos that would follow at night. But the universe had different plans for you. Maybe this was like taking off a band-aid – a day of anxiety would clear the rest of time from any uncertainty.

Also, it would be impossible to explain to Manuel that you couldn’t attend the meeting to be there for the introduction of your very own pre-game questions because you were scared of facing the alpha you were pining after and whom you had rejected because your parents had fucked with your head.

At least the universe seemed to take pity on you somewhat because as you entered the already packed room with your colleagues and your printed handouts, it seemed that your father would not join today’s meetings. You found a place to the side of the large conference table, close enough to have good view of the coaches, far away enough not to have to look at Boba the entire time.

Just as his name crossed your mind, he walked through the door. Your breath caught in your throat and you straightened up a little. But when his eyes landed on you there was … nothing. No cocky smirk, no wink, nothing to indicate that he was happy to see you. Exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you had asked of him when you told him you weren’t interested in him.

Why, then, did it feel like your heart was breaking into two?

“Morning everyone,” Boba rumbled and took a seat, “How are we doing?”

A jumble of goods and mornings echoed through the room and you sank further into your seat. Maudii sat across from you, shooting you an encouraging (if still concerned) look. You returned it with a smile of your own, feeling a bit more secure. You could do this. You were a grown woman. The fact that you could smell coffee even a few seats away from him did nothing to your insides at all.

“Nah, we gotta put Vizsla on the ice today,” Boba shook his head, replying to a comment you seemed to have missed, “That omega of his is visiting and we all know he plays better when she’s here.“

Everyone chuckled in agreement.

“Today is also the first run of our new pre-game questions,” Manuel cleared his throat, “Developed by one of our own to listen to more of the feedback we’re getting from fans.”

“One of our own ...?” another division leader asked.

“Ah yes,” your supervisor’s hand landed on your shoulder and you flinched, holding the papers a little tighter as he said your name, “She’s treated us to some good work and I am sure we will see more of her in the coming seasons.”

His praise was balm to your soul, especially after your long absence. You were proud of your work and you were sure that the new introductory questions might bring the fans more joy. You just wished you could convey this pride properly instead of focussing on the man at the head of the table.

“Can I have a copy of these new questions?” Boba asked, his gaze now solely fixed on you. His eyes were still the warm brown colour you couldn’t seem to forget and for the fraction of a second, you could convince yourself that they also held warmth for you.

“Uh yes,” you murmured, ducking between some colleagues to hand him one of the papers, “here.” His fingers brushed yours, grazing over your scent gland and now you could smell that hint of vanilla. Your skin burned and you snatched your head back, hoping he had not noticed. He didn’t turn to look at you. Why wouldn’t he look at you?

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” you mumbled, feeling the familiar burn behind your eyes. What was wrong with you? Your chest was aching in discomfort and you took a deep breath. Your nose filled with his scent and while it made your chest ache, it kept the tears at bay. You just needed to get through this meeting.

Boba didn’t say anything more, didn’t look at you anymore and you found yourself wishing that he would. It would still hurt but at least you could pretend at night that he had looked at you with love instead of cold indifference.

Once the meeting was over, you hurried to the bathroom. Locked in a stall, you sat on the lid and cried, sobbing into the crook of your arm. All you could do was ask yourself how you would survive the rest of your life like this?

*

He looked for you after the meeting but you must have snuck out with the mass of people from press.

His assistant coach noticed and nudged him with his elbow. “If you want me looking for that sweet omega, just say the word.”

“Fuck off, Brady.”

*

“Okay enough is enough.”

“Huh?”

You looked up from the romance movie re-run on the TV to where your friend had just posted herself right in your field of vision. The last time Maudii had looked this determined was when she tried to get the retro design fridge from the sidewalk up into your apartment.

“You need to get out,” she put her hands on her hips, “You are so focussed on being sad about losing him, you haven’t had a chance to be mad at your parents for betraying you like this.”

You opened your mouth to protest but she raised a single finger, stopping you in your tracks. ”No, I won’t hear it. I know your relationship with them is getting better, slowly, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t lasting effects of what they have done with you. You’re so terrified of failure and rejection that you didn’t put yourself into positions where you can fail or be rejected. You’ve spent your entire life hearing from your parents that your dreams aren’t achievable and they won’t ever happen and I understand that you don’t want to put yourself in situations where you’re under their constant scrutiny. But are you aware that whenever Coach Fett is in a room, you just leave?”

Your eyes widened. You had never seen Maudii this angry before and you didn’t know whether you should be terrified or flattered that she was this angry with you.

“You’re terrified of him not loving you the way you do – and I know that you love him because that’s why you put yourself in this miserable position in the first place. But don’t you see that now he’s accepted that he doesn’t have a chance because he’s not like your parents where he would put himself over your wishes?”

Your first instinct was to deny everything. To send her out of your room, screaming that she just didn’t understand. You were trying to help Boba, you were trying to stick to your plan of doing as little damage to his life here as possible.

You were trying to … protect yourself.

The truth in her words made you hesitate and you found yourself mulling them over.

“I,” you started, your throat closing with emotion, “I really thought I was doing the right thing.”

Your best friend fell to the couch next to you. “Oh honey, I know.”

“I really fucked up,” you sniffled, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your sweater, “And I – I don’t know if I will make it worse by trying to … to talk to him and apologize or if I should just let him be and …” you swallowed back a sob, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“You most certainly should not let him be,” Maudii insisted, squeezing your hands in hers, “We are talking about the man who sent you flowers even when he thought you would never talk to him again.”

“Those were really nice flowers,” you nodded over a wave of fresh tears, “And I threw them all away!”

“Okay okay okay, deep breaths, honey. In and out. In …. And out, there we go,” you evened out your breathing, watching as your friend’s shoulders did the exaggerated movements to help you calm down, “Now, I want you to ask yourself: What would make you happy?”

Your answer came without hesitation, “Being with Boba. Making him … making him happy and smile and – and going out with him and getting that permanent position with the Minotaurs and then I could stay here and be with him.”

Maudii smiled at you in triumph. “See?” she asked you, “Now why would you leave him be when he is who you want? You deserve happiness and so does he. You two just need to get your act together.”

A rare spark of optimism settled in your chest. If you thought about how happy he had made you and how happy you seemed to have made him, maybe it wasn’t too much of a stretch to think that he would take you back. There was only one thing to consider now:

“What do I do now?”

“There is only one thing you can do.” Maudii pointed to the TV, “Major fucking gesture.”

*

“You sure you want to do this, kid?” Manuel asked you, still holding the clip board with today’s required players for the press, “Tom already volunteered.”

“No, it’s fine,” you smiled tightly at your boss, “I can do it. One last time this season, right?”

He laughed, handing the notes over to you and slapping your shoulder, “Right, let’s hope for the best, huh? I cannot believe we might actually win the Cup this season.”

The walk down had your heart racing and your hands trembling. You were excited and nervous and terrified and yet you knew this was exactly where you were supposed to go. Right down the stairs, through the locker rooms to the teasing calls of the players complimenting your shirt and straight to your alpha’s – into Boba’s office.

You didn’t knock because you knew if you just paused for one second, the fear would get to you. But now you were standing there, watching him read through some papers, too absorbed in them to notice that it was you standing in front of his desk and not one of your colleagues.

“Just leave the call sheet there,” he gestured to the corner of the desk without looking up, “Can’t promise anything today though, I need them in top shape.”

“Okay,” you said and his head whipped up so fast, you were feeling dizzy for him.

Boba looked … old. And not in the handsome way he teased you about when he asked you if you wanted to take his knot (a thought that made your thighs squeeze) but in the way that showed how tired he was. There were dark rings under his eyes, the shadow of his stubble looked more prominent and if you were anyone but you, you would be terrified of this alpha in front of you.

But all you felt was worry. Had you done this to him? How could you ever make it up to him?

“It’s you,” he said, his voice hoarse, “You are … here to give me the notes.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “I – There is a lot I want to say but this is the big game but I was hoping if, um, maybe we could talk after?”

He stood up, rounding the desk until he stood in front of you. “You want to talk?”

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. It was hours before the most important game of his career as a coach and you just walked in, announcing that you wanted to talk to him after effectively breaking him with him under the pretence that he was too old and just not the alpha for you. What kind of person, what kind of potential omega, did it make you now to stand in front of him and ask him for his time?

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmured, his hand reaching out until it landed on your waist. It was the first time he had touched you in forever and warmth spread from there straight to your heart, “I – I will never lie to you, omega. I have spent the last few weeks debating how I could get you back and seeing you here makes me want to skip this game entirely so I can prove to you that I am the man for you. So, let’s talk about something else for now, okay?”

You already are the man for me.

Your heart filled with hope and you bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from smiling too widely. But the warm look in his eyes, his lingering touch on your waist, felt like coming home.

“Do you want to see my merch for today?” you asked him, playing with the hem of your shirt, “I – I got it specifically for today.”

“I was wondering when I’d see you in the team colours,” he joked, leaning back against the desk and making a twirling motion with his finger, “Spin around for me, little one, let me see.”

That was exactly what you had hoped and planned for. Turning around slowly, you revealed the little late-night amendment you had made to your wardrobe with the help of Maudii’s sewing machine. Because instead of the name of any of Minotaur player, the back of your shirt read Fett.

Boba was silent for a long time but you forced yourself to stay still, with your back turned to him. “Do, um, is it too much?”

His hand returned to your hip and moments later, the heat of his body pressed against your back. Melting into him was as easy as breathing and when both his hands landed on your hips, pulling you back against him, you were done for. All these weeks yearning for your alpha to touch you and now you had him right up behind you, his mouth so close to your neck, it made you feel all fuzzy.

You could feel him nosing at the back of your ear, his breath washing over your scent gland, sending shivers down your spine. “Do you know what it means to wear someone names on their back?”

“Yeah,” you smiled at him, for the first time smelling your own hint of vanilla mixed with his coffee scent, “I do.”

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna kill me,” he growled, his forehead resting on your shoulder, “Omega … The things I want to do to you.”

“I – I really want to stay, alpha, I do. But you have to win a game, Boba,” you reminded him, relishing in the feeling of him so close and already hating the fact that you had to be away from him.

“Believe me,” his hand squeezed your hip, his mouth brushing over your neck, “I will win this for you and then we will talk and then I will put my mating bite right here.”

Stars, the things this man did to you with just his words.

“Don’t – don’t you want to hear my apology first?” you asked, breathless as you tilted your head to the side, “I – I prepared a whole thing.”

His mouth opened against your throat in a kiss, his teeth scarping over your skin. “I will gladly hear anything you will ever want to say to me, ‘mega,” he growled, planting another kiss to the spot under your jaw, “But I hope you know I forgave you the moment you stepped through this door with my name on your back. Now go,” he palmed your ass and you giggled, “I have a game to win and an omega to claim.”

*

The Mandalorian Minotaurs were the champions for the first time in 13 years.

To say the city was ecstatic would be an understatement. To say you were ecstatic would be an understatement.

There were celebrations on the ice, there were celebrations on the stands, there were celebrations on every floor of the arena. Including the locker room where Boba had just finished giving his post-game interview.

The floor was sticky with spilled champagne und you got jostled by more than one rowdy hockey player on your way through the crowd. You didn’t mind though. Especially not when it brought you closer to Boba who was currently hugging Din Djarin’s husband, the biggest smile on his face that was only rivalled by the one on yours.

“Boba!” your voice barely carried through the noise, but he still turned his face to you, his smile growing wider.

Your father was somewhere in here, shaking hands. But you could only see Boba, the man whose name you had painstakingly sewed onto your shirt. Because of course you had. You were his. He was yours. It was the easiest thing in the world.

Arms were reaching out, hands slapping him on the shoulder, and Boba smiled and nodded at everyone. But he didn’t slow his way to you. And neither did you. Determination filled you. This was your chance to make things right. To say the things you had kept to yourself when you shouldn’t have. To make sure that this new start was exactly that: A new start.

The moment you two were face to face, tears gathered in your eyes. “Boba, I am so sorry. I did things I never should have and I got influenced by my parents when I really shouldn’t have been. My father –“

A finger on your mouth silenced you.

“Not a word, omega,” he murmured, roughened hands cupping your cheeks, warm from cheering and screaming, “I know. And I don’t care. He wouldn’t dare to fire me, not now. And even if he would, I just got a dozen new job opportunities on my hands.”

“You … know?”

“I suspected,” he confirmed, “And now let me kiss you, little one.”

And then he did.

He kissed you in front of everyone, the cheering growing louder. Your eyes slipped shut and you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding yourself close to him. His lips were warm and dry and familiar. Your entire body ached for him, wanting him this close forever.

“Do you know what it means to wear someone names on their back?” he asked, his hands on your hips. Even with the crowd shifting around you, he didn’t move, holding you steady against him. “It means you’re theirs,” his mouth brushed over your scent gland.

“Oh, really?” your played-up innocence sounded way more breathless than intended. But who could blame you when you had Boba Fett with rolled up sleeved pressing up against you?

“Nah, princess,” he shook his head, voice low and eyes dark, “You don’t get to talk yourself out of this one.”

His hand was on the side of your face, gently tilting your head to the side and you sighed. “So, what are you going to do to me, then?”

“I am going to make you mine, ‘mega.”

Your heart skipped a beat with the realization of what he was saying to you. For a moment you tensed, afraid what other people would think. Public mating bites weren’t exactly uncommon but they weren’t the run of the mill either. But with everybody busy celebrating the win of the season, they might not even look at you. Most importantly, you realized that whether you wanted him to mate you was not a question at all. And once that certainty settled in your mind, any other concerns simply drifted away.

“Right here?” you asked, glancing around. No one was paying attention to you. The cup was held somewhere in the far corner of the room, you could hear another pop of a bottle of champagne. You truly were just lost in the sea of people.

“Right here,” he confirmed, “I love you, omega, and I want to put my bite right here. Do you want that? Is that – Is that what you want?”

His thumb drew a firm circle on the sensitive patch of skin right under your jaw and you swore this was what paradise felt like. Your heart was lodged somewhere in your throat and all you could do was nod, your eyes zeroing in on the mirroring spot on his neck.

“It is,” you confirmed, “And I want – I want to mark you too, alpha.”

You could watch in real time as his eyes darkened. “Fuck yes,” he growled, pulling you even closer. His nose brushed over your throat and goose bumps raised on your skin. Cheers went up in the whole room, you could hear Joe leading a chant about some other player and then Boba’s teeth sank into your throat and that was it.

A gasp was all that left you but inside, your body was screaming as everything felt like it was pulled apart and rearranged. Just … better. Like everything suddenly fit into place and the world made sense all of a sudden.  Not knowing what to do with this sensation of pure euphoria, you lunged forward, your mouth opening against his neck and biting down.

Boba groaned against you, his tongue laving over the mark on your neck, his hand cupping the back of your head. “Go on, little one,” he breathed in your ear, his voice rough, “Mark me. Show everyone I belong to you.”

You wondered if it felt the same to him. If he could feel this bond between you two now or if his life would go on as normal. When you pulled away, your eyes glossy as you took in the unmistakable mark on his throat, you got your answer in the form of his hands on your hips.

“’m afraid you cannot leave my side for the rest of the day,” he murmured in your ear, “Or else my entire body will rebel against it.”

“That’s okay,” you smiled, kissing him again, “I plan to stay there for the rest our lives.”

Title Inspired By: WHERE IS MY HUSBAND! - Raye

[orbiten]

It's Tau Ceti. You have a Petrova line, but you're not dimming. Why? PROJECT HAIL MARY (2026, Phil Lord & Christopher Miller)

[writingdose]

fanfic writers who type their works directly onto ao3 instead of copy-and-pasting from elsewhere have no fear. fear fears them.

[writingdose]

“oh. oh” in writing is a treasure. I will never stop using it and cherishing it.

[dilflovingmisandrist]

i need him to come home from work and take my phone out of my hand and tell me to go to bed idk

[havinganormalone]

Fanfiction is insane. You can write porn so good you make friends.

[katestewartt]

Obsessed with their "night vs. day, black vs. multicolor" dynamic

[maybege]

The Virgin In South 15

Summary: All you wanted was to lose your virginity. Instead a shelf lands on your head and you land in the ER where you meet a hot, older man who just so happens to be your doctor.

Pairing: Jack Abbot x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.6k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: medical inaccuracies, implied age gap, older man/younger woman, flirty!Abbot, lots of awkwardness, Jack is not a widow in this one

Let’s be honest, no one is surprised that I am writing about yet another Fictional Hot Old Man, least of all me. So here is my first ever Abbot story! I do have some ideas for a little sequel, so if you are interested in that, please do let me know in a comment or a reblog (they are not only really nice but will land you in my personal Hall of Eternal Gratitude). Until then: Enjoy! (also tagging @phoenixhalliwell)

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

In your many – or few, depending on who you asked – years of life, you had experienced may embarrassing things. Like that time in ninth grade when you had assumed that you would be invited to Laura Sarcone’s 14th birthday party and excitedly told her about the outfit you had picked out, only for her to tell you in front of the entire English class that you were, in fact, not invited. Or that time the waiter at the fancy French café you wanted to try out wished you Bon appetit! And you replied with you too.

Really, no matter how hard you tried, you inevitably ended up embarrassing yourself one way or another. And while you had somehow gotten used to it to a certain extent, your confidence still had its limits. Like right now.

Nothing would top this, though. This was the most embarrassing night of your life, you were sure of it.

Sitting in the hospital bed, you tried to pass the time by ranking its comfort level. It certainly was more comfortable than the gurney in the ambulance, though the bar wasn’t high with that one. Then again, it was definitely more uncomfortable than your own bed, with his dozens of pillows and blankets and that fuzzy comforter. God, what you wouldn’t do to be able to get back to your own bed …

Your musings were interrupted by a group of doctors and nurses appearing at your bedside. The sound of the curtain being pulled back made you flinch, hurting your ears. A woman with dreadlocks pulled up on her head looked down at her tablet, clearly reading the information relayed upon arrival.

“Female, mid-twenties, sustained a head injury when, er, engaging in coitus. EMTs were called as she lost consciousness.”

You wanted to correct her that you hadn’t actually been engaging in coitus or else you could have counted this evening somewhat as a success. However, that was not a conversation to be had with the ER staff. Or anyone else, really.

The man next to her slurped from his plastic coffee cup. You frowned. Was that Dunkin Donuts? Before you could wonder whether there was a shop of them around, his entire face lit up as if she’d just told him the next coffee was on her. “Oh, you mean the virgin!”

You let your head fall back against the pillow with a groan, immediately regretting it at the sharp pain that shot through you.

The woman, clearly amused, at least tried to somehow pretend they didn’t know what he was talking about. “I’m Dr Ellis, this is Dr Shen, we’re the physicians treating you today.”

“Hello,” you waved, “Nice to meet you.”

“So,” the man sat down on the little stool, rolling towards you. He seemed very relaxed which you took as a good sign. “How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed,” you blurted out before realizing that probably wasn’t what he had meant at all, “Dizzy. My, uh, my vision keeps blurring sometimes. I don’t know if that’s normal.”

“Did you stop bleeding?”

The hair at the back of your head was matted with blood and you tried to remember whether the EMTs had said anything to you about that. “Uh, I think so?”

Once the paramedics had arrived, the first thing they had done was wrap your head in a bandage, trying to stop the bleeding. It wasn’t a normal occurrence for you – both, being treated by medics and bleeding from your head – and they had done an amazing job at calming you down by stating that head wounds bled more than usual and that you shouldn’t worry about it. Now that you remembered that it might still be bleeding though, you worried.

“Could you lean forward for me?” Dr Shen asked, “I am going to take a look at the wound, all right?”

Nodding hurt, so you just shuffled forward, grateful for the hospital gown that covered more than the wide t-shirt Dreks had given you before the EMTs had taken you with them.   

Forcing yourself not to flinch when he peeled the bandage away, you watched Dr Ellis note things on the tablet when he said a string of words you couldn’t even pretend to understand. “You must’ve knocked your head something fierce,” the doctor said, “You will probably need stitches but I don’t see anything that’s particularly concerning now. Could you tell us how exactly you hit your head? Any symptoms you had afterward?”

Images of fumbling hands, hot breath and the murmured words of Yeah you like that, huh? flashed through your mind. Followed by the memory of how awkward you had felt when Dreks had rubbed your clit like a lottery ticket. How you had closed your eyes and imagined someone with nice hands, a slightly gentler touch and filthier words being with you there instead. And then how it all came crashing down. Literally.

Heat spread in your cheeks and your eyes fixed on the blanket. “Uh, well, it was …”

“Maybe it would be better if we had this conversation in private, hm?” Dr Ellis interjected with a pointed look at her male colleague. You appreciated her attempt to keep your privacy though all things considered, that train had departed long ago. Shaking your head no, you winced when the motion sent another wave of pain through your head, blurring your vision. Was it possible for your brain to hurt?

“It’s only a matter of time before everybody knows what happened, anyway,” you murmured, “I, uh, my … friend and I were busy lying down when his shelf got loose from the wall. It hit me right in the back of the head and I must’ve blacked out for a bit because when I came to he had already called 911.”

“Did you hit anything else?” she asked.

“Not that I know,” you answered truthfully, “Though my foot feels a bit tender. I think maybe I twisted it when I fell … off the bed.”

Both of them nodded, their faces all serious. “We’re going to keep you here for a bit to make sure it’s nothing too bad, okay?” Dr Ellis told you, though you were distracted by a new burst of action at the entrance. Someone was wheeled in a gurney, several people rushing to the new arrival.

“If you feel worse, let someone know, all right?”

And with that, they rushed to join the fray.  

*

Hours – or at least what felt like hours – passed without anything exciting happening. You were sitting on the hospital bed, tucking your feet under the blanket to keep warm and wishing more than anything for your e-reader. Your phone had given up hours ago and you were grateful that you had remembered to text you roommate what had happened so she wouldn’t declare you missing. Still, with all the excitement, there was only so much you could do to distract yourself and watching other patients suffer worse fates than you didn’t help you to calm down in the least.

Multiple cases had come and gone and Dr Ellis had come back to check on you once, making sure that your vision hadn’t worsened. Which it hadn’t – thank goodness – but your head was still pounding like you had the worst hangover of your life and you couldn’t even lie down properly.

Which is why, when the clock indicated you were approaching three a.m., you were growing restless. Just in time for some of the staff to make their rounds. You could hear the voices wander from cabin to cabin, talking to and about the patients and slowly approaching where you were sitting in –

“And don’t forget to check The Virgin in South 15”

The curtain swished away and you looked at a very handsome nurse. One you hadn’t met yet but who clearly had already heard about you. “The virgin in south 15 can hear you. “

“I, uh, oh my god, I am so sorry,” the young man apologized, clearly uncomfortable at being caught.

“Don’t worry,” your sudden bout of courage and sass dissipated as quickly as it came, “I am probably more embarrassed than you are.”

“Anyone wanna tell me how that nickname came to be?”

The voice belonged to a doctor you hadn’t seen before. Because you certainly would have remembered seeing him. You would like to say that the first thing you noticed about him was something like his eyes or his smile. But the truth of the matter was your eyes first fell onto his hands, thick, weathered, capable hands holding onto a stethoscope. Hands you would very much like to feel on your skin.

Only then did your eyes follow the line of his strong arms – the veins! – to his broad shoulders, clad in dark scrubs. And then his face.

God, his face.

You didn’t know what intrigued more, his silver eyes or his silvers curls, awakening something in you that your roommate would surely attribute to your non-existent daddy issues.

“This is Dr Jack Abbot,” Dr Shen introduced the strange man, “Our chief attending on this shift.”

Of course, he was. Someone who stood there, so sure of himself, and looked around like nothing escaped his sight had to be.

You gulped. “Hello, Dr Abbot.”

“So, what’s with the nickname?” he asked, looking at the tablet someone handed him. Others might have been offended at the lack of eye contact but you were glad for the reprieve. Glad for the few seconds it afforded you to gather your thoughts. To pretend to be a cool, casual person.

“I planned to lose my virginity today and so I met up with this guy to hook up. But before we could get to it, his shelf fell down and hit me in the head and so I was driven to the ER where I got to tell that story to at least fifteen people.”

So much for cool and casual.

Dr Abbot didn’t outwardly react to your statement. Instead, he approached you with a small flash light in his hand. “Keep your eyes open for me,” he mumbled, deep and quiet, and you found that you were very willing to do anything for him if he used that tone.

“Go on,” you muttered, blinking against the harsh light in his hand, “Make a joke. It seems I’ve been amusing the entire department with my mere existence today.”

“I would never,” the man said and oddly enough, you believed him. “You took quite a hit to the head. Was the lac closed?”

“Yup, stopped the bleeding,” someone confirmed from behind him.

The light switched off and you blinked, trying to get your eyes to work normally again. One thick finger lifted in front of your face and your cheeks burned at the thought that he probably wouldn’t have made you feel like Dreks did. He would’ve made you feel better.

“Follow my finger,” he instructed you, slowly moving it from left to right, then up and down. You did your best to do so, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts about the man at minimum. This man was working. You had just met him. And with his looks, he surely had someone waiting for him at home. It would be best to just … acknowledge that this man was very handsome and then move on.

“Good girl,” he praised you and your thighs clenched. Was anyone else here? You had genuinely forgotten with how this man – Dr Jack Abbot – had taken all of your focus on him. Ah yes, the moving on part of your plan seemed to be working great.

“Is he here?”

“Huh?”

“Your boyfriend,” the man rumbled, his hand dropping away and now he was just looking at you and why did that feel more intensive than the light, “Where is he?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

It must have been your imagination, how his mouth quirked up at one corner. Pure imagination. This was not appropriate. Or healthy. Or in any way helpful. This man was old enough to be … well certainly old enough to be none of your business.

“Well, then where is your not-boyfriend?”

“Dreks got, uh, I think he got discharged.”

At least that was what he had texted you an hour or two ago. More accurately he had texted you to text me when you’re free next, maybe we can finish what we started. Which meant that you would certainly not text him because you had no interest whatsoever to finish what you started.

“Dreks?” he asked. You could feel the warmth of his touch through the gloves. When had he put on gloves? “What kinda name is that?”

“He is an artist,” you tried to explain, swallowing at the feeling of his fingertips gentle pressing on your neck, “He deejays at some of the places downtown. He is more of an … an independent artist.”

“Never heard of him.”

“When do you go out to party?” Dr Ellis asked him, clearly teasing. It was a good sign that she felt comfortable enough to joke with him, right? No one would do that with an asshole boss. Which still didn’t explain why you cared whether he was a good boss or not. You should care more about whether he was a good doctor.

“I go out for the right people,” he dead-panned.

“Ouch,” came the instant reply for the handsome nurse.

“Do you go out?”

“Me?” you asked, caught off guard by the attention of the older man. Hard to believe you were ready to sleep with a man today when just this single question and his eyes on you threw you off. “Oh, um, not really. I – Id like to but it’s – that is, I am not – I just –“

“Could the stutter come from the head trauma?” Dr Shen asked, turning to you. The look in his eyes indicated he wanted to figure you out, to help you. Which made it even worse because clearly, there was no helping you anymore. You were beyond help. Today was just the proof. “Do you have trouble finding words? Can you blink for me?”

“Nah, she’s just shy,” Dr Abbot waved him off, his gaze still fixed on you, “No worry, sweetheart, I’ll get you out of your shell.”

And then he winked at you.

You were very grateful that you weren’t connected to a heart monitor or else the beeping would have disrupted the entire exam.

*

“All right, time for a fresh bandage,” the handsome nurse friendly smile announced, closing the curtain behind him. You caught a little glimpse from behind him. The ER was still quiet but it had gotten significantly fuller. None of that caught your attention though when you spotted the silver-haired doctor at the end of the room.

He was busy doing … something and you were busy admiring the strict lines of his face as he said something to the person next to him.

“Once you have a fresh bandage, we just wait for the test results to come back and then you should be good to go,” the nurse gathered some supplies in a metal tray and you finally spotted his name tag.

“Thank you, Mateo,” you cleared your throat, “Do, um, Could I have maybe a bit of water, too? My throat feels really dry.”

“Of course,” he disappeared for just a moment before reappearing at your bedside, a plastic water bottle in hand. You gulped it down greedily, not having realized how thirsty you had been until the cool water had hit your tongue. It did wonders to soothe the dry feeling in your mouth all the way to your stomach.

“Lean forward for me, please,” he asked you, carefully peeling back the old bandage, “Perfect.”

He worked quietly and efficiently and you didn’t even have time to worry about this feeling awkward because him leaning to the back of your head afforded you a constant view of Dr Abbot. He seemed so calm, so confident in himself, you couldn’t help but think that spending the night with him wouldn’t have landed you in the ER. (Your roommate would make a joke here about how it would have landed you in the ER because his dick was so big, it would break you.)

“All done,” Mateo announced and you blinked, trying to make sure that your face didn’t betray the thoughts you were having about his boss.

“Heard we’re all done?”

Both you and Mateo looked up at the Chief Attending that waltzed to your bed like he had plans to be here all along. Judging by the confusion on the nurse’s face, that was unusual occurrence.

“Yeah, just put a fresh bandage on,” the man confirmed, “I can have Dr Ellis check it, if –“

“No need,” Dr Abbot replied, stepping closer to you. So close, you imagined you were able to smell his cologne. “Can you sit up for me?”

Wanting to do everything in your please to please him, your legs swung out of the bed with a bit too much enthusiasm – and instantly collided with something hard and metal.

“Fuck,” you cursed, your toes curling at the pain. Your eyes landed on his leg, where your foot had met something that didn’t really feel like a warm body. How could that be possible? Maybe you had met the metal frame of the bed somehow? “How is that possible?”

Your pinkie toe throbbed. How this could hurt almost as much as a literal shelf falling on you, you would never understand. Your hand gripped the bedsheet tightly, trying to power through the pulsing pain until it ebbed away.

Dr Abbot didn’t move from where he stood right next to you. You watched as his hand lifted the hem of his scrubs. You would have appreciated a comment or something to explain why exactly he wanted to show off his footwear to you. The sneakers looked comfortable and worn, a good choice for a hospital, you guessed, but how had that anything to do with –

Oh.

He was wearing a prosthetic. You had met the metal of the prosthetic.

“Sorry, didn’t want to step on your toes,” you apologized, “I, um, can I say it’s because this whole night is an absolute disaster and I normally am way better with words?”

“You can,” he nodded, walking around your bed to check something. When he didn’t limp or show any outward signs of pain, you let out a small breath of relief. The last thing you had wanted to do was hurt him. But with how broad he looked in his scrubs, you doubted that this was a man easily hurt. He had the whole fuck around and find out mentality down to a T and you wondered whether he was the kind of man to playfully punish you. If he was the kind of man you could start teasing only to end up over his knees, sobbing and coming all over his –

“Though there are no toes to step on, necessarily.”

It took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize that the dryness of his voice reflected a humour that was just as dry. When you didn’t say anything, he looked up at you, his mouth forming a little smile that told you he was joking.

A nervous giggle escaped your mouth and you let him guide your head forwards as he inspected the bandage. Good thing, too, because it allowed you to not have to look into anyone’s eyes. Just at your fiddling hands in your lap. And Mateo’s footsteps leaving your little square in the ER.

“Oh god, I really put my foot in it, huh?”

Silence.

“Oh for fucks sake,” you cursed yourself and the older man laughed. A warm sound that immediately made you crave hearing it again. “I am so sorry, Dr Abbot.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” the man told you, “Though considering the day you’ve had, you can call me Jack.”

“Dr Jack.”

“Just Jack.”

“Just Jack,” you repeated quietly,

“Bet that’s not how you saw your night going, huh?”

“Pretty much,” you huffed, “It – yeah, no.”

Finished with whatever he was checking at the back of your neck, he walked back to your front. His bare hand ran up your forearm, gentle gripping your elbow until you had stretched your arm towards him. “See it that way, maybe that shelf saved you from some awkward experience.”

“It was already awkward,” you admitted in a mumble, watching as his thumb gently traced the vein on the inside of your arm, “It wasn’t … it wasn’t supposed to be good anyway. it was just supposed to get done. And now I am still a virgin, the entertainment for an entire ER and I am not even dressed in my own shirt.”

The frown was clear on his face. Had you revealed too much? Something about the late or early hour in this place with fluorescent lighting that reminded you of a much-worse airport waiting area, had your tongue loose and your heart open. You could tell this man anything, you would never see him again anyway.

“That’s an interesting attitude to have towards sex,” the older man stated, “Wanna tell me more about it?”

I want to tell you everything.

“Virginity is a social construct,” you replied, “I know it’s supposed to be not a big deal but if you’re trying to date, then it somehow is because they all think just because I am a virgin I want to marry them. And it’s … it’s a little scary, too, in a way. To trust someone else with your pleasure and being responsible for theirs in return. So, I just,” you sighed, a long breath escaping your lungs, “I wanted it to be done with. It’s awkward anyway so that way I don’t have to share it with a person I am trying to impress.”

He made a non-committal sound but it still had your hackles rising. “What?”

“Maybe I’m too old for this,” he shrugged, “But sounds to me like it can be a big deal. Big enough that you shouldn’t just give it up to anyone.”

Reminding yourself that he was currently examining you, you forced yourself not to pull away from his touch. But the frown on your face couldn’t be hidden. “I am not giving it up to just anyone,” you protested, “And even if I were, it’d be none of your business.”

His eyes jumped to yours and he didn’t say anything. Which was somehow worse because you were pretty sure he could read your thoughts.

“You are right,” he said finally, voice quiet and serious, “It is none of my business.”

Instantly you missed the little bit of banter you just had. You wanted to hear him laugh again, or talk, or anything really. Anything but this awkward silence.

“So, I guess your not-boyfriend won’t get the chance of a repeat performance?”

The dry delivery made laughter burst out of you. “Hell no,” you laughed, wincing. There was a brightness in his eyes that your heart tried to match at the sight of him smiling. You had the very unhelpful thought that you hoped the next guy you would meet up with was more like him. Or, even better, him.

“I guess I will try to find someone the old-fashioned way.”

He tilted his head, his hands pausing on your wrist. “Going out?”

“Apps,” you deadpanned and kept the thought of raising the acceptable age range to yourself.

“Look at you, making jokes,” he rumbled, “Must be feeling better already.”

“It only hurts when I move too fast,” you offered.

“I fear that won’t be going away quite so soon,” he stepped away and you instantly missed his touch, “But once the test results are back, you can at least go home.”

Someone shouted for him and you watched his face harden. “Gotta go, sweetheart,” he murmured, nodding at you before leaving you alone in your bed, wondering if he called all his patients that.

*

You had accepted your fate of forever remaining in the ER when Dr Ellis appeared before you. With the tablet in her hands, she announced that “Your tests are all clear. You can go home now.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, feeling momentarily overwhelmed at the prospect of being able to just … leave now. This limbo between night and day, cut off from anything that went on outside these hospital walls, almost felt comforting to you now. Once you got home, you would have to face the fact of just how disastrous this whole night had actually turned out to be.

She handed you a little bottle of pills. “Take these twice a day with a glass of water, try to avoid screens if you can,” she instructed you, “and there is a set of scrubs you can pick up at central, just to have something to cover yourself with. Do you have anyone coming to pick you up?”

“Um, yeah,” you lied, though technically it wasn’t a lie. The bus driver was someone who did pick you up – and several other people taking public transportation. At least it was early (or late?) enough that the morning rush timetable was already active and you didn’t have to wait an hour for the bus.

“How can I help you, doll?” a red-haired nurse asked you, mustering you from behind her glasses.

“Uh, Dr Ellis said there is a pair of scrubs I could pick up to cover up …” you trailed off, gesturing to the oversized shirt you were wearing.

It must have rung a bell with her because she nodded, turning around. “Of course, let me just –“

“Here.”

You looked to the left, where out of nowhere Dr Abbot had appeared, holding a pair of black scrubs. “They should fit you well enough,” he commented, his eyes roaming over your body, lingering on your legs and you could feel your ears burn. Did he like what he saw? Did he even look to see if he liked it or was he just … checking you for injuries?

“Thank you, that’s kind,” you smiled, taking the pile of fabric from him. His fingers brushed yours and your hand twitched – as did his mouth.

Before you could say anything else to cover the fact that you were way too attracted to a man you hadn’t spent a lot of time with, your stomach let out a loud rumble.

“God, I’m starving,” you muttered, pressing a hand to your belly, “Sorry, don’t mind me. It’s just … “

“It’s been a long night,” he finished the sentence for you, nodding while he turned to survey the room. For a second, you were afraid that he was looking for a reason to leave. The next important case that demanded his attention. But he remained standing right in front of you and that made your heart skip a beat.

“And not the kind I wanted,” you snorted.

Dr Abbot mustered you up and down. Again. And this time you couldn’t keep yourself from squirming. To hell with it, you would never see him again anyway and you had had the longest night of your life in the worst possible way. So what if he realized he caused something in you? By the time his shift was over, he would forgotten about you already.

(You tried to ignore the sharp tug at your heart at that thought.)

A small card, gripped between thick fingers, was held out to you and you took it without thinking too much of it. That is, until you actually read what was written on it.

Dr Jack Abbot MD

Chief Attending, PTMC

And then 10 little numbers scribbled on the paper.

“My number,” he clarified, “In case you want to try again with someone who knows what he’s doing.”

And with a wink, he walked past you, back to a patient who needed him more, leaving you feeling like this night wasn’t such a failure after all.

[damalseer]

I need to know….do they go in a date then party 🤭

Or just party

[maybege]

Well ONE OF THEM is gonna go party 👀👀

Thank you so much for reading and reblogging!!!

[maybege]

WHERE IS MY HUSBAND!

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is a big romantic gesture. (Part 5 of Man I Need)

Pairing: Ice Hockey Coach!Alpha!Boba Fett x fem!Omega!Reader

Wordcount: 5.9k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: bad/complicated parent/child relationship, reader with anxiety, descriptions of a panic attack, angst, older man/younger woman, workplace relationship, pet names, mating bites

Here we are!! I hope you enjoyed this AU as much as I did. For now, I will have a little rest during June to both get some creative and physical rest. In July, I hope to be back with something new. Until then, please let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog – they are the best fuel for writing.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The next few weeks passed in a blur of tears, tissues and an unhealthy amount of chocolate ice cream to the point where you got concerned looks from the cashiers at your local grocery store. But you could not bring yourself to care. Stars, it was a miracle already that you could bring yourself to change your clothes every few days.

Maudii had the patience of a saint but after the third week of you sulking at the kitchen table, your eyes filling with fresh tears as she made herself her morning coffee, she decided safe distance was the best bet when it came to your current state.

You couldn’t really blame her.

And so, you spent your days ignoring your phone, staring out the window, counting the snowflakes that landed on the windowsill and all the people that walked on the sidewalk across the street. Snow had finally started and under different circumstances, you would have found it incredibly romantic. You would have put on a lovely winter playlist and re-organized your closet and bought yourself flowers and asked Boba for walks in the park.

Instead all you got were messages from your parents (your mother), grocery deliveries (your father) and – when you still didn’t answer them – flowers. And although they were absolutely stunning, you made it a point to throw them away on principle. Maudii made the joke that “considering that they know where you live, they make very little effort of actually showing up” and you couldn’t agree more.

It was like the frustration you had suppressed for so long came back tenfold, turned into a rage that almost scared you. You wanted to scream and stab your pillow and throw mugs against the wall and then make a nest and cry yourself to sleep just to repeat it all over again the next day. You wanted to call your parents and tell them to never call you again, you wanted to call Boba and beg for forgiveness and volunteer to work somewhere completely else so maybe your father wouldn’t fire him when he found out.

But who even said Boba would take you back?

You were currently googling job opportunities up in Hoth, when a knock on your door sounded.

“Not in the mood, Maudii,” you grumbled, unmoving from where you were snuggled up in bed.

“It is not Maudii,” a strange voice said and your head snapped up, your phone falling to your chest.

There, standing in the doorway, was your mother. Dressed in her cream-coloured two-piece she looked so out of place in the room with peeling paint and printed photos taped to the walls. Of all the people, you had never expected her to show up.

She did not wait for you to greet her. “It’s your birthday, honey, so I think we should go out.”

“I don’t feel like going out.”

“Now don’t make such a fuss,” she sat on the very edge of your bed, “I got reservations for the best spot in town, just the two of us. That has to take your mind off whatever alpha you’re love sick over, hm?”

“I – what?”

Images flashed in your mind of Boba in the park, him smiling at you, winking when you handed him notes, the feeling of him kissing you. How could she have known? Did she know? Fuck, did you look caught? Was your face betraying you?

“Of course, I was worried when you suddenly disappeared from Coruscant to … here,” she wrinkled her nose like she still didn’t understand, “But when I came here and saw you cosy up with that coach, I realized that my baby moved for love. And isn’t that so romantic? I am sad to see that it did not work out.”

“You … what?”

“I am sad to see it didn’t work out,” and she did look genuinely hurt on your behalf. That didn’t lighten the bombshell she had just dropped on you.

“You knew … you knew about Boba?”

“Well, I had my suspicions,” she shrugged, “But before I could ask you about it, it seemed things already simmered out. At least according to how grumpy that man is. What happened?”

Shock gave way to confusion gave way to disbelief gave way to anger.

How could she say these words and not realize what had happened? How could she not look at you, look at your father and look at herself and realize that the only thing that had happened was –

“You,” you stood up, wiggling your toes, “You happened, mom. I – I can’t believe you sit here and tell me about it as if you and dad didn’t destroy my life!”

“Now, I don’t know what –“

“You had your suspicions that I was with Boba and you let dad say that to me,” you screamed, “You let – you let him say that he would fire Boba and – and –“

You paced around the room, too many thoughts wanting to spill out all at once. It was an avalanche and you were ripped with it.

“If you really love me, you have to let me go. I – Do you realize how unhappy I have been these last few years?” your voice rose and she flinched but you could not bring yourself in the moment, “I have done everything I could to make you proud but I am – it’s like I can’t breathe when you are around me. Living here, working for the team, it finally felt like I was building something for myself and you still couldn’t let me have it. If you ever want me to truly find myself, you need to leave me be.”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and you took a deep breath. Each word was a weight off your chest and you were ready to feel tons lighters. “Talk to dad,” you implored her, “Get him to sell the team or at least to stop meddling in my career. Stop sending me expensive champagne and flowers and that bread that I told you I don’t like. Let me live my life, let me get a job on my own. Let me – let me be with people who I want to be with. Coach – Boba,” your heart broke at saying his name out loud, “He did pursue me and he was right to. I – I love him, at least I think I do, and I can’t keep myself from being happy just out of fear of disappointing you.”

Your mother was quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet. For a woman who was so eloquent, she watched you silently for a long time. She didn’t look angry, at least, but you also weren’t sure if you cared if she was. All you felt now was pure exhaustion and relief. You had said your piece and if she still could not see what you meant, then … then you needed to think about how to get out of Mandalore for good.

“Vanilla.”

“What?”

“I thought you had a new room spray or something to cover that mildew smell,” she gestured to a corner on the ceiling where there had been water damage a few months ago, “But it’s you. You are getting your scent.”

Your heart stopped for just a moment as your world turned upside down before it started beating twice the speed.  Your scent (or lack thereof) was never something you tried to linger on but now that you focussed on it, there was the faint scent of vanilla in the air. Could that really be you? After years of not having one, you had kind of made peace with the fact that you would not be like other omegas in that regard.

But if even your mother noticed and you detected the same scent, there had to be something to it, right?

“I never wanted you to be unhappy,” your mother said softly, her hand stroking over your cheek in what reminded you when you had been five years old and scared of the monsters under your bed, “I foolishly thought that you were just like us. That life in Coruscant was meant for you and you just needed time to realize it. But maybe … maybe your happiness doesn’t depend on a place but a person.”

“My happiness is dependent on letting me be free,” you mumbled, cheeks blazing as you finally admitted, “I … I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, my darling,” she pulled you in a for a hug, her voice cracking, “I am sorry that I did not see it sooner. That I was too blind to recognize you for the wonderful young woman you have become and trying to force you into something you didn’t want. But if you are willing, I – I would love to try again. To show you that we do love you and we want to be in your life, even if we have to learn how we can best do that.”

“I – I would like that, too,” you murmured, returning the hug, clinging to her shoulders.

“Okay, so how about this?” your mother gently let you go, “I will have a talk with your father about all this. And when …” – she winced – “If you are ready to maybe have a chat, you send me a message, okay?”

Damn it, why were there tears in your eyes again?

“Okay,” you nodded, wiping your nose on your forearm, “That sounds good. Thank you, mom.”

“No thank you, for giving us another chance,” she smiled, already halfway through the door before she frowned, “Now that I think about it, we didn’t send you any flowers.”

Managing a trembling smile, you watched her leave the apartment, taking a deep breath once the door fell close behind her.

That had been … different from what you had expected. Better, sure, but also somehow worse because the first and only thought that crossed your mind was how you should have had this conversation much sooner. Much, much sooner.

Like … years ago, maybe.

Because it definitely felt like years’ worth of tension were finally lifted from your chest, allowing you to breathe a little easier. You let yourself fall down to your bed, right into the pillows and blankets that you should probably wash at some point. Later. Now was the time to relish in the newfound freedom for just a moment. It calmed you down to know that it was up to you to initiate contact with your parents now. That there would be no more messages, no more groceries, no more flowers …

You sat up so fast, you were still feeling dizzy by the time you hurried through the kitchen, skidding across the tiles as you ripped open the lid to the trash can. The flowers your parents had sent today – they hadn’t sent them. Someone else had. And you needed to know who.

You didn’t care that you were discarding that old cereal box or the empty milk carton as you lifted them up, the beautiful petals looking worse for wear from when you had dropped the bouquet without another look at them. Now, though, you were looking through each bloom, frantically reaching for the cream coloured card that was nestled on top.

Happy birthday, princess. May you find the courage to achieve your dreams.

When Maudii came back from the grocery store, she didn’t ask why you were sitting next to the trash can, bawling your eyes out and clutching a card that barely smelled like coffee.

*

All he wanted to do was call you and ask you whether you liked the flowers.

*

You could only call in sick for so long before it became unbelievable and although you still very much felt like you were on the brink of a breakdown, you decided that it was time to go out and face the world.

You had faced your mother, so really, you had already put the worst behind you.

Still, the moment the cold sunny air touched your skin, the desire to crawl back into bed and hide from seeing anyone – and especially a certain someone – became more and more tempting with each step.

How could that be? It had been barely a few weeks that you had entertained the possibility of more with Boba Fett and your life and your career. Could that have been enough to irrevocably damage the good enough feeling you previously had strived for?

“You’re here, good,” Manuel, your supervisor, greeted you, “You okay, kid?”

The look of fatherly concern on his face almost made you cry but you managed a trembling smile and a nod and that was already a win for today.

“Tara managed your inbox for you, if you have any questions,” he explained, standing at the entrance of your cubicle while you unpacked your bag, “But better save them for later, we’ve got the big game meeting today.”

“The, uh, the game meeting?” you squeaked, “I didn’t think I would go today …”

“Of course, you will, your new question roster for the pre-game interviews will be introduced,” he announced with a grin, “That was your work and you should get the credit for it.”

The Big Meeting happened every few home games, or so, and was a giant cross-department meeting on the morning of a game. Not only did all eight coaches attend but so did the press department, the marketing division, the in-house gastronomical services and some people from higher up. Which meant that not only were you guaranteed to see Boba today, chances were high you would cross your father as well.

A bit much for the first day back maybe.

Sure, you may have hoped that – today being a game day – you would have the office to yourself because everybody was busy preparing for the chaos that would follow at night. But the universe had different plans for you. Maybe this was like taking off a band-aid – a day of anxiety would clear the rest of time from any uncertainty.

Also, it would be impossible to explain to Manuel that you couldn’t attend the meeting to be there for the introduction of your very own pre-game questions because you were scared of facing the alpha you were pining after and whom you had rejected because your parents had fucked with your head.

At least the universe seemed to take pity on you somewhat because as you entered the already packed room with your colleagues and your printed handouts, it seemed that your father would not join today’s meetings. You found a place to the side of the large conference table, close enough to have good view of the coaches, far away enough not to have to look at Boba the entire time.

Just as his name crossed your mind, he walked through the door. Your breath caught in your throat and you straightened up a little. But when his eyes landed on you there was … nothing. No cocky smirk, no wink, nothing to indicate that he was happy to see you. Exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you had asked of him when you told him you weren’t interested in him.

Why, then, did it feel like your heart was breaking into two?

“Morning everyone,” Boba rumbled and took a seat, “How are we doing?”

A jumble of goods and mornings echoed through the room and you sank further into your seat. Maudii sat across from you, shooting you an encouraging (if still concerned) look. You returned it with a smile of your own, feeling a bit more secure. You could do this. You were a grown woman. The fact that you could smell coffee even a few seats away from him did nothing to your insides at all.

“Nah, we gotta put Vizsla on the ice today,” Boba shook his head, replying to a comment you seemed to have missed, “That omega of his is visiting and we all know he plays better when she’s here.“

Everyone chuckled in agreement.

“Today is also the first run of our new pre-game questions,” Manuel cleared his throat, “Developed by one of our own to listen to more of the feedback we’re getting from fans.”

“One of our own ...?” another division leader asked.

“Ah yes,” your supervisor’s hand landed on your shoulder and you flinched, holding the papers a little tighter as he said your name, “She’s treated us to some good work and I am sure we will see more of her in the coming seasons.”

His praise was balm to your soul, especially after your long absence. You were proud of your work and you were sure that the new introductory questions might bring the fans more joy. You just wished you could convey this pride properly instead of focussing on the man at the head of the table.

“Can I have a copy of these new questions?” Boba asked, his gaze now solely fixed on you. His eyes were still the warm brown colour you couldn’t seem to forget and for the fraction of a second, you could convince yourself that they also held warmth for you.

“Uh yes,” you murmured, ducking between some colleagues to hand him one of the papers, “here.” His fingers brushed yours, grazing over your scent gland and now you could smell that hint of vanilla. Your skin burned and you snatched your head back, hoping he had not noticed. He didn’t turn to look at you. Why wouldn’t he look at you?

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” you mumbled, feeling the familiar burn behind your eyes. What was wrong with you? Your chest was aching in discomfort and you took a deep breath. Your nose filled with his scent and while it made your chest ache, it kept the tears at bay. You just needed to get through this meeting.

Boba didn’t say anything more, didn’t look at you anymore and you found yourself wishing that he would. It would still hurt but at least you could pretend at night that he had looked at you with love instead of cold indifference.

Once the meeting was over, you hurried to the bathroom. Locked in a stall, you sat on the lid and cried, sobbing into the crook of your arm. All you could do was ask yourself how you would survive the rest of your life like this?

*

He looked for you after the meeting but you must have snuck out with the mass of people from press.

His assistant coach noticed and nudged him with his elbow. “If you want me looking for that sweet omega, just say the word.”

“Fuck off, Brady.”

*

“Okay enough is enough.”

“Huh?”

You looked up from the romance movie re-run on the TV to where your friend had just posted herself right in your field of vision. The last time Maudii had looked this determined was when she tried to get the retro design fridge from the sidewalk up into your apartment.

“You need to get out,” she put her hands on her hips, “You are so focussed on being sad about losing him, you haven’t had a chance to be mad at your parents for betraying you like this.”

You opened your mouth to protest but she raised a single finger, stopping you in your tracks. ”No, I won’t hear it. I know your relationship with them is getting better, slowly, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t lasting effects of what they have done with you. You’re so terrified of failure and rejection that you didn’t put yourself into positions where you can fail or be rejected. You’ve spent your entire life hearing from your parents that your dreams aren’t achievable and they won’t ever happen and I understand that you don’t want to put yourself in situations where you’re under their constant scrutiny. But are you aware that whenever Coach Fett is in a room, you just leave?”

Your eyes widened. You had never seen Maudii this angry before and you didn’t know whether you should be terrified or flattered that she was this angry with you.

“You’re terrified of him not loving you the way you do – and I know that you love him because that’s why you put yourself in this miserable position in the first place. But don’t you see that now he’s accepted that he doesn’t have a chance because he’s not like your parents where he would put himself over your wishes?”

Your first instinct was to deny everything. To send her out of your room, screaming that she just didn’t understand. You were trying to help Boba, you were trying to stick to your plan of doing as little damage to his life here as possible.

You were trying to … protect yourself.

The truth in her words made you hesitate and you found yourself mulling them over.

“I,” you started, your throat closing with emotion, “I really thought I was doing the right thing.”

Your best friend fell to the couch next to you. “Oh honey, I know.”

“I really fucked up,” you sniffled, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your sweater, “And I – I don’t know if I will make it worse by trying to … to talk to him and apologize or if I should just let him be and …” you swallowed back a sob, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

“You most certainly should not let him be,” Maudii insisted, squeezing your hands in hers, “We are talking about the man who sent you flowers even when he thought you would never talk to him again.”

“Those were really nice flowers,” you nodded over a wave of fresh tears, “And I threw them all away!”

“Okay okay okay, deep breaths, honey. In and out. In …. And out, there we go,” you evened out your breathing, watching as your friend’s shoulders did the exaggerated movements to help you calm down, “Now, I want you to ask yourself: What would make you happy?”

Your answer came without hesitation, “Being with Boba. Making him … making him happy and smile and – and going out with him and getting that permanent position with the Minotaurs and then I could stay here and be with him.”

Maudii smiled at you in triumph. “See?” she asked you, “Now why would you leave him be when he is who you want? You deserve happiness and so does he. You two just need to get your act together.”

A rare spark of optimism settled in your chest. If you thought about how happy he had made you and how happy you seemed to have made him, maybe it wasn’t too much of a stretch to think that he would take you back. There was only one thing to consider now:

“What do I do now?”

“There is only one thing you can do.” Maudii pointed to the TV, “Major fucking gesture.”

*

“You sure you want to do this, kid?” Manuel asked you, still holding the clip board with today’s required players for the press, “Tom already volunteered.”

“No, it’s fine,” you smiled tightly at your boss, “I can do it. One last time this season, right?”

He laughed, handing the notes over to you and slapping your shoulder, “Right, let’s hope for the best, huh? I cannot believe we might actually win the Cup this season.”

The walk down had your heart racing and your hands trembling. You were excited and nervous and terrified and yet you knew this was exactly where you were supposed to go. Right down the stairs, through the locker rooms to the teasing calls of the players complimenting your shirt and straight to your alpha’s – into Boba’s office.

You didn’t knock because you knew if you just paused for one second, the fear would get to you. But now you were standing there, watching him read through some papers, too absorbed in them to notice that it was you standing in front of his desk and not one of your colleagues.

“Just leave the call sheet there,” he gestured to the corner of the desk without looking up, “Can’t promise anything today though, I need them in top shape.”

“Okay,” you said and his head whipped up so fast, you were feeling dizzy for him.

Boba looked … old. And not in the handsome way he teased you about when he asked you if you wanted to take his knot (a thought that made your thighs squeeze) but in the way that showed how tired he was. There were dark rings under his eyes, the shadow of his stubble looked more prominent and if you were anyone but you, you would be terrified of this alpha in front of you.

But all you felt was worry. Had you done this to him? How could you ever make it up to him?

“It’s you,” he said, his voice hoarse, “You are … here to give me the notes.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “I – There is a lot I want to say but this is the big game but I was hoping if, um, maybe we could talk after?”

He stood up, rounding the desk until he stood in front of you. “You want to talk?”

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. It was hours before the most important game of his career as a coach and you just walked in, announcing that you wanted to talk to him after effectively breaking him with him under the pretence that he was too old and just not the alpha for you. What kind of person, what kind of potential omega, did it make you now to stand in front of him and ask him for his time?

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmured, his hand reaching out until it landed on your waist. It was the first time he had touched you in forever and warmth spread from there straight to your heart, “I – I will never lie to you, omega. I have spent the last few weeks debating how I could get you back and seeing you here makes me want to skip this game entirely so I can prove to you that I am the man for you. So, let’s talk about something else for now, okay?”

You already are the man for me.

Your heart filled with hope and you bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from smiling too widely. But the warm look in his eyes, his lingering touch on your waist, felt like coming home.

“Do you want to see my merch for today?” you asked him, playing with the hem of your shirt, “I – I got it specifically for today.”

“I was wondering when I’d see you in the team colours,” he joked, leaning back against the desk and making a twirling motion with his finger, “Spin around for me, little one, let me see.”

That was exactly what you had hoped and planned for. Turning around slowly, you revealed the little late-night amendment you had made to your wardrobe with the help of Maudii’s sewing machine. Because instead of the name of any of Minotaur player, the back of your shirt read Fett.

Boba was silent for a long time but you forced yourself to stay still, with your back turned to him. “Do, um, is it too much?”

His hand returned to your hip and moments later, the heat of his body pressed against your back. Melting into him was as easy as breathing and when both his hands landed on your hips, pulling you back against him, you were done for. All these weeks yearning for your alpha to touch you and now you had him right up behind you, his mouth so close to your neck, it made you feel all fuzzy.

You could feel him nosing at the back of your ear, his breath washing over your scent gland, sending shivers down your spine. “Do you know what it means to wear someone names on their back?”

“Yeah,” you smiled at him, for the first time smelling your own hint of vanilla mixed with his coffee scent, “I do.”

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna kill me,” he growled, his forehead resting on your shoulder, “Omega … The things I want to do to you.”

“I – I really want to stay, alpha, I do. But you have to win a game, Boba,” you reminded him, relishing in the feeling of him so close and already hating the fact that you had to be away from him.

“Believe me,” his hand squeezed your hip, his mouth brushing over your neck, “I will win this for you and then we will talk and then I will put my mating bite right here.”

Stars, the things this man did to you with just his words.

“Don’t – don’t you want to hear my apology first?” you asked, breathless as you tilted your head to the side, “I – I prepared a whole thing.”

His mouth opened against your throat in a kiss, his teeth scarping over your skin. “I will gladly hear anything you will ever want to say to me, ‘mega,” he growled, planting another kiss to the spot under your jaw, “But I hope you know I forgave you the moment you stepped through this door with my name on your back. Now go,” he palmed your ass and you giggled, “I have a game to win and an omega to claim.”

*

The Mandalorian Minotaurs were the champions for the first time in 13 years.

To say the city was ecstatic would be an understatement. To say you were ecstatic would be an understatement.

There were celebrations on the ice, there were celebrations on the stands, there were celebrations on every floor of the arena. Including the locker room where Boba had just finished giving his post-game interview.

The floor was sticky with spilled champagne und you got jostled by more than one rowdy hockey player on your way through the crowd. You didn’t mind though. Especially not when it brought you closer to Boba who was currently hugging Din Djarin’s husband, the biggest smile on his face that was only rivalled by the one on yours.

“Boba!” your voice barely carried through the noise, but he still turned his face to you, his smile growing wider.

Your father was somewhere in here, shaking hands. But you could only see Boba, the man whose name you had painstakingly sewed onto your shirt. Because of course you had. You were his. He was yours. It was the easiest thing in the world.

Arms were reaching out, hands slapping him on the shoulder, and Boba smiled and nodded at everyone. But he didn’t slow his way to you. And neither did you. Determination filled you. This was your chance to make things right. To say the things you had kept to yourself when you shouldn’t have. To make sure that this new start was exactly that: A new start.

The moment you two were face to face, tears gathered in your eyes. “Boba, I am so sorry. I did things I never should have and I got influenced by my parents when I really shouldn’t have been. My father –“

A finger on your mouth silenced you.

“Not a word, omega,” he murmured, roughened hands cupping your cheeks, warm from cheering and screaming, “I know. And I don’t care. He wouldn’t dare to fire me, not now. And even if he would, I just got a dozen new job opportunities on my hands.”

“You … know?”

“I suspected,” he confirmed, “And now let me kiss you, little one.”

And then he did.

He kissed you in front of everyone, the cheering growing louder. Your eyes slipped shut and you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding yourself close to him. His lips were warm and dry and familiar. Your entire body ached for him, wanting him this close forever.

“Do you know what it means to wear someone names on their back?” he asked, his hands on your hips. Even with the crowd shifting around you, he didn’t move, holding you steady against him. “It means you’re theirs,” his mouth brushed over your scent gland.

“Oh, really?” your played-up innocence sounded way more breathless than intended. But who could blame you when you had Boba Fett with rolled up sleeved pressing up against you?

“Nah, princess,” he shook his head, voice low and eyes dark, “You don’t get to talk yourself out of this one.”

His hand was on the side of your face, gently tilting your head to the side and you sighed. “So, what are you going to do to me, then?”

“I am going to make you mine, ‘mega.”

Your heart skipped a beat with the realization of what he was saying to you. For a moment you tensed, afraid what other people would think. Public mating bites weren’t exactly uncommon but they weren’t the run of the mill either. But with everybody busy celebrating the win of the season, they might not even look at you. Most importantly, you realized that whether you wanted him to mate you was not a question at all. And once that certainty settled in your mind, any other concerns simply drifted away.

“Right here?” you asked, glancing around. No one was paying attention to you. The cup was held somewhere in the far corner of the room, you could hear another pop of a bottle of champagne. You truly were just lost in the sea of people.

“Right here,” he confirmed, “I love you, omega, and I want to put my bite right here. Do you want that? Is that – Is that what you want?”

His thumb drew a firm circle on the sensitive patch of skin right under your jaw and you swore this was what paradise felt like. Your heart was lodged somewhere in your throat and all you could do was nod, your eyes zeroing in on the mirroring spot on his neck.

“It is,” you confirmed, “And I want – I want to mark you too, alpha.”

You could watch in real time as his eyes darkened. “Fuck yes,” he growled, pulling you even closer. His nose brushed over your throat and goose bumps raised on your skin. Cheers went up in the whole room, you could hear Joe leading a chant about some other player and then Boba’s teeth sank into your throat and that was it.

A gasp was all that left you but inside, your body was screaming as everything felt like it was pulled apart and rearranged. Just … better. Like everything suddenly fit into place and the world made sense all of a sudden.  Not knowing what to do with this sensation of pure euphoria, you lunged forward, your mouth opening against his neck and biting down.

Boba groaned against you, his tongue laving over the mark on your neck, his hand cupping the back of your head. “Go on, little one,” he breathed in your ear, his voice rough, “Mark me. Show everyone I belong to you.”

You wondered if it felt the same to him. If he could feel this bond between you two now or if his life would go on as normal. When you pulled away, your eyes glossy as you took in the unmistakable mark on his throat, you got your answer in the form of his hands on your hips.

“’m afraid you cannot leave my side for the rest of the day,” he murmured in your ear, “Or else my entire body will rebel against it.”

“That’s okay,” you smiled, kissing him again, “I plan to stay there for the rest our lives.”

Title Inspired By: WHERE IS MY HUSBAND! - Raye

[cw80831]

[maybege]

Thank you so much!!! I am happy you liked it 🥹

[annabelle--cane]

stop. analyse that text through the lens of its author's intentions and original historical context. okay now take the author out back and kill them dead and analyse that text as though it were published by your mutual yesterday and is in direct conversation with the contemporary discourse that's most relevant to your life. okay now pick your favorite angle of interpretation and come up with the strongest possible argument against it. now imagine that the text is your best friend and that it means you well and that you naturally give it every benefit of the doubt because you're on its side and you want the best for it. now imagine that the text wants you dead and it'll eat you if you don't eat it first. now pretend that you found this text locked away in a cave with no evidence of when or where it came from and you have to divine its meaning solely through its internal coherence and nothing else. okay now address the elephant in the room aspect of the text you've been ignoring because you find it boring or confusing or uncomfortable and become the number one expert on it. now spend forty minutes assigning all the characters dnd classes with at least three sentences of reasoning each. okay now do the cha cha slide.

[phantomrose96]

Prompt-based fandom events are when you really learn everyone’s colors like you’ll find the people who take the prompt “death” and come up with some smarmy ship-art of character A and character B walking over dead leaves while wearing scarves and drinking hot cider and then you’ll find the people who take the prompt “sunshine” and write how a bright glint of sunshine reflected off the barrel of a gun is the absolute last thing character A sees before taking a bullet to the chest

you can lead a content creator to water but you sure as fuck can’t make him drink

[allthingshyper]

content creators, much like the elder gods, must not be given requests that can be left to interpretation, for the results bring madness upon the unwary

[mildlyaffrontedsqueakytoy]

Which is why I kind of love just throwing random prompts out there, like I’m a a fanfic writer… theoretically… and I have no idea how I’d write this, if you, another fanfic writer… theoretically… want to have a go, have at it, I have no idea what it will be, you probably have no idea what it will be.

But it will be something.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

love when fictional men are so devoted to their partner it makes them dangerous and insane. very slutty behavior keep it up king

[emziess]

David Corenswet as Clark Kent Superman (2025) dir. James Gunn

[taumoebas]

Project Hail Mary is wonderful bc it’s the kind of story that would normally be a sweeping romance - they were destined to find each other, they love each other to the point of saving their entire worlds - but its not a romance! Friendship can be the thing that propels you to save the world!

[thepittsource]

THE PITT 2.15

[legitimately]

*sees a beloved mutual in the notes* hi honey

[pghumfort]

A Pitt season set during Halloween, but one hour of it is just Langdon and Santos, sent to retrieve some equipment from the basement, living a horror movie down there, forced to work together to survive as something supernatural tries to get them.