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ddejavvu · 1 month

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Mandalorian and Jedi!Reader, maybe where Mando tries to bring reader in for a bounty some ex imperial put on her head and he ends up having a MASSIVE crush on her instead

Soft Din has my heart 🫶🏻

"Can you stop that?" Din throws a scathing look over his shoulder where you're occupying Grogu in a rear seat of the unmarked freighter he's piloting. This job wasn't an easy one; Jedi aren't often willing to be tracked, but now that he's got you, he needs to deliver you without arousing any suspicion, which a shiny new ship is not useful for So, despite the smell of livestock that lingers in the walls of the ship, you're all piled into its boring, beige cockpit.

"What, making him laugh?" You scoff at Din, fingers still carefully poking and prodding at the baby's sides where he squeals with laughter, "It's called happiness, Mando. You should try it sometime."

"He's little," Din reaches out to scoop Grogu into his grip, tugging him away from you, "You're gonna hurt him. You're supposed to be a bounty, not the entertainment."

"Have you forgotten he and I were raised in the same temple?" You reach for Grogu who's staring pleadingly at you over Din's shoulder, one of his little hands outstretched, "I used to feed him mashed meilooruns."

"And now you occupy your time by liberating imperial cruisers of their fuel."

"Can't chase me if the tank is empty." You shrug, "Hey, Grogu, honey, watch this!"

You use the Force to snag Din's blaster out of its holster, and when he grabs for it, you use your other hand to lift Grogu over his shoulder and back into your lap.

"See? Stealing is easy and fun," You grin at the expressionless beskar mask staring your way, and Grogu giggles in delight where he's back in your lap.

"Stealing gets a bounty placed on your head. I'll be sure to buy some mashed meilooruns for the kid with the credits you'll get me."

"Right," You scoff, "You're gonna show up to meet this imperial goon squad, you're gonna hand me over, and they're just gonna let you waltz out of there fifty-thousand credits richer despite having a force-sensitive child in your possession?"

Din's leather glove creaks as he tightens his hold on the controls.

"Face it, buckethead, the only way you're getting those credits is if I help you. We'll fake 'em out, you keep my saber and toss it to me after they pay you. Then I'll chop 'em up and we can get outta there before they get their hands on Grogu."

Prolonged silence seems to be all that Din can offer in your presence aside from stinging quips, but he hears Grogu's babbling giggle break the tension where you've tapped a finger at his button nose. The sound eases some of the weary tension that's been on Din's shoulders since the second he'd made a deal with Imperials, and he's glad he has his helmet on to prevent you from seeing the way that the annoyance in his face softens.

"Fine. But there's no way you're coming with us afterwards. I'm dumping you on the first stable planet we come across, and you're not getting any of the credits."

"Poor Mando," You croon to Grogu, "Ahsoka didn't teach him about projecting his feelings, did she?"

Grogu rambles back to you in some unknown attempt at language, and before Din can ask what 'projecting' means, you're grinning up at him.

"You've got a deal, Mando; no money, no free rides around the galaxy. Just keep getting soft under that bucket of yours, and we'll figure out a better plan on the way out."

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gatorbites-imagines · 5 months

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Ur recent Wally post lit a fire in my head lol. If you’re up for it could I request a FTM Din Djarin getting eaten out? Was thinking a quickie type scenario: helmet on, (most of his) armor on, squirming in the pilot seat?

FTM Din Djarin x male reader

Drabble

Mixed terminology for his bits. Still new to writing FTM characters x reader, and even newer to writing oral, so let me know how it is.

Dins thighs tensed against the captain’s seat of his ship, toes curling inside his boots as he exhaled shakily, his vocoder not even picking up the sound. But the quiver in his legs and the creak of his gloves at he gripped tighter onto the steering, trying to keep the ship on course as a suck could be heard from between his thighs.

Din was half slumped in his seat, having scooted his hips far out enough for you to wrap your lips around his t-cock and hook two of your fingers in his wet hole, curling them as you rub his sensitive bundle of nerves with the flat of your tongue. His hips jolt upwards as a punched-out noise leaves him, his cunt only growing wetter around your fingers as they press against that sensitive spot inside him.

He had no idea how you had convinced him to do this, or why he had allowed you to crawl down under the control panel, or why he had sat still as you pulled off the codpiece of his armor and opened up the bottom of his flight suit.

Because of the way he lives, Din was very sensitive in most areas of his body. His high stress lifestyle also meant he didn’t get to touch himself a lot. This resulted in him almost jumping out his seat the moment you licked through his folds, teasing his hole before focusing on his sensitive engorged t-cock. Hormone treatment has left him bigger than most, which only gives you more to suck on and tongue at, much to Dins pleasurable misery. The hormone treatment had also made it harder for him to get wet naturally, but your sinful tongue and fingers easily coaxed it out of him.

It was only because of his helmet that you didn’t get to see just how red his face was, or how sweat was pouring down his face and most of his body, as his layers and armor did little to keep him cool in this type of situation. You could hear from his shuddery breaths and the moans that passed through his helmets microphone, that he found this just as good as you did, if not more.

Pushing a third finger into his slit, Dins hips canted forwards with a sharp gasp, the noise quickly becoming a cracked moan as you pulled your mouth from his t-cock, only to rub it in cruel small circles with your thumb. It was enough to force him mercilessly over the edge, his hold tightening around your fingers as his back arched and he moaned loud enough for his helmet to crackle.

Normally you would have ended it there, but Din let out a breathless keen as you withdrew your fingers with a slick noise, only to replace them with your tongue, as you lifted his leg just enough to access to his cunt easier.

Din was quick to grasp at your hair, his noises turning higher and higher pitched as he hurdled into overstimulation in a way that hurt so good. His still armored thighs quivered like leaves on a tree, his free hand smacking blindly at the control panel to put the ship into autopilot.

At the familiar click of autopilot, Dins other hand found your hair as well, dragging you even closer to his wetness, the wet slurps and licks only fueling the heat inside him further. Dins vision was almost swimming as feeling of orgasm brewed in his abdomen once more, feeling borderline painful at how quickly you had pushed him from one orgasm to the next.

Returning your lips to his t-cock, he almost screamed as you gave it a cruel suck, just barely scraping your teeth against the hard bundle. It had his feet planting onto the floor, his hips lifting off the seat as he wailed, wrenching your face deeper into his crotch, a soundless wail leaving him as pleasure-pain thundered up his spine.

Your lips became covered in his slick, the front of your shirt soaking in his juices as they squirted out of him, his entire body quivering and tense. You could tell from the little bit of skin exposed under his helmet that his jaw was open, stuck in an open moan as he rode out his orgasm against your face. All you could do, was rub lovingly at his thighs as he shook and whimpered, catching him as he fell limp back into his seat and situating him correctly.

A string of slick was connected from his slit to your mouth as you pulled back from him, grinning wolfishly up at him as he glanced down at you. Din didn’t even need to say anything for you to know he was flustered and embarrassed, especially when he noticed just how soaked your face and shirt was. The microphone of his helmet picked up a few warbles of his voice, mixed with a few half-formed apologies.

With a shake of your head, you told him not to apologize since it was really hot, as you closed up the bottom of his flight suit once more, and clicked the codpiece of his armor back in place. Din gave a slight wiggle of his hips as you stood up, clearly uncomfortable with how wet his crotch was, but he was too embarrassed to say anything about it as you shot him a wink.

The choked noise that left him as you wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand was like music to your years, an almost peacock like pep to your step as you sauntered towards the fresher to clean up. Who but you could say they had someone as dangerous as Din wailing and squirting on their face? It truly did things for your ego, a fact Din liked to remind you about regularly. But those times, you were always quick to show him it wasn’t like reasonless ego, much to Dins pleasure.

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sanjoongie · 6 months

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Dual Courtship: Heart in your throat

A Sci-Fi Medley Chapter~

The Cast~

Yeosang, Jongho- Predators Yunho, San, Mingi- Furyans Hongjoong, Wooyoung- Alien (Hunter status) Seonghwa- Alien (Queen status) Ot8 x captain/pilot! Reader

ღPairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (f) x Kang Yeosang ღGenre/Au/Trope: sci fi au, aliens au, predator au, riddick au, established relationship trope, poly trope ღWord Count: 3,034 ღWarnings: Warnings: cnc(consensual non-consent), predator/prey play (no pun intended ><), double penetration (two cocks one puss), fingering (f receiving), slight mxm, marking (blood, claws digging into flesh), fear kink, sub! Reader, doms! Jongho and Yeosang, penetrative sex with no protection, aftercare (for both the sex and the wounds), creampie ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut with no plot ღSynopsis: the predators version of flirting/foreplay with their beloved captain is to hunt her and fuck her. This is what precedes their decision ;) ღDedication: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii who will always read the crazy shit that comes from my head, the perfect beta readers ღA/N: I blame haru @stardragongalaxy once again for reviving this in my head. If you only knew the dirty sex scenes that have been planned. Please note: this scene takes place before Seonghwa lays his eggs

You felt as if you were being followed all day. It was a weird feeling to be nursing while you were on a ship, which had limited suspects, and on yours, which you knew every screw and plate of metal. But that didn’t take away from the fact that you were alone in the cockpit right now, and the darkness of space was not comforting as it usually was.

“San?” You called out cautiously.

San did enjoy sneaking into the cockpit with you when everyone else was sleeping. He would approach with a sly and coy smile and always managed to get what he wanted. Which usually contained either fucking your mouth while he was in the captain’s seat or fucking you while you were in the seat.

When nothing but silence met you, you attempted to shrug off the feeling of being watched.

You checked the star map for the umpteenth time but your course was still correct. You were flying outside the regular shipping routes, looking to stay below any other aliens' radar. You checked the local radars for any threat of another ship or meteor shower but it showed complete peace out in nearby space. So you could not credit your feeling of impending danger on that either.

Your instincts usually led you to the right conclusion so you were really confusing yourself. The ship creaked and a shiver ran straight down your spine. The ship creaked all the time but this sounded like stress from added weight in the vents. You were familiar with this sound because of how much Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Wooyoung frequented said vents.

You were about to mutter under your breath about living with aliens when you felt a presence behind you. You whirled around in your chair but there was nothing behind you but you swore you had felt a rush of air pass you.

“Ridiculous,” You cursed and got up from your seat after ensuring the ship was on autopilot. You were going to move to the mess hall and make yourself something warm to sip on.

However, while walking along the ship that you had begun to see as home with your found alien family, you didn’t feel any better. You swore you could hear brief susurrations above you, like someone was walking along the high upper railings when you moved through the cargo bay but the stray ropes and electric wires simply swayed with a small bump of the dual engines adjusting and maintaining balance.

Why were you getting so creeped out? Was it because you were so used to having one of the aliens that lived here near you at all times? Perhaps you should wake up Mingi to play cards with and help him win a hand finally…

You whipped around, swearing you felt a breath of air on your neck and this time you did seem to catch a foot on a pipe above before it disappeared.

Suddenly everything clicked. There had been a conversation a while ago, with all the races seated in various positions scattered before you in the mess hall. No aliens on this ship intended to harm you in any way, but they were aliens, and most of them were natural hunters. They needed to keep their instincts and talents sharpened and honed, and that included being approved to ‘hunt’ you. The perimeters included ‘struggling’ and ‘denying’ that you agreed to any of this. It thrilled the aliens and turned on a few, to seemingly take you while you were attempting to get away. You agreed with them, on all levels.

You straightened your shoulders and finished making your drink in the kitchen part of the mess hall. You gripped the cup and made your way back through the mess hall and then through the cargo bay. Once you were back in the smaller confines of the hallway, however, the kid gloves were off.

Yeosang, in his full Predator gear, dropped down in front of you, cloaking device clearly powered down already. Your instincts had you drawing your gun, treating this as if the Predator was a true threat. However, what you did not call for was that the Predators were hunting you as a pair. Jongho put a firm hand over yours, halting your gun from even being removed from your holster. You felt this rather than saw it because Jongho had not disabled his cloaking device.

“Got you,” Yeosang whispered into your ear. As your head turned, you watched him remove his helmet completely, drawn in by the slow reveal of the beautiful Predator.

“Let go of the gun,” Jongho ordered.

You allowed him to lead your hand away from your gun and pull your arm taunt behind your back, almost to the point of over extending it. Jongho didn’t want to break the mold quite yet, it seemed.

You had eyes only for Yeosang at this moment. You couldn't help yourself. The way his arm muscles bulged as he tucked his helmet under his arm was making your heart spike in rate.

“Are you more scared or turned on, little mouse?” Jongho asked, lips whispering along your trapezius, your neck muscles.

Yeosang laughed but it was definitely mocking. “Check how much of a mess her underwear is because of how scared she was.”

Jongho, after appearing visible to you finally, stuffed his hands down your pants mercilessly and you moaned when two fingers swiped along your inner folds. “She’s soaking wet,” Jongho announced.

Yeosang cuffed your chin, encouraging you to look up at him. “You’re a fun prey to stalk, moonlight.”

“You sensed us almost immediately,” Jongho said with a sense of pride. “Your instincts are worthy of a non-Predator mate.”

You whimpered as Jongho pushed his two fingers into you without further ado. Your pussy adapted immediately to the intrusion, genes long since changed to taking large appendages within your cunt from Seonghwa’s saliva absorbed through kisses.

Yeosang didn’t let you go, instead he confidently smirked before he brought his lips to yours. His lips ate up yours but whimpers continued to slip from your lips as Jongho finger-fucked you slowly.

“Like being taken advantage of in the middle of the hallway, don’t you, little mouse?” Jongho whispered to you seductively.

Your muffled noises of disagreement could be heard but that didn’t stop Yeosang from drifting his hand from cupping your head to running a claw along your collarbone. “Your quickening pulse is alluring, moonlight,” he said upon releasing your lips finally.

“Please--the ship!” Your protests sounded weak even to your ears, but that could have been because you felt very weak between the two Predators right now.

Yeosang lifted an eyebrow up at your statement. Jongho added a thumb to strum your clit while his fingers moved in and out of you and you were like putty in his arms. That caused Yeosang to frown. “Stop hogging the captain,” Yeosang growled.

Jongho chuckled. “Come and take her, then, brother.” The two often referred to each other as brothers-in-arms, shortened to brother when the timing called for it. The camaraderie the two had felt for each other while they had hunted you was clearly fading now.

Yeosang physically pulled you from Jongho’s grasp, pressing your back up against the cool metal of the ship. You gasped as your exposed shoulders in your tank top experienced the temperature play. Yeosang dived in to capture your lips once again, eating up your moans as he grinded into your now sensitive core, covered only by the thin material of your pants and underwear. “Why have fingers when you can have me?” Yeosang tempted you.

Jongho released another chuckle, folding his arms over his armored chest. His stance was wide, his thigh muscles adjusting under the fishnets covering them. “Why don’t we test just how well developed her genes are now? The scanner showed she’s changed quite a lot.”

“Wha--” You paused to swallow and brought moisture back to your mouth. “What exactly does that entail?”

Yeosang appeared intrigued as he stared back at Jongho. “Do you want us both to be stuffed within her sweet cunt?”

You cursed under your breath, not prepared for that at all. “What? Excuse me?”

“Come on, little mouse, you can take the both of us at the same time, right?” Jongho crooned convincingly.

You pressed your lips together. “I’ve never tried…but I want to.”

“Me first,” Yeosang announced. He licked and sucked your neck as he grinded into you some more, until he couldn't take your sweet moans any longer. He easily ripped your pants and underwear off, your tank top being ripped down the middle, to make you completely available for him. He pushed down his own armored loincloth and his girthy cock sprung free. He did his best to rub himself against your wet folds but once the tip of his cock flirted with your eager hole, he pushed right in.

“I’ll never get enough of this sweet cunt,” Yeosang grunted, already quickly moving in and out of you.

One of your legs curled around his waist instinctively, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. “You’re driving me wild, Moonlight,” Yeosang snarled.

Jongho patiently stood by as Yeosang had his fill but put a firm hand on Yeosang’s shoulder to stop him before he could release his seed inside of you. “Brother, it is time.” He dropped his loincloth to the floor, stepping neatly out of the confines.

Yeosang reluctantly pulled out of you and you spared a brain cell to wonder if they had already made plans for this before Yeosang took a stance behind you and Jongho in front of you now. “Hello again, little mouse.”

“Jongho,” You couldn't help but pout at the loss of Yeosang inside of you.

“Did Yeosang stretch you out enough for me?” Now Jongho was smirking.

“How about you focus less on my dick and more on your own,” Yeosang suggested.

Jongho placed his taloned hands around your waist and helped you hop up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. Your slippery cunt rubbed up against his straining cock. The both of you groaned at the feeling but now was not the time to indulge. You had already been stretched out by Jongho’s fingers and Yeosang’s cock, but you still enjoyed the delicious stretch it was to take Jongho’s cock inside of you. You made pleased noises and Jongho’s gummy smile came out to play. “You always make the best noises for me, little mouse.”

Once Jongho was fully seated inside of you, Yeosang kissed your shoulder. “Get ready, moonlight.”

Jongho kissed you in distraction, sucking on your lower lip, even so much as pulling it gently with his teeth and growling. Yeosang angled his cock from behind you, prodding your hole and you moaned into Jongho’s mouth when Yeosang slowly entered you.

“Just a little bit more, you can do it,” Yeosang encouraged. He didn’t sound any better, his voice tight and high.

When the two of them were deep inside of you, everyone was breathing heavily. Your mind was simply white noise, adjusting and simply drinking in the feeling of both of the Predator’s cocks within your cunt.

“Ready for some movement, little mouse?” Jongho asked, your head having fallen on his shoulder and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Please,” you whimpered and then there were truly no thoughts in your head.

Jongho moved slowly whereas Yeosang’s thrusts were quick. They moved in the opposite rhythm of each other, somehow in sync with each other. You could hear the pathetic mewls leaving your mouth but you found that you couldn't care less about how you sounded. The two cocks fucking you felt so good, you were almost sure you were being spoiled, and one cock might not do moving forward.

“So good,” You whimpered, causing both Predator’s to chuckle a chuckle only men have when a woman is weak for them. “Wanna come. Will you come inside of me? Both of you?”

“Mark her first, then we can come inside of her,” Yeosang commanded.

Jongho stared at you adoringly. “Little mouse, these are badges of honor. We respect your instincts, courage and most importantly, your ability to bring all our races together. It will hurt for a bit and we will have to be gentle with you while they heal, but I hope you wear them with pride, my mate.”

You nodded, bracing for the pain of being marked. Yeosang cupped one side of your waist, Jongho the other, as their opposite hands prepared to cut you with their talons. Jongho’s carefully sliced your breast, the long claw marks moving from your side and under your boob. Yeosang claw marks drew up and around your shoulder, deep only enough for a scar but not as deep to cause any permanent harm. You winced and cried out but the pain was soon washed away as Yeosang bucked up into your heat.

“It’ll be okay, little mouse,” Jongho assured you, holding still while Yeosang set his pace.

“It hurts,” You whimpered but Yeosang kissed up your neck as a distraction this time.

Jongho was soon moving inside of you and you moaned in bliss. Yeosang was playing with your pussy, pulling out completely and then pushing back in, making your pussy accommodate both girths over and over again. Jongho was the constant inside of you, thrusts remaining deep inside but due to this, he was closer to coming first.

“Fuck,” Jongho cursed, biting down on his lip.

Yeosang laughed in derision. “Gonna come already, Jongho?”

“Shut up,” Jongho snapped, eyes closed as he attempted to pace himself.

“Is it because our captain’s tight little heat is so good or do you enjoy my cock sliding along yours inside of her?” Yeosang teased his fellow Predator.

“Shut the hell up, Yeosang, and fuck our captain’s pretty pussy,” Jongho snarled.

You had slipped so deep into your headspace, being stretched so deliciously with two cocks, that their conversation was simply passing over your head. You groaned lowly, some spit dripping from the corner of your mouth, head lolling slightly like a ragdoll.

Yeosang smirked and continued to play with you and seemingly Jongho as well. His dick stayed inside you, thrusts pushing against Jongho’s cock and thus your g-spot. Jongho and you were a moaning wreck soon enough, Jongho’s milky cum mingling with your own as your toes curled and your back arched. Yeosang came next, placing his hands on your ass and spreading your cheeks. You could feel all their cum dripping down their cocks and out of your hole, leaving a puddle on the ship’s floor.

"Am I interrupting?" A voice cut through your orgasm-induced brain.

"You are," Jongho murmured.

Yunho said dryly, "Well, perhaps you would consider having your rituals not in the middle of the hallway." He walked around you three, arms behind his back.

“Didn’t anyone ever warn you it’s not a good idea to pass by a Predator when their back is turned to you,” Yeosang snarled.

“You’re not threatened by my presence…are you?” Yunho couldn't help but poke.

Slowly, both Predators adjusted until Jongho had you in his arms, careful of both your shoulder and your breast. His large arms were more than ample coverage to hide your nakedness, at least for your sake. Yeosang’s stance was one that was battle ready. You opened your mouth to halt Yeosang but Yunho was already on top of it.

“I am jesting,” Yunho laughed, “I am no threat. I will simply pilot the ship until our captain has recovered.”

Yunho walked down the hallway, taking the same path that you had been working on with your drink, long since dropped and spilled.

Yeosang turned to Jongho, with a quizzical look on his face. “That’s not like a Furyan to turn down a fight--or a fuck.”

Jongho ran a finger down your cheek tenderly, “I think our captain has changed us all, Brother.”

The two Predators took you to their quarters, quickly ripping their bedding from their bunks and gathering it together so that all three of you could rest together. A wet cloth was given to you to wipe away any access cum but they both supervised to make sure you did not wipe more than necessary to be clean.

While Yeosang discarded his armor, Jongho pulled a bottle that looked to be self-made. “This is a remedy we make on our homeworld,” Jongho explained, motioning for you to lean over so that he may dress your shoulder wound first. “First, you make the bottle from a beloved hound's skin and then the tree that sacrificed its sap for you. You sew the bark and skin together. The mixture is the sap of a tree known for both its healing properties and for its sticky factor. We introduce some nanos that also speed the healing. It’s only made for brief wounds, or marks we would like to keep from a battle.”

You watched for a moment, enamored with the blue-green glowing fluid as Jongho spilled some onto his finger to apply to the claw marks. Jongho pursed his lips sympathetically when you winced but he promised you would feel better come morning.

Yeosang had removed his armor and was about to take off some of the netting when you halted him. “Keep that on?” You asked shyly.

Yeosang smirked, ducking his head and allowing his hair to fall in his face. “Anything for you, Moonlight.”

Once Jongho had removed his armor as well, you laid on your back on the makeshift bed, Jongho and Yeosang turned on their sides to gaze at you. You were already slumbering, moving to a deep sleep to heal your body.

“She did well today,” Jongho said, pride in his voice once again.

“She took her marks and our cocks like a proper mate should,” Yeosang agreed. “You still never answered my question, however, brother.”

Jongho sighed loudly but ultimately admitted what Yeosang already knew to be true. “I enjoyed the slip of your cock against mine.”

“Good,” was all that Yeosang said and promptly fell asleep.

“You bastard,” Jongho cursed but followed suit.

All Posts | A Manic Queen

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @k-pop-ology @pyeonghongrie

#pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #ateez smut #choi jongho smut #kang yeosang smut #sci-fi medley #ღatz #topaz's work #atz smut #jongho smut #yeosang smut #haru🌠#ateez x reader #choi jongho x reader #kang yeosang x reader

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badbatch-badfics · 3 months

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Padawan (TBB x Male Reader) Part 2

Part 1

Characters: The Bad Batch - Cross hair + Cid.

Relationship: All platonic

POV: Only 2nd (you/yours)

Pronouns: he/him

Species: Unspecified

Content: Smidge of angst and worry, but mainly found family growing into fluff

Warnings: General TBB stuff, a little bit about Order 66. Cringe lol.

Word Count: 2,796

Notes: If anyone has any requests/ideas for this 'series,' please let me know! I'd love to learn more about what ya'll like and incorporate it. (and i'll obviously credit you in the notes for whichever part it goes in)

The Bad Batch was sound asleep, exempt from their designated pilot. Tech was comfortably cruising through hyper-space, multitasking on a new upgrade for Echo’s arm-scomp and watching the scanners. A light beep alerted him, signaling that they were approaching Ord Mantell. He lightly pushed his goggles upwards, before pressing a series of buttons. The Marauder shook as it dropped from hyperspace, the tremors waking Hunter up from his nap in the co-pilot's seat. He would usually sleep in his bunk until Tech needed a break, but his bunk was… preoccupied, so to speak.

“We close to Ord Mantell, Tech?” Hunter asked groggily, cracking his neck. “Approximately 11 minutes and 36 seconds until we enter the atmosphere, and then another 23 minutes until we reach the landing pad. I would begin waking everyone else up.” With a sign, Hunter stood up, arms reaching far above his head, ever-so-slightly leaning backwards. He turned around and started heading towards the bunks, wondering how he should go about waking you up. He didn’t know how much you would remember, and he certainly didn’t want to find out the hard way.

Of course, there was always the option of letting your body wake up on its own time, and just having someone stick with the ship until then, but there was the risk of general clatter and ruckus occurring and startling you awake anyway, which would be a harsh wake-up call, to say the least. After a second more of contemplation, he finally settled on leaving you be, and simply shushing Wrecker the moment his eyes opened. He walked up to his brother, shaking his arm. Wrecker awoke with a large grunt, like an ancient monster waking from a coma in an echoing mountain, before Hunter aggressively shushed him. He sharply pointed across the walking strip to your body, an absolute tangled mess of limbs and droll.

Wrecker got the hint, making an ‘oohhh’ sound before slowly sitting up, careful to minimize the amount of creaking. Hunter walked on, heading towards Echo and Omega, shaking them both awake- Omega more gently. She yawned and stretched, smiling and greeting Hunter, before quickly grabbing her day-clothes before heading off to the fresher to change. Hunter went back to the cockpit, where his brothers were already making quiet discussions of what to do with you, the ‘teenager-that-had-essentially-magic-powers-and-was-being-hunted.’ Primarily how they would handle Cid. She tolerated them because they did jobs for her, and they didn’t really matter to the Empire- except for Omega, it was appearing. But a Padawan? That would be a lot of credits, and it would put someone on the Empire’s good side- at least for a little bit. Cid wasn’t above ratting them out for that kind of profit. Or, at least, she wasn’t above ratting out the Padawan while keeping them away from the Empire’s eyes for the sake of missions. “Perhaps we can convince Cid that his use in missions, among other things, would outweigh the reward from the Empire. Even without using the Force in a physical push-and-pull manner, it can still be used for mind tricks, sensing danger, and much more, depending on his skill set. We could increase our efficiency and time duration of missions greatly, which would hold a great profit for Cid,” Tech explained, preparing for the Marauder to enter Ord Mantell’s atmosphere.

“That's true, but there’s no way to know what Cid will say- if she agrees, great, but if she doesn’t…” Hunter responded, eyes glancing back at your sleeping form as he trailed off. If they told her about you, and she decided to tell the Empire, then no one would be safe.

“There’s no way for Cid to be kept in the dark long enough to find a better solution, and we can’t exactly just hide a whole person in the Marauder,” Echo added on, waving his scomp-link around the cockpit for emphasis.

“Of course, this is all assuming that (Y/N) will want to remain with us. He may know someone, or someplace, that is safe. Additionally, he may even know Cid. Echo said that she would occasionally report to the Jedi,” Tech countered, briefly glancing back towards his brothers, away from the planet and control panel. Echo nodded in confirmation. “Do we…” Hunter trailed off, sighing, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “do we have any place to go if Cid decides to tell the Empire? Echo, do you know anyone else who would help?”

“Rex, obviously- but he’s more involved with defeating the Empire than we are, so it’d be an extra risk to the kid. Maybe Cut and Suu, if we can get a hold of them. But I don’t think either of us want to put that kind of risk on them- not with Jek and Shaeeah.” Wrecker made a comment of agreement, briefly looking up from his game of Chopsticks with Omega. A heavy silence fell over the group, uncertainty thick in the air.

“Entering the atmosphere,” Tech reported, breaking the awkward silence. The Marauder shook as gravity’s presence took its toll. It settled back down to a smooth ride within a minute, the greens and browns- mainly browns- of Ord Mantell’s natural landscape coming closer. “I think Cid will understand, plus, like Tech said, (Y/N) can help us out!” Omega added, not looking up from her hands.

Hunter looked down, contemplating. Would the reward of Cid accepting the kid outweigh the risk of her turning him in to the Empire? Tech did have a point, your presence would make things go smoother- but if Cid didn’t care about that point? What then? Would they be able to escape the Empire, find a new place to settle down- there was bound to be some planet that was safe- but would they find it before the Empire found them?

They could keep you holed up in the ship for a while, but sooner or later, Cid would find out. And once she found out, that could damage their… relationship, so to speak. Assuming she wouldn’t tell the Empire immediately, anyway. So that wouldn’t work either. There was no good solution, and everyone knew it. Finally, Hunter spoke up- “Wrecker, Omega, you two stay with (Y/N) and help him with anything- food, water, applying new bandages. You get the idea. Echo, you're with me- we’ll get anything we’d need for a long-term stay on the ship; med kits, food, supplies, whatever. Tech, make sure the ship has enough fuel, and make any necessary fixes. Don’t let anyone else know. After you're done, I’ll tell Cid about… the kid. We’ll see where it goes from there.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Marauder drifted down, landing neatly in the center of the dock. Tech quickly pulled out his data-pad, scanning for any previously unnoticed internal damage. Luckily, the report came back negative- as he had guessed, there was no new damage. Satisfied, he checked the Marauder’s current fuel level, so he’d know when to stop filling. Tech, Echo, and Hunter exited the Marauder, swiftly closing and securely locking the ramp behind them.

The innards of the Marauder were quiet, Omega and Wrecker not really knowing what to do. They both sat on the bunk opposite you, staring, just in case you’d wake up and need something. Wrecker had rations and a water canteen to his left, while Omega had fresh bandages and bacta-spray to her right. “Uhhh…” Wrecker broke the silence, glancing down at Omega, “do we just… wait for him to wake up? It feels weird, just staring.”

“I don’t know… on Kamino, we would usually wait, but this is nothing like injured clones on Kamino.” She sighed, wringing her hands together. “I just…feel so bad. I mean, our home was destroyed, but at least we have each other. (Y/N) doesn’t have anyone, and he’s been alone on that ship since the Empire took over. I can’t imagine what it must have been like…”

“Well, at least we found him before the Empire did, and any situation we’re in will probably be better than Bracca. Plus, he’s probably dead to the Empire, so they won’t be after him!” Wrecker responded, finding the silver lining. He and Omega looked at eachother, smiling. It felt good to help people.

On cue, the blankets opposite the pair began shuffling, a long groan sounding out through the metal walls of the Marauder. You turned over, eyes droopy and your Padawan braid/beads hanging by the corner of your mouth, covered in drool. Slowly, you put your weight onto a hand and pushed yourself up, leaning against the back wall of the bunk. Your head lolled back, another sigh escaping. Everything hurts. “Good morning! Er, afternoon! You slept forever, little Jedi!” Wrecker enthusiastically shouted, causing you to immediately sit up straight, hand shooting down to your waist for the familiar feeling of your lightsaber, only to be met with nothing. Kriff.

Wrecker immediately sensed your panic, and put his hands up in an attempt of looking unhostile. “Don’t worry, you're safe! We’ve had our heads cut into, so we won’t be doing any of that Order 66 stuff!” All you could do was stare, a comically surprised expression etched across your face. He had an interesting way of wording things.

Wrecker stood up and handed you the canteen and ration bad. “Here, rations and water! They’re not the best, and we can pick up some better food soon, but I bet you're starved!” And you were. True, the mantell mix Omega had gifted you was delicious, but after so long of never having a proper meal, you certainly wouldn’t refuse any more food or water.

“Thank you…” You glanced down after taking the food, quietly chewing on the ration bar, occasionally taking sips from the canteen. You were never good socially at the Temple, and you certainly weren't any better at the moment. Omega asked you some more questions; if there was any pain, did you bleed through any bandages, and such. You responded in short answers, so quiet she was struggling to pick up what was said. Eventually, she deemed you healthy- or, at least, as healthy as you could be, given the circumstances. She stayed with you, telling stories about Kamino and the few trips she’s had away from it. Mainly, though, she talked about her brothers.

After Maker knows how long, the Marauder’s ramp opened, Tech, Echo, and Hunter coming in, one by one. Tech was lugging fuel, and the other two held general equipment, food, med-kits, and more. While Tech didn’t pay as much mind to your waking, Echo and Hunter sure did- Echo more so.

After setting down the cargo, he practically spritened to the bunk you were on, crouching down on one knee and using his scomp-link to lift up your jaw, and do other inspections. “You need a shower- desperately. And new clothes, these are completely ruined! Our old room is nothing compared to this! Even Fives smelled better! And you need some proper nourishment- I know how I felt after being in that stasis chamber for so long. And mantell mix is not nourishment, no matter what Wrecker and Omega tell you, got that?” He finished his spiel, pointing his scomp-link at you. “Iba’ oskik’la…”

* (“what a mess” in mando’a)

“Yeah, I think he’s got it, Echo,” Hunter chimed in, smiling. “C’mon, kid. I need you to meet someone. She used to work with the Jedi, so I don’t think she’d do anything. But, just in case, we have everything ready to go. And if all goes well, ” You swallowed, a large lump forming in your throat. You really hoped she wouldn’t do anything bad- you were already enough of a burden. You and Hunter walked down the ramp, Omega gleefully waving goodbye.

He could hear your heartbeat, your anxiety- but he didn’t know much on how to help, given the circumstances. Kriff, you didn't know about the chips until they found you, and he couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like. When Wrecker had been affected and tried to kill everyone, at least they all knew it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t betrayed them, and that he would never try to do that when he was in control. But you had no clue about any of that. You thought all the clones who were your friends, or even just ones you were polite with for the sake of being a good person, had all wanted to kill you, and all the other Jedi. You had thought that for months. Cursing yourself, wondering why, and if there was anything you could have done differently to prevent it. And now, irony at its best, you had been rescued by clones, coming to remove their chips.

“We’re on Ord Mantell, by the way… don’t know if anyone told you. Ever been?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You shook your head, eyes darting from sign to sign, stall to stall. “Most planets I’ve been on, except for Coruscant, were just… military occupations, occasionally the natural landscape of Separatists planets. Never got to travel outside of that,” you said, still taking in all the colorful decor and people of the city. “I mean, you know what that’s like, obviously- being a clone and all, you went to the same type of planets I did. I think, at least.”

Hunter nodded his head in confirmation, not really sure where to go from there. What you said was pretty accurate, but he felt like he shouldn’t talk about the war much. And in any case, they were approaching Cid’s.

You and Hunter trotted down the steps, the automatic door sliding open. Cid’s bar was empty, spare for an Ithorian and Weequay who were bickering over who knows what, and obviously, Cid herself. You placed yourself behind Hunter, something you would do with your Master during the war to avoid any interaction with… anyone. Slicing droids was easy, making conversation with soldiers was not.

You slowly glanced around the parlor, taking in anything that could be a trap, or could help you escape if this ‘Cid’ decided she didn’t want a padawan on her doorstop. Hunter called out for Cid, and the distant sound of claws tapping against the cold, hard floor echoed out. Emerging from the back rooms was a rather short female trandoshan, a cane gripped in her three claws.

Her eyes went back and forth between your semi-hidden figure and Hunter. “Where’s the rest of ya? And who’s that kid in the terrible robes? They stink.” There was an obvious scowl on her face, her left brown rose in an annoyed and questioning manner.

Hunter took a deep breath, and then- “He’s… a Padawan.” Cid’s brows rose, and then lowered into a vicious scowl. “Before you say anything- hear me out. He was trapped at Bracca, and the scavengers didn’t know- Tech checked the Empire’s wanted, and he’s dead to them. The Empire won’t come here, and it’s not like anyone on the street will know- he’s just a padawan. Not a full-on Jedi, not a general. But, he can still help. Even without using the Force to push and pull, he can still sense danger and… stuff.” Hunter wasn’t really sure how the Force worked. But he knew it was useful. Before Cid could rebuttal, he continued. “And imagine how helpful a padawan would be in making sure your deals go right! Being able to sense a bad deal, or if someone unwelcome is coming. And some of them can do mind tricks. He’ll be very useful to you- just let him stay with us.”

Cid looking down, in thought, a scowl etched on her face. Finally, she sighed. “Fine! But if the Empire comes knocking, I’m not keeping his hide a secret. Too much heat.” She walked away, already planning what to do with you.

Hunter looked back, smiling. You tried your best to smile, but you knew full well it looked incredibly awkward and forced. Not that you weren’t happy, by any means. You just weren’t prepared, and he knew that. Hunter placed a hand on your shoulder, attempting to provide comfort. And it worked. For the first time in months, despite the constant dread of what was to come, everything seemed to be going right. You could stay with them, and they could stay with Cid.

“Let’s go get you some proper fitting, and smelling clothes, yeah? Echo wasn’t wrong when he said it was worse than our old barracks.” Your smile shifted to a natural one, not forced or awkward. You certainly didn’t think you’d ever see a clone again; and it certainly wouldn’t be a happy experience, but it seemed like this batch was going to be the best thing to happen in a while.

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sinfulsalutations · 1 year

Text

𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕥 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕣

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴇʀ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴄᴏʟᴅ. ʜɪꜱ ɢɪʀʟ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ ꜱᴇx, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴄᴏᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴏᴛ? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴘʟᴏᴛ? ʜᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 2.9ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴘᴀɪʀ - ʙᴇᴀʙᴀᴅᴏᴏʙᴇᴇ

⋆ ★ ᴏᴋ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰʏ ꜱᴍᴜᴛᴛʏ ᴛʀᴀꜱʜʏ ᴇxᴄᴜꜱᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ʟᴇᴛꜱ ʙꜰꜰʀ. ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴘᴡᴘ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ʜᴏʀɴʏ ʜᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇʀᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ !

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

The inner workings and pipes in the Marauder are freezing.

Tech had been working on fixing the heater the whole day and night before they were supposed to leave Ord Mantell; he insisted by then it would be fixed (I have estimated the approximate time it should take, and my calculations are seldom wrong, he said), but they still ended up taking off with it still broken and creaking unsettlingly in the walls.

Wrecker shakes from the freezing temperatures, even in his blacks and the blanket that covers barely half of his body. Perhaps that explains it. He stirs, shifting and turning with unease, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed. But then he remembers that she is beside him. Perhaps if he went and run his fingers across her skin, it would warm him up just perfectly…

But when he reaches for her with an arm, eyes still closed, he meets the cool air instead. One of his eyes peels open and he frowns, slightly blinded by the light peaking through the fresher door just across the way. He groans, adjusting so his back lies on the cot, and rubs his eyes, resting his hands above his head once he’s done. The lack of her presence must’ve woken him up, and now a shiver rushes down his spine and he hisses. Kriff, why does space have to be so cold?

Slightly wavering in his movements, he adjusts and pushes himself up, his head hanging low as he sits up and lets his legs hang over the mattress and his sock-clad feet thump on the floor roughly. His legs still feel weak, incredibly and strangely weaker than normal as he stands up.

Wrecker can hear her soft humming from the fresher, her little lullaby-like voice chiming into the sound of empty hyperspace so blissfully. He smiles, his eyes almost fluttering close as he stops for just a moment to listen. When they open, he takes a quick look around him; Omega is still asleep, softly breathing into herself with Lula cuddled close to her chest, and he can hear Hunter and Echo's matching, melodic snoring in the cots. There were no discernible sounds of a datapad clicking either, so Tech must be sleeping as well, for once. Meaning Wrecker and her are the only two up.

He aimlessly drifts through the ship, like the wind on a beach landscape, keeping a listening ear on the sound of her sleepy hum until he takes a seat on the pilot's chair in the cockpit. He sighs, finally closing his eyes fully and letting the light of the hyperspace trails dance over his skin. He takes in a long breath through his nose and lets out a warm breath of air, so focused on his own breathing he doesn’t hear her light steps toward him.

Two small, nimble hands come to his shoulders and he startles. His eyes snap open and he turns his chin, meeting her tired eyes as she quickly moves from where she stood before to in front of him. She grins.

“You’re up?”

He nods with a pout.

“Woke up when you left the bed,” He explains, and she mumbles a quiet 'mhm.' She leans into his voice, hands slowly pressing into him harder as her arm lies on his chest. Her knees come to rest between his two legs and she sighs when he finally relaxes. His arms come up as well, and his hands embosom her hips fondly. “You’re my heater.”

She scoffs softly and rolls her eyes. When she shifts closer again, he grins softly and sighs blissfully with her warmth. She tilts her head curiously and lifts her eyebrows.

“I am?” She mumbles, one hand reaching up and holding his jaw. She tries to get more comfortable, spreading her legs and slowly inching until she’s completely on top of him, straddling his lap and her head leans in, lips hovering over his. He stammers, gazing away for a brief moment to try and catch his bearings.

"...Yep, yep you are," He says. She nods, taking her hands and reaching down the neck of his blacks, the warm and soft skin of her palms making contact with his freezing skin. She stifles a little squeal of surprise, but only sinks her hands in deeper. He lets out a groan, louder than he expected, and she quickly rushes to cover the sound with her mouth.

“You really are cold,” She comments when she pulls away and her hands slip out. He smiles bashfully, hands softly trailing up and down the sides of her body, reveling in the heat that radiates off of her even through the clothes of her thin sleepwear. When she leans in more and lets her warm breath fan out over the expanse right where his jawline and neck met, he groans and his head falls onto the headboard.

“How are you so warm?” He rasps. She chuckles and shrugs obliviously.

“Aren’t clones supposed to run hot?”

He bargains with a whine, gripping her harder and she giggles.

“Normally,” He says. “But not today, I guess.”

“Hm, I’m sorry, Wreck,” She responds kindly, yet also cheekily as she pulls away. He doesn't appreciate it. But she makes it up when her hand on his chest begins to trail downward and the other holding his face arches it up so he can look into her eyes. “Would you like me to warm you up?”

He looks up and gawks, eyes wide. She looks back feigning confusion and grins.

“What?” She says.

“Kriff, cyare…” He pulls a hand away to knead at a worried wrinkle on his forehead. It wasn’t like the two hadn’t had sex before, not at all, but in this condition… with everyone else on the ship… Hunter is quite a light sleeper…

He panics ever so slightly.

“I-I dunno if we can keep quiet…” He mutters, avoiding her gaze even as she laughs sweetly in the back of her throat.

“It’s okay,” She reassures him, moving her hand up and down over his jaw until it finally comes to rest under his chin. “I don’t have to move.”

He frowns, bemused. She giggles again and squirms in his lap, readjusting so her core rested on his crotch, making his body (and one part in particular) stiffen quickly under her touch.

“You’re just… gonna sit?” He confirms, eyes wide and eyebrows scrunched together. Unsure now seeing the expression he wears, she whines squeamishly and shrugs.

“It’ll keep us both warm,” she explains, eyes softening the longer his eyes stay on hers. She rolls her hips softly, the hand drifting downward finally reaching underneath his blacks; the expanse of her sweet, warm palm spread over his abdomen. Wrecker sighs blissfully at the touch; his eyes close and he gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing aggressively.

“Does that feel good?” She asks, softly moving it up and down the expanse of his skin. He nods again, the other hand that went up returning back to her hips and guiding her again to rock her hips a little. “Is it ok if I do that?”

Wrecker groans.

“Yes,” He rasps out almost immediately, clutching at her harder. "Please... just do anything. I’m freezing over here.”

She smiles, but he barely notices; he does, however, notice how quickly she goes to fumble with the bottom part of his blacks, pulling it down to his thighs before he stops her swiftly. She tilts her head and he stammers out the next word.

“It’s unfair, don’t you think?” He says, gesturing down to her body, still shielded by her sleepwear. “That I should be the only one without pants.”

She huffs.

"Right," She says, and before he can blink she’s pulled down her shorts and her panties and climbs back on top of him, arms loosely wrapped around his neck as she pulls him in for a kiss.

He meets her halfway and takes advantage of her open mouth as much as possible. His head cranes closer and his hands clutch at the skin of her bare thighs, slowly kneading them under his touch and she sighs blissfully into his mouth. A hand trails away; methodically through the kiss, he pulls her down closer to him, and his hand slowly inches closer and closer to the sensitive skin of her folds.

Two large fingers trace the area around her entrance, the pad of his thumb pressing against her clit and she bucks into it, pulling her mouth away from his with a whine.

“C’mon…” She complains, already impatient. Even with her begging, puppy-dog eyes, Wrecker stays persistent. He shakes his head.

“No exceptions,” He tells her, thoughtfully rubbing again to relieve the tension and she sighs. Despite them both being desperate, he is always going to make sure that he won’t hurt her by pushing in too quickly or without prep.

When he pushes one finger through her entrance and slowly seats it inside of her, she gasps and nuzzles into his neck with a squeak. He grins sweetly; the other hand still cradling her waist drift upwards, trailing down her arm until their fingers interlock gently, all while he slowly moves his digit back and forth, trying to loosen up the tension.

“You’re so warm…” He mumbles, slowly circling in a second finger and slipping it in. She squeezes the hand she holds, flattered.

“And you’re cold,” she remarks, slowly rocking herself down onto him to reach further depths. He curls his fingers, softly searching for the right spot inside of her, careful and sweet but devastating due to the sheer mass of him, and when she writhes and gasps after he brushes over a particular spot, he smiles.

“Is that it?” He asks. She nods weakly.

“Yeah," She squeaks but stops herself by surging forward and slotting their lips together, rocking herself on his fingers to encourage him to please, please keep going. She pulls away for a moment, a moan escaping her lips a little too loud; he clamps his palm over her mouth. Her eyes widen and she squirms away from the clasp, looking at him skeptically. “I’m sorry,” She says, slowly beginning to pick up the pace again. “I’ll be quiet. Just, please…”

He smiles sympathetically.

“F’course, gorgeous,” He tells her. He moves his fingers, curling them against her g-spot again, but frowns when she just sits there. He raises an eyebrow and she gapes. “Well, c’mon. I can’t do all the work here.”

And with a cute whimper, she helps him slowly. Keeping herself steady on top of his lap with a hand on his shoulder, he slowly stretches her open with his fingers, spreading and scissoring themselves inside of her gently.

“Think you can take three?” He whispers against her lips. Her mouth drops and a weak quivering breath comes out, but it only makes him laugh.

“C’mon, it’ll make the main act better… for the both of us,” He accompanies the words with his index finger slowly trailing around her entrance, rubbing at her folds as the pad of his thumb trails over the top of her clit. She moans, but he muffles her with his lips before it erupts into something louder.

“Please, Wreck,” She begs once he pulls away roughly, kissing the corner of his mouth tenderly as he slowly begins to slip in a third finger. Once it’s fully seated with the other two he lets out a deep groan from his chest and rocks it in rather aggressively, more than he’s been so far.

“Kriff, you’re squeezing me this hard just on my fingers,” He mutters. She laughs against his cheek and wiggles her ass a little, sighing when she manages to adjust so his entire thumb rests gently on her clit.

“Can’t imagine how you’ll feel on my cock,” He says additionally. She wiggles again teasingly and feigns doe eyes, moving away just a little to maintain better eye contact.

“Why not see right now?” She questions. Wrecker, ever insistent on her comfort, shakes his head.

“Not yet, beautiful,” He says. “Let me make you come first.”

She sulks; Wrecker has never understood why she is so impatient. He is just looking out for her general enjoyment. If he were to have let her sit on his cock so quickly she would’ve hurt herself.

“Fine,” She says, adjusting again and flipping her hair to one shoulder, looking at him firmly. “Hurry up then.”

He smiles crookedly, before starting to slowly rock his fingers in and out firmly, hitting her g-spot melodically in intervals and rubbing her clit over and over again. She gasps against him, rocking herself with every single thrust of his digits, milking him for any fragment of pleasure possible. Wrecker curses when her pussy clenches tightly around them, pulling them out an inch or so before plunging back in roughly.

“Please, oh my god…” She moans quietly, hands scrambling from his shoulders to his neck, looking for any surface he can easily grasp onto. “`M so close.”

“I know,” He remarks, rather cheekily, but continues his steadfast pace, trying to keep his fingers as firmly seated in her even as her cunt tries to push him out. He’s persistent, and it pays off when she finally begins to tremble, blissfully sighing into his mouth as his fingers are drenched in her come.

“Dank farik, ” He swears, slowly pulling his fingers out. She whines at the loss, but quickly wraps her hand around his wrist, pulling his hand up and taking his fingers into her mouth. He stifles a loud groan as best as possible, despite so far, it didn’t seem that they had woken up anyone else on the ship. She keeps steady eye contact on him as she cleans off her own finish from his digits, tongue swirling over his thick fingers.

"God, you're perfect," He lets out through gritted teeth. She blinks meekly and leans in closer, eyes blown hide as she keeps sucking, before pulling away with a loud pop.

After a moment, he pulls them away and wipes off the remaining wetness on the cushion of the seat (gross, he's aware, but that will be Tech’s problem tomorrow), grabs her hips and pushes her onto his thick thighs, encouraging her to feel his throbbing length. She raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“So... can I finally sit on your lap?” She asks.

He rolls his eyes.

“Yes, you can finally.” She sighs, coming more like a weak giggle, but it's interrupted by a yawn. She frowns. “See, you took so long, now I'm getting tired.”

Wrecker scoffs with a gawking expression.

"Stop exaggerating," He says, all bark but no bite as he begins to peel his boxers off. His cock springs up, slapping against his lower abdomen and she gasps softly at the sight, crawling back onto him. Her hand immediately goes to stroke the length up and down, keeping his eyes on him as she slowly adjusts the two so the tip is lined up with her entrance. Wrecker holds back the urge to tilt his head back.

"You ready?" He asks, hands fumbling at her bare hips. She looks at him dumbfounded.

"...You know, baby," She says as she slowly breaches her entrance with the tip of his cock, wiggling her hips slightly for adjustment before pushing in another inch. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out; she bites back a grin. "Sometimes you edge me without even realizing it."

He raises an eyebrow through the foggy haze of his pleasure. She doesn't respond for a moment, sinking down another inch with a heavy breath before she explains.

"I always want your cock so bad-"

They both feel the way his dick twitches inside of her after she says that. They moan silently into each other.

"-And you always make me wait so long."

She pushes in another few inches, almost seated to the root when Wrecker finally chokes out a response.

"...I just never wanna hurt you, cyare," He says, tripping over his own thoughts. She shakes her head and her brows knit.

"And you'll never realize that you could never hurt me," She finishes, finally seating herself completely on his cock. They both sigh blissfully at the feeling and her pussy flutters delicately over him. Wrecker clicks his tongue, letting himself close his eyes for once, and just appreciate the feeling of her squeezing him so well.

"If you say so, mesh'la," he says. She nods, mutters something along the lines of 'you better believe it,' and gets comfortable on his lap, yawning again. Her head rests on his chest, softly tracing a pattern with her thumb on the hand they've kept interlocked.

They sit like that for a long moment; though Wrecker's still hard, he's perfectly content resting like this. It's another level of trust and complete bliss he didn't know he could reach until he'd given it to her. He can feel everything about her; from the way her pussy clenches to the rhythm of her heartbeat; all of it is ingrained into his head permanently. He never wants to forget it.

After what felt like an eternity in heaven, she finally speaks again.

"Are you still cold?"

He answers immediately.

"Nope. I'm very warm now."

She giggles.

"We should do this more often then."

Wrecker scoffs in sarcasm at her statement of the obvious, dipping down and kissing the top of her head thoughtfully.

"Definitely."

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lamamasjamas · 7 months

Text

NEXUS

Nexus /ˈneksəs/ n 1 a connection or series of connections linking two or more things. 2 a connected group or series. 3 the central and most important point or place.

Chapter Summary: Din just wanted to show you the stars.

Part 2! Part 3!

A/n: I’ve been working on the whole series for two years??? Give or take. This is like the only thing I genuinely wanted to get right in terms of writing so plsss 🙏😭 This first chapter is super tame, very fluffy and very short in comparison to what's coming.

Warnings for the series: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!!!, getting lost in the unknown regions, Death, Gore, cosmic horror, very heavy topics, smut, angst, fluff, dark themes. This is a dark fic; you have been warned!

There’s a constant beeping around you, for a moment you get lost in it, you even start to time it. It takes about four seconds in between; silence and a breath in from Din’s chest before another soft bleep from the console.

His fingers twitch, helmet roaming over the panels in front of him, his other hand moving quickly to flick a small lever at his side as if wacking a fly from the air. The beeping had begun a couple days ago, and much to his irritation it hasn’t stopped no matter what buttons he pushes, what levers he pulls and how many times he’s checked for repairs.

A glitch he had said, looking down on you after you had mentioned how frustrated you were with the repetitive sound not letting you sleep well the first day it appeared. A bug, you replied with a small curl of your lips, thinking you were so clever.

It was insignificant, it was buzzing but it technically didn’t hurt you. You had gotten used to it, it was part of the crew. It had gotten so repetitive that it was practically muted in your ears, the beep melting into the harmony of the creaking of metal, the hum of the engines and your own quiet conversations.

It was still there but you didn’t even hear it anymore.

Sitting in the cockpit, you watched as the stars passed by. Mando was setting up the nav comp to a planet for fuel. You figured, before the trip, that if you had a few days until the tank was empty you would be fine with landing on any planet on the outer rims to refuel.

“What are you looking at?” He rasps as he flicks something else in front of him, his back still turned to you.

You didn’t notice your attention drifting towards the pilot’s seat, if anything you were mesmerized by the stars reflecting off of him, swirling over his armor quickly with rays of blues and grays. You turned down to your lap and pressed your hand over your face, pulling the skin of your cheeks down momentarily, willing the smile on your lips to distort with it.

“Nothing,” you respond curtly, smiling almost shyly.

He could see you through the reflection of the viewport, your head was down and he could see your eyes flicker up to meet his gaze from the glass before quickly shifting to your lap. His seat swivels to the side, allowing him to rest his elbows on his knees slowly. He stays in that position for a few moments, hands dangling from between his legs, head tilting in inquisition and watching as you fidgeted with the loose leather of the seat, picking at it with your nail.

He hummed, not quite believing you, but he knew what you were waiting for.

He slowly unlatched his helmet, the hiss making your breath catch in your throat. You're still avoiding his gaze and looking towards the ground when the beskar meets his thigh in a soft thud.

Just a few months ago he wouldn’t even think about revealing his face to you. The decisions he had made throughout his journey inevitably gave him clarity to what he truly viewed as important. He was still a Mandalorian, despite his recent indulgence of taking his helmet off every once in a while around people he trusted, you amongst them.

It was odd for you. Getting used to his face was odd, but not unwelcome. You have only known him as a featureless man, his helmet was his only descriptor until then.

At first it was as if you didn’t know him, feeling unpleasant awkwardness whenever he would take it off to eat. He felt like a stranger to you. You would treat him differently when the helmet was covering his face. You would act much more freely .

It wasn’t his fault or yours, the human psyche was stingy, it took a while until your brain caught up. As he places the helmet on his lap, you think it really shouldn’t have been that hard to get used to him like this.

He was timid, so were you, but he didn’t know how to control his expressions. Anyone could guess what he was feeling or even thinking by a glance at his face. You could almost laugh now, thinking of all the different ways he must have contorted under his barrier of beskar without anyone knowing.

You guess you grew an appreciation for Din’s helmetless state after a while. Especially when he pouted, or when you could hear his laugh clearly, or even when he gave you a gravid look. He was more human this way. You learned to like it.

He watches you now, trying to contain your giddiness in your seat.

Despite being initially nervous to show you his face, he now knows that in your standards he was considered attractive. He could hide his face forever knowing that you, the only person whose thoughts he takes in exceptionally high regards, thinks of him as extraordinary.

No one’s opinion mattered except for yours. You made him cocky, and he’s using his newly discovered looks to his advantage. He likes making you stumble over your words. He likes getting you in a daze. It makes his heart race.

He gets down on his knees in front of you, edging his face closer to your gaze. Your eyes connect with his and the contact makes him smile warmly.

“Hey…” he tries.

With two fingers he tilts your chin from your chest, making sure you would look at him without your eyes wandering.

“Let’s go on vacation.” Your eyes widen, your mouth starting to curve upwards at the strange sentence coming from the mouth of a bounty hunter.. He continues.

“After this bounty I’m pretty sure we can have some free time. We’ll be able to afford it.”

You're skeptical, he’s not the type to settle down and just relax. You hum, not quite bought on his idea. He pokes your thigh and covers his hands on your own. “Come on, we deserve it, don’t you think?”

“And what exactly are we going to do in said vacation?” you ask.

“We’ll sleep.”

You roll your eyes and raise your brow. He chuckles.

“I want to take you to different planets-” He could already see you start to rebuttal, “The good parts of planets, not the ones filled with organized crime.” He gives you a lopsided grin as a final selling point.

You pretend to think, narrowing your eyes at him.

“...I’ll give you a maybe.”

He leans in close at your words, your eyes flutter and your teasing tone fades. His hand cups your face, the tip of his thumb running under your bottom lashes.

“That’s all I need.” He finally seals the deal.

His kisses are inexperienced. At first they were pecks, never on your lips, but the few he would give you felt as if they were everything a real kiss should be. It wasn’t until your lips met the skin of his cheek that he finally realized how nice it felt.

It was like a mini blessing for someone. A way to show your appreciation for them. He loved giving and receiving kisses to and from you, especially when he noted that you had to stretch in order to reach his face and he had to crane his neck down.

You would go so far as to go through an inconvenience, even if it was small, to give him a peck on the cheek. You were truly remarkable to him.

A miscalculated kiss to the corner of his lips had made him turn fully and give you a proper one. At first it felt as if he was just pressing his mouth against you, but gradually as it progressed he was finally able to move his lips with yours in synchrony.

He was obsessed. Never having a day without a few or more, even going as far as pulling his helmet halfway up just enough to allow you to lean in when in public .

You developed this relationship without putting any labels on it. To everyone else you were partners, which wasn’t not true. Between each other, saying partners came with much more weight .

It was nice, you were both safe and content. You thought everything was going well. It was too good to be true.

You sit up straight and break mid-kiss as alarms blare from the control panel. They screech in your ears, for a moment your heart drops and he sees a twinge of fear in your eyes. He squeezes your hand and your eyes focus back on him, your small bubble of peace reforming wobbly even if just for a second more.

The pit envelopes in red, a ship is nearby and they don’t seem friendly. He seats himself back on the pilot’s seat, helmet lopsided from how sporadically he pulled it on himself. Spirits were high as if your lips had given him vitality.

Ships hover on both sides, their windows tinted. For a moment you hold your breath, Din’s hands tighten over the steer and his chest rises more pronounced with each inhale into his lungs.

You tense as he tenses, already sensing that the interaction would only lead to unnecessary altercations. They refuse to comm through, even as Din’s voice rises in irritation. The metal of their panels was scratched, faulty jobs of less protective material over it as cover.

They inch closer and Din shakes his head, forgetting the comm button and instead shifting in his seat.

They don’t even try to bargain, already busy forcefully trying to board the ship. As the pirates get closer to boarding the hull, he finally turns to you, his hand hovering the panel, ready to make a move.

You hear the guns shift between the enemy ships, engaging. You sigh exasperatedly.

“Get ready.” He almost sounded excited, cocky.

Giving a nod, you buckle in, prepared for the ship to push you back against the seat with force. He waits until you're ready, pausing for a moment and taking a deep breath in.

You're being chased through the system. You can barely pay attention to the nav comp as Din makes sharp turns and tilts to avoid being hit by incoming asteroids. You press your head against the headrest, gritting your teeth and closing your eyes tightly as he makes a loop.

Your eyes meet the blinking dot on the navigator. Your ship was parallel to the thick red line.

You're nearing the edge.

“Din, we’re getting a little too close…” you warn, your voice muffled by the plasma cannons from outside.

He was usually great at this, navigating through the galaxy without having to look through any directionals. He was a Mandalorian, he knew his way through every situation.

But he didn’t know this region and with an almost exaggerated sigh he had decided that he would use the nav for once, per your request, of course.

“A little busy right now!” As one of the ships crashes next to you against a piece of rock Din had just evaded, you feel everything shake around you.

Only one ship was left and Din was gripping the steer tightly in wait.

The Crest was awfully close to the border of the parameter in which the nav comp couldn’t guide you in anymore. It was well known not to go around this region, it was dangerous and only extremely skilled navigators could go out and not get lost. Nav comps coincidentally stop functioning once you leave, there wasn't enough data gathered to be able to create a map, and it would show blank and crash.

Dead space, the unknown.

As Din suddenly shifts downward the ship in front of you passes by quickly. He takes the chance to finally take his shot. You watch as the ship in front of you explodes, coloring the inside of the cockpit a warm and sharp orange-yellow.

You breathe in deeply as you're enveloped in the color, almost as if you were choking on the fire grazing over the front of the ship. Din slows down and cruises.

He turns towards you, and somehow you know he’s grinning under the helmet just by the way he holds his shoulders. You shake your head at him and cross your arms, obviously not as amused as he was by the chase. You briefly look over the panel, and backtrack again.

Your heart falls to your stomach as you finally see the computer blanked out, no coordinates, no directions, nothing.

You were officially in the depths of the Unknown Regions and you didn’t know how to get back.

#din djarin x reader #Mando x reader #Mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin x you #dead dove do not eat #dark fic

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year

Text

Midnight Drabble

Did I just come up with this? Maybe. Is it absolute trash? Maybe. Is it complete filth? Absolutely.

Very NSFW. Absolute filth below the cut.

Takes place some indeterminate time after Necessity. Might make it part of a longer fic later. But for now enjoy.

MASTERLIST

He tries not to, but he hears too much.

His enhancements were both a blessing and a curse. He could hear an enemy squadron from miles away, but it was so easy to get overwhelmed. He could smell changes in his team: if they’re tired, sad, or injured.

He could also hear all of them.

The close quarters in the Marauder don’t help any. He can hear everyone and everything. He tries not to, but he can’t help it.

Hunter leans back in the pilot’s seat, closing his eyes. He sighs out a long breath, the quiet of the ship only made things louder. He can hear the quiet, even breaths from Echo and Tech’s bunks. The heavier breaths, broken by snores, from Wrecker’s bunk.

The moans from Midnight’s room.

They’re quiet, and likely would be inaudible if anyone else even passed in front of the door. To Hunter, they’re loud. It’s the quiet, breathy moans she let out when others were on board, when she’s trying to be as silent as possible. They’re muffled slightly, by a hand or maybe a pillow. Those sounds are a good sign, he knows.

She likes what you’re doing.

He can hear the quiet smack of skin against skin, slow and methodical. Deep. He can hear the wet squelch of her pussy with every thrust and the quiet creak of the bed.

The harsh smack of skin against skin has his eyes snapping open. A sharp cry sounds, quickly muffled.

“Shhh. You don’t want to wake them, do you?” A quiet moan in answer. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? All of them listening in, hearing just how pretty you sound.” A muffled whimper. “You want them all to know how good you feel, how good I make you feel.”

Hunter squeezes his eyes closed, trying to block out the obscene noises, the obscene thoughts rushing through his head. His cock is pressing hard against his codpiece. It’s painful, but he refuses to remove it, refuses to touch himself. He’s definitely not listening in on purpose, definitely not ready to jump in and intervene if he needs to.

He’s not jealous. He’s...careful.

He knows how intense Crosshair can be. He had warned her. He had overheard that conversation. She hadn’t seemed to care, but Midnight was well known for jumping into things without really thinking them through.

Another smack echoes in his ears, the sharp inhale cutting off slightly. He shouldn’t listen in, he should put his headset on and try to drown them out as he usually does.

He can’t.

“You’re just a filthy little whore, aren’t you?” Crosshair growls, the rhythm of his thrusts changing.

A sob. Hunter’s back stiffens a little, attention fully focused on what’s happening now.

“Yes!”

He can smell the changes, the intense scent of arousal hitting him full force. She likes it.

Another smack. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir! I’m your whore! Only for you!”

The last word is choked off. He can picture it, the way her legs shake, the arch of her back, her lips parted as she cums. Hunter’s head falls back, a quiet groan leaving his own lips. He’s not sure when his hand had slipped into his blacks, codpiece on the floor as he works his hand over his length. He lets his senses take over, every smell, taste, sound washing over him. He cums into his hand, making a mess of his blacks, but he doesn’t care.

He can hear an echoing groan from the bunks, and one from Crosshair further down the hall.

Kriff they’re in deep.

They all are.

#the bad batch #the bad batch fic #star wars #star wars fic #clones #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader

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tropes-and-tales · 2 months

Text

Shadow and Light: Chapter One

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x F!Reader

WC: 2258

Other Pieces: This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW: Slow-burn; plot-building.

The Mandalorian knew every square inch of the Razor Crest. The old gunship wasn’t the fastest, but she was sturdy, and the Mandalorian was aware of every creak and groan it made. He knew that one warning light – the one for leaking coolant – was faulty. He knew the one landing ski took a second longer to engage than the other.

He knew that the door between the cockpit and the rest of the ship made a rusty little squeal on its track before it opened. He had meant to oil it but kept forgetting, and it was the only thing that gave you away now.

He had just set the course for Arvala-7 and was swiveled in his pilot’s chair to rest a bit before landing. There was no sound in the rest of the ship that he wasn’t familiar with, but when the door made that little squeal….well, he wasn’t the one who had set it off. Someone was on the other side.

When the door finally slid open to reveal you, that annoying kid from Nevarro, the Mandalorian was ready for you. You were wrapped in that same dun-colored cloak, everything hidden but your eyes, but he wasn’t focused on that. He was focused on the bo-rifle in your hands, the end sparking and crackling with a blue electric current.

It happened so fast: your eyes widened a fraction to see the Mandalorian charging at you in such tight quarters, and he kicked the weapon from your hands so that it turned off and clattered uselessly to the floor. Then, like in Nevarro, he grabbed your wrist and twisted it behind you until you were pressed against the wall of the ship, and though he wasn’t exactly gentle before, he was less so now.

The same question as before though. “Who sent you?” he asked, his voice tight with anger even through the modulator in his helmet. You shook your head, replied “no one,” and the Mandalorian responded by clamping both of your hands in magnetic cuffs behind your back. He spun you around and scanned you.

Gods, you were loaded with weapons. Other than the bo-rifle that lay on the floor of his cockpit, through the scanner in his visor, he counted at least five other weapons: two blasters holstered low on each hip, two knives tucked away in each boot, and a mean-looking knife, toothed and serrated for maximum damage sheathed on your belt.

He sighed and started searching you more thoroughly. He removed your cloak first, and it revealed that you weren’t a kid after all – even in the dusty black pants and grey shirt and vest, the Mandalorian could make out your curves. Your hair was braided and pinned up, but a few strands had worked themselves loose, framing your face.

The Mandalorian pushed aside all the questions of who you were and why you were on his ship, and he focused on the more pressing question: why weren’t you talking now? Most people – bounties, enemy combatants – pleaded for their lives when he had them dead to rights. Babbled out promises of riches, begged for mercy, tried to explain their convoluted reasons….you only gazed at him as he removed each weapon from you. Silent. Completely calm too. He didn’t sense any trembling or increased heart rate.

In fact, when he reached down to pull the knives out of your boots, you shifted your weight and twisted each leg a little to make it easier for him.

When he was done and your weapons were in a neat pile on one of the co-pilot’s seats, he pushed you into the other seat and towered over you.

“Who are you?” he asked. “And what are you doing on my ship?”

When you hesitated a moment to long in answering him, he added, “I can always shoot you out an airlock if you don’t feel like talking.”

“I wanted to go to Arvala-7 with you for this job,” you replied simply.

“Why? You’re not in the Guild.”

You shook your head at this, and the Mandalorian took a guess. “But you want to join the Guild? You need reputation credits.”

“Y-yes. I, uh, overheard the Guild Master at the cantina talking about this job. I thought if I helped with this one, single job, it’d be enough to get me in.”

The Mandalorian huffed at this. “I told you no on Nevarro. I work alone.”

“I can help.”

He looked you over pointedly, from the top of your head all the way down to your feet. Without the cloak covering you, he would admit that maybe you weren’t a complete novice. Your arms and legs were toned from work, and you had been armed to the teeth. And the bo-rifle was a sophisticated weapon from a race of elite warriors, though he wasn’t sure if you were any good with it.

You took his silence as an opportunity to continue. “I know I don’t look like much, but I can help. I can fight, and I’m a good shot from a distance. I’m very good at blending in and sneaking around.” You mouth twisted into a half-smile. “If you maintained your ship properly, I would have had you. That cockpit door shouldn’t squeak like that.”

“You want to partner up, but you were going to electrocute me first,” he replied sarcastically.

“I wasn’t. That was just to…encourage you to listen to me.” He fixed you with a glare, which you couldn’t see, but most people found a silent Mandalorian just as intimidating. You just kept talking.

“I won’t take up any space or get in your way, and I listen to whatever you say. And I’m good with ships. I know that this is a pre-Empire gunship. I could tear it down and rebuild it for you, and it’d run as good as new. Better, even.”

“I don’t need the Razor Crest torn down and rebuilt.”

You nodded, and for the first time, you looked a little uncertain. He could see you swallow hard. “Sure, but if it breaks down, I can fix it. And I don’t need any cut of the credits. I just want the, uh, reputation credits.”

He only stared at you, and you squirmed a little under the force of the glare through his visor.

Finally, you added, “I know that they kept sending people to Arvala-7. Stormtroopers, at first, then mercenaries and bounty hunters. None of them ever come back. Whatever that asset is, it’s dangerous.”

“So I’d be facing danger in front of me, and have you behind me with a rifle pointed at my back?”

You shook your head. “No, not at all. Like I said, I’d do whatever you say. I could be a lookout, or cover you with my rifle. I promise I’m a good shot. And if I have to, I can fight.”

The Mandalorian considered your offer. He had worked alone since his falling out with the crew of mercenaries he used to run with, and it was better that way. No personal ties, no entanglements. Nothing but him and his Mandalorian Creed.

He’d never concede that it was lonely. He’d never admit that sometimes he let his retrieved bounties stay out of carbonite for the part of the return trip just to hear another’s voice, even if it was pleading for its life.

More immediately, he admitted that you had a point. This job felt wrong from the start – off the books, an immense payoff, no chain code – so your intel about it being dangerous felt accurate. He tilted his head and studied you a little closer as you gazed back at him. Maybe you were all the things you claimed to be. A good shot, a good fighter, a good mechanic. You certainly were good at blending in, as he’d found out twice now.

Maybe a partner would be okay. Just for one job, enough to get you those reputation credits, then dump you off on Nevarro and never see you again.

“What’s your name?” he asked, and the expression on your face was indiscernible.

“Lyra San,” you muttered, and he huffed in irritation.

“Your real name,” he demanded. “Lira San is a legend. Make believe.”

You sighed, and a blush broke out across your cheeks. You looked away from him as you answered. “I don’t know my name,” you said. “My real one, anyway. I was named for their legendary homeworld when the Lasats found me. I was a child when the spacecraft I was on crashed on Lasan. I was…am…an orphan. A foundling. But they raised me.”

The Mandalorian would never concede that it was your admission of being a foundling that made him decide not to shoot you out of an airlock after all. Deep down, though, past the armor and the Way and his own hurt and trauma – he already felt a connection to you.

*****

It was partially luck that saved you – this Mandalorian seemed a bit more willing to listen before acting. You knew there were others of that sect that would have happily put a hole in your head before letting you get a single word out.

You’d been on Nevarro long enough to learn of the covert there, and you were sympathetic to the Mandalorians. Your own adopted people, the Lasats, had suffered the same under the Empire. You understood why only one Mandalorian was ever out at one time, but you didn’t know why it worked – even in their anonymous armor, you were able to tell one from another. One was heavier, one was shorter. One walked with a clomping gait, another walked with steps light as air. Maybe people were too wrapped up in their own lives to notice that an entire group of people lived underneath them.

If the job had gone to any other member of that covert, you would have come up with another strategy. But you’d observed this particular Mandalorian to get a sense of him. Some might call it intuition or second sight. Your foster mother called it a gift from Ashla, the personification of good in the universe. Either way, you were good at reading people, and this Mandalorian seemed…different from the rest. He had the same dark thread that all warrior species did, but there was a bit of light too.

It all ended up fine. A little humiliating, being disarmed so quickly and then receiving a thorough pat-down as he took all your guns and knives from you (though he missed a few, you thought with an inward smirk). Humiliating too to have him retrieve your pack and then go through it in front of you – your extra clothes, your small toolkit, your store of extra rations and medicines. Your small bound leather book that you filled page by page with your observations from your travels. The Mandalorian rifled through those pages, and your blush deepened that he might be reading your innermost thoughts. He didn’t comment on them, though.

Then he laid down the rules.

“You tend to your own needs,” he said. “I won’t spend a credit to feed or clothe you.”

“That’s fair.”

“You do exactly what I say without complaint or question.”

You paused. “Also fair.”

“We retrieve the asset and return to Nevarro. I get paid, you get the credits, and we go our separate ways.”

“Obviously.” You flexed your hands, still cuffed. “Can I get these off?”

He tilted his head at you, then gave a single nod and removed them.

“Thanks,” you said. You clenched your hands into fists, released them, shook the feeling back into your numb fingers. “Can I get my weapons back?”

“You get those back when I can trust you.”

That made you laugh, and he tilted his head at you again. “Aren’t Mandalorians famously distrustful?”

“Then you’ll get your weapons back on Nevarro.”

“What if we run into trouble on Arvala-7?”

He didn’t answer. He just turned and sat in the pilot’s chair, and a moment later, you sat in the co-pilot’s seat. No matter how much you traveled, you never got tired of the sight of space – the stars streaking past you, the distant nebulas of stellar explosions. It made your heart ache in the best way to think of the vastness of the universe, all the different planets and people, all the things to explore. You leaned back and rested your head against the seat, and you felt the past few tense hours grow heavy on you. You tucked your legs up – he hadn’t returned your cloak to you either – and let sleep start to draw you in.

“The guild master calls you ‘Mando,’” you said tiredly. “Is it okay for me to call you that too?”

The Mandalorian turned a little in his seat then gave you a nod. You nodded back and started to reply but was overtaken by a giant yawn.

“Don’t worry about the weapons,” you told him. Your voice was thick with sleep, and you could barely hold your eyes open any longer. “If I can’t fight, I can just disarm the enemy with my charming personality.”

You didn’t hear his response because you drifted off, and besides, it sounded different through the modulator of his helmet…but the Mandalorian laughed.

You also didn’t see him turn in his seat to watch you sleep, and you wouldn’t realize until morning that he shook out your cloak and settled it over your sleeping form so that you wouldn’t get cold before he retired to his own quarters.

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #tropes and tales

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dominimoonbeam · 2 months

Text

To The Edge - 8

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 8.

Rory contemplated some of the worst hours of his life to reassure himself that being duct-taped to a chair in his own ship, unable to do anything but wait and see if his bounty came back alive or not, wouldn’t make a list of his top ten.

There was the first time he got in a fight with pirates and got his ass handed to him. He’d almost lost an arm.

There was that time when he was working salvage and got stuck outside a wreck of a ship in a malfunctioning suit. Hypoxia had set it and if someone on his team hadn’t gotten the hatch open and dragged him inside, he would have died. He’d never felt his heart beat that hard before.

And then there was the first time he went to space—the first time he left the planet where he’d been born. He hadn’t been able to see the stars, packed into the cargo haul of a rickety ship, shoulder to shoulder with a hundred other desperate souls. It had shaken so hard, the hull creaking and screaming as they broke atmosphere. He had never been more scared before or since. That was the worst hour. The one where he thought he’d die crammed into that dark room, so close to escape, without a single star in sight.

This was not the worst.

This was not even close.

But it definitely felt like the worst when he considered just how much trouble that strange, naïve primer could be getting into on Styx. Where were they even going? If they wanted to piss off their family by running away, why this way? Why not go to Eaton? Why not go any damn direction other than the edge? The Solar Court had given up on this stretch of space—had found their limit and abandoned settlements along the border, like skeletons to mark the beginning of no-man’s-land.

The ship door opened, his ears popping and his head whipping to the side to try to see the entrance hall. “Stardust?”

It could be anyone. His primer could be anywhere.

“Did you enjoy your time alone?” they called, sounding chipper.

Rory laughed. “I spent the last two hours contemplating my mortality and just how quickly life can go to shit…”

Nodding, the primer walked onto the bridge. “You’re being dramatic.”

He huffed a laugh but forgot what he was going to say when he saw them. “Oh, look at you. I wasn’t expecting this much leather. Okay, I’m willing to admit that you might look better in that outfit than you did in my clothes…” Because he definitely wasn’t ready to admit how much he’d liked seeing them in his clothes… Did they get their hair cut too? That side shave was clean.

Stardust smiled and even did a little turn for him to get a good look at those leather ankle boots and tight pants, the faded t-shirt and leather jacket.

“What size is that jacket?” And where had they found it? He’d been looking for something like that for years. “Wait…How did you buy all of that?”

They blinked at him like they didn’t understand the question.

Rory shook his head. “There’s no way you had time to barter my stuff for that… Did you get into my account somehow or…” He sagged into his bindings. “Oh, Stardust. Tell me you didn’t use your own accounts.”

The primer pressed their shoulders back and their chin up. “It’s not like it’s a family account,” they said. “I have my own.”

“Not the family account? You think they don’t have tabs on your private one?”

Stardust rolled their eyes and waved a hand at him dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.” They settled into the pilot’s seat—his seat—and tapped at his controls, bringing his ship to life.

Rory ground his teeth, tugging at the tape he knew wasn’t going to budge but couldn’t stop himself from trying. “You really didn’t put much thought into running away, did you? Just figured that since you were already this far away, might as well keep going? Or did you like being in cuffs?” He grinned cruelly, hoping to get a reaction out of them. “You know, if that’s the case, I can cuff you again.”

He saw their hand hesitate over the keys.

Rory leaned forward as far as he could. “In fact, I promise that I will,” he whispered.

Stardust whipped around in the chair to glare at him, but when they opened their mouth, the ship beeped.

Incoming call. L-Class Yacht.

He saw the way their eyes flared at that announcement and barked a laugh. “That’ll be one of your relations. At least they’ll be able to tell from your shopping spree that I wasn’t taking advantage… Although I am definitely going to try on that jacket when I get loose.”

“Shut up! You’re not going anywhere, Cosmic. You’re in that chair until I’m done with your boat.”

He jerked at his restraints again and bared teeth at the back of their head. “Oh, I’m getting loose. See, you don’t know this yet because you have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but no one stays kidnapped forever. I mean, just look at yourself! By all rights, you should still be in a pirate’s storage compartment, but here you are, getting comfy in my seat, touching my controls, flying my damn ship—”

Another beep. Incoming call. L-Class Yacht.

He leaned back into his seat. “Are you going to get that?”

Stardust angrily tapped a key. The ship beeped. Call declined.

Rory gaped. “Are you out of your mind?”

The primer huffed a laugh, fingers flying over the controls. “Are you scared they’ll be mad?”

“Scared? Yes. Yes, I am scared of what your nightmare family might do if they think I fucked up this job. Have you met your grandmother? I haven’t and would like to keep it that way. Why do you think even pirates won’t go into the prime quad?” He didn’t need to wait for their response. “Because your family is there and they’re too snobby to step foot past their territory lines. So, assholes like me bring damsels like you back!”

Stardust tsked and he wondered if they’d rolled their eyes at him too. “I think we can both agree I’m not a damsel… and if you’re right, then I’m free and clear.”

“No. No, that does not mean that if you stay out of the prime they won’t get to you.”

The ship beeped. Detached from dock. Resuming course.

Rory sighed. “You’re not listening.”

The ship jostled as it decoupled from the station, stars gliding past the window and engines humming. “Don’t worry so much,” Stardust said, another tap at the console and they were off—cutting a line through space. “You’re going to be fine.”

“If they think I double-crossed them, or just botched this job, they will put a bounty on my head and hire someone else to drag you back. There’s no getting out of this.” Was he really trying to reason with this spoiled brat again? “And didn’t you want to go home? You made me promise.”

They shook their head but stubbornly wouldn’t look back at him. “You said you’d take me home. I never said the prime was my home. But I’m not holding you to that promise, okay? So just, sit back, relax, and you’ll have your ship back soon enough.”

Rory watched their shape bathed in starlight from the window, like a shadow being tested. “Prime isn’t home? Since when?”

They didn’t move. They didn’t answer.

He scoffed. Fucking primers. “Fine. Fine!” He pulled at his restraints again. “But when I starve to death in my own ship, that’s on you, Stardust. You’ll be a murderer as well as a thief!”

They finally looked back at him, eyes shining. “Then I guess we’re the same.”

Rory laughed cruelly. “Fuck you. We’re not the same!” he snapped but they both smiled. They were not the same—not by a long shot. And Stardust wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t even convinced they were a good thief, though admitting that in his current state would be too embarrassing to bear. “Seriously… Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?”

They kicked the lock on the floor and spun the chair around to face him. They looked way too comfortable in his seat, leaning into the side and putting a boot up on the cushion. “It’s not that bad.”

“I can’t get kidnapped by my own kidnappee. This will wreck my reputation.”

Stardust shrugged, trying not to smile and failing.

“Oh, you don’t give a shit about that? I’m really starting to regret patching you up.”

The primer put their elbow on the armrest and their chin in their palm, watching him squirm.

“You are officially my least favorite kidnappee.”

Stardust grinned.

No primer should have a smile that crooked.

#to the edge #defying gravity #sci fi romance #ride or die in space #audio script to novel #adventures of stardust and cosmic #<3 #own work #dominimoonbeam #clover down

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

Hey! Idk if you do extensions on previous works, but if you do I would love to request an extension for your hangman getting all shy around his crush who is his WSO story :)

(This is my first time requesting so I hope I’m following all the rules/doing it properly! I’m so sorry if I’m not! Also, please feel free to ignore this if you don’t feel inspired or if you have too many requests!)

You know how in the movie when they had those briefings/meetings the WSO and their pilots sit together? I can picture hangman being all chivalrous and pulling out the chair for his WSO and being all ‘I saved you a seat! Only if you want though…’ and being all blushy when she sits down and he keeps trying to focus on the meeting but he can’t. And all the other daggers are watching like ‘who are you and what did you do with hangman???’/giving him knowing looks because it’s obvious how down bad he is!

Sorry if this is too specific, and feel free to ignore this! :)💗💗

Your squadron gets semi jumbled as you file through the door to the classroom, but somehow you manage to fall in line after Jake. You two seem to have developed magnetic charges in the short time you've been his backseater, you're always one step behind him or he's brushing his shoulder against your own when he passes.

He heads for a spot in the front row of seats, the cushy blue chair looking like heaven after being crammed into a fighter jet for two hours. You're about to drift left to sit beside Natasha when Jake turns to gesture to the row he's standing beside, "Here y'go, darlin'. Take the far one."

You're not sure why he's insisting on the seat closer to the wall rather than the aisle for you; maybe he wants to chat with Rooster across the way. Said pilot is whispering something to Coyote beside him, and the two snicker while shooting Jake a sneaky glance. Whatever the reason, you let Jake usher you into the seat right of the aisle, and he settles right beside you in front of the podium.

You sink into the seat with a grateful thank-you, but it's interrupted by a sharp creak from the old chair you've put your weight on. It's a loud, awkward sound, and most heads in the room turn to look at you curiously. You try not to feel embarrassed, after all it's not your fault the chair is unstable, but Jake stands abruptly from his own chair at the commotion.

"Here, swap." He offers, his charming smile on full display, "You want the quiet one?"

"Oh, it's okay," You assure Jake, flattered by his chivalry as he reaches for your hand to pull you out of the chair, "It's just creaky, I can live with it."

"Don't worry about it," He dismisses your evasion tactics, gesturing to his previous seat that's now wide-open, "Come on darlin', this way you can see the screen better. Don't want you to miss anything."

Your second round of thanks to him is mumbled slightly as you hoist yourself up and over the divider between your seats, settling into the slightly warm cushions that Jake had just evacuated. The chair beside you creaks even louder than before at Jake's broad frame resting on its worn parts, but he owns the mishap far smoother than you had, clearing his throat with an amused smirk on his face and slinging his arm around the back of your chair.

There's a round of chuckles that pass through the mostly-silent classroom at his dramatic antics, and you're not surprised that Bradley takes the opportunity to pick at Jake.

"Thank god you two switched. Y/N smells much nicer than you, Hangman, and that chair'll drown out whatever bullshit comes out of your mouth."

There is, in fact, a rather loud creak as Jake leans towards Bradley to retaliate. However, you're more focused on the large hand that's come to fall against your thigh, slight pressure put just above your knee as Hangman leans over you to speak.

"You wanna talk about smells, Bradshaw, everyone knows your therapist is a bottle. Christ, walking past you smells like a closing shift at the Hard Deck."

"Alright!" Natasha's quick to step in, having seen many similar conversations take unfortunate nosedives, "Alright, you two both drink too much, and everybody smells like sweat in here. Okay? Just back down."

Hangman concedes with a tight clench to his jaw, and when he leans back into his seat, his face passes by yours. He sends you a sheepish smile, squeezing gently at your thigh before releasing it as his back presses to the creaky chair once more.

"Sorry about that," He keeps his voice hushed, attention turned to the front when Maverick finally steps through the doors, "He likes pissing me off."

"And it works," You chuckle, nudging his shoulder teasingly with your own, "Don't let him get to you, Hangman. Phoenix was right, we all smell like shit."

Maverick begins his makeshift lecture and drowns out whatever Jake could have mustered up in response, but the two of you each wear matching grins as your class session begins. There's no need for a verbal response as he nudges your thigh with the knuckle of his pointer finger: 'thanks'.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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strangeharpy · 1 day

Text

Prompted by @sameenbyhat over on this post. Have another snippet of AuDy and Cass being completely normal:

AuDy climbing into the Megalophile to get Cass out when Cass falls asleep in the cockpit?

It's 0233 the night before their next job, and Cass is nowhere to be found. They aren't in the common area, nor are they in their quarters. The on-board kitchen is empty, devoid of Cass stress-cooking as they sometimes do when they're concerned about the task before them.

AuDy expands their search beyond the living area of the Kingdom Come, tapping the keypad to allow them entry to the hangar bay. It's a cramped affair that can barely hold the two riggers on its manifest. The Regent's Brilliance stands closest to the door, but that's not what grabs AuDy's attention. The hatch of the Megalophile's cockpit is open.

That's where they'll find Cass.

AuDy picks their way up the scaffolding, taking care to step around the various tools strewn around the platform at the top. From this vantage point, it's easy to see where Cass is: sprawled out in the pilot's seat, wrench loosely held in their lap, with their eyes closed. The state of the maintenance panels in the cockpit paints a picture of Cass, tired but determined, working late into the night trying to make sure their mech is in top shape in case it's needed the next day.

(Unfortunately, AuDy is fairly certain it will be needed by the time they're through with their mission.)

Still: it's 0235 the night before their next job, and a cockpit can't possibly be a restful place to sleep. If they're going to stand any chance at making it through the job without incident, then the entire crew is going to need to be well-rested.

That's what AuDy tells themself as they reach into the cockpit, remove the wrench from Cass's grasp, and gingerly pull them free of its confines. Cass stirs a little as AuDy shifts their grip on them, but that doesn't stop AuDy from hefting them into a bridal carry.

"Buh?" Cass mumbles.

"You fell asleep in the Megalophile," AuDy says, keeping their voice modulated to a quiet level. There isn't anyone else around, but it seems reasonable not to speak at full volume nonetheless.

"Nooo," Cass groans, drawing out the 'o' sound. "Wha' time izzit?"

It's 0236 now, but AuDy simply says, "Late."

In their arms, Cass raises a hand to scrub at their face. "And you're carrying me, why?" Wakefulness is starting to creep into their voice. Suboptimal.

"You need rest. The Megalophile is not a recommended place to sleep. I am escorting you to your quarters." These three statements are factual, but one of AuDy's subsystems—the one that helps them lie—spools to life.

"I can walk," Cass says.

This statement is also factual, as is the one AuDy retorts with: "You must conserve your energy until we are ready to move tomorrow."

"I'll be fine, AuDy."

While this may be true as well, AuDy does not set them down. Instead, they angle themself through the hangar bay door in such a way as not to crack Cass's skull against the bulkhead. Their quarters isn't that far.

"AuDy," Cass says with a stern undertone to their voice.

"Cassander," AuDy says in return.

"You can put me down now."

"I cannot," AuDy lies. "My joints have seized."

"I can wiggle out of your arms."

They have a point, but AuDy does not stop their trek to Cass's quarters. Notably, Cass does not follow through on their threat. Instead, they still in AuDy's arms until the pair of them reaches the door to their quarters. They extend an arm and punch in the entry code, causing the door to open with a familiar creak.

Again, AuDy angles themself so Cass's head does not acquaint itself with the doorframe. Then they deposit Cass on their narrow bed. Cass favors them with a look they don't quite know how to interpret.

"What happened to your joints seizing?"

"They resumed normal function."

"You wouldn't do this to Mako," Cass says as they kick their shoes off over the edge of the bed.

"I would not," AuDy agrees. "Good night, Cass."

Cass sighs, then says, "Good night, AuDy."

AuDy is sure to turn out the light on their way out.

#cass/audy #writing #fanfic #boat party is best party tbh

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letsquestjess · 1 year

Text

To the Tracks

Summary: In need of credits and fast, Tech enters a riot race, much to the worry of Hunter.

Word count: 1603

Warnings: None.

A/N: I’m posting this a bit earlier than planned. To those who have been struggling with losing Tech and the announcement yesterday about season 3 being the last, I hope this makes you smile.

- - - - -

“That’s our last crate of rations, so we need to be sparing with it,” Hunter said, checking over the inventory and making a note of everything they had left in their bundle of supplies.

“It lasted longer than I thought it would,” Echo admitted, “but we’re going to find more food soon. And the medical supplies are running low. Omega could also do with a new jacket. I’m not sure how many times we can patch it up.”

Hunter’s forehead creased. With an irritated huff, he slumped against the empty crates by the impact seats. When they’d cut ties with Cid, he’d done everything he could to keep them well-stocked, but the carefully rationed provisions quickly dwindled and every supply run grew more and more precarious. As the Empire expanded, Rebel planets could barely feed their own people, and venturing into enemy territory was proving to be risky.

“Perhaps we should start looking at some bounties.”

“We are not bounty hunters,” Echo replied, shaking his head. “You can’t seriously be considering this?”

“Look, we’ll be selective in the jobs we take. Unless you have any bright ideas?”

Echo’s jaw tensed and he rubbed the nape of his neck. Although he was glad to see that his brothers had ended their partnership with Cid, he hadn’t initially considered the consequences when he’d expressed his approval.

“As much as I’d love to settle down, it’s not safe. Not yet,” Hunter continued. “If the Empire finds us-”

“I know. I’m perfectly aware of what we’re up against. But we also can’t just go taking bounties and end up working for someone like Cid, or worse.”

The co-pilot seat creaked as it rotated, and an insistent cough caught their attention. “We can hear you arguing, you know,” Omega said. “If you’re looking for more money, we already have a solution. There’s a riot race tournament coming up not too far away, and they’re offering a lot of credits for first place.”

“So?” Echo said. “What has that got to do with us?”

“Tech can enter it. He’s done it before.”

Exhaling, Hunter massaged the bridge of his nose. “Aren’t we supposed to be keeping a low profile? And have you asked Tech what his opinion is on this?”

“Who do you think found the tournament?” Wrecker laughed.

The clone in question turned in his seat, datapad in hand and calculations passing between his tapping fingers. “While this may not be the ideal solution, it is more than feasible. We would only be required to be at the track for a few hours at most. I have already studied my last race and analysed the list of competitors for this tournament. None seem to be efficient, so my victory is guaranteed.”

“But you don’t even have a pod,” Hunter argued.

“Actually, I have been spending my spare time constructing the required parts. All I need now is the outer casing, which should not be too difficult to come by when we arrive. There are several shops near the arena and I have accounted for the expense.”

Echo shrugged at Hunter’s pleading glance and the Batch’s leader grumbled. “Why do I feel like this has already been decided?”

* * *

A cacophony of noise and the stench of burning fuel bombarded them before they’d even left the ship port. Grubby, scuffed posters pointed them towards the track, and Hunter kept them in tight formation as they picked up the casing of Tech’s pod and followed the sounds of thundering engines and cheering spectators.

As they entered, a vehicle shrieked along the sand and tumbled over the lanes, exploding into a shower of several dozen blazing fragments and a heady cloud of smoke. The audience flinched in horror. Loud gasps and mutters lingered behind the commentator’s enthusiastic surprise. Seconds passed in a hush until the driver emerged, covered in grit and drinking in the raucous applause.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hunter said.

“Everything will be fine,” Wrecker replied, hauling the pre-made frame of his brother’s pod and the crate of components behind him. “You haven’t seen him race. Those credits are as good as ours.”

Tech guided them to his designated garage and got to work, allocating tasks to each of his siblings and fixing each segment into place.

At every crash and bang from the tracks, Hunter desperately searched for a means of escape. There had to be another way. In battle, danger was expected, but he’d hoped they wouldn’t have to deal with this kind of risk once they’d split from Cid.

A nearby collision rattled the garage. The commentators shouted for medical attention, and the growing agitation outside gnawed away at Hunter until his nerves nearly snapped.

“Are you completely certain about this, Tech?” he asked quietly, peeking over at Omega and Wrecker painting the outer frame. “You don’t have to go through with it. I know I said we needed credits, but we can find something else. Something a little less risky.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it is unnecessary,” Tech told him. With a deep, concentrated pinch in his brow, he connected the last part of the pod. “As you rightly surmised, we need credits, and winning this race shall provide us with what we require.” He glanced up and tilted his head. “Are you doubtful of my skills?”

“No,” Hunter answered without a second thought. “Of course I’m not. I’ve seen how you pilot the Marauder, but this is… it’s…”

“It isn’t exactly the craziest thing we’ve done,” Echo said, leaning against the messy work surface scattered with tools and splotches of oil. “We’ve trusted Tech to get us out of some tricky situations in the past, and he’s never let us down, so this shouldn’t be any different. Although, if you get killed out there, I will find a way to bring you back just to tell you how reckless this whole idea was.”

“Noted,” Tech agreed.

“We’re finished!” Omega declared.

As instructed, they’d left no identifiable markings on the exterior of the pod, opting instead to paint it in an inky black with a crimson stripe running down the centre.

“There are no markings, just like you told us,” she said at Hunter’s silence.

“And we figured if it was darker, it would be tougher for the other racers to see in the tunnels,” Wrecker added. “It gets real nasty in there.”

“Looks great,” Hunter assured them, earning himself two triumphant smiles. As the previous race ended and the commentators eagerly announced the competitors for the next, he turned his attention to Tech. “Sounds like they’re ready for you. If you’re sure about this, we better get you to the starting line.”

* * *

“He’ll be all right, you know,” Echo said, joining Hunter by the railings. “Wrecker and Omega seem pretty confident he’s going to win.”

“As long as he gets out of this in one piece, that’s a success in my book,” he sighed, tapping on the metal rails and wishing it would end quickly.

Overhead, the countdown bleeped, and at the blaring horn the racers took off. A thick veil of sand and dust shot up and trailed pitifully onto the ground.

Hunter paced. He attempted to tune out the shouting of the crowd and the overzealous remarks from the commentators, encouraging Wrecker to maintain communication at all times.

“He’s coming back round,” Omega called, dashing to the barrier. “Look!” Cheering in support, she waved to the passing pod as it whooshed past in a flurry of dirt and wisps of fumes.

“Why is there smoke?” Hunter stressed.

“Tech said it’s okay,” Wrecker assured him. “Took a bit of a knock from another racer, but he’s sorted it.” He shoved the datapad into his hands. “Just watch.”

The tracker watched as his brother piloted the pod through twisting tunnels and tight bends, manoeuvring as though he’d been made for the momentum of the tracks. He struggled to recall the last time he’d seen him so in his element. A faint smile tugged at brother’s lips, and some of the concern vanished.

“See,” Wrecker said, nudging his arm. “Our Tech knows what he’s doing.”

“He seems so happy,” Hunter breathed.

“Course he is. He’s always happiest when he can use that brain of his to make something work better and faster. You remember pilot training, right?”

How could he forget? Tech’s flight simulation scores had remained unbeaten throughout their schooling. He’d continually discovered new strategies for handling the craft when he practised, and he became quicker in his reactions and decisions, even suggesting potential improvements to their instructors. Hunter had been proud of him then, and that same feeling swelled in his heart now.

“Come on! You can do it!” Omega shouted, leaning over the railing. Wrecker scooped her up and perched her onto his shoulders, and she signalled to the final tunnel. “I can see him! There he is!”

In a close call, Tech skidded ahead of his competition, the pod spitting sparks as he crossed the finish line. He climbed out of the vehicle as the other contenders raced past and accepted the loss, some more graciously than others.

Omega hurried to him and encircled her arms around him, and Wrecker and Echo both waited at the garage with proud grins.

“Looked pretty dicey at one point,” Hunter said once his siblings had congratulated their triumphant racer on his win. “Almost wondered if you were going to make it.”

“You really did not need to worry,” Tech told him matter-of-factly.

“You are my brother,” Hunter replied. “I will always worry about you.”

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sorrow-already-spoiled · 6 months

Text

Midnight Glow Martini

_______

Notes: Hello! A combination Chai and Ani piece for your consideration! This was very inspired by the Lackadaisy pilot episode! The vibes are very fun!

_______

“Are you sure this is the place?” The shovel drives another few inches into the loose gravedirt.

“Of course I’m sure! Shut up and dig!”

“You could help!” Animozapino turns to look at Chaimoiw from where she is standing on a mausoleum rooftop, scandalized.

“I’m the look out! And I’m wearing a skirt!” Chai makes an irritated noise in the back of her throat and strikes down again. It makes a dull metallic thud as it collides with something solid. Ani and Chai both look towards the sound, their bickering instantly forgotten. Ani jumps off the mausoleum and grabs a shovel.

_______

It doesn’t take long to uncover the rest of the coffin. The pair of them stare down at the six foot long box, hesitating at the prospect of cracking it open.

“Do you want to….”

“No, no. You do the honors.” Ani steps back, as Chai nods and jumps into the hole. With a creaking groan of splintering wood, the lid of the coffin springs free to reveal cobwebs and amber glass bottles. Chai breathes a sigh of relief.

“You were right.” Ani scoffs, twirling a face-framing ringlet curl around her finger.

“Of course I was.” Ani had in fact, not been sure, but she would sooner die than admit that. “It is my wife we’re stealing from after all.” Chai glanced up.

“I thought you were getting a divorce?”

“Paperwork hasn’t gone through yet.” It hadn’t gone through yet because Ani hadn’t submitted it yet. She had stopped by the notary office with every intention of doing so, but couldn’t do it. Apparently, Zerea hadn’t submitted hers either. Ani wasn’t sure what that meant, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. “We should get out of here quick though. Zerea would never leave an asset uncollected for long, especially not with how expensive Canadian whiskey is these days. Practically liquid gold!” Chai nods, and starts passing up bottles.

The tell-tale rumble of a motor starts to hum in the vicinity, and not from their own vehicle. Ani and Chai look at each other in alarm, all too aware of what that means this far out of town.

“Uh, Ani? I think your wife is coming to collect.” Ani shakes her head.

“She’s got goons for this kind of thing, which is much worse for us. Hurry!” The precious glass cargo clattered together as they made a mad dash for the car. Ani threw open the door to come face to face with the startled eyes of Folceli causing them both to shriek in surprise. “What are you doing here?!”

“Chai said I could come?” Ani’s head whips around so quickly she feels her neck crack. Chai is already looking at Folceli with a look of utter betrayal.

“No, I said you could come someday, not necessarily today! How did you even get here?” Chai hauls Folceli out of the vehicle to start piling the bottles of whiskey in the backseat.

“I was in the back seat!” Folceli’s defense was cut short by the bright beams of headlights illuminating the car, and the three figures. “Oh shit.”

“Language, kid!” Chai chides as she shoves Folceli back into the backseat with the rest of the bottles that clink together worryingly, rolling about freely.

“I’ll drive.” Ani gathers her skirt in her hands to swing up into the driver’s seat, turning the crank to fire the engine as the first spray of bullets pepper the back of the vehicle. Ani steps on the gas, wheels digging into the grass for a terrifying moment before gaining traction and taking off. The sudden movement causes the bottles to shift, and for one of them to roll out of the not-quite-yet closed door. It bounces off the floor and out into the air, inevitably going to shatter.

Folceli dives for it, catching it firmly in their grasp and flopping the majority of their body out of the vehicle in the process. Ani can do nothing but watch in the rearview mirror, cursing loudly. Only Chai’s quick reaction time allows her to reach out and grab their ankles, and haul them back into the backseat. She slams the door closed firmly, looking at Folceli who cradles the bottle they rescued.

“That was scary.” Chai laughs despite herself, spinning the wheel to start heading towards the entrance of the cemetery. Chai pats Folceli on the head and takes the bottle from them.

“Help me move these.” The pair in the backseat shove the whiskey bottles onto the floor, trying to keep their balance as Ani erratically swerves the vehicle to avoid as much of the gunfire from behind as possible.

“Chai, do something about these people trying to kill us already, will you?! My hands are a bit tied!” Ani was a hell of a shot herself, she was proud to say, but there was no chance in hell she would let Chai drive at this speed (or any speed at all), and Folceli was still a child.

“I’m fucking trying to!” The back windshield explodes into a thousand shards of glass as Chai tries to pull up the back seat to access the storage compartment as Folceli mouths the word ‘language’ with an irked expression. The car tilts dangerously to the side as Ani turns sharply, careening around a mausoleum and heading for the graveyard entrance. The black car follows their path, gaining ground quicker than Ani would like.

“Bingo.” Chai holds up two slim cases, one containing a rifle, the other a gatling gun with a clip of bullets. Chai tosses the slim case to Folceli and unclips the larger for herself. The mechanical sound of the clip sliding into position is followed by a heartbeat of silence and Chai’s maniac grin as she looks out through the gaping hole that used to contain their back windshield. “Hello there!”

The glow of exploding gunfire lights up the backseat as bullets pepper across the hood of the enemy car. It swerves to try to avoid some of the fire, narrowly avoiding crashing into the gatepost on the way out of the cemetery.

The rough grass and mud beneath the tires turns to the packed dirt of a proper road. Ani cranks the gear shift and pins the gas pedal to the floor. It only takes a few seconds for the other car to recover and regain their pursuit, still well within gunfire range.

Click. The backseat goes quiet as the gatling gun’s clip runs out of bullets.

“Oh that’s not good.” Chai tosses the now useless gun to the floor.

“Did you even hit them?!”

“Of course I did, Ani! But it’s an armored car! What do you want from me?!”

BANG. A single shot rings out, and gunsmoke fills the car. The pursuing spins out of control and flips onto its side in the ditch.

“The wheels weren’t armored.” Folceli pulls their face away from the scope of the rifle, the empty shell shot falling to the ground.

“Oh shit… Good shot kid.” Ani grinned at them through the rearview mirror. She lets Chai fuss over Folceli in the backseat and focuses on getting them as far away as possible before the goons have time to recover. She breathes a sigh of relief as they hit the city outskirts, and are able to hide in the multitude of narrow side streets on their way back to the King’s Club.

_______

Underneath the lavish Kingsley Hotel, was a little known secret of the city: the King’s Club. Rich red and gold decor mixed with natural dark woods, all accented with semi-functional mechanical elements made quite a sight. A stage stood empty, only a few patrons sitting at the plethora of tables. Once upon a time, this had been a lively jazz club, with music, dancing, and plenty of alcohol, though Ani had never seen it in its prime. Since prohibition had rolled in, it had become risky to keep the King’s Club operational, and the price of acquiring alcohol only continued to rise. Many patrons weren’t willing to risk the hard hand of the law for good music and mediocre whiskey. The resource competition with Zerea’s own speakeasy, “StarDrop'', didn’t help either. One of these days, someone was going to end up dead, if tonight's car chase had been any indication.

The mood in the club is downright gloomy when Ani, Folceli and Chai return. This place had just started to feel like home for Ani, after the Kingsley family had so graciously taken her in after…. Well. Just after.

A pair of figures sit at the bar, and Ani moves towards them with her armful of bottles (fewer than they had started with, the dangerous road home had claimed four of the 18 bottles, leaving dark stains across the carpet of the car. Although, honestly, the car had bigger issues after tonight). Folceli and Chai follow, setting the bottles down on the bar.

“Looks like you three had a successful evening.” Leander turns to look at the three of them, pinstriped suit jacket undone, the sleeves pushed up casually. “Any issues?” Of the four Kingsley children, Leander was by far the easiest to deal with, and the least prone to worrying or overreacting.

“Yes.” Chai answered immediately, and Ani shot her a look that said ‘zip it’.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle, of course.” Not her smoothest cover, but Ani would take it. “Where’s Daisy? I need her to look at the car.” Leander’s hand freezes halfway to his mouth, and he stares at his watered down whiskey for a second before answering,

“Out.” and slamming back the rest. Chai made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, muttering.

“I don’t know what she sees in him.” She jumps over the bar and waves the bartender away. “Anyways… shall we taste test what we nearly got shot for?” Leander’s eyebrows raise, but he says nothing.

With practiced ease, Chai sets up a neat row of crystal glasses and cracks the seal on one of the whiskey bottles. She pours a perfect two fingers in three of the glasses, sliding one to Leander, one to Ani. The fourth glass is filled with milk and cocoa powder, which is slid across to Folceli. They know better than to complain, and take their chocolate milk without complaint. Chai grabs her own glass.

“Cheers!” the crystal clinks together as they all take a sip. “You know… that’s actually pretty good.”

“Best I’ve had in a long time, that's for sure. Might be worth the risk, eh ladies?” Leander says while swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Still not sure where you got the tip on the shipment from.”

“Course it’s worth the risk, and if you want it to keep coming, you shouldn’t ask where we’re getting it from.” Chai stares down Leander with a dark grin, and the conversation divulges into pleasantries, only briefly interrupted by Chai practically chasing Folceli out of the Club at bedtime. It was all familiar, and comfortable. Ani leans back against the bar. Maybe her luck was going to turn around after all.

#Its not late yet!#Definitely got cut a bit shorter than intended...#I got busy but at least this has fun vibes

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alcamcat · 1 year

Text

Coming home Part 1

Gavin is on his way home after a long mission, but he never imagined what awaited him...

Pairing: Gavin x female

Warning: smut implied – Minors DNI

This is my first fic I post on here, hope you guys like it…

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

The sound of the rotors pounded in his ears even through the headset he was wearing, and Gavin felt his whole-body tremble with the helicopter's vibrations. But he was too tired to really notice, too exhausted to care. The headset creaked unpleasantly, followed by the pilot's voice, who kept in touch with the other two machines, occasionally exchanging jokes and pointless small talk, which Gavin ignored out of disinterest.

Beside him, in the uncomfortable seats behind the cockpit, sat Eli and two other high-profile members of the Special Unit. Eli had been asleep for an hour while Gavin, despite his tiredness, inexplicably failed to fall asleep.

The mission had been one hell of a trip, almost five weeks of constant stress, surveillance and hard fighting that had taken a toll on the bodies and psyches of all the members. Gavin had two bruised ribs and more bruises, scrapes and contusion than he could count, according to the local doctor. His left shoulder blade was bandaged, a memento of an explosion that had threw him against a stone wall. He didn't even want to imagine how much more would have happened if his Evol hadn't cushioned him.

But it wasn't that bad, he thought, not sure if she would see it the same way. Gavin's mouth twisted slightly as he considered how she would react if she could see him now and vividly imagine the scowl on her face. She just always worried too much about him. That was one of those moments when he almost appreciated not being able to carry his private cell phone with him during such operations - a video call in this condition would certainly do more harm than good.

Gavin closed his eyes and imagined her face - something he liked to do at moments like this. It had been far too long for his liking since he had seen her smile, felt her skin, or smelled her perfume. He missed her, missed falling asleep next to her, making her laugh or just doing everyday things with her. Living with the woman of his dreams was great, but his job often took him out of the relaxed, sheltered life he was building with her.

And no matter how many times he told her not to worry, Gavin was sure that when he was on missions it was hard on her too. Especially since he more often than not came home with injuries that were not life-threatening, but still showed how dangerous his job could be.

In the beginning he had always tried to hide his injuries, but even if she wasn't an agent, she had a sixth sense to locate injuries on him and after several serious conversations and one or two small arguments he had given up trying. And he had to admit that it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling to know that she wanted to take care of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Two and a half hours, an initial brief conversation with his supervisor and a hot shower later, Gavin sat on the bench in one of the head office changing rooms and pulled his bag out of the locker. It was the moment he'd been looking forward to since their helicopter touched the ground in Loveland. His phone felt cold in his hand as he turned it on, impatiently waiting for it to start up.

With a whirr, his phone was ready, and seconds later it began to vibrate. A grin formed on his face as the messages from his girlfriend appeared on his display one after the other. Even though she knew he couldn't take his phone with him, she'd texted him at least one message almost every day.

Some messages were short "good morning" messages, others told him about her day. A few began with "You won't believe it..." or "Do you remember...", while in others she talked about her work or other activities. And almost all of them included an "I love you". The "I miss you" messages made his heart clench.

Even though she always said it was okay that she understood how much he loved his job, things like this were the reason why he kept doubting if it was right to be with her. He loved her, no question, and he was happy that she returned his feelings. But with someone else she could live a life where she wouldn't be alone as often, someone she didn't have to worry about getting hurt while fighting for his life. But at the same time, he also knew that he was too selfish to ever let her go again. Not if she wanted to stay with him.

As he read the messages, he absentmindedly fished in his bag for the small, dark green box that contained the ring that would - hopefully - seal his future for good.

He had the ring made in a small jeweler a while ago, small ginkgo leaves were set in a supple band of rose gold, with a small emerald in the middle, the color which mirrored the green of her eyes perfectly.

All she would have to do would be to say yes if he would finally dare to ask. If he would know how or when. But what if she says no? What would happen if she would not want to marry him? They'd already talked about getting married and having kids a few times while daydreaming about their future together, but it's possible that her mind had changed.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Coming home never really meant much to Gavin. When he lived alone, all he came home to was a small cactus and a fine, almost invisible layer of dust in the sparsely furnished apartment.

But now he felt his body almost relax as he unlocked the front door and pushed the door open.

He tried to be as quiet as possible, as he took off his shoes and put the key in the small box next to the cloakroom as it was well past midnight. Gavin expected her to be asleep but entering the living room he saw a completely different picture than what he had expected.

A bottle of wine sat on the dining table, next to it were two empty plates and burned-out candles. He discovered two wine glasses on the table next to the couch, one of which was still half full of red wine. The smell in the apartment was a mixture of wine, expensive food, and a perfume Gavin couldn't place.

But the worst were the noises he heard from the adjoining bedroom.

Gavin felt his blood freeze before boiling like lava. There was no doubt it was her voice. The voice of his girlfriend, the love of his life, giggling, purring and softly moaning. Gavin was stunned for several heartbeats, then he felt the cold breeze of his Evol carrying him slowly, against his will, to the bedroom door.

The closer he got to the room, the more clearly he could make out her voice. And now he also heard the dark baritone of a male voice that sounded quite familiar to him. Not a breath later he had pushed the door open, but nothing could have prepared him for the picture that presented itself to him.

In the bed—the bed they shared—was his girlfriend. She was naked, her hair spread untidily on the pillow as she moaned. Her arms encircled a man's muscular torso, her nails digging into his shoulder blades as he braced his hands beside her shoulders and thrust into her like a beast gone berserk.

Oh thank God, a dream... it was only a dream... But what would really await him back home?

She was actually lying there getting fucked by another man that Gavin now realized was more than familiar.

Before logic could form the scene into an overall picture, Gavin reacted. The wind rattling the shutters was the only warning Victor got before Gavin used his Evol to lunge at him. With a growl, the other was pushed off of her, while she screamed and pulled the blanket over her naked body.

Gavin's fist hit him in the face, and within seconds a fight erupted. Then her pleading voice came from the bed

"Gavin, stop! What's wrong with you? Stop it! Now! You're killing him!" But he couldn't stop himself, only when he caught a glimpse of her naked silhouette as she jumped off the bed and rushed over to the two of them, he stopped.

With a snarl, Gavin slumped back against the closet and watched helplessly as she wrapped the blanket around the other man while she glared at him, stunned, almost angry. That look made him freeze. As if she had a reason to blame him for the whole thing.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Her high-pitched, angry voice rang in his ears, and even though Gavin wanted to yell, confront her, or turn the whole world into a burning inferno, he sat there motionless. He couldn't take his eyes off his girlfriend, his voice didn't obey him, words formed on his tongue and faded into nothing.

He watched impassively as she averted her gaze, kissed the other man’s shoulder and snuggled into him as if seeking protection in his arms. In the arms of the man, she cheated with, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"There will be consequences..." the dark baritone voice brought Gavin out of his trance, he looked at the man who - with a split lip and a cut eyelid - was hugging his girlfriend "...permission has been granted."

"What?" Gavin murmured before the scene began to blur before his eyes as if he was about to faint.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Permission to land granted.", the raspy voice of the tower tore him out of his dream. Gavin flinched as his eyes widened, it took him a few seconds to comprehend what had happened, to realize he was still in the helicopter, Eli stirring beside him as they made their approach to land.

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #coming home after a mission #mr. love queen's choice #first fic #love and producer #mlqc gavin smut #mlqc smut

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