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archieimagines · 2 years

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touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch.

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

“I didn’t hear you come up.”

He nudged his head to the Child, voice soft, “You were having an important conversation.”

And then he did what you loved.

He reached a slow hand out and stroked it over the top of your head, coming to a gentle hold at the nape of your neck, and leaned in. Your eyes fell closed as the cool beskar met between your brows, and you didn’t need to see him to know his eyes were closed too.

A beskar kiss.

You heard a soft sigh through his voice modulator. This was the way his people would show love. He made no move to break away, even from the awkward angle at which he leant. He savoured the moment, breathed with you, his thumb running back and forth over your skin. You weren’t sure if he could feel the goosebumps that his touch rose every time, his fingertips slipping into the lower roots of your hair.

He loved to touch you, you could tell. It wasn’t easy, and these moments were few and far between with his action-packed lifestyle, but the tenderness of these touches clearly meant so much to him. To you.

Without disturbing the occupied bundle on your lap, you reached for Din’s other hand. It hung by his side until you took it in your own, slowly raising it to place your kiss on the knuckles of his fingers. You kept it there a while, backs of his fingers to your lips, his helmet pressed to your forehead. The warmth of those digits filled a void left by the cold beskar. The warmth of human touch.

Long moments slipped by as you absorbed it until you became self-conscious. He hadn’t pulled away, but you weren’t even sure how he’d felt about it with his covered expression, so you let out a resigned sigh and lowered his hand.

But he surprised you.

His fingers opened up instead, laying delicately on the side of your jaw, his similar hold on the back of your neck still in place.

His thumb reached out to meet the corner of your lips, before tentatively, almost shyly, brushing over the centre of them.

He wanted more.

You were only too happy to oblige, lips raising into a delicate peak, placing a tender kiss to the pad of his thumb. Soon, he shifted, placing his index finger there instead. Then his middle. Each of his fingers tapped to your lips, and you made sure to place your affection on the tip of each one, giving in to the urge to smile.

He loved this.

You heard the tinned sound of a sigh before his fingers slipped away once again, soon followed by his reluctant leaning away.

He stood tall above where you sat, visor staying fixed on you. He was just looking. Just peaceful. You shone an easy smile, somehow both cosy and breathless from the moment.

His helmet turned towards the green being on your lap.

He blinked up at Din, and soon, a confused coo filled the cabin.

Din shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll get it when you’re older.” And with that, he settled back into the passenger seat, arms crossing over his chest. “Rest up,” he called, presumably to the pair of you. “We’ll touch down for fuel in six hours.”

Din’s bunk was the epitome of comfort. Cramped, yes. Warm, yes. Especially with two bodies. It’d easily become stuffy in there with the panel sealed while the pair of you shared his thin mattress, and you’d always wondered how he managed to keep his helmet on even in that environment. Or perhaps… He couldn’t feel the stuffiness because of the beskar. Or maybe… He was just always stuffy in there, used to closed air.

Your eyes raised from where you’d had them closed, cheek pressed to the chest of his flight suit to mimic sleep. Early mornings after a long, well-deserved sleep often came like this, and there was something so soul-healing about laying there to absorb his calm, peaceful presence before getting up for what would likely be another day of action.

Watching his visor for long moments, working out if he was still sleeping or looking back at you- it had become somewhat of a hobby. Sometimes, you had convinced yourself, if you looked hard enough, you could see the slightest shape beneath the vision slot of his helmet.

You weren’t sure if they were really there. But, in the dim light of the bunk, you could swear the bridge of his nose casted a shadow that caused a darker shadow inside the mask. His lashes were dark and long, and they fluttered slowly as his eyes closed in steady blinks, looking back at you with such leisure.

But then… Had you made that up?

You squinted, straining your eyes until you were sure— yes, you’d made it up. He was still sleeping.

But it didn’t hurt to imagine he had long lashes and a strong nose, perhaps even a strong brow to match. It didn’t hurt to imagine you could see the faintest outlines of the man you love.

Sated, you turned your cheek back to his chest, eyes falling closed to mimic his slumber. Or at least—

“Morning.”

— What you thought was slumber.

His voice was groggy in the modulator; that intimate morning voice. Deeper, softer than usual.

It brought a smile to your lips. “Morning, my love. You were awake?”

“I have been for a while.” His arm tightened snug around your body in his hold, half atop his. “I like to watch you wake up.”

A soft laugh. “Not creepy, hm?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Silence lapsed with his low tone. All was quiet. Not the whirring of the ship, not the sounds of the forest he’d landed the Crest in the clearing of. Only the delicate air of his breathing inside his mask, catching in the voice modulator so quietly that ordinarily, you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

The thought stirred a deep intimacy in your chest. No one else would get to hear this. No one else would get to lay with him like this, press against his armour-free body like this. You splayed a hand over the cloth of his chest, toes wiggling from an uncontainable contentment with how your leg rested over his. Not an ounce of beskar between the two of you.

But yet…

Gentle fingertips trailed upwards, over his upper chest, swirling delicate patterns in the creases of his fabric. Your eyes remained closed, focusing everything on him, the warmth that met your touch when you worked past the collar of the flight suit, meeting the skin of his neck.

It wasn’t the first time you’d touched him so. Of course, after this long together, you’d been intimate many a time-- You were both human, after all... But the helmet had always stayed on.

Your fingertips splayed over his throat, and it vibrated with his low hum.

It was no secret by now. He loved to be touched.

You could just imagine him there beneath the visor, eyes closed, brow relaxed. His face caught in a long moment of calm where it was often riddled with worry, or effort from the fighting. Bringing him such serenity like this was the least you could do for him, showing him that he’s loved. So, so loved.

Slowly, your touch crept just a little further up, seeking his jaw. But as your knuckles knocked the edge of his helmet, a gentle hand closed around your wrist in warning. He didn’t need to speak.

Your voice was the softest murmur. “I won’t take it off. Can I just- Feel you?”

He didn’t move, not for a while. You raised your eyes, peering up at him from where you were nestled in his chest, as if you could possibly read his facial expressions.

His hold eased, thumb lazily rubbing over your veins before letting go, and you found a buzz of warmth in your chest. He trusted you with his most precious boundary. Silently, you vowed to always protect that trust.

Delicate fingers worked upwards, feeling for hair from his chin. But, a soft gasp- There was no beard. The gentle prickle of cropped hairs caught your fingerprints as they swiped along his jaw, and you marvelled at it.

“You shave?” The words came out with a soft, amused breath of disbelief, eyes rounded in surprise. For some reason, it’d always made sense that he’d be bearded, long-haired. He had no reason to shave, knowing that no one would ever see, but now that you knew, it clicked.

Of course he’d shave. Din was a particularly thorough person, he was always driving himself forward to do a perfect job of his work: of course he’d take care of himself too.

“If it grows too long, it’s uncomfortable. Catches in the modulator.”

“Ah,” you hummed, brushing along the ridge of his jaw in the confined space. There was something about feeling his jaw move as he spoke, verifying that he really was human, really did have goings-on behind the mask that shielded him from the world. There wasn’t much room in there to move freely, only your fingers able to reach his face, but it was comfortable. You could feel the soft sway of his breath on your touch. “What colour is it?”

“Black. Brown, black.”

You hummed, eyes fixed on his visor lazily, though you weren’t really looking at him. You were visualising as you studied the contours of his lower face, mapping him out as best as you could in your mind, nails brushing through the stubble on his cheek. They trailed towards the corner of his lips, where you noticed the strands got longer. A moustache?

The smile that lifted your face was automatic, beaming at the realisation. You followed the direction of it, above his upper lip, soon finding a little sparse patch on his philtrum. Your eyes drifted closed, imagining the way it might feel to kiss him now that you knew this; how his facial hair would scratch your upper lip, your chin. Perhaps it would be almost sore on your skin if you kissed him long enough, hot enough--

His lips raised to press a real kiss to the centre of your fingers. Slow, shy, even a little clumsy.

A rich gasp pulled from your throat. It was electric to feel his lips on your skin, pressing the affection directly onto you, after these long years of going without.

You let your fingertips lower, finally feeling the shape of his lips, that subtle cupid’s bow as it raised into yet another peck, slow and tender against your touch. Your brows drew together, fighting the emotion that welled up in you, trying to make you cry. You weren’t all too sure why-- this was just- so much. It was so much, to feel him like this, to receive his first kisses like this. Something you’d never even imagined you could have.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured against your fingertips, tone almost a caress. His own fingers raised to brush at the corner of your eye. One must’ve slipped out.

You didn’t even know he was looking at you. Your lashes fluttered open, gaze meeting where you imagined his eyes would be. “I can’t help it,” you whispered. “You’re perfect.”

He’d lied to you. He’d massively, irrevocably, intentionally lied to you.

Your jaw ached from your grit teeth as you fought back angry fires in your heart, determined not to cry until you’d pulled your family safely off this forsaken, evil planet.

Din had been tasked with a mission of political undertones involving the spice market. He was masking as a bounty hunter to get information, so this time, the importance was in keeping the right people alive.

Of course, it didn’t work, and those people were now trying to kill you.

Your fingers trembled as you fought against the clock and the jolts of blasters firing at the ship to strap Grogu into his passenger seat. Your eyes were bleary, but you had to focus, secure him in safely. You wouldn’t take anyone’s safety for granted after this stupid stunt.

“Get her in the sky!” Din shouted up through the hatch, pushing his voice so loudly against the fighting and blasters below that it almost outgrew the modulator, his real voice peeking through.

Grogu’s sweet eyes peered up at you, giving a questioning gurgle. The poor thing had no idea what was going on, was probably terrified by it all, and even your demeanour on top of it, but you didn’t have time to explain.

“We need to go!”

You buckled the baby in tightly and fought your emotions to ruffle a quick hand atop his head, hoping to soothe him even a small degree before falling into the pilot’s seat, specifically buckling yourself in, and jamming the engine on with jerky movements.

The Crest resisted you, far too old and rickety by now to be good for quick getaways with a cold engine, but with some slow drags, turbulence from knocking through trees and extra laser blasts from below, she was finally in the air.

You heard the distinctive sound of fighting downstairs, someone being kicked off the ramp at an easy 400 feet altitude, and then the mechanical sound of the ship being closed off again.

The ladder creaked with Din’s climbing, and you didn’t look back to him as he collapsed into the other passenger seat, not ready to talk to him yet. You were still seething, and wouldn’t engage with him until you’d pulled up safely out of the planet’s atmosphere.

Long moments of quiet dragged by. He knew you by now. He didn’t need to see more than the square set of your shoulders to know that he shouldn’t speak yet unless he wanted to upset you more. That, and you still didn’t look at him even as the minutes neared a full hour, focused on getting to the nearest hyperspace route.

He glanced to Grogu, who sat there blinking, clueless as he could be. He must’ve known something was going on, even if he didn’t know what exactly Din had done.

Din reached a gloved hand out, petting lightly on the green boy’s head. He still didn’t speak.

Eventually, your frustrated fires ebbed into a more containable state, you shifted the Crest into light speed, and unbuckled your belt with a heaved sigh. “Downstairs, Din.”

You stood, instructed Grogu not to touch a thing, headed down the hatch, and pointedly avoided looking at Din the whole time.

The body of the ship was chaos. Lazed burns in everything the three of you owned, strewn across the floor and torn from the struggle. Clearly, he’d really had to put up a fight.

It was his own fault.

Boot on metal as he stepped onto the floor beside you. You finally looked at him.

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was exhausted. It was in the way he held himself, the way his arms just hung there by his sides, strong shoulders visibly slouched to the trained eye.

You reeled on him. “Why didn’t you let me in on it?”

Silence.

“Less of that, Din. Speak to me, I need to understand.”

There was a pause before his voice came. Firm, but gentle, as if pointedly trying to keep the peace. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.” You pulled an upturned crate closer and planted yourself on it, trying to keep the buzz in your veins under control, but your tone was clipped nonetheless as you gestured to a crate nearby. “Go ahead, let’s hear it.”

He sighed and tugged the crate over, perched on the corner of it opposite you. His knees were parted and elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he thought through his facts. The best way to make you see that he’d done the right thing.

“I couldn’t tell you my true location because if you knew, your presence would have soiled the plan.”

“So you’re telling me I’m a hindrance.”

“No.”

“That’s certainly what it sounds like-”

“It needed full discretion to work. I’d told them-”

“I can keep fucking secrets, Din.”

“I know you can.”

“So you lied? Told me you were on the other side of town? How was I supposed to get to you if something went wrong?”

He sighed, his head dropping forwards in exasperation. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

“That’s not always possible. You know it’s not! Hunters still have fobs fixed onto Grogu, Din, there’s no escaping that!”

“I couldn’t have you interrupting or we’d all be dead. I’d told them I was alone- no, look at me.”

Your jaw was aching from how you grit your teeth as you forced yourself to look up at that visor, the weight of frustrated tears brimming at your waterline. You gave a small nod.

“Listen,” he started. “I’d told them I came alone. If you’d known my location, you would have interrupted.”

“To save your skin? Yeah, I would.”

“Exactly. We’d both be dead, and the hunters would take the kid.”

“You think I can take care of him without you? We don’t stand a chance without you around, Din.”

He paused. Quiet lapsed, and you had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes, he really gave nothing away, and it was infuriating. He didn’t let you in. He would rarely open up to you about what was going on inside that beskar that hid everything from you. Everything.

Sometimes, you were sure you didn’t even know the man you were committed to. He held so much of the power in this setup. He knew everything about you, everything was done by his thinking, and yet he didn’t need to disclose much at all. He’d keep you in the dark about everything.

What he was feeling, what he was thinking… Hell, even when he smiled at you he kept it to himself. You’d grown to handle those, but this, actively lying to you. As if you couldn’t follow instructions. As if you couldn’t be trusted.

You sighed as the drops in your eyes welled up enough to fall over your cheeks. You pulled yourself off the crate and approached the ladder to the cabin, calling over your shoulder. “Go clean up or something,” you sniffled, “I need a minute away from you.”

The clang of footsteps behind you, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. Look at me.”

“I can’t, Din.”

“Why not?”

Such a simple question, such an impossible answer. You closed your eyes, struggling to pick out words that might illustrate what’s going on inside. The ache that sank your chest, that made your throat feel heavy with uncried frustrations. None of this was okay. Perhaps after you’d cooled down, you’d be able to see that mask as anything other than a barrier between you, that keeps him safe from your eyes. But for now, you couldn’t bare it. You scrambled to express it, but all you could let out was a strained “It hurts.”

Another moment of silence. Then, carefully, “What hurts?”

Clearly, he didn’t mean for his words to bring on the tidal wave of emotions and thoughts that you’d been keeping at bay.

“This, Din. All of this! Living in a ship, wondering if I’m gonna make it back in every time I step out of it, and not even being in on missions that risk your life! It’s like you’re cut off from me. Like we just live in the same space and I’m just there to entertain you. But it’s- it’s-!” You heaved a sigh, head buzzing with the force of the thoughts that were spilling out. They were so honest and raw from brewing for far too long. They must’ve been sharp as they came out, they must’ve hit him like a ton of bricks.

But of course, that damned beskar hid everything.

“It’s hard to be with a man who doesn’t trust me.”

For once, his voice rose. “I trust you more than anyone in the gal-!”

“You almost died because you didn’t trust me enough to let me in! You’d rather die than trust me!”

“That’s not how I-”

“That’s what your actions are telling me, Din. They always do. You never tell me what you’re thinking. I have to guess, but I can’t even read your fucking face. I live my life in question marks because you don’t even give me the option to-”

“You know I can’t show you my face.”

A deep breath left you, shaky and tired. So much pressure had alleviated in your head, like you’d finally emptied the contents of your mind onto a platter before him. And now that you could see it too, heard what you’d said, you felt almost ashamed for it.

Criticising the beskar was too far. That was his way of life, and had nothing to do with how he felt towards you. For sure, it was frustrating sometimes for you didn’t even know what your life partner looked like, but his culture was part of him. And you loved him.

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-- What are you doing?”

He reached by you to snatch some fabric from a nook, and he folded it into a long strip without so much as a word.

“I’m- I’m trying to apologise-”

“You don’t have to. How can you trust a man you can’t see, right? We’ve been together so long, and you still don’t know who I am.”

You were stunned beneath the guilt that crashed over you. He took your words in so deeply, and fed them back to you plainly. You could see how you must’ve hurt him, with sentiments like this.

Your eyes welled with tears again. Whatever had come over you had clearly wanted to hurt him, but that wasn’t you. Your thoughts were too chaotic to pinpoint, swarmed with hurt and pain that was only now built on by the fact that you’d treated him so terribly. You’d sworn to him long ago that you accepted his Mandalorian binds, loved them even, but you’d let them get in the way with one incident.

“Don’t cry,” he spoke, modulated voice gentle. “I’m- I’m understanding you.” A calloused thumb brushed along your outer lashes to pause any tears that wanted to fall. “Let me help.”

And there was darkness.

He tied his makeshift blindfold behind your head in a loose knot, keeping your eyes in darkness. “Din? What is this?”

He kept quiet, and you heard shifting, something being placed aside.

“Why do you never-”

You cut yourself off when his hands took your wrists and lifted them gently, until your palms splayed on his stubbled cheeks. He gave a long sigh, and you imagined he’d closed his eyes.

Your heart jolted. He was here before you, bare, no helmet. When he spoke, his voice rang out clear and pure, the true timbre of his voice without modulation.

“I said, I trust you more than anyone in the galaxy.” His face moved with his words beneath your touch. “I’d move planets for you.”

He left you breathless. You dove at the chance, fingers tracing over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. It stood high and strong, just like you’d always imagined.

“This… This isn’t risky? I didn’t mean to offen-”

“You didn’t offend me. I know it’s hard, I feel it too.” He guided your hands to his lips, and he placed gentle kisses to your fingers.

The lump in your throat welled up again, your nose stinging from the tears that you tried to hold back. The thought of him struggling with his culture simply because he wanted to be close to you. “You do?”

“You know how many times I wanted to take it off? This seems… This is the best way. I’m not breaking any rules.”

You gave a watery, sniffly laugh. “This is the way?”

A hum of humour. “This is the way.”

You let your touch wander over his face, mapping it as well as you could. The curve of his eyelids, the strength of his browbone. He breathed softly, and you could feel the air on your palms as it pushed through.

You wove your fingertips into his hairline, pushing his locks back and bunching them up in your grasp behind his head. It was surprisingly long with unruly waves, and so, so soft.

He leaned in with a sigh until his forehead met yours, hands falling to their home on your waist.

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His warm, sweet lips fit perfectly against yours, and your head spun. It was so much, feeling him so close after nearly losing him, arguing with him, and your first kiss in the long years of being his. The first actual kiss.

He was unsure and clumsy in his affection, a little hesitant.

Clearly, this was his first one ever.

You let a hand trail to his jaw, guiding with a gentle touch. He soon settled in, became more confident in his kiss, even if it was still clumsy.

And it was perfect. The determined nibbles to your lips, the soft scratch of his moustache on your upper lip, the way he tugged you closer even as you were pressed against the ladder.

When it finally slowed to a stop, he murmured softly, so much closer than he’d ever been. The sound reached deep inside your mind to soothe your soul and make you crave more of his kiss. “I won’t ever treat you like that again. I’ll give you full disclosure of my missions, every single one. Alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed, breathless and flustered, “On one condition.”

“Hm?” He was clearly lost in this touch, so starved for so long, and it showed in his voice. He was utterly entranced with this new feeling, someone else’s fingers on his skin, words the last thing on his mind.

“We do this more often.”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, nose nudging on the tip of yours. “Deal.”

#mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #mando imagine #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #star wars imagine #star wars #pedro pascal #written by archie

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 5 months

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Imagine, Shibusawa accidentally activated his ability in real world.

The whole house is covered in fog. And all abilities are on a loose.

Even Crime and Punishment are gone.

But, they don't attack their respective ability users.

They are nowhere to be found.

You are also nowhere to be seen.

Worst of all, Dazai is also missing.

BSD Cast are panicking.

What, if abilities hurt you?!

BSD Cast is searching through the house.

They found you, surrounded by abilities, on the attic.

And all abilities are trying to get your attention.

🐯 Beast Beneath The Moonlight is chuffing, rubbing its head against your chest.

📒 The Matchless Poet creating knick-knacks for you.

👘🗡️ All Men Are Equal is guarding the window, taking short breaks to pet you.

🩺 Thou Shalt Not Die is applying cute bandages on smallest, almost healed cuts.

🌨️ Light Snow is recreating movie scenes with its power.

🐄 Undefeated by the Rain create stone figures with its bare hands.

🐰 Demon Show holding a plate with snacks.

Futon is manipulating electronics, changing channels, so you can watch some interesting show.

🍰💉 Vita Sexualis is making accessories for you.

🍷 Upon the Tainted Sorrow making things float for your entertainment.

🌂 Golden Demon is bringing you nice clothes.

🇫🇷 Demonic Beast Guivre is curled around you.

🎧 Illuminations is creating a hyperspace over you.

🗣️ Lippman's ability is sitting near you, guarding you.

🧥 Rashomon is glaring at everyone, who is trying to get close to you.

🚬 Falling Camelia entertain you by pushing around different things.

🩹🧲 Midwinter Memento is controlling metal pieces to create some cool figurines.

⭕⭐ Dogra Magra, as a little doll, sitting on your lap.

🍋 Lemonade is creating fireworks for you.

🍛 Flawless is playing cards with you.

⛩️ Hail in the Begging Bowl preparing non-alcoholic drinks for you.

💻 Discourse on Decadence is writing down interesting memories, it read from anything he could find.

🥷 Yesterday's Shadow Tag is sitting near Rashomon, protecting you.

🕶️ Another is bringing you dolls from Ayatsuji's collection.

💰 The Great Fitzgerald is bringing you cases, full of money (don't worry, it simply took them from Fitzgerald).

🦝 Black Cat in the Rue Morgue is ready to send you in any book you want.

🐋 Mody Dick is floating outside the window, ready to fly with you anywhere you want.

🍇 The Grapes of Wreath is growing grapes for you. Don't worry, they are edible.

☕ Annie of Abyss Red is playing ball with you.

🪶 Little Women is planning your weekends, while sitting in the next room

👒 Gone With the Wing is using wings to make paper butterflies fly around.

♊ Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer are floating above you, telling jokes.

✝️ The Scarlet Letter is writing your name in the air with its power.

😷 A Feast in a Time of Plague simply observing you from the corner.

🫖 The Precipice is outside, rumbling happily.

👻 The Perfect Crime is bringing you mystery novels.

⚔️ Mirror Lion is entertaining you with its sword skills.

🦇🧛 Bram's ability is handing from the sealing upside down. Protecting you.

🃏 Sigma's ability is laying near you, with its head on your lap.

🤡 The Overcoat is doing a circus performance for you.

🐀 Crime and Punishment is playing with your hair.

👧👩👵 Gasp of the Soul is cuddling your left hand.

💧 Priceless Tears is floating through the vents all over the house and bring you whatever you ask for.

🌸 Plum Blossoms in Snow is using its power to cut fruits.

⌚ Strait is the Gate is observing surroundings.

🐈‍⬛ I am a Cat is purring and doing tricks for you.

🪢🦀 Dazai, somehow, got captured, and how is in a cage, far away from anyone, he can touch to nullify.

The moment, BSD Cast stepped to the attic, abilities turned towards them, glaring at their 'hosts'.

So, you, either, will be stuck here, until Abilities decide to let you go.

Or, until BSD Cast manage to free Dazai.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

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arctrooper69 · 3 months

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As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As Iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 3:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealously. Mentions of masturbation (nothing explicit).

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Despite the initial crash landing, the mission seemed to have been successful and the trip back to Ord Mantell was, so far, uneventful. The ship lay in a sleepy silence, punctuated only by Wrecker’s occasional snoring from where he lay on the ground against Gonky with Omega and Lula tucked safely in his arms. Phee and Tara played a quiet game of Dejarak and Echo sat watchfully in the co-pilot’s chair beside Tech, who was engrossed in something on his datapad until the ship dropped from hyperspace and landed smoothly back on the planet.

Hunter took moments like this whenever he could get them. It was rare to have time to himself, especially now that Omega and you had joined the squad. But right now, rest did not come so easily to him.

Your outburst at Tara, the way you zoned out during his mission brief, not to mention the cold shoulder you'd been giving him for the past few days - it just wasn't like you.

From a tactical perspective - as your squad leader - he knew that he should go and find you as soon as possible, sit you down and demand you tell him what was going on. It was his duty, after all, to make sure his squad was okay both mentally and physically. It was imperative that he knew everything in order to be able to move smoothly and efficiently as a team.

But for some reason, Hunter felt glued to his seat. Something fought that well-trained commando logic from inside of him, pressing upon him, crushing him like a foot on his chest.

Taking a deep breath, he sat up straighter, cracking his neck.

“Emotion is natural. Fear is natural.”

Hunter remembered the words of one of their trainers on Kamino. He'd laughed it off with the rest of the squad. Scared? Genetically enhanced special forces commandos? Not likely. It was so long ago, he barely remembered the lesson. It wasn't important at the time. Maybe it applied to regs, but not to him. Hunter was their leader, their older brother - he couldn't afford that kind of weakness. So why had he suddenly remembered it now?

“They are in every man's very nature, but you're different. You don't have the luxury to dwell on those feelings. You freeze, you die, so train yourself to let it pass. Focus on the task at hand.”

Hunter let the strange emotion pass, willing the weight to lift from his chest

It felt different though, everytime he glanced towards your bunk, he couldn't help but to recall how you felt cradled in his arms. How your breath caught in your throat when you met his eyes. You hadn't even noticed, but he did.

The door to the fresher opened and you stepped out, turning towards him.

Hunter stood, intent on coming to the bottom of whatever this was. A faint, peculiar scent wafted from you. The feeling he’d so skillfully pushed away only moments ago, bubbled to the surface again. It swirled in his stomach, pooling with tangible heat beneath his skin. It made him hungry in a way nothing had before. He shifted uncomfortably, thankful for the way his armor hid the growing bulge in his pants.

Touching your face, feeling your body in his arms, wishing it was anything but the brutality of battle that called you to him.

He’d been with women before - a drunken fling, or a way to blow off steam after a long mission. This was different. You felt different.

He glanced away, shame springing to the surface at the hopelessness of his desires - but he could hear your body tense, and feel you turn away.

Oh gods, she knows.

Maybe it was the moment his hand rested far too long on your knee. You had stared at the gesture - but it was one of the rare moments when he couldn't really tell what you were thinking. Perhaps the way you stiffened signified your discomfort - perhaps he'd misread that small spark in your eyes.

Hunter stood quietly for a moment, opening his mouth as if to call you back to him, but he made no sound. He closed his mouth again, drawing his lips into a frown, codpiece loosening in a melancholy disappointment.

No. I have a job to do.

“Hey,” he called over to you, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention from the others.

You froze. Oh gods, he can probably hear my heartbeat. He can smell me and I just…. You glanced back at the fresher door.

Oh gods, he knows.

The thought of him was too much. His hands on your skin, his lips on yours, those beautiful amber eyes that bled sincerity and comfort - it was all too much. It was a lie. You had to let it go or you would explode. Finally alone in the fresher, you could close your eyes and imagine that it was his fingers that caressed your sex and not your own. The release you craved had come almost too quickly and now you were left with an empty longing.

“What.” Your reply came sharply, colder than you’d intended.

“Are you okay?”

The question caught you off guard and you nearly found yourself telling him everything.

I can’t do that to him.

Airing the stupid schoolgirl crush you had on him would only serve to make him feel guilty. You didn’t want his pity.

“I’m fine, Hunter.”

I’m not fine, this is killing me.

“Are… are you sure?” He paused, unsure what kind of response he even expected. You sounded tired. “It’s important you let me know if something is bothering you.” he finished.

“I said I’m fine.”

Hunter shook his head, suddenly incensed by the cold rebuttal. There had to be something wrong and he would find out what.

You can fix this, a voice in his head demanded. Man up and fix this. That's your job isn't it?

“What’s going on with you!?” He snapped, visibly frustrated.

That was not what he'd meant to say - or maybe it was. Hunter didn't know anymore.

Immediately he shut his mouth, seeing your expression phase from one of shock, to one of anger that mirrored his own. He just wanted to help! He just wanted to make things better. Why did you have to make it so hard?

“Excuse me!?” Your eyes flashed, matching his frustration with anger of your own.

It forced its way through your veins like red-hot coals.

What the hell am I doing? You thought. Pining away like a lovesick teenager for a man I work with!?

You sighed.

But he’s so much more than that. The feelings you tried so hard to beat down, forced themselves up through your anger like weeds growing in the cracks of a walkway.

You mowed them down. No. It’s a fantasy. It isn’t real. Get it together before someone gets hurt.

Hunter doubled down, “You heard me. I just want to know what your problem is so we can work out whatever it is!”

“My problem!? Oh my gods, Hunter! I’m fine! I told you I’m fine so please just leave me alone!”

Hunter opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to put words to the whirlwind of confusion, grief, and anger that spiraled about him like a storm.

He watched as you spun sharply around and headed out the door.

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@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @the-rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades6 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rogue @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @temmiegailg @skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023 @jedipoodoo @reader6898 @all-mights-babygirl @arcsimper5 @red-robin-yum08 @wintersnnowie @whore-of-many-hot-men @theeyesofasoldier @griffedeloup @starswhores @totallyunidentified @waytoooldforthis78

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

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nimata-beroya · 2 years

Text

Star Wars Writing Resources

Note: None of the resources below are mine. I just assembled them in one place for your and my convenience. Feel free to use and reblog. If you know of any other useful site missing from the list, let me know and I'll gladly add it.

NOTE (05/17/23): There's a new, much more comprehensive version HERE.

Places

Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg

Map of the Galaxy

List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]

Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]

Planetary System Generator [Donjon]

Character Development

Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]

Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood

Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]

Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]

The character creator

Droid Name Generator

Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr

Clone Trooper face/helmet template pack by @fox-trot

Clone Picrew by @batdad

Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli

Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]

Miscellaneous

Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]

Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]

Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]

Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)

Materials (fabrics, leathers, silks, plastics, construction, metal composites, etc.)

List of TCW Opening Quotes

Ship Generator 3D

Star Wars: The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts by @cacodaemonia

Languages; Phrases and Slang; Vocabulary

Coruscant Translator (from/to Basic from/to Old Corellian, Proto-Basic, and Smuggler's Cant; Catharese and High Cathar; Cheunh and Minnisiat; Echani and Thyrsian; Mirialan; Flora Colossi, Ortolan, and -everyone's favorite- Mando'a)

In-Universe phrases and slang [Google sheet]

List of phrases and slang [wookiepedia]

List of equivalents to real-world objects [wookiepidia]

Star Wars Menu Generator

Helpful blogs

The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters.

@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.

@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.

@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.

@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.

Writing in General (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)

SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).

ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, it gives +20 different in-depth reports for only the first 500 words for free. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit.

LanguageTool: [RECOMMENDED] Another excellent proofreader. It also has a word limit in free accounts, but if you use the add-on for Google Docs, it counts each page as a new document, so hitting the limit is nearly impossible. It helps you to rewrite a sentence, even if it doesn't raise any flags; it's very useful for when your sentence is grammatically correct, but it doesn't feel quite right.

Grammarly, Hemingway Editor: No so great, but they do the basic job.

#star wars writing resources #star wars #the mandalorian #the bad batch #sw rebels #the clone wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi show #tbobf #the book of boba fett #andor

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 7 months

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Painted Pretty

Travelling through hyperspace after a mission can be boring, unless you’re sharing a ship with five men.

Pairing: All Batch x f!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Rating: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: bukkake, lots of praise, fraternal polyandry (aka the boys are all with reader), consensual recording (it’s a hobby), light marking, cum eating, squint and you might see a breeding kink, fluffy aftercare, also squint for some bratty behaviour (one guess who that is), handjobs, fingering, unprotected PiV, oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), squint again for a possible reference to somnophilia, no clonecest.

A/N: Keeping track of five of them was a nightmare.

I will also die on the hill that Tech and Cross are tube twins.

It’s cold in the cockpit. Not entirely uncommon when travelling through hyperspace, but you have a feeling your lack of clothes isn’t helping the matter.

The durasteel floor bites into your knees, even with a standard-issue blanket cushioning them. The hum of the engine and hyperdrive fill the air, along with the ragged breathing of the five men standing around you.

“So pretty for us.” The smoky rasp of Hunter’s voice graces your ears as he admires you, eyes taking in every exposed curve of your body as he lazily pumps his cock.

You can’t help but smile sweetly, batting your lashes just a little as you reach out a hand to trail your fingers across his hipbone, raking your nails ever so teasingly down his strong, tattooed thigh. The action pulls a moan from him, a curse leaving his lips. He reaches for you, smoothing his hand across your head, tangling his fingers in your hair.

His hips flex forward, pressing the head of his cock to your lips. They part easily and you draw him in, flattening your tongue against the underside of him. He groans, gently thrusting in and out, watching the way your kiss-swollen lips from the earlier make-out session seal around him.

Slender fingers reach for you and guide your free hand, your fingers curling around the slightly longer but equally girthy cock you’re led to. Your eyes flit to the side, taking in the heat in Crosshair’s sharp eyes as you stroke him.

“Such a good girl.” The slink of the sniper's voice coils around you. The praise makes you preen, even as you continue lavishing attention to Hunter’s cock with every bob of your head.

A warm body presses to your back, your eyes falling shut for a moment at the contact, but you refuse to stop bringing pleasure to two of the men you adore. “That’s it, darling.” Tech whispers in your ear, pressing soft kisses and light bites to the juncture where your neck and shoulder meet, offering gentle encouragement even as he grinds his hard-on against your ass. He slides an arm around your waist, dexterous fingers making contact with your clit and he proceeds to trace slow but firm circles on it. You moan at the sensation, earning a grunt from Hunter as he continues to fuck your mouth.

Hunter pulls out a moment later, the lewd pop of his cock sliding from your lips echoing in the cockpit. He dips down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead before taking himself back in hand, freeing your mouth for one of his vods.

The decision of who’s next is unspoken, and Echo steps forward.

Even as your hand continues working Crosshair, even with Tech pressed against you, you look up and offer Echo a soft smile. His rescue had only been a handful of weeks ago, but he’d fallen so effortlessly into place with the rest of the squad. And now, he’d get a share of you too.

You can see a twinge of self-consciousness on his face, so you reach for him, drawing him in by the back of his metal thigh until you can slide your lips down the length of his hard cock to place a series of kisses, reassuring him silently as you take the tip in your mouth and sink on him until he hits the back of your throat.

The gasp Echo lets out is beautiful, and you watch as his eyes fall shut, hips canting on instinct as he chases the warm, wetness of your mouth.

“See. Sharing ain’t so bad, Reg.” Crosshair lets out a dark chuckle, punctuated by a hiss as you swipe your thumb across his frenulum on the upstroke, your eyes turning to him, eyebrow quirking upwards. He stares you down for a second, but you refuse to look away first, and those sinful lips of his curl into a smirk as his eyes close, narrow hips rolling with each stroke of your hand.

Echo’s hand on the top of your head pulls your attention back to him, and you hold his gaze as he slides in and out of your mouth, watching the stretch of your lips and the small pools of saliva forming in the corners of your mouth. You’re an absolute sight – and he can’t get enough of it.

A firm but steady push on your back has you rocking forward a little, and a muffled cry of delight leaves you as you feel the head of Tech’s cock press against your entrance, his fingers still playing with your clit. “I usually have a lot of patience, darling, but when you’re like this…” He trails off, laving more kisses on your throat as you feel the stretch of him pushing into you.

“Hey no fair!” Wrecker chimes in, the big man has been watching from the sidelines, large hand working his equally proportionate length. He knew you struggled to take all of him, and that you needed to work up to him, so he was usually happy to sit back and wait a little for his turn during group sessions.

Blindly your hand leaves Echo’s thigh, reaching for Wrecker. He steps closer, and your fingers curl around his cock, unable to get a full grip on him. You stroke him once, twice, and he settles a little. You moan around Echo as he continues to fuck your mouth, the sweet drag of Tech’s cock with each of his thrusts driving you insane.

“Fuck, cyar’ika. You should see yourself right now. Absolutely beautiful.” Hunter comments lowly, still jerking himself as he takes in the vision before him. Echo’s cock in your mouth, Wrecker and Crosshair in your hands, and Tech slowly taking you from behind. The streaks of light from hyperspace bathe you in the most gorgeous glow and Hunter can feel that he’s close, the scene pushing him near the edge, and from the quickened heartbeats of his vod, they all are too.

Wrecker’s grunts drown out his brothers, and you’re well-versed by now in what that means. Mouth sliding from Echo’s cock you tilt your head in Wrecker’s direction, closing your eyes, tongue out as you continue stroking him. Seconds later you feel the warm ropes of his release hit your face, catching some on your tongue, which you greedily swallow as he groans through his orgasm. Your hand shifts to run across his hip in a gentle gesture as the last few drops hit your face.

Wrecker has set off a chain reaction. The low growl from Crosshair has you turning your head the other way, eyes still closed and tongue still out. The sniper's hand weaves into your hair, keeping you close as you give him a few more strokes until he’s cumming across your face too, painting you with it. His noises of pleasure are quieter and his fingers ghost down your jawline, propping your chin up. “Let me see.” He whispers as he catches a breath.

Knowing this was his favourite part, you savour slowly opening your eyes, meeting his hawkish gaze. Delight flares in those sharp eyes of his as he looks you over, taking in every small detail of your face covered in his and Wrecker’s cum, and the irresistible colour of your eyes. Most people were unable to hold his gaze longer than a few moments, but you’d never felt anything other than safe under his intense stare.

“Beautiful,” Crosshair whispers, hand falling from your chin as he reaches for a spare rag to clean himself off.

You feel Tech moving, drawing a moan from you as he slides his cock in and out of you, pulling your attention back to the rest of them. “Whose turn is it, beloved?” He whispers in your ear between thrusts. It had caused quite a lot of tension between the brothers at first – who would get to make you cum during group sessions.

Going back over the last few sessions, your gaze slides to Hunter, the corners of your lips curving upwards. “It’s been a while, Sarge.” You purr.

“Fuck.” Hunter curses, gripping the base of himself to stop from finishing too soon.

With a wicked smile, you look up at Echo once again, giving him your full attention, pushing his hand away from his cock so you can work him. “You gonna cum for me, Echo?” You ask, lips pouting a little.

“Cyare…” He grits out, jaw clenched. He’s quick to let out a sharp gasp, hips jerking forward as his release joins the others across your face. The look of satisfaction he wears as he rides through the high makes you smile, and as much as you want to brush a finger across your cheek and taste them, you know you have to wait.

“Good boy.” You can’t help but tease, enjoying the groan Echo lets out and how his eyes close at the praise for a second. You’d had a feeling he’d like it.

It also pulls a noise from Tech, who’d momentarily stilled inside of you, too damn close for his liking. It had amused you no end to learn of the genius's love for compliments, and even if they weren’t aimed at him, you knew those two words would make his exceptional mind go blank.

A whine leaves your lips as you feel Tech pull out of you, rising to his feet and circling you. Your eyes find his behind the yellow lenses of his goggles, and for a second you glance at the small camera attached to them, shifting ever so slightly to give a better view of your body. The action pulls a small smile from him.

At first, you’d insisted he take it off, and with no question he’d left it in his kit crate. But with time you’d warmed to the idea, trusting implicitly that no one outside of the squad would see the videos. You knew he had a whole folder of content buried deep on his datapad, heavily encrypted.

Eyes skipping down his body, your tongue darts out to lick your lips as you watch his hand slide along his cock. Faintly you register the taste of the others in your mouth.

Tech crooks a finger on his free hand, and you scoot forward a little, head tipping back and eyes closing. His breath catches as he admires you, and his hand stills as his orgasm hits him, making his thighs quiver as he watches the pearly ribbons land across your lips and cheek. He reaches out, smoothing his other hand down your throat and across the small marks blooming on your shoulder before he steps back, taking a rag from his twin.

The weight of a heavy gaze lands on you, and you tip your head to search for it. Your eyes meet Hunter’s and he stalks forward, letting go of his cock long enough to grasp you, gently manoeuvring you down onto the blanket. The moment your back hits the soft surface he’s between your thighs, talented tongue lapping at your pussy while one of his hands reaches up to grasp your breasts, fingers tweaking your pebbled nipples. He won’t finish until you do.

Your hands find their way into his hair, snagging a little on his slightly askew bandana. Pleasure zips through your body, back arching as you gasp, feeling the firm press of his tongue as he licks slow lines up and down your folds, ignoring your clit for now. It’s maddening. And he damn well knows it.

“Hunter. Please.” You beg, having been riled up ever since Crosshair had pinned you to the wall of the Marauder and started this whole thing off. You feel Hunter smile against you and his tongue flicks, catching on your clit and stealing your breath as he slides two fingers into you.

He eats you out like a man starved – even though you’d woken up only two days ago to find him between your thighs. The lewd sounds of his lips and tongue devouring you makes your breath quicken, the coil building low in your belly as he drives you towards the edge.

And then he looks up. Those endless brown eyes roving up your body until he meets your gaze focused on you with determination and reverence, tongue furiously working your clit as he scissors his fingers in and out of you.

It’s too much.

Crying out his name, the coil snaps. Warmth rushes through you as you clench around his fingers, mind going blank as small tremors run through your body while you ride out the high.

Hunter’s not done with you, though.

His lips and fingers leave you and you make a noise of protest, even as you try to catch your breath. He grasps your thighs, hauls you closer, and in a fluid motion slides into you, bottoming out.

Your moans combine, the sensation of fullness you feel and the warm tightness he experiences will never get old. All eyes are on you, watching the way your body arches, the way your head tilts back and you gasp as Hunter sets a comfortable pace, pleasure building again with every drag of his cock in and out of you.

He slides a hand underneath your hips, pushing you up a little to adjust the angle, and you see stars.

His thrusts grow sloppy as you climax for the second time, thighs shaking and breath coming in pants as the pleasure sweeps you away. Although he desperately wants to finish inside your warm, wet heat, Hunter pulls out a moment later, drawing you up to rest on your elbows and forearms. A few quick strokes with his hand and he lets out a shaky groan, adding his release to the four others on you.

He winces a little, feeling over-sensitive, and releases his cock. The smile on your face is beautiful, the mischief in your eyes making him love you just that little bit more. He waits a second just to torment you before he gives the smallest nod of his head. You reach up, slowly drawing a finger across your cheek to gather as much of the mess they've made as possible, putting on a little show. Pushing their combined releases towards your mouth, you part your lips and finally taste them.

Varying noises fill the cockpit, each of your five men captivated by the sight, and if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d happily give them 20 minutes to recover before going again.

Hunter pulls you up a little more until you’re sat on your knees, and a rag appears in your peripheral. You feel boneless and sated, and holding yourself up right now is a struggle. Seeing this, Wrecker kneels behind you, letting you lean back and rest against his chest, an arm secured around your middle as Hunter carefully wipes your face clean.

Other hands caress you. Crosshair strokes down one of your arms, while Tech pushes errant strands of your hair from your face. Echo rubs soft circles on your thighs.

“So good for us, babe.” Wrecker comments, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You sink against him a little more, eyes fluttering shut as Hunter finishes cleaning your face, tossing the rag aside. The tiredness starts to settle in – as much as you loved the men around you, keeping up with all five of them was exhausting, especially post-mission.

“Absolutely perfect.” Echo chimes in as you feel the edge of a bottle of water pressed to your lips. You don’t know which of them is encouraging you to drink, but you take a few small sips, only now realising how parched you are.

The water disappears after you’ve had your fill, and you force your eyes open, spending a second looking at each of them. The openness and adoration in their expressions make your heart thump. How did you get so lucky?

“You require rest.” Tech insists, gesturing with a tilt of his head towards the bunks. Wrecker scoops you up effortlessly, and you don’t have it in you to protest. You’d hated being picked up at the beginning, but after seeing him shove assault tanks off cliffs and pry open blast doors with his bare hands, you’re no longer worried.

As you’re carried through the ship you call home, your heart warms at the gentle way Wrecker sets you down on his bunk. He draws the blanket over you, snagging Lula from nearby and offering her to you. The sweet gesture makes you laugh, and you gratefully take the little tooka doll.

Tucked up safely, your eyes close once again as each of them press kisses to your forehead. The bunk creaks a little as Tech joins you, lying down behind you. It’s cosy but you make it work. Nowhere on the ship is big enough for you all to enjoy a cuddle puddle, so they take turns holding you while you sleep. With your back to his chest, the comforting white noise of the engines humming, it doesn’t take long for sleep to draw you under.

#the bad batch x reader #bad batch x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb echo x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you #tbb hunter x you #tbb tech x you #tbb crosshair x you #tbb echo x you #tbb wrecker x you #I can't believe I wrote this #this is filth #kinktober

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tickle-bugs · 9 months

Text

Cool Guy

Anon: Heya! If you're still doing them, could you make a tickle fic on Luke and Han but js Han getting Luke? I love the whole Luke being like Hans lil bro 😭 An idea being maybe Luke is embarrassing Han in front of Leia and Han gets him back, Leia maybe helping Han a bit? I like your fics a lot haha! It's alr if not ofc, js have a good day! :D <3

Summary: Han is cool, suave, and absolutely irresistible. Luke vehemently disagrees.

Han knows logically that he cannot not squish the galaxy’s last hope like a bug. That would be unwise. There is, however, zero question of if he deserves it.

Luke is almost better at being a little shit than he is at being a Jedi.

“Princess!” Han leans against the wall. The Falcon’s internals hum behind it. Leia looks up at him blankly.

“Pest.” She takes a bite of a sandwich. “What do you want?”

Nothing. Not a thing. He just loves the irritated curve of her eyebrow, the sharpness of her gaze, the curl of her lips--

“I’d love it if you’d stop taking what’s not yours.” He nods towards the sandwich. Leia regards it, then makes deep eye contact on her next bite. Han chuckles in something like disbelief, but he knows her. Knows how she likes to provoke.

“Nice boys share their food.” She takes another bite.

“Well, I ain’t nice. Keep your thieving little hands to yourself.” Han considers wrapping up the sandwich, just to be petty, but he knows she hardly takes interest in his things unless she needs something. He could find something else to eat.

“Or else what?” She plays with the crust of the bread. Eye contact. God, he loves this game of theirs. She leaves him breathless too often for his liking, though. As he flounders for a comeback, he hears a high-pitched noise from the other side of the room.

Luke. Great.

“What are you wearing?” Luke laughs incredulously. Han looks down at himself. He’d put on a fur vest today instead of his usual cargo one. It was something he’d snatched off some mook that’d tried to set him up with a dishonest deal. It’s old and it smells a little funny, but he likes it. It’s his now.

“Wh—it’s a vest. It’s cold.” Han frowns.

“You look like Chewie shed on you.” Luke leans his hip against the doorway as he settles in to mock. There’s a Wookiee outcry of indignation from the cockpit that goes unanswered.

“It’s a fashion statement.” Han adjusts his posture, gives them a new angle. Luke snorts. Han scowls.

“What exactly are you stating?” Leia rests her chin in her hands. She’s got a crumb on her cheek. He does not think about brushing it away.

“You’re both terrible.” Han stomps off to change.

“Right back atcha!” Leia calls after him. Her laughter is sweet, even at his expense.

….

Run-ins with Empire patrols always put Han on a fine edge--he’s a well-oiled machine with Chewie at his back, but recent additions to the Falcon have proven…distracting. As he slams them into a hyperspace jump, the twins’ noise somehow drowns out the noise of the engine. Leia’s complaining that he took too many risks, Luke’s insisting he took too little, and Han’s half tempted to spin send the Falcon into a barrel roll just to hear a different sound.

Chewie won’t let him. The honorable bastard.

The moment they finish the jump, Han swivels out of his chair and goes…well, he’s not sure where he’s going, but he knows he needs to see and hear something besides Luke crunching angrily on crackers.

Leia follows on Han’s heels, Luke follows on hers, and Han considers just ejecting himself from the airlock and being done with it.

“If you want to die, be my guest, but don’t put us at risk for your ego.” Leia smacks his chest. Han can’t tell if he’s imagining the lingering touch of her fingers.

“No, you’d miss me too much.” He fires back, pulling out of her grasp. He takes long strides, taking a petty sort of joy in hearing significantly shorter legs scramble after him.

“Not a chance in hell,” Leia snarls, snatching the back of his vest. He whirls around.

“Yes, you would, because things are boring without me. You like having me around.” He leans into her space. She stands her ground.

“The fate of the galaxy is boring?” She conveniently ignores that last part. Han doesn’t miss it.

“It is without me. Face it, princess. You’re attached.” He puts his hands on his hips. Leia’s face turns an interesting color.

“Ha! See? Attached!” Han points triumphantly. Leia smacks his hand away.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t need to. The truth’s all over your face.” He circles that pointer finger in her face. She smacks it hard enough to bruise this time.

“The truth that I can’t stand you, more like. You’re arrogant, reckless, irresponsible—“

“And exactly your type.” Han grins. “You like having me around. Meanwhile, I’m cool, casual, and unattached.” Han clicks his tongue. Leia attempts to burn a hole through his forehead with her gaze. He worries for a moment that she might.

“Really?” Luke crunches loudly. “I heard you telling Chewie that you like having us around. That you wouldn’t know what you’d do without us. Didn’t sound very cool and casual.”

“I was drunk.” Han’s face burns. Leia snorts. Han scowls.

“Drunk mind, sober thoughts.” Luke grins teasingly, waving a chip in his face. Han tries to snatch the bag, but Luke twirls effortlessly out of the way. Damn Jedi.

“Sounds like you’re attached, laser brain.” Leia circles her finger in his face, and Han wonders if turning himself in to the Empire might be better for his ego.

…

Han’s not sure when his game with Leia stopped being a game and started being this, but he’s not complaining. He’s made out in worse storage rooms than the ones on the Falcon. They’d started with fetching a rations restock, devolved into bickering, and, well…their arguments usually end in violence or the threat of it, so Leia trying to climb him like a tree is a much-welcomed departure from form.

Normally Han’s great at keeping his emotions in a cold, dark little box where he never has to deal with them, but Leia looked so pretty yelling at him that he just…had to kiss her. He knew at that moment he’d die if he didn’t. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed and he hopes it won’t be the last, but each touch with Leia is like drifting closer to the beautiful terror of the sun. The best part, the overwhelming part, is that she wants him too.

All of that would’ve been well and good, great even, if Luke hadn’t been standing in the doorway.

Luke and Leia have some kind of stare-off that Han suspects involves their twinness--there’s lots of flustered, offended noises without words being uttered. Luke raises his eyebrow in a way that really seems to get to Leia, because she splutters, which she expressly does not do.

“Don’t you start! I tolerate him!” She glares at Luke, her cheeks turning red.

“Aww.” Han smirks. She elbows him in the ribs.

“With your mouth?” Luke’s near hysterical.

“Among other things.” Han smirks wider. Luke’s face twists in sheer disgust.

“Shut up,” Leia hisses, blushing and hitting him harder. He grins.

Luke levels a finger at Han, a habit he picked up from him in the first place, and then stalks off.

“Chances he knifes me in my sleep?”

“Lower than me doing it myself.” Leia swats his arm once more for good measure, but she’s still glowing, and Han thinks he might want to see that smile of hers for the rest of his life.

“I’ll take those odds.”

The difference between Luke and his sister, in Han’s opinion, is that Luke’s noise goes inwards. Leia will scream at Han until she’s red in the face and then she’ll miraculously find more air. Luke gets quiet and vengeful, which is why Han starts to suspect foul play the third time he trips over thin air.

Han really wants to fight back, but every time he opens his mouth, Leia’s lurking around some dark corner.

On hour three of Luke’s temper tantrum, Han’s eye begins to twitch. He’s probably bruised every inch of his shins by now, he’s tired, and he thinks if he can close his eyes for an hour he might remember how to function. Just a sweet, Skywalkerless hour.

Han drags his hand over his face as he walks off to his cabin. He finds Luke standing in the hall like an omen. He doesn’t move when Han approaches. The little furrow in his brow is probably meant to be intimidating, and maybe one day it will be, but Han can’t bring himself to care.

The desire to lay down overcomes his rational thought, and he does to Luke what he often does to Leia: jams his hands under Luke’s arms and lifts him out of the way.

Except, unlike Leia, Luke doesn’t try to kick him. He lets out a giggle at a pitch Han didn’t know he was capable of.

Han pauses, raising an eyebrow at the rapidly-reddening Jedi in his arms. He twitches his fingers. Luke chokes out a surprised laugh.

Han’s suddenly not tired anymore. Funny, that.

“Han, don’t you dare, c’mon--”

Han sets Luke down but doesn’t release him--he viciously wiggles his fingers where they’re trapped under Luke’s arms. He goes down like a sack of droid components, filling the Falcon with bright, bouncy laughter it so desperately needs.

“You get a minute for every bruise, and my shins are looking mighty purple.” Han whistles lowly, pressing into the gaps between Luke’s ribs. Luke lets out a giggly hiccup and kicks his legs.

“That’s not f-fair!” Luke clutches Han’s arms desperately. Han twitches his fingers and he curls up, shaking his head. Han distantly wonders when Luke last laughed like this. If he ever has.

“Yeah? Tell me about it. Pick on someone your own size and maybe life will be fairer.” Han tries to keep his stare blank, but his mouth quirks up at the corners. Luke lets out an indignant gasp, but he quickly tumbles right back down into laughter.

“Let go,” Luke growls, his whole face scrunching around his smile.

“Kid, I can’t let you go if you’ve got my hands.” Han gives a dramatic tug. He stops, raising his eyebrow expectantly. Luke pouts--pouts!--at him and lifts his arms at glacial pace. Han pulls away…

…and goes right for Luke’s exposed stomach. His shout of betrayal mixes beautifully with his laughter.

“Rookie mistake,” Leia tuts, snickering at Luke’s misfortune. Han jumps at her appearance--man, he should put a bell on these two--and Luke takes that as a signal to start wriggling away. Han reels him back in with a hearty laugh.

“Leia, fetch your--” Han cuts Luke off with a squeeze to the side before he can say anything embarrassing.

“You gonna help, Your Worship? Or are you above getting your hands dirty?” Han casts a glance at Leia.

“Never.” Leia smirks, kneeling beside Luke. They stare at each other for a long, tense while. Leia’s gaze drifts over him the same way she sifts through a plan for holes, until she stops at his knees.

Luke’s eyes widen. Leia grins.

She latches on like a viper and Luke squeals, drumming his feet on the ground. He throws his head back and cackles himself into silence, flopping around uselessly.

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Han chuckles, a little nervous.

“You’re notoriously bad at it,” she smirks. Han swears he feels the ghost of her fingers on his own legs. He shudders.

Luke’s surrender is less of a cry and more of a wheeze, but they let him go quickly all the same. He tosses his arm over his glowing face with a great, heaving sigh.

“You alright over there?” Han chuckles, nudging Luke’s boot. He lifts his arm to glare.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Han pats his ankle. Luke kicks him. Han squeezes his knee and he immediately blurts out a tired, giggly apology.

“Stop being a little shit and trying to trip me up. It’s not gonna work. Too cool for that.” Han pats Luke’s stomach.

Warm hands wrap around his waist and he leans back, scaring himself with how easily he fits into Leia’s arms. She hooks her chin over his shoulder.

“Are you ready?” She murmurs, brushing her fingers over the fabric of his shirt.

“Ready for what?” His hand finds hers. He’s more than ready, if he’s reading this right. She’s rarely like this beyond closed doors, and it sends a thrill through him. Her lips brushing his ear drives him just a little crazy. He starts to stand, but she pulls him back down.

“To be tripped up.” She smirks. He feels it.

“Wh—“

Leia’s fingers dig in with deadly accuracy. Han crumples and his bravado goes with him. Loud, hearty laughter bursts from him as he slides to the floor, boneless in her arms.

“Aw, look at you cool guy.” Luke sidles up next to him with a shit eating grin. He tickles mockingly under Han’s chin and he, mortifyingly, giggles. Luke chases the sound, having way too much fun for Han’s liking.

Han growls and tries to kick him. Leia’s fingers find his hips—cruel and unusual—and he’s toast. He resigns himself to die in her lap, which isn’t the overall worst way to go, and makes a mental note to write Luke out of his will.

As long as Chewie thinks he’s cool, he supposes it’s still a net win.

#dont try to place this in canon its about the vibes #my fics #star wars #ticklish!luke skywalker #ticklish!han solo #(at the end)#han solo #luke skywalker #leia organa #idk what han and leia's ship name is. i think its scoundress?#idk lol #this is based off a blooper/deleted scene (not sure which) of han and leia arguing on hoth and harrison just picks carrie up and moves her #while they're still yelling #i think harrison went down the wrong hallway and that was him trying to correct it but it was so fucking funny i had to write about it

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kybercrystals94 · 13 days

Text

The Path Less Taken

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 776 | Summary: “Maybe someday. After the war. If there was an after.” | Character Focus: Crosshair, Hunter, Omega, Wrecker

Spoilers for Season 3 Episode 15 below…

A stationary home with four walls and a roof was as foreign a concept to a clone as peacetime. Such was a life for natborns, not cloned soldiers developed and raised to fight and die. They didn’t dream of it either, not out loud, at least. They were proud and strong for the Republic, following orders and defending the galaxy against the threat of Separatist forces. It’s who they were, it’s what they did. Nothing less. Nothing more.

Then the Batch came across Cut on Saleucami.

A reg. A deserter.

A husband. A father.

In a house, on a farm.

A life beyond the confines of armor and blaster fire and orders and war.

They were intrigued.

And the concept took root, and thoughts of after the war became offhanded conversations during late night watches, in the glow of hurtling through hyperspace, spiraling toward another mission, another risk, another followed order.

Maybe someday. After the war. If there was an after.

Crosshair had his doubts, and he didn’t want his brothers to hope too strongly and be disappointed. Hunter, to his surprise, seemed the most taken with the idea. Crosshair saw how his brother’s gaze lingered on families as they passed in the street; when he’d been distracted by a dwelling with flowers strategically planted under the windows and around the door.

Now, here they stand, in front of a dwelling, native island flowers strategically planted under the windows and climbing up and over the door frame.

Their home. Theirs.

His brothers’. His sister’s.

His.

Crosshair swallows thickly, glances at his oldest brother. The ex-sergeant looks about ready to burst with joy and pride, although anyone who didn’t know him as well as his siblings would only see a subtle, quiet smile. Omega notices and tugs at Crosshair’s arm, beaming up at him. He’s so happy, she mouths.

Crosshair huffs and smiles, nudging his sister back with his elbow.

Hunter is happy. Happier than Crosshair thinks he’s ever seen him. At peace.

“It’s a little small,” Shep is saying, sounding apologetic, “however, I suppose it is bigger than bunking on a ship like you were used to.”

“It’s perfect, Shep,” Hunter says, “It is more than we could ever ask for.”

The mayor laughs. “Then let me be the first to say, welcome home!”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

There are three bedrooms, and Omega immediately chooses the smallest one for herself.

“I want to decorate it like my room on the Marauder,” she tells Wrecker. “Can you help me?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Wrecker says, smiling down at her and ruffling her hair. But Hunter doesn’t miss the sadness in his voice. Omega doesn’t either, exuberant expression flickering briefly as she throws her arms around Wrecker’s waist, hugging him tight.

That leaves the other two rooms, each furnished with two beds.

“Crosshair and I’ll share a room,” Wrecker says, the moment of sorrow passing as he shoves a fist into Crosshair’s shoulder. “Right, Cross?”

Crosshair heaves an exaggerated sigh, but smiles. “I suppose if one of us has to put up with you snoring, it might as well be the one without enhanced senses.”

“I don’t snore that bad,” Wrecker protests as he and Crosshair claim the room across from Omega’s and disappear inside. Hunter can hear them lightly bickering over who gets which bed.

Hunter looks down and sees that his sister is still there, face turned up to look at him. She reaches out and takes his hand in both of hers. “This is the path you’ve wanted for a long time, isn’t it?” Omega asks, voice gentle.

Hunter has to look away, glances at the ceiling – their ceiling – to blink away the sensation that burns his eyes. It isn’t the path he’d even considered possible until he met Omega, until he realized he wanted nothing more than to give his little sister the safety and security he and his brothers never knew. He tried to give it to her through Cut and Suu, but the Batch was the path Omega had chosen. Her place was with her brothers, and she would follow them anywhere.

So, yes, this is the path Hunter has wanted for a long time. Before the end of the war, when it was just a dream. After the war ended, and it was just a hope. And now, stepping onto it, their reality, stretching endlessly before them.

If only Tech was here, then it would be perfect.

Omega swings his arm, regaining his attention. “Are you alright?” she asks.

Hunter takes a shaking breath, steadies his voice. “Yes,” he tells her, sincerely. “I’m more than alright. We’re going to be happy here.”

And they are.

✨Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!✨

Tag List: **forgoing my tag list this time around since this story contains spoilers**

#the bad batch #star wars #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #fluff #family #brotherly love #sibling bonding #light angst

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illuminatedquill · 4 months

Text

Ahsoka Tano & Ursa Wren

The Promise

Story Summary: One night before the Purge of Mandalore, Ursa Wren makes a desperate plea to Ahsoka Tano.

“Lady Tano,” called Huyang. “There is a call coming through for you. It is labeled urgent by the sender.”

Ahsoka Tano opened her eyes, coming up from a deep meditation. Ill tidings could be felt through the Force and her dreams of late had been filled with fire and death.

She rose slowly from the training floor within her T-6 shuttle; the lights were dimmed inside at her command, the only sound being the quiet hum of the engines as they traveled through hyperspace. Grabbing a night robe from the nearby worktable and slipping it on, she walked into the cockpit, giving a nod to Huyang.

He switched the comm channel open. A hazy blue light began to emanate from the instrument panel before sharpening into the image of a familiar figure.

It was Ursa Wren, the mother of her padawan, Sabine Wren. The Countess of Clan Wren stood tall and proud, garbed in her beskar armor, but her face was noticeably more lined and wearier than Ahsoka had ever seen it.

"Hello, Ahsoka," she said. Even exhausted, the Mandalorian's eyes burned with a tenacity that the Jedi found intimidating, despite her years of experience as a warrior.

Ahsoka, hiding her surprise, adopted a neutral tone. She wasn't particularly close to Sabine's mother; Sabine had warned against it, considering the subject of her Jedi training was a touchy subject with Ursa.

"Hello, Ursa," she replied. "I take it you have news?"

Ursa nodded. "The Clans are preparing for war."

Ahsoka grimaced. It was to be expected but she had thought the Empire would not be so bold as to move against Mandalore this late in the war.

But Moff Gideon was no ordinary servant of the Empire. There were no lines he would not cross to please his master.

"No word from Bo?" asked Ahsoka. She knew that Bo Katan, leader of Mandalore, had gone to meet with Moff Gideon as a last-ditch effort to stay his hand.

The Mandalorian shook her head. "None. I cannot tell you if she is being held hostage or worse."

She paused. "I think this attack, Ahsoka," she finally said after a long moment, "will be the worst Mandalore has seen in generations. I think this will be the end."

Ahsoka sucked in a breath. "What do you mean, Ursa?"

Ursa smiled bitterly. "I think this is the death of us all."

"Mandalore," Ahsoka argued, "has survived worse. It survived Maul."

"We had a Republic and a plucky young Jedi who helped us out of that particular situation," Ursa remarked wryly. "We have none of those now."

"Sabine and I can be there within a day," Ahsoka said. "I'm nearby - "

"No." Ursa's statement struck Ahsoka with its finality, stopping her from finishing her reply.

She blinked in shock. "No? You don't want us to help?"

Ursa took a deep breath and closed her eyes before replying. "Correct. I want you to keep Sabine far away from Mandalore."

Ahsoka leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. She stared at the hologram for a moment, thinking. Ursa was an experienced warrior, just as she was; she had seen action during the Clone Wars and had fought alongside her and Bo Katan in re-taking Mandalore from Maul. Ahsoka knew better than to doubt her judgment.

If Ursa thought this was the end of Mandalore, then it was.

"That will be a difficult task," Ahsoka pointed out. "You know how stubborn Sabine is. She will want to help."

Ursa snorted. "I trust you can handle her. You've been keeping her in line so far."

"Barely," Huyang said from beside her. Ahsoka turned in her chair to glare at the droid. He shrugged.

"What if I leave Sabine behind and come to you by myself? Surely - "

"No!" Ursa shouted. "I want you beside Sabine when this goes down. Without you there to stop her, she'll find a way to Mandalore and she will die. I will not see her die here!"

"Ursa," Ahsoka said firmly, "Sabine is your daughter. Her place is by your side. With her family. With her clan!"

Ursa's smile was sad. "Not anymore. Our paths diverged a long time ago. She has a new family now."

Ahsoka shook her head. "She would disagree. The Ghost crew is not a replacement for you, Alrich, and Tristan."

Ursa stared at Ahsoka. "Listen to me closely, Jedi. I am not asking you to do this. I am telling you. You are to keep my daughter safe and away from this madness."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes. "I don't take orders from you, Mandalorian."

"This," seethed Ursa, "is the natural order of things. Sabine will realize that someday."

"Sabine will - ", Ahsoka started to argue but was cut off.

"Oh, she will rage," Ursa interjected. "She will be furious, I know. She will grieve. But, most importantly to me, she will be alive. This is how it should be. When I lost my own parents to a civil war between clans, I felt the same way; I raged at the cruelty of the universe, at its unfairness. And do you know how it answered me?"

"How?" Ahsoka asked quietly.

Tears in her eyes, Ursa said, "It told me that it was better that I should lose them, rather that they lose me. It told me that it had seen grief a thousand times over, since the first star bloomed to life in the darkness of space; that it had seen countless children lose their parents to senseless tragedy. I was no different. And that is how it should be. That is how it always should be; that children bury their parents and mourn for them and not the other way around."

Ahsoka just sat there, listening to her words.

"I will not," said Ursa, her voice quavering, "bury my daughter. I won't. I refuse to lead her to a certain death. As her mother, who raised her to never run away from a fight, it kills me to deny her. I would love to have her fight by my side one last time. But, also as a mother, I cannot allow it."

"What about Tristan?" Ahsoka countered. "Is he not your child also?"

Ursa grimaced. "He's already here. I cannot dissuade him from his choice, no matter how hard I try. He refuses to leave."

She looked away for a moment. "I raised him too well. He is a Mandalorian, through and through."

Ahsoka looked at Ursa, seeing the tears stream down the woman's face. "She won't take your decision well," said Ahsoka.

Ursa shrugged. "I'm used to it. Sabine hating me is nothing new."

"No," Ahsoka said, suddenly feeling tired. "Sabine never hated you. You've never seen her hate."

Ursa raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I haven't?"

Ahsoka smiled. "She's not capable of it. There's too much good in her."

Ursa smiled back. "I wonder where she gets that from."

Ahsoka snorted. "From you, Ursa. And Alrich."

"You don't know us that well," Ursa pointed out.

"I know Sabine," Ahsoka replied. "And I see the best of you within her."

Ursa was silent in the moment after Ahsoka's comment. "You'll do it, then?" she asked, her voice rough. "You'll keep her away?"

Ahsoka sighed. "Yes. I will. I promise. I'll leave your involvement out of it, as well."

Ursa cocked her head at Ahsoka. "You don't have to do that. She'll be furious with you."

Ahsoka shrugged. "I can handle it. I'm no stranger to anger."

Ursa nodded. "I can see that," she acknowledged. "And . . . thank you."

"You're welcome," replied Ahsoka. "And this isn't a good-bye. Nothing is certain. You can still survive this."

"I will try," Ursa promised. "Unlike you Jedi, that is all we can do." She paused again, hesitant.

"Something else?" Ahsoka offered.

"You'll stay by her side? Continue her training?" asked Ursa.

"Of course," said Ahsoka.

Relief eased into Ursa' rigid stance. "Good. She has a promise to keep, after all. Between you and the Bridger boy, once you find him, I think she'll be alright."

Ahsoka quirked an eyebrow. "You like Ezra, don't you?"

Ursa frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. Sabine likes him. I tolerate him, on her behalf."

"You approve of their . . . relationship?" asked Ahsoka carefully. She wondered how much Ursa had intuited about Sabine's feelings for her lost friend.

Ursa shrugged. "A Jedi and a Mandalorian are a unique pairing. Never heard of one before. The songs that will be sung for them are sure to be legendary."

She glanced at Ahsoka with a knowing look. "Bridger cares deeply for my Sabine. He has already sacrificed much to protect her and the people he cares for. And he is an excellent warrior, courtesy of his Jedi training. I can ask for nothing more in a life partner for my daughter."

"Yes," Ahsoka murmured. "I'm sure." She does know.

Privately, Ahsoka found it amusing that many people around Sabine seemed to know about her and Ezra before she did.

Ursa turned to the side, listening to someone speak from off-screen. She nodded and turned to face Ahsoka once more, her expression grim.

"Time to go?" asked Ahsoka.

"It is," Ursa responded somberly. "If the worst comes to pass, please tell Sabine that . . . I'm sorry. I don't regret the decisions I made to protect her, but I regret the cost that came with them. I was grateful that she came back and the time we spent together since then. And that I'm proud of her and all she has accomplished. And, also, that I . . . "

Ursa stopped there, uncertain of what to say next. Ahsoka said, "She knows, Ursa. Everything you've said, everything you're going to say - Sabine knows already."

The Mandalorian nodded. "This is hard," she observed.

"What is?" asked Ahsoka.

"Letting go," replied Ursa. "I don't know how you Jedi do it."

"It's never easy," said Ahsoka quietly. "Some never really master it."

"I see," said Ursa. "I wonder if I would have made a good Jedi, then."

"If you survive this," Ahsoka joked, "come see me for training."

Ursa grinned at her. "I don't know if you could handle both myself and Sabine as apprentices, Master Jedi."

And she ended the call on that note. Ahsoka stared at the space where Ursa's hologram had been for a few seconds and then bowed her head, feeling the weight of what was to come already pressing down on her.

Huyang, turning to look at her, asked, "Should I wake Lady Wren?"

Ahsoka turned in her chair to face towards the door that led to her padawan's room on the shuttle. Inside, Sabine was sleeping soundly.

Ahsoka thought for a moment. "No," she decided. "Let her have one more good night's sleep."

Tomorrow, Ahsoka thought, she might wake to a nightmare.

#sabine wren #ahsoka tano #ezra bridger #ursa wren #star wars rebels #ahsoka #ahsoka show #star wars #sabezra #sabezra fanfiction #not really sabezra but I don't know where else to put this

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sergeantgoggles · 10 days

Note

❤️💗 - Cross/Echo - just would love to see some fluff for them pleeeaaassseeee they are so underrated

Cross/Echo is definitely underrated!

I hope you enjoy! It is late here and I am sleepy but hopefully this doesn't read like trash.

As the Dauntless flew though hyperspace, Echo kicked his feet up and watched the stars. The ship was silent, save for the light snore coming from Wrecker. Omega and Batcher were asleep beside him, and Hunter probably wasn’t asleep—he never did sleep well while flying—but his back was to him all the same as he rested his eyes. It had been a long night of digging the ship out of the snow. They deserved to rest.

The only one unaccounted for was Crosshair.

Echo sighed to himself. He’d been putting off dealing with the complicated emotions that inevitably came with reuniting with someone you loved once, maybe still do, not that he’d ever said anything to anyone about it. He didn’t let himself get close to people like that, not since Fives. He can’t imagine how painful it was for him to deal with losing him, but to be rescued and learn that your partner was already dead…it was a whole different kind of pain.

Crosshair had chosen the Empire over his squad, and over him, but he couldn’t hold that latter part against him, not when he’d gone out of his way to keep his feelings so guarded. Even still, having him back, and just accepting that he’s turned on the Empire and handing over intel…

Echo rubbed his hand over his face. Nothing was going to get solved if he didn’t just talk to him. He’d do well to take Omega’s advice and just…talk.

Ensuring that he’d set the autopilot, Echo stood from his seat and stepped over his sleeping vod’ika to find Crosshair. As luck would have it, he didn’t have to look for long. He’d never left the ramp area and chose to camp out with the cargo, cradling his rifle to his chest and staring blankly at the floor in front of him.

“The floor can’t be that interesting,” Echo teased easily. “What’s on your mind?”

Crosshair scoffed, but at least spared him a glance, then softened, motioning for Echo to join him on the floor. It was a small victory, a step in the right direction to healing…whatever had been severed between them.

“…I told Hunter that I defected after I shot an Imperial Officer,” Crosshair started, fidgeting with his hands.

“Is that not true?” Echo implored; brow raised questioningly.

Crosshair sighed as a frown etched deep into his features. “No, I did, but that wasn’t the only reason.”

“Well, what happened?” Echo’s voice was softer than he usually was with him, the way he was before the rise of the Empire, when they would talk all night, share stories of their squads, take solace in one another. Somehow, they understood one another in a way that was different than the others. Not bad or detrimental in any way, but different, and it felt…good. This felt good, despite the weight of the conversation.

Crosshair told him about Commander Mayday, how they’d been betrayed by the Empire they’d sworn themselves to, how they’d tried to unrun the avalanche and been buried, how Crosshair had carried him for miles in the blistering cold, half frozen to death, and when they’d made it back, the Lieutenant they were assigned to left Mayday to die. With every added detail that Crosshair described, the sicker Echo felt.

“…You really went though hell,” he whispered, eyes sad as they met Crosshair’s in the short space between them. “Crosshair, I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Crosshair hissed, then sighed, reigning himself in. “Look, Echo, it wasn’t your fault. You did the right thing, leaving me behind when I chose to stay.”

“…I missed you,” Echo confessed as he put his hand over one of Crosshair’s.

Crosshair smirked. “How touching.”

“Stop it, I’m serious,” Echo chided, barreling quickly into the realization of what he was readying himself to do. “I…there were nights when all I could think about was if you were okay, if wherever you were or whatever you were doing you were…wondering the same about me.”

Slowly, he shifted his hand to lace their fingers together, and to his shock, Crosshair didn’t stop him. In fact, Crosshair was holding his hand like a lifeline, as though if he let go we would wake up from some dream and spiral back into the nightmare he’d escaped from. Echo squeezed back, grounding him, assuring him that this was real, that they were safe, relatively speaking.

“…I did,” Crosshair murmured, inching closer into Echo’s space until the tips of their noses brushed. “I wondered.”

Echo felt the words rather than heard them, could taste them as they were kissed into his lips, slow at first, then a little more adamant, until Echo was pulling him closer and cradling the back of his head, stroking his cheek, softly panting between wet, increasingly urgent kisses. They only stopped when they heard Batcher bark in her sleep.

Rose was a pretty color on Crosshair’s cheeks, but Echo didn’t point it out, afraid to ruin the moment. Instead, he kept the image stored in his memory, in case Crosshair changed his mind, in case it didn’t happen again. For now, Echo offered a shy, but giddy smile, and they both had the decency to laugh at themselves for acting like cadets caught making out in a storage closet.

Crosshair faltered for a second, but mustered the resolve and kissed the back of Echo’s hand as he stood. “I’ll stay. Go check on them.”

Nodding, Echo let their fingers linger. “We’ll…talk about this later?”

“Later,” Crosshair agreed.

#cloneshipping #clone shipping #clone/clone #the bad batch #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #crossecho #heart prompts clone edition

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dreamswithghosts · 1 year

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Tech's Wires (Tech x Reader)

This is an 18+ fic, anyone who is under the age of 18 please do not read this!

Summary: You and Tech were peacefully traveling through hyperspace on a small mission when all of a sudden something happens to the ship. Tech had to crawl into a small space to get to where he needed to fix the ship. Something scandalous probably ensues afterward.

Author's Notes: This was purely inspired by an old sailor story my dad and his navy buddies always talked about. They were all on the same nuclear submarine back in the day. There was a time when the nuclear reactor that was on the sub was malfunctioning and they were going to lose power to the ship. My father had to crawl into this little hole full of wires to fix the malfunction so they could all still have power. Very much a do-or-die moment, but the kicker was he couldn't fit with the safety gear so he had to crawl in there in just his underwear. Also, I want to thank everyone who reads this and likes this. This is the first time I have ever publicly shown any of my writing. I hope you guys like it and if you have any ideas or suggestions you want to share please let me know! I plan to eventually post this on ao3 as well once I make an account. I have always been a reader and have written for my own personal pleasure. I really hope you like this. Edit: Link to fic on AO3

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, grinding, mild biting, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it boys and girls and everything else), creampie, after care is important y'all

Word Count: 2.6k

You are jerked awake from the feeling of the Havoc Marauder being yanked out of hyperspace and the alarms instantly blaring throughout the small modified attack shuttle. Tech was out of his bunk in a flash before you even had a chance to lift your head from your bunk. He was in the cockpit in seconds and his voice could barely be heard over the blaring sound of the alarm. You pulled yourself out of the bunk quickly making your way to the cockpit.

"Take over the controls and keep the ship steady." Tech hollered, he was pulling a panel off of the inner walls of the cockpit. You threw yourself into the pilot's seat, grabbing the steering wheel and holding the ship steady. You also reached over, turning the alarms off so you could think clearly as you flew the ship through the dark black vacuum of space. Behind you, you heard Tech grumbling and grunting as he reached into the open panel pulling out some wires.

"Tech, what's going on?" Your voice was full of worry as you noticed that they were in the middle of nowhere.

"The wires to the hyperdrive must have short-circuited and fried the system. I'm going to need to get into the wall to fix it." Tech explained. You then heard the sounds of plastoid armor dropping to the ground and the sound of the leather from his belts followed quickly after. You glanced over the back of the red seat spotting Tech pulling his shirt off of his body, and you felt your face flush a little.

"Tech? What are you doing?" You quickly yanked your eyes back over to the dash of the ship.

"I need to crawl into the wall to do the repair and I cannot fit with my armor and clothes," Tech said simply. Your hands gripped the wheel tighter, "Tech, that's dangerous."

"If I do not do this, we will be floating in space with no power soon." He argued. You made a small sign knowing that once Tech sets his mind on something, you know there's no changing it. You peeked over the chair again to see the last of Tech's bare leg disappear into the wall. A few minutes later, the ship started to fly more smoothly and you heard Tech remerge from the open panel in the wall. He appeared next to you, shooing you out of the pilot's seat to get the ship back on track and back into hyperspace.

"We should be fine until we land back on Ord Mantell." Tech signed, getting up to retrieve his things, but you stopped him.

"Wait. You're bleeding." You reached out, grabbing his arm. He made no protest as you led him into the main hull of the ship grabbing the medical supplies.

"It's just a small cut. I will be fine." Tech objected vocally, but made no move to move away from you.

"Yes, but who knows what else is in these walls? I don't want to risk any kind of infection." You argued, sitting him down in one of the chairs and opening the medkit. You started to clean the small cut on his bicep. It took you little time to put a bandage on it and fix up the other small one on his back. Once you were done, you gave him a quick, light kiss on his cheek.

"All done soldier." You smiled lightly at him and put the medkit away. Tech looked over at you, a very small flush on his cheeks in the dark lighting on his cheeks. He might have finally caught up to the fact that he is sitting next to you in just his underwear.

"How much longer till we are back at Ord Mantell?" You asked lightly, moving to sit in the other chair in the main hull of the small fighter ship.

"Oh, probably only for another hour or two," Tech answered after a second like you had pulled him out of his thoughts. You raised your eyebrow at him, "You alright?"

Tech sat still in his chair, his sharp brown eyes staring you down. The only movement he made was his left hand reaching up to adjust the goggles on his face. He took in a deep breath, "Come over here."

You gave him a surprised look. This tends to be out of the ordinary for him. The two of you had been doing a small dance around each other for months now, trying to see if the other liked each other more than friends. It was obvious to everyone else around them and they never failed to tell you that. Tech has never been forward like this.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. You stand up walking the short distance from your chair over to where he sat. When you were close enough, he reached out and pulled you into his lap, making you squeak in surprise. His hands lightly rested on your hips, leaving you plenty of space to move away if you wish.

He gazed at you through his goggles, "Would you allow me… To make love to you."

You blinked once or twice, your brain processing his words for a second. Being this close to him, you could see the small blush on his cheeks. You made a small smile, nodding your head, "Please."

Tech took the opportunity and leaned forward, kissing you on the lips. You made a small hum, moving your head to accommodate his goggles. This isn't the first time you've kissed him. There was a drunken night between the two of you where there was a small bruise on your cheek from accidentally hitting his goggles. This was the first time the two of you kissed without the hindrance of something else in your systems.

You wrapped your arms around his bare shoulders, lightly pressing yourself up against him as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip. You gave him easy access, making a small moan at the feeling of your tongues sliding against each other. That seemed to push Tech forward, he pushed his hands under your shirt, pulling it up over your head. The clothing dropped to the floor followed quickly with your bra. Tech's hands started to wander, mapping out your torso, taking a moment to grope your breasts. His thumbs ran over your nipples, playing with them until they were hard.

You decide to take the initiative, moving away from his lips and starting to kiss down his jaw and neck. You paused at the sensitive skin right at the base of his giving that spot more attention. He granted you with a whimper that sounded amazing from him. You instantly wanted to hear that again and again, so you started to slowly grind your hips down against his lap. Through your pants, you were able to feel he was already hard as he rocked his hips up against yours.

"Is that a pistol in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" You teased him lightly, leaning back some to get a good look at the man flushed in front of him. His goggles were knocked out of place and his blush had increased dramatically, it spread to his shoulders and chest.

You got a snort and a small crooked smile from Tech. Moving his hands down to your ass, using them a moment to guide your hips on top of him. Both of you shuttering at the pleasure you got from each other.

"You might be a little surprised when it doesn't shoot blaster bolts." Tech teased, his hands moving away from your clothed ass to the underside of your thighs. He promoted a laugh from you from his words, not expecting him to say something like that.

While he had you distracted with your laughter, he shifted under you, pulling you into his arms and standing up. He held you with some surprising strength that only a clone could have. You instantly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him out of the small worry that he might drop you. He walked the two of you over to the bunks, laying you down on the bottom one.

"This spot is probably better for now." Tech hummed as he crawled over you, "Eventually I want you in the pilot's chair. If this ever happens again."

"You've thought about this with me?" You asked, pulling him close to you again, his chest pressing flush to yours. The warmth from his body was already starting to become an addiction.

"Yes." He hissed out, leaning down, pulling you into another kiss. You made a small groan from the kiss once again, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips so he could grind down against you.

He moved away from your kiss, slowly moving down your body, kissing and sucking on your neck and chest pulling all kinds of sounds from him. Eventually, he got to your hips, his long fingers dipping under the waistband of your pants. He paused for a moment looking up at you to silently ask you again for permission. You nodded your head and your pants and underwear were quick to be pulled from your body.

"Marvelous." Tech breathed looking down at you completely bare for him. You were flushed just as much as him feeling a little subconscious now that you had his complete attention. His hands moved down your sides to your hips and then between your thighs. His hand moved between your legs, being quick to find your clit, rubbing it in small circles. Your back arched off the bunk a little as you let out a deep moan from the pleasure it brought you.

"Oh my god, Tech." You gasped as you felt him slide one of his fingers in you, meeting barely any resistance from how wet you were. His breathing was uneven as he watched you squirm under his touch.

He was quick to add in another finger to make sure you would be able to take him. You were so worked up that his menstruations had you already close to your peak. Tech let out a heavy moan at the sight, pulling away, "You are absolutely gorgeous."

"Tech." You shuttered at his compliments. He smiled down at you, shifting himself as he pulled the last bit of clothing that was still on his body off. You gasped at the sight of him in his naked glory in front of you. He looked divine.

"As much as I would love to see you cum from just my hands, I would prefer to see you cum on my cock." Tech's voice was deep and breathy, sending shivers up your spine. He grabbed your thighs to shift the two of you in a good position between your legs. He ended up pulling one of your legs on his shoulder.

"W-Wait." You gasped suddenly freezing, "Protection."

Tech paused looking down at you confused for a moment, "You mean condoms? I doubt they're hardly necessary. Clones are sterile and we were designed to not be able to contract illnesses easily. Plus we were tested regularly. I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yeah." You breathed still looking up at him, a little concerned. He leaned down kissing you softly on the lips, moving your leg so you didn't have to stretch it too far, "Then there should be nothing to be concerned about."

The two of you kissed a bit more and you slowly moved away again to ask him a question, "Are you sure? You're not lying to me are you?"

"Why would I lie to you?" Tech gave you a confused look and you looked away from him off into the distance, biting your lip.

"If you don't want to do this, you can just tell me." Tech's voice was laced with concern now. You jerked your eyes back to the man on top of you, "What? No, I do! Sorry."

Tech stayed where he was. His thumbs lightly stroked your skin, "Would you feel better if I were to find some form of protection?"

You thought about it for a second, a little concerned you ruined the mood. But as you glanced down, you saw he was still hard, flushed red, and leaking precum out of the tip. You found yourself shaking your head no.

"I need to hear you say it." Tech's voice was soft as he leaned down again giving you a small kiss on your cheek.

"Tech, I want you to fuck me." You breathed, your hands reaching up to wrap around his shoulders. Tech's breath hitched, his exhale another whimper.

"As you wish, my dear." That was all the motivation he needed, moving the two of them again between your legs. He slowly slid his dick into you making you gasp at the stretch. He started to set a steady pace, the both of you pulling moans from each other. You ran your nails up his back, probably leaving small little lines. He leaned down kissing your neck more leaving small bites that will probably leave a mark.

Eventually, he angled his hips right, hitting a spot in you that practically made you scream. The both of you panting and moaning, a small sheen of sweat on both of your skins. He hit the spot a few more times and before you could warn him, you felt yourself cuming around his cock. His name is like a prayer on your lips.

"Oh fuck." Tech gasped his hips rocking into you as you felt your walls squeeze around him. He made a few more weak thrusts and then he was cumming inside you. You moaned at the feeling of his warm, white seed filling you. The both of you held onto each other tightly, panting hard as you came down from the high of the orgasm.

"That was…" you breathed as Tech shifted himself so he could lean up and kiss you on the lips. He smiled softly against your lips, "Yeah."

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, softly kissing each other as he got soft in you. Eventually, he pulled away both of you groaning at the feeling of him pulling out of you.

"I will be right back," Tech informed, moving off the small bunk the two of you were on. He went into the small fresher on the ship, eventually coming back with a small damp towel. You had moved to your side but moved again as he settled himself between your legs again. He gently ran the cloth over you, efficiently cleaning you up. Once he was done he lightly tapped your thigh, making the sound of a slap, but not being painful at all.

"Okay. Go use the fresher and then come back here." Tech instructed, his voice is softer than it normally is. Honestly, it sounds very similar to the sound of him waking up and still feeling tired. You nod, moving out of the bunk as he laid down on it in your place. You went to the fresher doing your business and returned like he had asked you to. He was still in the bunk, naked, but with a blanket laying over his hips. He had his tablet in his hands. He put it aside when he saw you, motioning for you to join him.

"Didn't think you would be the type to be a cuddler after sex." You teased him lightly as you laid back down on the small bunk, Tech wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you into a spooning position. He made a small huff kissing your shoulder as you wrapped the blanket around the two of you.

"Don't want to let go of you yet."

#bad batch #the bad batch #tbb #star wars #star wars bad batch #clone force 99 #tech #tech bad batch #bad batch tech #tech x reader #reader x tech #tech fic #bad batch fic #tech bad batch x reader #tech bb #reader insert

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other-peoples-coats · 1 year

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For reasons that don't need going into, I'm once again thinking about the logistics of hyperspace travel, and like.

Ok so you know how map makers put in trap streets and fake islands and alter the elevation of mountains and generally put in teeny tiny (or not so teeny tiny) errors to catch plagiarists? That, but hyperspace maps.

Like there has to be a fuck load of -- if not laws, at least generally accepted norms? about what you can and can't do, because... look, at the distances you (hypothetical GFFA space faring traveler) would be traveling, you're off by a fraction of an inch when you launch in the direction of planet funtimes-vacation-land and you end up like. 80,000,000,000 lightyears away from your goal, at planet oh-fuck-deathworld and/or in the literal middle of a moon and/or lost in deep space forever and ever, where no one can hear you scream.

So there has to be a sort of mutual agreement that hyperspace maps can't be like, 'oh yeah, there's def a planet here😉 it for sure orbits this totally real star😉😉 at 90000skm (space kms) a syear (space year)😉😉😉'; because, like. otherwise everyone would die and no one could use hyperspace ever, basically.¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Only takes one 'whoops they were trying to avoid our fake planet and crashed into an inhabited planet, killing all 4 billion inhabitants via the most literal meaning of terminal velocity' to make hyperspace travel a wee bit dubious as a concept.

(and also get your particular cartography company/space-gps company sued out of existence, either by the people who survived Alderaan V-0.01, navigational error edition, or by the big scary conglomerates that had interests in the outer rim mining planet you just got blown up, as relevant.)

Ditto altering the speed at which planets (moons asteroids etc etc what the fuck ever space shit is out there) orbit their relevant local stars; again, fractions of a second off really adds up over that sort of scale.

I'm assuming that there has to be rival cartographic companies, simply because like. gffa is medieval end stage capitalism on steroids. There's multiple map companies, even if it's just that kuat drive yards have their hyperspace maps for their ships, and dodgy-joe's shonky ships have their maps for their ships, and the jedi temple have their maps (which they have to install on the jedi ships by way of jailbreaking/rooting the navigation systems, presumably, every jedi runs the equivalent of a mid 2010s iphone with a million sketchy apps sideloaded), etc etc.

Anyway. Fake planets (moons etc) are out for reasons of not turning random tourist space-bus no #7629 into the Death Star (analog edition), ditto altering the speed of existing planets, ditto, presumably, putting in things like extra space stations or fake hyperlanes or black holes or whatever.

Which basically leaves you with renaming things! presumably most mapping places go real world analogous, and pick something pretty easy to think is real - asteroid #12-z-3095-y labeled #13-z-l14r, or the 56th moon of ult'klssyk and the 59th having their names mixed up, etc-- but presumably at least some do like. the most obvious examples.

Long story short nine million words later there's at least one map that labels Alderaan as Coruscant and Coruscant as Mandalore and Mandalore as Alderaan, and the ensuing media shitstorm/spwitter hot takes/spunglr memes takes over the galactic news for like. a month and a half.

At the minimum.

#coats chats #coats originals #star wars #star wars meta #....technically. kind of. tbh it's mostly a shitpost with some logistics for flavour #also au where the empire gps is running on the jankiest map full of every error ever #and the death star shows up outside of 'alderaan' which is actually like.#idk some uninhabited dustbowl.#alderaan proceeds to become the Bielefeld of the gffa #it doesn't exist. obviously. the empire blew it up.#yes we just got a shipment in from alderaan no it doesn't exist because again empire blew it up.#(also the reasons are: it's going to be fourty fucking degrees tomorrow so I'm loading books on my phone #bc I plan on staying out of my office [west facing‚ evil] and spending the day in bed in the aircon #and added a couple of cartography related books to my phone. hence this whole train of thought.#yes I do have the adhd how did you ever guess.)

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

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Beskar Doll - Ch. 37: Understanding

The Mandalorian doesn't take kindly to your request. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-36 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT :D This whole chapter is basically porn with plot :D No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.8K

“We have to go back for her,” you followed the Mandalorian as he stalked through the hold. He was silent. You deposited the baby - who was drifting off in your arms - into his pod and closed it. “Din, we left her to fucking die, we have to go back, Gideon was willing to cut a deal…”

“Not discussing this,” he growled. He went to the galley and pulled out the med kit, jerking his head toward the counter. You glared at him but hopped up, tugging the side of your pants low enough for him to get at the injury. He wordlessly cleaned it and applied a bacta patch. The relief was almost immediate, the healing agent soaking into your flesh, knitting you back together.

“I’m discussing it,” you said. He stepped back from you to put away the med kit and you jumped down, trailing after him again. He ignored you. “Din!”

“I’m not going to talk about surrendering you to the Empire!” He snapped, rounding on you. “It’s not up for discussion, Cyare!”

“It needs to be!” You yelled. “I’m not someone people die for, Din! I’m not worth that so we need to go back and cut a deal…”

“I would die for you!” He yelled back. “Does that mean nothing?”

“Of course not,” you said, quieter this time. You realized you were out of breath. “But Din, you shouldn’t. No one should. I have done… You know what I’ve done, I’ve done terrible things, awful things. If someone like Gideon is offering you and Grogu and Ahsoka a way out - or at least time to hide, time to get somewhere safe - in exchange for me? We should take it.”

He stepped closer, until he was right in front of you, a gloved hand reaching gently for your face. He cupped your cheek, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you, tilting your face up so you were looking in his eyes. You could feel him there, behind the mask, feel his eyes tracing your face, traveling over your cheeks and lips and eyes again and again.

“Take me back,” you said quietly.

“Do you think I could?” His voice was almost surprisingly calm. “That I would?”

“I can’t…” your voice cracked.

“Do you think that’s all that you are?” His other hand went around your waist, pulling you tight against his armor. You flinched as your healing hip met his body. “What they made you? What you were forced to do during war? That means I should let you go? Hand you over to someone who would hurt you, just to save someone you think is more worthy?”

The ship dropped out of hyperspace and Din sighed.

“We’re continuing this conversation until you understand,” he said, going for the cockpit. You followed. He was already working on programming a jump when you sat down.

“Where are we going?” You asked. “If you’re not taking me back…”

“Not taking you back,” he growled.

“Then where.”

“Place where we can lay low,” he said. “Still find work. Can’t go back to Nevarro, it’s not safe, he’ll look for us there…”

“Din,” you said softly.

“No.”

The com lit up just before he went to jump. He looked over at you for a moment, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to check the message with you in the same room. You crossed your arms and squared your jaw. He sighed.

“Essa, Din,” Ahsoka appeared as a hologram, looking injured but largely intact. “I’m hoping this reaches you after you’ve left hyperspace and that you’re far from here. Gideon lives but I managed to get away. He is desperate to get his hands on Grogu, he will stop at nothing to possess him. You have to protect him. Keep him hidden, keep him safe. He is too strong in the force to risk falling into Gideon’s hands.

“I need to go underground again,” she continued. “Essa, if you need help, reach out with the force. I’ll know to look for you. Take care of yourselves. Take care of Grogu. May the Force be with you.”

You slumped in the chair, body limp with relief. She had survived. No one had died for you, no one else had sacrificed themselves so you - someone who had hurt people, killed people - could live. You weren’t sure when you started crying but you were.

Din set the jump and the Crest slipped into hyperspace again as you tried to collect yourself in the chair.

The lights in the cockpit dimmed and you frowned. Din got to his feet and leaned over you, his hands planted on the armrests of your chair, his helmet inches away from yours.

“Tell me what you expected me to do, Cyare,” he said. His voice was calm but there was a tension in it, like he was straining to keep that calm. “What you asked of me.”

“To take me back,” you said, looking into his eyes behind the helmet. You could feel the pain in him, almost like you felt when looking at Grogu. “Make a deal with Gideon so you, Grogu and Ahsoka would have a chance.”

“And you think that I would be willing to do that?” He asked, his voice still a forced calm. “That I would be capable?”

“It was the right thing…”

He cut you off.

“Not what I asked you, Cyare,” he said. “Do you think that I, a Mandalorian, would trade his beloved for something as small as a head start? That I would trade you for anything at all?”

“I think you should do the right thing,” you replied. “And sacrificing anyone to save someone like me…”

“I don’t care what the Rebellion made you do,” he said. “I don’t care what you were raised to become. I don’t care what anyone else tried to force you to be. You were a girl. You were not given a choice. I care about the woman you have become when you had one. A woman who killed a slaver in the street. A woman who risked her life to save a stranger. A woman who loves my son.

“I will sacrifice anything and anyone for you, Cyare. I will raze the galaxy for you if I have to, I will not trade you to the Empire for a head start.”

You hadn’t noticed that Din had binders in one hand, not until he moved to cuff you with them. Your eyes went wide.

“And I will make you understand that,” he said, the heat in his voice settling low in your stomach.

He pulled you sharply to your feet and pulled you to the part of the cockpit you always curled up in when watching the stars. He unfastened your pants and pulled them down, exposing your sex to the open air, making you shiver. You stepped out of your pants and your boots and Din looked at your pants, the side where you’d been shot. The fabric was shredded and charred. He tore a scrap away.

“Close your eyes,” He ordered. You obeyed and he tied the fabric over your eyes. “Open them.”

You did as you were told.

“Can you see, Cyare?” He asked.

“No,” your voice was shaky.

“Good.”

He was quiet for a moment and then you felt his ungloved hands at your waist, picking you up and putting you on top of the console. There was the heavy, metallic sound of beskar being put down and Din’s hands were at your shirt, opening the buttons and exposing your breasts and stomach.

“Since you don’t understand what I tell you,” his voice was unmodulated. You swallowed, hard. “You’ve left me no choice but to show you.”

He kissed your temple, just below your makeshift blindfold. His lips moved down your cheek to your jaw, just brushing against your lips but not fully kissing you, just breathing with you, through you.

“Say the name of your home world if you want me to stop, Cyare,” he pressed his lips to yours in the lightest of kisses. “Because I plan to make you beg.”

***

Din was certain there was no one in the galaxy who could infuriate him quite like you could. That you’d thought for even a second that he would leave you with Gideon for anything enraged him.

Had he not been clear? Had he not told you precisely what you meant to him? He’d thought his language had been plain, that going to pull you out of the torture chamber you’d been taken to by the syndicate and leveling their entire operation had been a thorough enough indication that he would do damn near anything for you.

The only thing he could weigh against your life was the child’s and then he would offer his own in either place. He would not lose either of you. He certainly was not going to hand you over to Gideon in exchange for a head start, to save the life of the Jedi who had helped them.

You somehow didn’t understand.

So he would try something different, something that would speak clearer than words.

He nudged you down so you were on your back and hooked the binders to part of the console over your head, holding you in place.

“Din,” you breathed, his lips finding your throat. The cool metal of his armor brushed your body as he worked his mouth lower. Down your breastbone, your stomach, down down down until he reached your slit.

He pressed his lips to your swollen clit and you whimpered. He smiled at the sound before he adjusted you, lifting a thigh so it rested on his shoulder, opening you wider to him. He kissed a trail inside your thigh back to the apex of your legs. You shuddered below him.

His tongue slipped into your slick heat, running from your entrance up to your clit before he pressed his tongue against your tender nub, the leg that was over him tensing when he did.

“So sensitive, my Cyare,” he said, slipping a finger inside of you. You gasped and ground your hips against him. “But I don’t think you understand yet.”

He sucked your clit and added another finger. Inside you was so tight, so soft it was a fight to not free his cock and take you right that second. He knew how good you would feel, what becoming a part of you would be. He wanted to sink into you, empty himself into you and hold you against him until there was nothing left of him but the parts that belonged to you, the things that had been made to love you.

But you didn’t understand yet.

He could feel you starting to tighten around his fingers, your breaths increasing to desperate pants. Just as you neared your peak, he slipped his fingers from you, stopped sucking on your clit. You groaned, pleading.

“Don’t like when what you want is disregarded?” He asked, tracing the fingers that had just been inside you delicately over your outer lips, brushing against the hood of your clit.

“Please,” you whimpered, your hips desperately grinding against nothing. “Please let me cum…”

“If you think you don’t deserve saving,” he said, planting a kiss at the crease of your thigh where your leg met your hip. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“I…” you squirmed. “Please, I need….”

His tongue flicked your clit and your whole body seized for a moment before you went limp and you panted for breath.

“Please Din,” you begged. “I need to cum you can’t…”

“I can’t what?” He asked, his tongue just barely parting your lower lips and running up to your clit, giving it a flick with the tip before continuing. “I can’t just make unreasonable demands of you? Ask you to do things that will hurt you?”

He pressed his tongue deeper this time but left your clit untouched, holding himself back from you as your hips bucked, searching for something - anything - to work yourself against. He teased just the inside of your entrance. You were so tight, so wet he doubted he’d even be able to put himself inside you right then. You’d have to cum first.

“I won’t ask again,” you managed, your back arching. “I promise, I won’t ask again!”

“Good girl,” he smiled for a moment before he thrust his whole tongue inside you. His nose worked your clit as his tongue fucked you open, forcing himself into your tight walls that were swollen with need. He brought his hand around and worked the top of your clit with his thumb while his nose pressed into your clit from below.

“Din!” His name was a strangled cry and he felt the power of your orgasm, the satisfying flow of your release into his mouth as he worked you through it.

You went limp as the tight pulsations slowed but he didn’t let up, continuing to work your sex with merciless precision. You groaned and squirmed below him, trying to escape overstimulation.

“Too much,” you moaned. “Need… Fuck, need you to pull back…”

He ignored you, pressing his tongue further into you until the tip of it was brushing against the spot inside you he knew made you melt.

You gasped when he did, all but writhing under his mouth, your hips bucking as you panted for breath.

“Please,” you managed. It sounded like gritted teeth. “It’s too much, can’t… fuck, can’t cum, it’s too much…”

“Yes you can,” he said against you, running his nose over your soaking slit. “You can cum.”

His tongue went back inside you as his nose worked your clit.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your whole body going tight for a moment before you came so hard around him it felt like he might lose his tongue. He kept inside you as you rode out your orgasm, waiting until every flutter inside you was spent.

He pulled his mouth from you, wiping himself clean before freeing himself from his flight suit. You were limp, gasping for air, saying his name again and again.

He stood up, notching himself at your wetness. You gasped and your overwrought sex shuddered from just the brushing contact.

“You won’t ask me to leave you like that again, Cyare,” he said.

“No,” you sounded on the verge of tears.

“Won’t ask me to do something that will hurt you.”

“No,” you managed again, your voice still thick.

“Good girl.”

He thrust into you in one swift, firm stroke and you gasped, arching your back as your walls were forced apart.

You were almost impossibly tight inside, your body clinging to him desperately. You took him differently than any other woman he’d ever had. The way your body held his, the way he fit inside you just so, like that part of you existed only for him.

He looked at where your bodies were joined for a moment, his cock in you to the root, his body becoming a part of yours, him completing you and you completing him.

He thrust in deep and pulled back so just his head was left inside you before thrusting forward sharply again, your walls closing behind him each time. You worked your hips against him and he pressed a finger to your clit.

“Need to be inside you, Cyare,” he said, looking down at you.

“You are…” you managed to gasp but he shook his head, taking your thighs and putting them to his chest before pressing forward and down into you, somehow going deeper into you, your body just took it. You gave a strangled cry.

“Taking me so well, Cyare,” he grunted, fucking into you harder and faster now that he had you under his control.

“Fuck, so deep,” your voice was thick. “Din, I can’t…”

“You have to say the word, Cyare,” he kept up his pace. “Won’t stop until you understand otherwise…”

“I understand!” You gasped it. “Please! I love you, won’t ask you to leave me behind again….”

He pressed himself deep into you and you came around him, making him explode inside you, gasping for breath as your body held onto him, clutching him as deep within you as he could possibly reach.

Din pressed a kiss to your breastbone as you fought to regain your breath. He stayed inside you, stroking your hair as you came back down. Your body was limp.

“What do you need, Cyare?” He asked.

“Your skin,” you managed. “Please, need to feel you…”

He slipped out of you and replaced his helmet before he released the binders from the ship and wrapped you around him, your bound hands draped over his neck.

Din carried you to his darkened quarters where he deposited you on the bed before taking off your blindfold. He stripped out of his armor quickly - including his helmet - before removing your binders. You wrapped around him, clinging to him as he stroked your hair and traced along your skin.

“I love you, Cyare,” he breathed. “I love you.”

#fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x female reader #smut fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

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arctrooper69 · 1 year

Text

Falling is Just Uncontrolled Flying

Contains Spoilers from the Season 2 finale under the cut

Warnings: S2 Finale spoilers, angst

--------------------------------------------------

You'd always loved flying. It was the one thing that could be whatever you wanted it to be and then immediately become something else. One could be perfectly at peace, sailing through hyperspace and then suddenly be thrown into the heat of battle the very second you jumped out. It was chaos. But what was flying other than controlled falling?

***

Hardly registering Omega's cries and the raw screams ripping from your own throat, you threw yourself off of the falling rail car after Tech. The wind roared in your ears, heart pounding as you leapt through the debris, using the Force to launch yourself from piece to jagged piece, letting the momentum propell you forward. The harsh wind felt like sandpaper as it cut across your face.

You screamed as a large chunk of durasteel raked against your side, threatening to knock you off course.

"Tech!" You called out on instinct, though you were certain he couldn't hear you from the velocity at which he was falling.

Gritting your teeth, you launched yourself from the hunk of metal, flying through the air. You could feel Tech several meters below you - his fear, his heartbreak.

His acceptance.

"This is the will of the Force" You could hear Master Windu calmly reassure you. The first time you'd heard him say it, you were a scared and lonely youngling who'd just lost her best friend. "This is the will of the Force."

Anger coursed through your veins.

If that was the case, then the Force had taken the Jedi away. The Force had taken your clone battalion from you - stolen the men you considered to be family. The Force had ripped away so much of what you loved, and what you held close. You'd be damned if you let it take away the man you'd fallen in love with.

You let that anger take hold and with a feral scream, you reached out, willing the every particle of your being into slowing his decent.

Now Tech was flying. You were falling.

His eyes widened in shock as you grabbed a hold of his arm. You could feel his confusion, then the sudden horror that flickered through his expression when he met your eyes.

No! I hadn't meant for you to die with me.

You looked back at him in grim determination.

No one's dying today. Not on my watch.

He slowly shook his head, eyes hardening with a sharp finality. Yet you could feel his heart shatter. His arms wrapped around you in a final acceptance.

"Tech, I -" you mouthed.

A sudden scream ripped from your throat as something hard and heavy tore him from your grasp.

No! Not again! Please not again. I can't lose you.

You hit the ground hard. Pain exploded from your shoulder as it was wrenched beneath your body as you tumbled across the hard, rocky surface.

***

You opened your eyes to the sound of a com going off. It didn't sound like a Republic issued com. That could only mean Imperial.

Your breaths came fast and panicked.

Nonononono. Breathe. Can't help Tech if you can't breathe.

You screwed your eyes shut. Waves of nauseating pain spiked with every movement. It made it so hard to breathe. So hard to focus.

Tech. Breathe. Focus on Tech. Breathe. Where was Tech.

He lay several feet in front of you, face down on the ground, unmoving.

No. Please no.

You could feel the panic rising up again.

"Sir, we found the clone and the Jedi!" A modulated voice barked.

A pair of hands roughly flipped you over so that you lay on your back, blinking at the blinding sun.

"Leave him alone!" You growled, attempting to lunge at him, ignoring how your body stiffly protested the movement in flaming agony. There was only so much you could do to will your body into moving. All you could do was lift your head. Even that left your vision spinning. A white armored TK trooper leaned over you with a chuckle, slapping a pair of binders snugly around your wrists.

"Why? Your clone friend's already dead anyway."

No. Tech. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't. Not when you'd come all this way.

You dragged your gaze over to the pilot where he lay motionless, tears filling your eyes. It hit you then, the sudden tidal wave of heavy-laden grief. Nothing seemed to matter anymore - not your fate, not your friends. Nothing. Unbidden tears spilled from the corners of you eyes and you did nothing to stop them. You couldn't even if you wanted to. It was the only thing you were capable of. The world spun around you but it was all consumed under a blanket of unforgivably heavy numbness. Whatever your fate would be it didn't matter anymore.

Tech had been your fate. Now he was gone.

Fly high my friend.

You barely felt the crack of a blaster rifle against your skull, driving into dreamless unconsciousness.

***

The TK Trooper watched the Jedi's eyes rolled back into her head as the fight left her twitching muscles. Blood soaked her jacket and pants, and her shoulder hung loosely from it's socket. He placed her lightsaber on his belt and looked up as the senior science officer strode up the hill.

"Sir!" He stood at attention. "Should we bag them both?"

"No," the doctor said calmly. "That one's as good as dead. He won't be of any use to me."

He cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes as though thinking something through. "On second thought, take the clone to my lab. Make sure he stays alive. I may have use for him yet."

"And the Jedi?" the trooper questioned.

"Detain the Jedi. Lord Vader will find her very useful once they've broken her will."

--------------------------------------------------

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nimata-beroya · 2 months

Text

Delay The Inevitable (TBB One-Shot)

Inspired by @nahoney22's and @moonstrider9904's comments (as well as my own) to this post from @sharazadee. A companion scene/ Crosshair POV of the last scene of episode 3x04.

READ ON AO3

The moment the Imperial freighter jumps out of Hyperspace, Crosshair feels anxiety creeping up on him, making his heart race. His gaze lands on the Marauder, settled on Ryloth's moon, and his throat goes dry. Despite his doubts, he must admit Omega was right about Hunter and Wrecker showing up.

Another point for the kid.

He underestimated her intelligence and resourcefulness, but she has proven him wrong. Crosshair now sees why Hunter and the others took up with her so fast. No matter how hard he tried to resist, she’s grown on him. During those five months they were imprisoned on Tantiss together, her relentless optimism became a constant annoyance. He didn’t want her to talk to him. He wanted her to leave him alone, but she never did. She kept coming back at every chance she got.

She refused to give up, mounting a relentless siege on his impregnable defenses until they eventually crumbled. He has reached a point where he is going against all his instincts and following her since they escaped. Protecting her. The sole impulse that kept him going during the last rotation. She’s proven that he’s not as heartless as he wants others to believe.

Omega leaves the pilot's seat as the ship lands, not waiting for the engines to fully stop. Crosshair’s cautionary words die on his lips as she darts out of the cockpit, disappearing into the lift before he can react. With a tired sigh, he looks out the viewport and watches as she stands still in the pool of light, her silhouette bathed in a warm glow. From the Marauder's open hatch on the opposite side, a hulking figure comes into view.

“Now, there’s a sight!”

The sound of Wrecker's booming voice reaches Crosshair's ears, filled with clear relief, while Omega's excited cries for him ring out with pure joy. A lump clenches his stomach, a sickening mix of envy and dread, as he watches them running towards each other. Wrecker embraces Omega, a gesture that Crosshair secretly yearns for, knowing it's something he'll never experience again.

Then Hunter emerges from the Marauder, and Omega runs to hug him. Crosshair turns his head away, his jaw clenched as he battles a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Crosshair slumps against the seat and, with a furrowed brow, he rakes a hand across his bald head, deciding his next move.

Now that the kid is safe, he should make a swift getaway to evade the Empire. He should take the ship, but hesitates. He knows that his previous squad will not give him a warm reception. After everything he did, why would they? Is he considering returning to them when they turned their backs on him? How could they run away together when there’s no trust among them?

But he has nowhere safe to go. With the Empire hot on his heels, going alone is a dead sentence for him.

A sudden whine and a wet bump startles him out of his churning thoughts. Batcher, the hound, presses her cold nose against his hand.

"Go with Omega," he says, his voice dripping with disdain as he points towards the exit.

Like her owner, the animal cannot grasp his not-so-subtle cues that her presence is unwelcomed. With a pleading whimper, she nips at the sleeve of his shirt, tugging on it with careful determination.

“No, stop! What are you doing?”

As Batcher whined once more, she yanked on his sleeve, the fabric tearing and nearly causing him to fall off the chair, leaving no doubt about her intentions. With a sigh of resignation, Crosshair relents and gives in.

“Ugh, fine! I’m going, but you stay here.”

Crosshair narrows his eyes in irritation at her smug expression, cheerful bounce, and wide smile with her tongue sticking out. As he steps out of the lift, his irritation fades away and is replaced by a weighty sense of dread.

This won’t end well, but he’s not a coward. He can’t delay the inevitable. With each step down the ship's stairs, Crosshair felt the heaviness on his shoulders of uncertainty, fear, and regret. He braces himself for the reactions of Hunter and Wrecker when they lay eyes on him. The intense heat of their anger and distrust travels like a scorching wave between the two islands of light, striking him with deadly precision.

Crosshair inhales deeply, preparing himself for the impending judgement. There’s nothing else he can do.

#tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #tbb season 3 #tbb #the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb fanfiction #delay the inevitable #missing scene #tbb 3x04 a different approach

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vodika-vibes · 4 months

Note

Requesting some more love for Boss please!

Wanted

Summary: You and Boss are on the run from the Empire.

Pairing: Clone Commando Boss x Reader

Word Count: 944

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I'm not sure I'm happy with this, but I have a migraine forming, so this is all I have. Sorry.

“Rules are meant to be broken,” You proclaim, as you wave your wrench towards Boss, who stares at you with a single raised brow.

“That thought, cyare, is why you’re wanted on 13 planets.”

“Wrong!” Your wrench slips out of your hand and clatters to the floor of the ship loudly, “That’s because the Empire ain’t shit!”

He rolls his eyes, “Anyway,” Boss says, “Since we can no longer hide on Daiyu-”

“-that isn’t my fault-” You interrupt.

“Since we can’t hide out on Daiyu anymore,” Boss continues as if you hadn’t spoken, “Where should we go next?”

You stoop to pick up your wrench and shove it into its place, “Outer Rim, maybe? Or Wild Space is an option.”

“I was kind of hoping that you would offer a name,” Boss says with a sigh, “But sure, let’s start with Outer Rim worlds, they’re not likely to bend to the Empire.”

You grin at him, and enthusiastically fling your arms around his neck. He sighs but wraps his arms around your waist, “How about Tatooine?”

“Mm. Sand, sun, slaves, and Hutts. My four most favorite things in the galaxy.” Boss says sarcastically.

You laugh, “No one will look for us there.” You tempt.

“Right. Until you somehow piss off the Hutt Cartel and we have to run from both the Empire and the Hutts.”

“You make it sound like I go around insulting people all the time.” You say with a pout.

“You told the Grand Moff to take a long walk off a short pier and then broke his nose, and frankly I’m surprised that you lived to meet me in the first place.”

“I take issue with fascists.” You sniff.

He lightly squeezes your hips, “I need you to chill the fuck out, cyare. I’m looking for my brothers, which I can’t do when we’re being chased from Imperial worlds.”

“So you want me to behave?”

“That would be a nice change from normal.” Boss counters.

You rest your forehead against his chest plate, and then sigh, “Fine. We can hide out on Tatooine, just long enough for the heat to die down, and then we’ll go back to Imperial space and look for Fixer, Scorch, and Sev.”

“Thank you, cyare.” He kisses your forehead and then releases you to head towards the cockpit, “The ship isn’t going to fall apart on me when I try to jump to hyperspace, is it?”

“No! Er…probably not.”

“Try to keep the ship from blowing up on us, please cyare.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll do my best.” You turn back to the engines, and open the net to run a quick google search.

While you know how you ended up in this situation (a comedy of errors that started with you getting into a fist fight with someone who used to be part of the 501st and ended with you on the run from the Empire with a former Clone Commando), sometimes you have a hard time comparing what your life used to be to what it’s become.

You were an art student, once. Sure, an art student with anarchist tendencies who was anti government and anti war and went to protests and organized riots from time to time, but you were still an art student.

And now here you are, slowly working your way up the Empires shit list.

Honestly, the best thing that’s happened to you in the last year is meeting Boss.

You glance towards the cockpit, where Boss is removing some of the bulkier pieces of his armor for comfort, and a small smile crosses your face.

Boss just appeared on your doorstep about a year ago. He had been beaten half to death and needed help, and you’re still not sure how he found you, but you’re glad that he did.

You managed to patch him up, and when he admitted that there was something rotten in the former Republic and that he was looking for his brother, you jumped at the chance to help him.

Anything was better than sitting around and watching as Palpatine destroyed everything good and honest and true in the galaxy.

And six months after that, when you were hiding from Imperial soldiers on Dantooine, you kissed him. And he kissed you back. And then he kissed you again and again.

And now here you are, six months later, in a relationship with a man who you never would have met if the Empire hadn’t taken over.

Silver linings, right?

“Cyare? How are we looking?” Boss calls from the cockpit.

“I think we’re good. At least, according to the schematics I’m looking at online.” You say as you step out of the engine room and shut the door behind you.

He glances at you, “Alright. Then grab your seat, and we’ll see if we can’t make it to Tatooine.” You grin and climb into the co-pilot’s seat, tucking your feet under you, you turn your attention on him, and smile adoringly.

“What?”

“Just thinking about how we met.” You reply.

He glances at you, and a small smile crosses his face, “Smartest thing I’ve ever done. Right up there with kissing you on Dantooine and that night on Rishi.”

“You really liked that night on Rishi.” You say with a laugh.

“I liked the outfit you were wearing, and the way you looked under the moonlight,” Boss says easily, “And I really liked the way that you looked at me.”

You laugh and stretch out, “I really liked that night on Rishi too. We should do that more often.”

“Once we’re safe.” Boss promises, he focuses on the navigation computer, “Ready to go, cyare?”

“Ready.”

#star wars #tcw #clone commando boss x reader #boss x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

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