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starrylothcat · 10 months

Text

Quiet Love

Crosshair x Gender Neutral!Reader One-Shot

Summary: Crosshair pops the question 💍

Warnings: None? Feelings, some angst, sappiness. Softy soft Crosshair. Some kissy. Reader not described. AU Crosshair is on Pabu and wants to marry you. He deserves it. In the context of my fic a cycle = a year. 1200 words

Author’s Note: Idk I just have Crosshair feels. Song inspo when I was writing this: Eric’s Song by Vienna Teng 🫶

Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Also we need happier Crosshair gifs 😭😂

Strange how I fit into you // There's a distance erased with the greatest of ease // Strange how you fit into me // A gentle warmth filling the deepest of needs

The sun was sinking below the horizon, scattering magnificent hues of purples, pinks, and reds over the ocean. A slight breeze carried the smell of salty air and distant rain. Puffy thunderheads were forming high in the atmosphere, promising tropical showers.

You and Crosshair were sitting quietly, watching the sun disappear as stars blinked into existence above.

You were good at this, embracing stillness, savoring one another’s quiet presence.

After so long being at war, living in a Galaxy that was torn apart and was still being pieced back together, quiet is now calm.

Quiet is peace.

Quiet is love.

Four cycles have passed since you first saw Crosshair on the island.

Four cycles of being drawn to one another by an invisible force, filling the holes in your hearts that you never thought would close. Finding solace in one another’s company, finding forgiveness where you thought there was none.

He was afraid at first, when he realized his feelings for you. Frightened if he let you get close, his darkness and fears would spread like a disease and corrupt you. He was a broken man, his past still weighing heavy on his soul, even after the forgiveness of his family.

Slowly, the gracious and patient light that radiated from you burned through his shadows and he let you in. You both tread carefully at first, but as time went on, and more of his walls came down, the more he let himself fall for you.

Your love was a quiet one, but it was strong. It didn’t need to be loud.

Whether it was his hand on the small of your back when you were in public, or having a cup of caf ready for you in the morning exactly how you liked. How he’d worship your body behind closed doors, confessing his desires and need for you, quiet admissions from his heart, trusting you with his most vulnerable self.

Crosshair felt at his pocket as you sat, you not noticing as you watched the sunset. A ring was hidden in his pocket, something that he’s had for some time.

You held his heart and entire being in your hands. He knew you didn’t need a ring from him to realize his devotion to you. He didn’t either.

But you were willing to accept and help heal the heavy burden that was his heart and his love.

It was all he could do to let you know that you were his forever.

If you said yes.

A dark part of him wondered if this was all a dream, too good to be true. How could someone want to be with him, after all that he’s done? He wasn’t the best with words, but he was trying. He hoped it was enough.

You felt Crosshair’s arm snake around your shoulder, pulling you closer into him. He usually saved acts of affection like this when you were truly alone, but the veranda you had found was tucked away. You wouldn’t be bothered any time soon.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, your shoulders pressed together, the sun slowly fading in the distance. You looked at him, giving him a soft smile.

“It’s beautiful.” You uttered, bringing your hand over his that was draped over your shoulder.

“Hm.” Crosshair grunted in agreement, glancing down at you, the dimming sunlight casting a warm glow over your skin. You brushed your lips against his, content in this moment. Crosshair accepted your kiss, deepening it by leaning more toward you.

His hand that was free secretly slipped down to his side to his pocket. You didn’t notice what he was doing, too lost in his kiss. Crosshair pulled away from you, knowing it was now or never. His arm left your shoulder, leaning away from you slightly. That’s when you noticed he was holding something out to you in his hand.

You stared, taking a moment to realize what he was holding. It was small and shiny. You focused your eyes and realized it was a ring.

You gawked, trying to process what he was offering to you, and why.

The gears turned in your head, your mouth opening and closing, at a loss for words.

Was he…was this?

“C-Crosshair?” You whispered, your voice shaking, looking between him and the ring. “What…what is this?”

He didn’t say anything as you continued to gaze at the ring, not wanting to misinterpret the gesture.

“I’m not getting down on one knee if that’s what you’re expecting.” He grumbled, shifting in his seated position, waiting for your answer.

Tears filled the sides of your eyes, his words solidifying exactly what he was asking you.

And he was doing it in the most Crosshair way possible.

“Crosshair, are you asking me to marry you?” Your voice was hoarse, your heart pounding in your chest.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, yet his expression was soft.

“Yes, why else would I be giving this to you?”

He held the ring out further, gesturing for you to take it.

You gently took the ring from his hands, turning it in your fingers.

Embedded in the band was a jewel in your favorite color, catching the light of the setting sun.

“How long have you…?”

“Are you saying yes or not?”

You looked at him, seeing him intensely waiting, his eyes locked on yours. Was there a hint of nervousness deep in his eyes?

You gripped the ring in your hand, knowing your answer without a second thought. You slung your arms around his neck, pulling him into a flaming kiss.

“Yes! Crosshair, yes!” You gasped against his lips as his moved just as passionately against yours. You could swear you felt a weight lift off his shoulders, his body relaxing.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you kissed, his arms wrapping around you. Begrudgingly, you pulled away after what seemed like hours, realizing you were still grasping the ring in your hand.

“I love you.” You whispered as your lips left his. He squeezed you tighter. “I know.” You released him from your embrace, looking at the ring again in your hand, and looking back at him. You couldn’t help the wide smile on your face, though tears were still wetting your cheeks.

“Don’t get sappy on me.” He whispered, bringing a hand to wipe the tears from your face.

You huffed, grinning. “You’re calling me sappy?”

Crosshair chuckled, a rare small smile gracing his face, his sharp features softening momentarily.

“Well, are you going to put it on me properly?” You asked. Crosshair’s smile turned signature sly smirk as he took the ring from you.

With a gentleness only he could show you, Crosshair took your hand, sliding the ring on your finger.

It fit perfectly.

“Does anyone know?” You wondered, admiring how it looked, happiness flooding your entire being.

“Wrecker knows. Which means everyone does since he can’t keep a secret.”

You laughed as you leaned against him, both of you looking back at the sky, the sun now almost completely set. You placed your newly ringed hand on his thigh, his own hand covering yours.

You continued to sit silently, the last rays of light fading beyond the horizon. Nothing more needed to be said.

Quiet is peace.

Quiet is love.

@wanderer-six @pb-jellybeans

#Crosshair #crosshair tbb #crosshair x reader #crosshair tbb x reader #crosshair x you #starrycatwrites #the bad batch #The bad batch x reader #The bad batch fanfiction

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starfish-sonnyangel · 2 months

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so bored you might... come out of fanfic retirement? you must be really really bored,,,

squad's favorite terran foods in your hcs?

-from @auroracycle-enjoyer

guess who has two thumbs and is working on this instead of their lit final! 🤗🤗🤗

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! again please please ask me things i promise ill respond even if it takes me a couple months lmao!

he squads fav terran foods

ty -

had a gym rat phase during the academy so for like 3+ years he was literally only considering how much protein a certain food had not how it tasted or anyyyything

seasoning? we dont know her here

if you ask him he’ll probably say salad (he’s lying)

auri introduced him to pizza and he’s hooked

fav is margarita bc he likes to pretend that the basil add some nutritional value

auri

SOUPPP SOUP SOUP

ugh i just need her to curl up with a good book and music and a bowl of soup she deserves it

literally any kind of soup as long as its hot n served with some kinda bread

loves chicken noodle/irish stew/really heavy soups like that bc it reminds her of what her mom used to cook

also egg drop soup, oxtail, lanzhou beef noodles, all the stuff her dad used to make

give her a mug of chicken noodle and some sourdough and she’ll literally love you forever.

its canon from aurora rising that she likes spicy food so i know she loads allll her food up with spice

everyone’s learned to not ask for a bite of her soup if they dont need to give their sinuses a deep cleanse

ty was the first to learn the hard way, snuck a sip of her food secretly and 2 minutes later was curled up on the floor with a box of tissues and a jug of milk

“ty are you cryin-” “IM NOT CRYING SHUT UP MY EYES ARE WATERING”

again, he’s not a big seasoning guy

Scar

any kind of pasta

she got really into making fresh pasta during the academy, bc she obviously needed a hobby to fill up all the time she spent not studying

is lwky a pasta prodigy can lecture you on any type of pasta

her favorite kind is fusilli (“because it’s extra, like me!”)

also a pesto fanatic

goes vegan at least 4 times each year

her current record is 2 weeks

sweet treats!!

fav cake is tirmisu

can always be trusted to have a snack tucked away in her bag

Fin

survives off energy drinks and caf, you wouldn’t really call him a foodie

that being said, he’s a sucker for a good sandwich

clean, compact, won’t get into his suit, tastes good, sandwiches check off all necessary boxes

would sell his suit for a good turkey panini

took him a while to get used to terran food but he is now a confirmed fan

with that being said he cannot cook

once set off the fire alarms across the entire academy after forgetting about a baguette he had toasting in the kitchen

i feel like he'd also be straegly obbsessed with random terran snacks like goldfish and graham crackers

is a FIEND for those yougurt chew things that are for babies

"fin, two go-gurts and a family sized bag of chex mix is not a well-rounded dinner"

looooves those nerd gummy clusters

to be completely honest he'll eat literally anything if he's hungry enough

as previously stated i need to get on my academic grind so ill be completing everyone else soon, just wanted to get this out bc i havent posted in a while

this was so much fun to do, thanks again to @auroracycle-enjoyerfor the ask!

#aurora cycle #aurora burning #hcs #aurora jie lin omalley #tyler jones #scarlett jones #finian de karran de seel

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kaminocasey · 1 year

Note

hi casey!! congrats on 700!! so deserved!! i hope i’m not too late to the party… is it possible i can request a hunterxfem reader with prompts #2 #6 and if you can also #4? (also, ik i’m going anon but i am 18+) thank you so much for all that you do, you’re the best!!! <3

Hi, love!!! Thank you so much!!! I appreciate your kind words!!! And thank you for confirming you're 18+! I appreciate that too!! <3

I woke up thinking about Hunter this morning so I banged this out all in one go so I'm so sorry if this is rough! Lol.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Sex mentioned

TAGLIST FORM

Sitting on the steps of the Marauder, you look out at the lake that you’ve been camped out near, drinking your morning cup of caf and reading a new book on your holopad. It’s a bit cool out but compared to the incredibly warm Marauder, you’re not gonna complain too much.

“Morning.” Hunter’s voice fills you with warmth immediately.

Your favorite voice to hear first thing in the morning.

“Good morning, Sarg.” You grin, offering him a sip of your caf as he sits next to you, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee.

He takes a peek at what you’re reading on your holopad, finding a smutty scene that makes him immediately look elsewhere.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t want to know what I’m reading?” You tease him.

“I’ll never learn, I suppose.” He chuckles with an awkward shrug, handing you back your mug. “What’s it about other than… you know.”

“Sex?” You grin at his shyness.

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Sex.”

Hearing him even say it stirs something inside of you, unintentionally. You’ve been in love with Hunter since the moment you stepped aboard the Marauder. He’s always been so kind and looks at you so softly for someone so rough and daring.

The air gets a little cooler with a light breeze and goosebumps immediately litter your skin and you pull your sleeves back down over your hands. Hunter takes notice and gets up wordlessly, coming back a moment later with the blanket off his bunk. He puts it around your shoulders and you can’t help but smile when he sits next to you again.

“Will you uh… hold me?” You offer him some blanket.

He looks from your eyes to your lips momentarily. “Yeah, sure.”

He takes a bit of the blanket and puts his arm around you, pulling you against his side and immediately warmth floods your body as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, you gonna tell me about that book?” He squeezes your shoulder.

“I thought you were joking.” You chuckle.

“Nah. Go on. Lay it on me.” He takes your caf and takes another sip.

“Well, it’s about this guy and girl… she loves him but he doesn’t love her… or maybe he does in his own way… But she just asked him to choose her over this other woman…” You explain.

He nods. “And will he?”

You shrug. “Personally, I think she deserves better. You shouldn’t have to beg someone to choose you, right? I mean, I wouldn’t.”

He glances at your lips again and you can’t help but swallow, hearing your heartbeat in your own ears. Surely he can too. You’re sitting way too close to not.

“I’ll always choose you.” He murmurs before leaning in and kissing you.

Dropping the holopad to the step below, you wrap your arms around him even though you’re at a weird angle, so one arm finds his neck and your other that's closest to him just manages to grab his shirt, pulling him to you as close as possible as you both deepen the kiss. He groans slightly and you can tell right away that he’s wanted this just as bad as you.

When you pull away, he keeps his forehead against yours, both of you breathing a little heavy, grinning like two idiots.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” He admits.

“Why’s that?” You tease.

“I think I might be in love with you.” He murmurs before brushing his lips against yours again.

Hearing him say that sends your heart into a fit and he chuckles into the kiss, clearly hearing it.

“I think you may be in love with me too.” He cups your face gently and teases you.

“I think you may be right.” You laugh.

“It’s about time.” You hear Wrecker’s excited voice behind you.

You both pull away from each other to look back at him, unable to be anything but amused that the moment between you is over. You know that you’ll have plenty more of these moments in the future. For now, you both get up and get ready for the day, joining the Batch in the cockpit afterward.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @grievouus @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @crosshairmylove587 @idlenesses @redheadgirl @dnxgma @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @brownstalebread @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaws @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @greaser-wolf @moonstrider9904 @tubble-wubble @lirinck2

#kc700 #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you

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commander-krios · 1 year

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kisses as a promise for jocasta and doc? 👀

Here ya go! I combined this with another prompt that @jbnonsensework sent me, I hope that's alright.

❝ i want to deserve you. i’m trying to deserve you. ❞ You didn't request this but it feels like a Doc and Jocasta thing

~~~~

Doc hadn’t gone to the galley for dinner. Jocasta was positive he hadn’t shown up for breakfast either.

The ship was silent. The rest of the crew were either sleeping in their bunks or working on their projects in solitude. Grabbing a couple bowls of rice topped with the spicy stew that Rusk cooked, she made her way to the medbay.

When the door hissed open to allow admittance, she paused on the threshold.

Doc was bent over a pile of datapads, a forgotten cup of caf sitting beside him, probably days old if she had to guess. She didn’t want to see if it’d started growing anything yet. Suppressing a shiver, she made a note to toss the mug in the trash bin.

Clearing her throat, she waited for him to notice her.

“How long have you been standing there, gorgeous?” He glanced up, eyes bloodshot. From lack of sleep or staring so long at screens, she couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. He clearly needed a break.

“Not long.” Setting the bowl on top of the pile of datapads, she fought a smile as he stared at the food, almost as if he’d never seen such a thing before. “I brought you dinner.”

“It’s dinner already?” He murmured, moving the bowl to the desk so he could pick up one of the datapads.

“Mhm.” Jocasta reached out and plucked the pad from his fingers, holding it behind her back when he tried to grab it. “Eat, Doc. That’s an order.”

“I’m not a soldier… or a padawan.” He retorted, giving her a pout that could rival any child she knew, but she wouldn’t be swayed. “I don’t take orders from the Jedi.”

With the datapad secured behind her back, she brushed his shoulder with the free hand. She could see how he relaxed beneath her touch, gentle as it was. She didn’t even have to use the Force. “Even if the Jedi was your wife?”

He glared at her before a sigh slipped past his lips, deflating almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to work out the chromosomal abnormalities seen in this disease and I haven’t-”

Jocasta crooked a finger beneath his chin, turning his face so she could see his eyes. “Sometimes the best way to find the answers you seek is to take a break.”

His hands curled around hers, warm and solid, a comfort in the chaos of the galaxy. His mustache tickled her skin when he pressed a kiss to her fingers. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

“It’s good advice.” She returned the datapad to the pile before leaning down, kissing him sweetly. “You should get off the ship for a bit.”

“Into the freezing icy hell of Ilum?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at the request. “Are you trying to kill me? Because that’s how you kill me.”

With a laugh, she pulled him to his feet. He was a bit unsteady after sitting in his chair for so long. It took him a minute to adjust. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. “We can bundle up, get some cocoa, and watch the stars. It’s been too long since the last time we got to spend time together: no worries, no missions.”

She could almost feel Doc’s grin as he tightened the hug. “Watching the stars with you, beautiful? That’s enough for me.”

Jocasta pulled back to glance at him. “Good, but you still need to do one thing before we go.”

She was expecting the smirk, his thoughts clearly having gone to the wrong places. As usual. “Anything you want, darling.”

Taking a step away, she thrust the bowl of stew at him. “Eat.”

~~~~

The bowls of stew sat empty on Doc’s desk. They bundled up as best as they could in coats, robes, mittens and anything else they could find, the pair ready to brave the freezing cold of Ilum’s surface, complete with snow and ice. He could complain as much as he liked, but Jocasta knew that the fresh air would do them both some good.

Vitiate was gone, but the Sith still existed. Every day there was another battle to fight, but for a brief moment, they could breathe and enjoy the calm before the inevitable storm.

The overlook wasn’t far from the Republic base. An easy speeder ride and they’d pulled up in front of an outcropping of rock covered in sparkling white snow. She’d seen it on one of her outings for the Republic. The view was gorgeous in the daylight. She imagined it was even more so in the night.

“The things I do for you.” Doc said as he climbed off the speeder, holding a hand out. She took it, stepping into the snow with as much care as she could. They fit together so effortlessly that she was struck again with the possibility that fate might have a hand in their union. Or possibly the Force.

“You say that as if you aren’t enjoying yourself.” She teased him, squeezing his hand as they walked through the ankle high snow.

“Beautiful, this planet isn’t my idea of fun.” Pulling her closer, she let out a breathless laugh when she collided with his chest. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “But if we go back to the ship-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, she smiled. “Don’t finish that sentence. Just be here with me.”

Covering her hand with his, Doc nodded. “I can do that.”

“Can you?”

Jocasta dragged him up the gently sloping trail to the top of the cliff before he could utter another word. As they reached the edge, she paused. The Republic camp was in the distance, smoke curling into the dark sky, lights dotting the horizon. Then she looked up.

The stars twinkled against the sky, a kaleidoscope of lavender and navy, violet and indigo, a cosmos full of life, infinite and unknowing in its entirety. Something always called out to the deepest part of her soul, and no matter where she was, she would answer.

“Wow.” Doc said from beside her, momentarily speechless at the sight.

“It never ceases to amaze me how beautiful the galaxy is.” She whispered, tucking herself against him.

Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her closer, still gazing at the sky. Silence fell between them, comfortable, serene. A meteor shot across the sky and her breath caught, mesmerized by the stardust it left behind.

Once it faded, Jocasta glanced up at Doc. He hadn’t torn his gaze from where the meteor had been before burning up in Ilum’s atmosphere. He was too quiet, too subdued.

“Why are you driving yourself so hard?” She asked, wrapping her arms around him and relaxing into his embrace. “I know you want to help people, but you can’t do that if you faint from exhaustion… or from lack of food.”

“I want to deserve you.” He whispered, his lips caressing her hair briefly. “I’m trying to deserve you.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Doc. I already know how wonderful you are.”

Doc met her eyes, a smile playing on his lips. Standing on her toes, she kissed him gently. His fingers tangled in her hair, taking the affection her touch promised.

When they parted to catch their breath, he was watching her with a soft expression. “Thank you for getting me off that ship, gorgeous. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

She tightened her arms around him, pressing another kiss to his lips. “We’re in this together, Doc. Always.”

That was a promise that Jocasta could keep.

#sealeneee #jbnonsensework #my writing #swtor #star wars: the old republic #swtor fanfic #jocasta sloane #jedi knight #archiban doc kimble #archiban frodrick kimble #jocasta sloane x archiban doc kimble #jedi knight x doc #otp: no force greater than love

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aimmyarrowshigh · 9 months

Note

For the WIP meme. You knew I would zero in on this one...

Star Wars - Damerey.docx (This is In Screaming Color)

Of course! :P

First off, if you haven't read what's been posted yet -- it's here on AO3.

I'm not going to lie, the main reason that I stopped working on it, and stepped away from SW/Damerey as a whole, is because the Damerey fandom became an especially toxic mudhole in a particularly toxic fandom. I still love this story, and I have a lot more written than is posted, but

a) I don't write longfic in chronological order, so I can't post what I have without writing the in-between bits that aren't as interesting to me, and

b) I stopped particularly wanting to give Damerey fandom nice things because it stopped being a place of people who deserved nice things.

The mass bullying of my bb @dracosollicitus in particular, who BUILT that ship on her BACK p much, was my kind of last straw, and at the same time, TLJ/ROS didn't follow through on the goodness of TFA, and also WandaVision came out, so my brain was just like, "I GUESS WE'RE A MARVEL NOW INSTEAD."

But, like I said, I DO still love this story and man, I have a lot of it already written and it doesn't totally suck, so I do intend to SOMEDAY finish it. But I literally mean "someday." Like, it may well be for The Force Awakens' 30th Anniversary Rerelease With The Poe/Rey Hug Scene, or something. It definitely isn't on my immediate TBW pile. But it IS still in the WIP folder and not the WIP Amnesty pile.

Here's a clip of the unposted-yet stuff:

“You,” Poe says, setting his tray down beside Rey’s, “Need to have a talk with your droid.” Rey looks up from her bowl of porridge. She’s covered it with so much sugar that it looks like Hoth in a bowl. “I don’t have a droid, Poe.” “Artoo,” Poe says. He takes the sugar shaker from her scavenger cache and tips some into his caf. “It’s corrupting Beebee-Ate!” Rey actually stops chewing at that, and she wipes her mouth first on the back of her wrist, and belatedly, a napkin. She’s learning. “Is Beebee-Ate alright? I didn’t even think about bugs when Artoo came back online, but do you know, I don’t think it’s been defragged since before the Clone Wars. I’ll take a look through its databank and give it a good wipe as soon as I’ve finished eating. Beebee, too, if you like?” “No, not—really, the Clone Wars?” Poe shakes his head. “Not corrupt like programming. Corrupt like—like—” Poe leans down towards his tray and starts to maim his toast with butter. “It is exposing Beebee-Ate to concepts that Beebee is too young for.” “Beebee-Ate’s much newer than Artoo.” Rey still sounds baffled. “If anything, wouldn’t Beebee-Ate expose Artoo to new material and concepts? Especially after so long in hibernation?” Poe stabs the joganfruit jam. It oozes satisfyingly. “I mean that Beebee-Ate is a child and Artoo is being inappropriate with it.” Rey makes a very strange sound. When Poe looks over, she is very kindly hiding her laughter in her knuckles, but her eyes are bright. “Poe… I don’t think droids work that way. Beebee-Ate’s got a cute little personality, but it’s not actually—” “I don’t want Beebee-Ate to swear and know about—merging programming,” Poe huffs. Of course Rey doesn’t understand this; she’s couldn’t possibly feel the same kind of compunction to protect vulnerable little star-bright things from the shameful, dirty realities of being an old, battered veteran. Like R2D2. (The kriffing Clone Wars, and it’s never been defragged? No wonder it went offline so long.) “Oh,” says Rey, sitting back in her hard plastic chair. “So that explains why Beebee-Ate rolled straight for Threepio this morning.” “What?” Poe half-stands to crane his neck and look around the mess. “I thought Beebee was in the hangar!” “No, they’re right over there.” Rey points to the far corner of the mess. Poe can just barely hear the words “parts assembly” and “motherboard,” and then BB-8 gives a surprised [beep!] and rolls back a half-measure. Its dome swivels in a circle that looks embarrassed, or maybe like the droid’s concept of ‘self’ has changed, which is entirely likely. Poe raises his eyebrows at it when Beebee’s optical finds him. He mouths, “You’re in trouble, buddy.”

#fanfiction ask meme #fandom #fanfiction #my fic #in screaming color

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littlemissmanga · 10 months

Note

Hey Beth! So sorry you're having a rough week. Sending you all the virtual hugs ❤️

Since you asked for fluff, I thought I'd send over a fluffy Echo x Riyo Chuchi snippet from my WIP. I hope you enjoy!

“Would you rather fight one rancor-sized tooka or ten tooka-sized rancors?”

Echo grinned as he typed a response. “That’s easy. I’ve already encountered a rancor-sized rancor, so I know the secret to defeating them. They’re hierarchical by nature, so I would rather fight the ten tooka-sized rancors and set them against each other. When they finally established which one was the alpha, I would challenge it. My turn: would you rather eat nothing but dessert for a week, or no dessert for a year?”

There was a pause as he waited for Riyo to respond. His comm chirped, and he checked the message immediately. “Wait, when did you fight a rancor? That sounds like a story worth hearing.”

“I’ll tell you all about it next time I see you. Now quit stalling and answer the question, Riyo.”

“I wasn’t stalling!” The reply was immediate and indignant. “I was thinking. I do like dessert, but a week of nothing but sugar might put me in a coma. I’ll have to say I’d rather go a year without desserts. Would you rather kiss a Gungan or a Wookiee?”

“That depends,” he replied. “Are we talking a mouth kiss, or just a quick peck on the cheek?”

“Full-on mouth kiss, with tongue.”

“In that case, I’d rather kiss a Pantoran,” he replied. He held his breath, hoping he wasn’t pushing things too soon.

“You’re not going to charm your way out of answering the question, trooper.”He smiled. “Worth a shot. Fine. Assuming consent from all parties involved, and given the knowledge that Gungan tongues are nearly a meter in length—which would present a high probability of death by choking—and considering that I’ve met some very nice Wookiees who almost certainly wouldn’t rip off my one remaining arm, I would rather kiss a Wookiee. But only if the Pantoran is unavailable.”

“Solid reasoning all around, but now I have blackmail material in the form of written proof that you want to kiss a Wookiee,” Riyo’s message said.

“Only under duress,” Echo replied. “Now it’s my turn: would you rather be too hot or too cold?”

“That’s easy!” Riyo replied at once. “I would rather be too cold. You can do all sorts of fun things to warm up.”

“Such as?”

“Drinking caf, wearing cozy sweaters, snuggling in front of a fireplace—and other things.”

“What kinds of other things?” he asked, playing innocent.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. My turn: would you rather have dinner with me or breakfast with me?”

“Both,” Echo replied.

“Great! When is a good day for you?” Riyo asked.

Thank you DJ!! Virtual hugs received <3

I love how mundane this is - how normal. If I didn't know the characters, this would just be a regular couple flirting. That it's our precious Echo, who deserves all the moments like this, makes it so much better.

And I LOVE how they both know the other is flirting, but they're maintaining the integrity of the "game" by not breaking the rules or getting off track. Just adorable.

#thanks for the ask!#this hit the spot #you are wonderful thank you

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cowboy-turtle · 2 years

Note

hi! for your requests could i ask for "are you wearing my shirt?" and "you're unbelievably cute when you're tired," with din please? <3

hi @c4psicle! this may or may not have been fueled by my love for caffeine... writing Din is still a challenge for me but I loved stretching my brain on this one! thank you for requesting ❤️

February Fluff Prompt #2: “Are you wearing my shirt?” + Prompt #13: “You’re unbelievably cute when you’re tired.”

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1,094

Tags: uncharacteristic amount of dialogue for our tin can man; negative thoughts over appearance; like, tooth-rotting fluff

ct's february fluff masterlist | main masterlist

There was no greater feeling in the galaxy than being reunited with your Mandalorian and his foundling. It had taken so much for all of you to get here – the battles, the betrayals, the breakthroughs – that you more than earned your piece of heaven in the celestial sky. You know without a doubt there’s nowhere in this system you’d rather be.

And you have to remind yourself of this sentiment when Grogu wakes you up at the crack of dawn. Or rather, what feels like dawn by the heavy set of your eyelids, the pitch black of space certainly not helping the little guy’s circadian rhythm.

He’d been fussy all through the night, too much unspent energy after wasting the day traveling. More than once you’d woken up to metal clanging somewhere in the hull, his curiosity bigger than his small frame could handle after escaping his cot. You’re finally rewarded precious few hours of sleep after getting him down time and again, but now you can hear him cooing in the other room, finding something new that’s intrigued him.

You feel movement behind you, cinching your eyes tighter at the thought of getting up. A warm hand runs along the curve of your spine, a suggestion of a drowsy kiss planted on your temple.

You groan. “One more minute.”

A chuckled exhale, a morning deep voice. “Okay, cyar’ika.”

You regret your bemoaning the second his encompassing warmth leaves your small shared bed, stirring you further awake when his comforting weight isn’t shaped to your back.

If sleep is going to evade you now, hopefully a fresh pot of caf will do something to make you resemble a sentient being. The thought of the specialty Spiran variety you’d pick up the last time you were planetside makes you stumble out of bed, pulling on your favorite shirt before shuffling out of the dark room. You probably look more like a monkey-lizard than your normal self, baggy eyes and wild hair and impressive morning breath.

You’re just setting up what you need to start brewing when a door hisses open behind you. Din is still getting used to being bare-faced, ducking his shy grin down when you bid him good morning. The curls atop his forehead drip from his quick visit to the fresher, and you watch them bounce as he ducks down to the small alcove you’d last heard Grogu, a responding gurgle of delight giving away his hiding spot.

“Grogu,” you hear Din say, and the kid is helpless to his attention just as much as you are. “What’d you find back there?”

And as much as you deserve the right to stay grumpy and sullen until you’ve had your caf, you can’t stop the content smile curling up your cheeks as Din spends time with his small foundling, his low voice carrying to you in the short distance you’re apart. He’s describing all the different components of the control panel Grogu’s popped open, and you can imagine the enraptured look on that tiny face.

It’s still unusual to hear Din’s natural voice, no modulation separating out the affection in his words now. Hearing how human, how real he is, makes your heart surge in your chest with a tenderness you can’t control. And it’s not like you’d want to anyway, understanding the significance of being granted this private moment. Even with a weariness settling on the back of your eyelids, you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

You’re lost in this thought, comforted by gratitude when large hands slide across your waist, moving around to settle just above your navel. The cocoon of this backwards hug guides you towards a broad chest. Ah yes, you smile to yourself, the biggest piece of your triuned puzzle, slotting himself to you now to complete the set.

“That smells good, mesh’la,” he murmurs with an embarrassed smile. Curiosity over his odd reaction tilts your head towards him.

“What is it?”

He must realize his face and its expressions are exposed, the tips of his ears coloring. He ducks his face to hide in your hair, the lopsided grin growing.

“Nothing, it’s just…” he shrugs even as he burrows deeper, “you’re unbelievably cute when you’re tired.”

That gets a full-body laugh out of you, head knocking back to rest against his shoulder. “Yeah right, have you seen me?”

His head rears back. “Of course I see you.”

He draws away to move you in his arms until you’re facing him, brewing caf abandoned on the counter. His eyes gaze at you lovingly now, any worry over the honesty of his face forgotten.

“I see you. When you’re angry at market vendors for overpricing their goods. When you’re sad at having to say goodbye to new friends when it’s time to go. When you’re sleepy and terrible at hiding your yawns.”

A smile crinkles his eyes when you stifle a yawn provoked by the word. He sweeps his hand across your cheek, growing more serious. “When you’re happy every time we find each other. Because we always will.”

Sudden emotion pricks at your eyes, your palm resting above his heartbeat subconsciously, a shared acknowledgement in the action. His head tilts until his forehead meets yours in a gentle touch.

“I see you. And I know you.”

“I see you, cyare,” you repeat the refrain. “And I know you.”

He bundles you in an all-consuming hug and you take all of him in: the hard muscle of his chest, the steady thrum of the heart he’s surrendered to you beneath your ear, the soft give of his belly rising and falling with each slow breath you intake together.

When he draws away to look down on you once more, you watch the love in his eyes slowly being replaced by a question.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

You laugh, heat rising in your cheeks at getting caught. “All my clothes are dirty.”

That makes him chuckle, a warm affectionate sound. “Keep it, it looks better on you.”

You smile at the offering, though it’s not what you’re looking for.

“But…then it won’t smell like you.”

His head nods back in understanding, his growing smile deepening the dimple of his cheek. “Okay, I’ll wear it when you don’t need it, if you promise me one thing.”

You nod. “Anything.”

“Will you brew enough for two cups?”

You beam at the thought of how soon you’ll have your sweet, sweet caf in your hands, and how you’ll be able to share that with your beloved.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

taglist: @1800-fight-me @iamskyereads @microsoftcraint @thisgirl-knm @dobbyjen @arahxdjarin @triggerhappyflygirl @athalien @phandoz @queen0fchaos @sunnshineeexoxo @mrsudontknowme @rosethornxs @wyofabdoms @mandosmistress @thirddeadlysin @kissasith @cmc1014 @morenhoe @mssbridgerton

#ct's february fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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cyberfeather · 2 years

Text

Yaypril Day 15 - Crafts with the Coruscant Guard

When he enters the Guard’s common room, Fox almost drops his cup of caf when he finds the place splattered with paint of every shade. Panic rises in his chest, before he reminds himself that no one will come to hurt them because the barracks aren’t looking pristine. Palpatine is dead, may his soul be devoured by a Sarlacc, and they’re all safe.

He expects one of the younger troopers to be responsible for the mess, so he’s in for a surprise when he actually finds Thorn in the middle of the room, working on a colorful canvas. That’s new; he’s never seen a vod paint something other than his armor before.

“Can I know what you’re doing?”

Thorn immediately looks up from his creation, a bright smile on his face.

“Oh, I’m trying to paint using the same techniques as natborns. You know, trying to find a hobby to pass the time, now that the war is over. It’s not the same as decorating an armor, I can tell you.”

“Yeah, I would have guessed that just from the mess you made. Even a clumsy shiny wouldn’t have spilled as much paint around.”

“Oh, so you think you can do better?”

Fox is competitive at heart, and although he knows it’s probably not his most clever idea, he can’t get himself to ignore the challenge.

“Of course, I can do better. Just watch me.”

------

Ever since Sidious was defeated, Thire has taken a habit of sleeping in. So he groans when someone carefully shakes him awake, wishing for five more minutes of rest. Still, he reluctantly opens his eyes, hoping there’s an important reason for him to be disturbed.

“Hound?” He yawns once he recognizes the sergeant. “What’s going on?”

“Good morning, commander. Fox and Thorn are currently throwing paint at each other, and I thought it crucial to notify you. You know, just in case you might want to join in on the fun.”

That’s enough for Thire to forget all about his tiredness. He jumps out of bed, more than ready to cause havoc. It might be childish, but after everything the Guard has been through, he deserves some fun.

“Good thinking, soldier. Go warn Stone, too. I’m sure he’d like to participate in this battle as well.”

#commander fox #commander thorn #sergeant hound #commander thire #coruscant guards #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #yaypril #swyaypril2k22 #drabble #mara writes

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fett-djarin · 3 years

Text

Stress Relief

Here it is! This is entirely self indulgent and filthy! Im a wh*re for the croissant guards

Also I headcanon Fox looking like how amikoroyoaiart draws him. her art is so good!

Commander Fox x f!reader

Crossposted on ao3

Rating: 18+

Length: 3.9k

Warnings/Tags: Oral (m receiving), that good sloppy toppy, office sex, cursing, light grinding, making out

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Bringing the Guard their morning caf had become a tradition, of sorts. You knew the caf in the mess wasn’t good--in fact, it was barely even palatable. When you first started as a new secretary, it had been your timid way of offering friendship to the imposing troopers who worked so hard to keep the planet safe. They warmed to you quickly. Thire was the first to remove his helmet in front of you, plonking it down on your desk and taking a long pull of caf barely a second after you handed it to him. At your stunned look, he had just raised a brow and said, “Long patrol last night,” with a shrug.

As the others had become more comfortable with you, you had seen most of them without their buckets at some point--except for Fox. He always took his caf with a polite “Thank you, ma’am,” and retreated to his office. You knew it was against regulation for them to remove their helmets while they were on duty. But even when you dropped off the caf in his office, he was at his desk with his helmet on.

“He keeps it on so you can’t tell if he’s actually asleep,” Thorn told you one day. “I suspect he even does it while we’re standing guard sometimes.” You laughed aloud at that. The serious Commander Fox, asleep standing up. He was right though, you never would be able to tell.

The first time Fox removed his helmet in front of you, you hadn’t expected the gray dusting his temples, but honestly you weren’t surprised. The poor man was stressed beyond belief and worked half to death. You were more surprised that he finally did it in the first place. Fox sighed, running a hand through his unruly curls, before taking the caf and giving you a tired smile. He thanked you by name that time. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

From then on, he had been without it more when you went into his office. You even caught him sleeping once--head resting on his folded arms, bucket set next to him--and had done your best to deliver the caf without waking him. Maker knew he needed the sleep more than he needed hot caf--if Thorn hadn’t told you he snuck naps with the helmet on, you would think he ran off caf and stubborn will alone.

One morning, after you had passed out caf to the others--and a little cup of whipped cream for Grizzer--Fox hadn’t made an appearance, so you made your way to his office to drop it off. You knocked lightly on the door. “Come in,” his gruff voice called, and the door slid aside. You smiled at him, noting the way his shoulders visibly relaxed at seeing it was just you. You set the cup down on his desk. You had just turned when a touch on your wrist stopped you.

Fox was looking up at you, helmet cocked to the side. “You know you don’t have to bring us caf every time you work, right? The boys better not be nagging you for it.”

“I know,” you said. “I enjoy doing it. And it’s the least I could do.”

“The least you could do?”

“You all work so hard. You deserve more, even if it’s just better caf.”

He squeezed your wrist gently. “You don’t owe us anything. It is our duty to the Republic--”

“I know, Fox,” you tried to hide your grin, and failed. “But you’re also my friends.”

That seemed to surprise him, hand falling from your wrist as he sat back in his chair and regarded you curiously. You made your way back to the door, pausing in the entryway and looking back over your shoulder.

“Have a good morning, Commander.”

“...You as well, ma’am.”

The door slid shut behind you. Fox slipped his helmet off, setting it on his desk and staring hard at the door you had disappeared through. His eyes flicked to the paper cup of steaming caf, brows furrowed.

It was the first time you had called him by his name.

Friends?

----

After that day, Fox seemed to be trying to talk to you more. Instead of taking his caf and running off, he would stay, either to chat or just hang around for a minute with you and the other Guards. Stone nudged Thire, who nudged Thorn, and they all looked over to where Fox leaned his hip casually against your desk and you were laughing at something he said.

“Did someone replace Fox while we weren’t looking?” Thire questioned under his breath.

“I’ve never seen him so...cheery,” Stone said.

You smiled up at Fox, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. They watched as your fingers grazed the back of his hand where it rested on your desk. “Think something’s goin’ on between those two?” Thorn asked, gesturing vaguely over towards you and Fox with his cup.

“Absolutely.” Thire didn’t hesitate to answer.

The three quickly snapped to attention as Fox excused himself, heading their direction. You gave them a small wave. Thorn was about to wave back before Thire thumped him in the arm.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Fox grumbled as he passed them, heading to his office. “Get to it.” You hid your laugh behind your hand seeing the three Commanders scramble to disperse.

Evening rolled around, and you cocked your head side to side, stretching your neck and shoulders. You had been going over forms all day, datapad after datapad, organizing reports and requests for the Chancellor and the Senate. Your shift was almost over, and you were getting ready to go home for the night.

Various members of the Guard had come and gone, leaving and returning from patrols. Senators and representatives had filtered through; less and less as the evening progressed. You were just getting ready to leave when Fox stalked through, back from his rounds, tense and practically vibrating with irritation. He didn't even spare you a glance as he disappeared into his office. If the doors weren't automatic, he likely would have slammed it shut.

You knew he had a thankless job--a job he had no say in having, either. Usually it was something to do with the Chancellor that got him so worked up. Half the time you thought Fox would strangle the man himself if he could. Maybe you should take Fox out to one of the cafes nearby, just for a second to breathe and not carry the weight of the Guard on his shoulders. Was that against regulation? It might be better to invite him back to your apartment. Or did that imply too much?

You pushed yourself up from your chair, mind made up. He could always say no. You wouldn’t be offended.

You paused outside the door to his office, listening carefully. You couldn’t hear anything from the other side. So, you knocked.

“What.” Fox’s biting tone surprised you, but you didn’t take it personally.

“Commander? I...It’s me,” you said hesitantly, and then wanted to smack yourself. Confidence. “Is everything alright?”

No response. You took the silence as a sign that he wasn’t interested in talking. That was fine. You didn’t want to impose if he needed time to himself. The door slid open just as you had stepped back, intending to leave. Fox sighed, jerking his head to direct you inside.

The door shut behind you, and Fox sat heavily in his chair at the desk. Another deep sigh, and his shoulders slumped. He pulled his helmet off, setting it aside, and you caught a glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes before he put his head in his hands.

“Commander Fox?” You took a tentative step forward, so you were close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder.

He looked up at you. There was still tension lining his shoulders, hands flexing into fists and then relaxing. Stress. He opened his mouth to say something, frowned, and then closed it again. He cleared his throat. “Did you need something?” You could tell he was making an effort to soften his voice, likely as to not snap at you again.

“I just wanted to check in, sir,” you said, coming around the desk to stand next to him, leaning your weight against it. “It looked like something was bothering you.”

He waved his hand in the air vaguely, brows pinched. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ you’re not one of my men.” He looked like he was debating saying more, so you waited patiently, quietly, hoping he recognized that you were here to listen if he so needed.

“As you likely know, there’s a gala coming up. Senators, politicians, ambassadors, Jedi….” Fox huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s going to be a security nightmare. And the Chancellor,” he spat, venom in his voice, “has been on my case about patrols and the Guard. Always demanding more. We’re spread too thin, and not getting the support we need--” he cut himself off. He was getting himself worked up again.

You placed your hand over his where it was clenched into a fist on the desk. It relaxed under your touch. Fox heaved another sigh mixed with a groan. “I’m behind on paperwork too,” he glared at the stack of datapads sitting to the side. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to find the time to do everything.”

“Hmm,” you reached over and picked up one of the datapads, skimming through it, hopping up so you were now sitting on the desk. It was just a patrol report that needed Fox’s signature before being filed. “What’s your CC number?”

“CC-1010,” he answered instantly, then regarded you with suspicion. “Why?”

You signed the bottom of the form: CC-1010, “Fox,” and submitted it.

“What are you doing?” his voice seemed to have kicked up an octave.

“Helping you with your work. I deal with paperwork and holoforms all the time,” you said, picking up another datapad and scanning through the information. “Most of the time it’s to make sure there’s a document trail. Most of these probably don’t need an in-depth review, they’re not important. They just go in the archives and are never looked at again.”

“I--you--that’s illegal,” he sputtered. But he seemed more surprised than serious.

You raised a brow at him, signing his designation and name once again before submitting the next form. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate. Interesting. Then he had a thought. “Your handwriting doesn’t even look like mine.”

“Doesn’t it?” you showed him where you had signed. It was almost identical to his scrawling script. His eyes flicked between the form and your face, incredulity on his features.

“How…?”

You shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always been good at. Saved me a lot of trouble as a kid when I needed my parents to sign for something at school. Especially when it was a disciplinary note.” Fox barked a disbelieving laugh at that and you couldn’t help your sly smile. “Even if I didn’t mimic your signature, no one would notice. Or care. You could mark the lines with an X and it would go through; it’s only the acknowledgement they care about. You can even draw a loth-cat face and have that be in the archive forever as a signature.”

“Don’t you dare,” he threatened with a chuckle. “Some of these aren’t just patrol reports though. I actually have to read through the more important ones.”

You handed him a holopad as you picked up your third. “How’s this: we work on these together; if I find one that has important information or requires more than a signature, I’ll give it to you.”

He regarded you for a long moment, debating your offer. Some of the weight had lifted from his shoulders; he looked less tense, less overwhelmed, even less exhausted. Then he slowly nodded. “All right,” he said. “But you have to let me buy you coffee for once.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“We’re friends. Right?”

That stopped you short. You did consider him and the other guards friends, but to hear him say that he also considered you one...it was nice. It made a pleasant warmth flutter in your stomach, and you couldn’t help your shy smile at his words. “Right,” you agreed. The soft upturn of his lips made your breath hitch. He looked so young when he smiled.

The two of you worked in companionable silence, steadily making your way through the stack of datapads. You had been correct--most of them were unimportant; standard reports and forms that required a signature purely for protocol. Every once in a while you handed one over to Fox for him to read through. Slowly, your free hands had crept together, and Fox hoped to the Maker that you didn’t notice how warm his cheeks had gotten.

Your thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of his hand, and he didn’t notice he was staring at the way your fingers moved rather than reading through the form you handed him until you cleared your throat. “Fox?” you asked quietly. His gaze landed on your lips. He wanted you to keep saying his name, he wanted to hear it again and again--

You brushed a stray curl back from his forehead. A tug on your arm had you stumbling forward off-balance, and you would have fallen if strong arms had not wrapped around you and pulled you into an armored chest. Heat rushed to your face at the new position you found yourself in: sat in Fox’s lap, his hand still entwined with yours.

Then he kissed you.

It was gentle, soft. His lips pressed to yours chastely, far more gently than you expected him to be, and you felt the datapad fall from your hand. The sharp clatter of it hitting the ground made Fox pull back, but then you grasped the back of his neck, twining your fingers in his curls, and pulled him back to your mouth. He tossed his own back on the desk with a groan as your lips met again.

You licked the seam of his lips, and he opened for you. Fox was content to let you lead. His hand gripped your hip, and he sighed into your kisses, melting from your affection. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed like that--tasting, breathing each other in, sharing languid kisses full of pent-up desire.

His wild curls were soft in your fingers, and he all but purred when you lightly scratched your nails along his scalp. The hard plastoid of his thigh plates was uncomfortable underneath you, and you shifted your hips slightly in an effort to find a more comfortable spot. The breath hissed out through Fox's teeth, and your face flushed with warmth realizing you had brushed against his codpiece. His fingers tightened on your hip and thigh, pulling you towards him, encouraging your hips to roll against him again.

It was an awkward angle, with you sitting with your legs thrown over his lap, but from the hitch in Fox’s breathing it was doing something for him. You hummed into his mouth before pushing yourself up, holding onto his broad shoulders for support as you swung one leg over so you were now straddling him, chest to chest.

“Better?” he rumbled, nipping your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. You squeaked as his palms cupped and squeezed your ass, tugging you closer. Both of you basked in each other's eager little breaths and soft noises, hungry and wanting for more.

"Mhmm." The new position allowed you to feel the firmness of Fox's codpiece against your center when you pressed your hips into his. Fox really appreciated the new position, with your tits against his chest and free access to grope your ass. He almost whined into your mouth at the steady slow grind you started against him.

You wanted to hear that noise again. An idea struck you. You wanted to taste him. One more deep kiss, then you shimmied back off his lap. Fox made a noise of protest and tried to pull you back to him, but you just grinned and shooed his hands away. The floor was cold on your knees as you settled between his spread legs.

“What are you--oh,” he cut off with a harsh breath as your deft fingers unclasped his codpiece and tossed it away. Immediately, your palm cupped the warm bulge at the front of his blacks. He shifted in his seat, and you noticed his cheeks and ears had flushed a shade darker. How cute.

“Commander,” you purred, slowly stroking him through the fabric.

“Y-yes, cyare?” His hands flexed at the arms of his chair. He was struggling to not reach out and pull you back on his lap. Normally so composed, Fox now looked wrecked with his lips slightly parted, kiss-swollen, and hair mussed.

“Will you let me suck your cock?”

Fox spluttered and fumbled at your bluntness. You bit your bottom lip, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, still slowly stroking him over his blacks. You could see him fighting with himself. Maker, he wanted it. He wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his length. But he also didn’t want you to feel like you had to--he also desperately wanted to pleasure you.

“Please?” you leaned forward and mouthed at his clothed erection, letting your spit soak the fabric. Your eyes locked with his, looking up at him with your best faux-innocent look, like you had no idea what you were doing to him. But Maker, you were hungry. You wanted him.

“Fuck,” the word sounded as if it had been punched out of him. His pupils were blown wide, black swallowing the rich brown of his irises. “Fuck, yes--”

You wasted no time in tugging the band of his blacks down. A shiver worked its way through him; seeing you on your knees in front of him was a dream--a dirty little fantasy he would never admit to. Many nights alone in his quarters or in the showers he had roughly fisted his cock to the thought of you in situations that were most definitely unprofessional, biting the back of his hand to keep his noises at bay. And now here you were, the sweet secretary, making his dreams become reality.

The sliver of warm skin revealed to you made you instantly want more, and you couldn’t stop from pressing a light kiss to his hip. Then you eased his leaking cock from his blacks. Fox hissed in a breath through his teeth as your hand loosely wrapped around him, pumping his length slowly. The precum that dribbled from the tip slicked your grip. He was thick and firm in your hand, like velvet-wrapped durasteel.

The first stroke of your tongue against his cock made him curse. You licked slowly, working your way from tip to base and back, tracing the pulsing vein that ran along the underside. Taking the head of his cock in your mouth, you tasted the salty tang of the precum that leaked from him. When you hummed around him, his hand shot to your hair, fingers winding through the strands. He didn’t push you down or pull you away; instead, he merely just...held on.

Fox’s breathing kicked up watching you worship his cock with your tongue and hands. You enjoyed watching him try to hold himself together, slowly making him fall apart piece by piece. Your head bobbed up and down his length, each time taking more of him. Your hand continued to pump and work the rest you hadn’t fit in your mouth. He breathed out a string of words in a language you didn’t understand, but from the tone it sounded like he was praising you.

All his little noises were making the heat coil in your core. Wetness pooled between your legs, and you clenched your thighs together for the slightest bit of relief. You closed your eyes to concentrate, focusing on the weight of his cock on your tongue, the heat of his body. You slowly took more of him in your mouth until you felt his tip bump the back of your throat. Breathe through your nose. Fighting off your gag reflex, you swallowed around him.

“Shit! Shit, mesh’la--” Fox cried out above you, feeling your throat constrict around his length. He tugged gently on your hair, and you pulled off him with a gasp. “Fuck, if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” It was meant to be a warning, but he sounded too breathless for it to carry any weight.

“But Commander,” you looked up at him, enveloping the tip of his cock in the heat of your mouth and gently sucking. His thighs twitched under your hands, cock throbbing, and you pulled off with an obscene pop. “That’s the best part.”

You were messy, letting saliva drip from your mouth and down his cock. You sucked, licked, and kissed every inch of his length until it was sopping. When you ducked down to take his balls in your mouth, his breath hitched, hand tightening in your hair, and a low moan came from him.

“Gedet’ye, mesh’la, gedet’ye--” Fox choked out.

“Hm?” You pulled back, hand wrapped around his cock and continued to pump him tightly. You twisted your wrist when your hand brushed over his head. He was panting lightly, and looked deliciously wrecked.

“Gedet’ye,” he said again, “please.”

You smiled at him, and he felt his heart jump. You looked filthy, lipstick--Coruscant guard red?--smeared, lips and chin wet with spit. “I want you to cum in my mouth, Fox.” Then you brought your mouth back to his cock and sucked, laving your tongue over the sensitive head as one hand stroked the base. The other came up to cradle his balls, and he was done for.

Fox cursed up a storm in both Basic and Mando’a, nearly doubling over as his orgasm was wrenched out of him by your clever mouth. You kept your gaze connected with his, eyes hazy and half-lidded. Warm spurts of his release filled your mouth and you eagerly swallowed it down, milking his cock until he had nothing left. Subtly, you rubbed your thighs together, so turned on it nearly hurt. Seeing Fox fall apart for you stoked the fire of arousal in your core.

He had an arm thrown over his eyes as he slumped in his chair, chest heaving for breath. “Stars above, you’re going to kill me,” he said. You giggled, hands running soothing motions over his thigh plates, even though he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid. He looked boneless and sated, which was exactly your intention--well, part of your intention.

Then he was guiding you back up, cupping your cheek and kissing you hard. It was desperate, deep, filled with so much emotion that you couldn’t decipher it, you only knew that you felt the same. You moaned into his mouth. He broke the kiss, and you noticed the glint in his eye and his sly grin before he kissed you again, standing and guiding you back to sit on his desk.

“Now it’s my turn.”

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cafeacademic · 3 years

Note

omg congrats on your milestone!!!! here’s to many more *clink clink*,,, anyways i loVED YOUR ‘off the record’ with fox, and i’m a s1ut for him sOOO maybe prompt 31? f/gn!reader is cool!!

Fox sluts unite I love that man so much. here is some pure smut for our man because he deserves some time off and a bunch of smooches. hope you enjoy my lovely thank you for all your support <33

also i saw that you were working on a new fox thing as well very excited for that👀👀

On Background

click above for AO3 link

Pairing: Fox x Reader

Rating: Explicit (You know the drill)

Warnings: PiV sex, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, teasing, semi-public sex, some objectification of reader (but it's pretty tame)

Word Count: 2.2k

When Fox stumbled into your apartment one night, the first thing he saw was you slamming the door to your closet closed.

“You alright, princess?” he asked warily. He rolled his neck as he removed his bucket, trying to ease some of the tension of the day.

“Yep!” you said a little too eagerly. Fox closed the gap between the two of you, lifting your chin with his forefinger. You looked up at him innocently.

“What are you hiding?” he teased. Leaning into his touch, you smirked.

“Oh, just work stuff. Wouldn’t want to bore you,” you said. Fox narrowed his eyes but didn’t press you further. “Are you working the Chancellor’s speech tomorrow?”

“Don’t remind me,” Fox groaned. The Chancellor’s annual speech was never a fun night for the Guard; they often had to arrive early to help set up, listening to Palpatine fuss for several hours before the actual main event. If that wasn’t already draining, they often had to hear faux praise from the various elites that attended the event, though they knew that most considered them less than human. Sensing that Fox was getting lost in his thoughts, you reached up to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll make sure to stop by then,” you said, snuggling into his hold. Fox rested his chin on the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of being held.

~~~

The next day, Fox was running around, trying to ensure that everything was set up for the Chancellor’s speech, at least security-wise. In between pretending to listen to the demands of Palpatine and downing cups of caf from the break room, he would respond to the silly comms you would send him. On typical days, you would complain about your coworkers or send him pictures of cute lothcats you saw on the holonet. Today, however, your messages were suspiciously short.

“Miss you xoxo,” your last message read. That had been nearly two hours ago, and Fox hadn’t heard from you since. It was probably for the best, considering how much work he had to do, but it still hurt a bit.

“Are you stopping by?” he tapped out a message to you. A few minutes later, his commlink buzzed.

“Something came up. Have to take the time to get ready for a work thing tonight,” you replied. Normally, Fox would have sulked at the fact that you couldn’t visit, but he was instead intrigued by the fact that you had followed up your message with a photo attachment.

He nearly dropped the comm when he opened the picture. You were laid out on your bed, crisp white blouse unbuttoned and falling off your shoulder. A thin, lacy bra covered your chest, the material a perfect Corrie Guard red. At the very bottom of the photo, Fox could see that your skirt was hiked up over your hips, allowing just a glimpse of the matching panties.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he typed back. He could imagine you smirking down at your comm as you tapped out a response, the image only making his half-hard cock press even tighter against his codpiece. A soft buzz alerted him to your response.

“Is it a good look? I’ve been told that we’re supposed to dress nicely for the Chancellor’s speech. Wouldn’t want to make a poor impression on my first time covering the event,”

Fox nearly groaned out loud; there would be no way he could concentrate if you were going to be at the speech tonight. All he would be able to think about would be how badly he needed to see you in the pretty lingerie you were wearing.

“You better behave tonight,” Fox responded. It was only a few seconds before your reply came.

“But where’s the fun in that, Commander?”

This time, Fox did groan out loud.

By two minutes into the Chancellor’s speech, Fox was already bored out of his mind. Instead of being on alert for attempted assassinations as Palpatine had requested, his eyes were scanning the crowd for you. The general comm chatter from his brothers had become a background hum as he searched for your telltale white blouse.

When he finally found you, he was almost embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed you sooner. You were sitting in the press box near the front, near enough that you could pick up all the details of the speech but out of the way enough that the Chancellor couldn’t see you. As if you could feel his gaze, your eyes immediately snapped to Fox’s visor. You bit your lip teasingly as you toyed with the top button of your blouse. Fox straightened his posture, hoping to convey as much warning as he could with just his body language. You either didn’t notice or didn’t care; likely the latter, seeing as you popped the button with ease and pulled your neckline open slightly, revealing just the top of the lace covering your breasts.

“Hey Fox, you see that girl in the press pit?” Thire’s voice cut through the comm chatter that Fox had blocked out. Thire’s comment, however, snapped him right back to his senses.

“What about her?” Fox snapped back a little too defensively.

“She’s cute, isn’t she? Keeps toying with the hem of her skirt,” Thire commented. Fox bit his tongue to keep from snapping at his brother.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind tearing that skirt off of her!” Hound added with a snort. Thire hummed in agreement. Before Fox could start yelling at his brothers, Thorn cut into the conversation.

“Hey, vod? I think that’s the Commander’s girl,” he said warily. Thorn was the only one Fox had confided in about his newfound relationship, and that was mostly because he had heard the two of you going at it in Fox’s office. A number of curses poured over the comm, and Fox smirked at the panicked apologies his brothers gave.

Turning his attention back to you, Fox noted that the second button on your blouse had also come undone. The crimson lace was now peeking prominently through your neckline, and you had a smirk plastered on your face. With a wink, you spread your legs in your chair slightly, allowing Fox a glimpse of your panties.

Faking an important message, Fox pulled out his comm and quickly tapped out a warning: “Keep that up and you’re not going to like your punishment,”

You checked your comm and responded quickly, still smirking. “Aww, can’t handle a little teasing?”

Fox growled quietly under his helmet. Just as he was about to type out a message back, he was roused from his thoughts by thunderous applause, signaling that the Chancellor had finished speaking. Mentally, Fox made a note to thank Palpatine for keeping it short this year. As soon as he was off the stage, he sent you a quick message. “My office. Now.”

You were already sitting on his desk when Fox entered his office, swinging your legs innocently.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been trying to get you alone all night!” you said, hopping off the desk and reaching for your lover. Before you could get to him, however, Fox scooped you up in his arms and pressed your back against the wall.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he growled, voice still modulated by his helmet. You smirked up at him.

“What, you didn’t like my little show? I got all dressed up for you and everything!” you pouted, reaching to take off Fox’s helmet. His hand shot out and gripped your wrist before you could touch him.

“No way, sweetheart,” he said, grinding against you. “You’re not getting away with teasing me that easily,”

Holding you steady against the wall with his hips, he ripped your shirt in two, the remaining buttons flying around the room. He could still feel the heat of your breasts, even through his gloves. You squealed as he pinched your nipple through your bra, admiring how the bud peaked through the red lace. In the back of his mind, Fox worried that he was being too rough with you, that you might not like how he was touching you. His worries were calmed, however, when he saw the absolutely delighted look on your face as you squirmed out of his grasp and sank to your knees.

“Can I please suck your cock, Commander?” you batted your eyelashes. Fox nodded and you launched for his codpiece, getting the armor off in record time. You grinned devilishly at him as you pulled his cock out of his blacks, the tip already flushed a rosy brown and a bead of precum leaking from the tip. When you licked teasingly up the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, Fox reached out to roughly tangle his fingers in your hair.

“Don’t tease. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” he warned. You obliged, taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. Fox swore loudly, trying to keep from bucking into your mouth. You worked what you couldn’t reach with your hand, twisting your wrist to spread the saliva that was slicking his cock. When Fox’s grip on your hair tightened, you pulled off of him with a pop.

“Was that what you wanted, sir?” you teased. Before Fox could scold you, his words caught in his chest as you began pumping him again, this time slowly working down him with your mouth. The modulated groans of the clone above you made you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief. When you thought he was distracted enough by your tongue, you slid a hand down between your legs.

“Oh, sweetheart. You just keep testing me, don’t you?” Fox growled, tugging you off of his cock by the hair. You looked down sheepishly, not having expected to get caught. Fox quickly discarded his helmet before yanking you back to your feet.

“‘M sorry, sir,” you said. Fox looked like he was going to fall victim to your puppy dog eyes, but he shook his head and adjusted you so he could have access to your clothed cunt. With two fingers, he slid the scrap of fabric to the side, inhaling sharply when he noticed how wet you were.

“Does putting on a show like that get you this wet?” Fox said, lining himself up with your entrance. “You know all my brothers could see you?”

“Really-- fuck!” your words were interrupted by the stretch of Fox sliding into you with one movement. Normally, you would’ve been upset that he didn’t touch you first, but you were so turned on that he slid in with little resistance.

“They were all drooling over you, sweetheart,” Fox said through gritted teeth as he fucked you. The slight jealousy he felt was obvious not just in his voice, but in the rough way he was fucking you, almost as if he was worried you’d disappear out from under him. You grabbed his chin and kissed him passionately.

“Mhmm, but you’re the only one who gets to fuck me, Commander,” you said when you pulled away from the kiss. “I’m all yours, Fox,”

That seemed to unlock something in Fox’s head, because he began fucking you with even more force, trying to get as deep inside you as he could with every thrust. He began to mouth at your collarbone, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, that’s right. Mine,” he repeated into your neck. You scrambled for purchase on the plastoid armor he was still wearing as he ruined you, moans pouring out of you too loudly for the only semi-private office. Neither of you seemed to care, though.

“Fuck, Fox, I wanna come,” you whined, shivering from when his groin rubbed against your clit with a well-angled thrust. Fox seemed to contemplate for a moment before grinning into your collarbone.

“No,”

“What do you mean no? Shit, Fox!” you cried out. Fox’s thrusts were getting sloppy, and you knew he was close.

“I mean no. I’m gonna fill up this pussy, and then we’re going to go home, and if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you come then,” Fox said, voice shaking slightly.

“Shit, you can’t be serious. Come on, I’m so close,” you said breathlessly as Fox’s hips snapped into yours with such force that you slid up the wall you were pressed against.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before teasing me all night,” Fox growled, breathing heavily. You whined in protest, but he had made up his mind. “Fuck, you’re all mine. I’m the only one who should get to see you like this,”

“All yours, Fox. Only yours,” you moaned, and that sent Fox over the edge. He bit down harshly on your shoulder to muffle his loud groan as he emptied himself inside you. Fox slumped against the wall, leaning into your body, and you pressed gentle kisses to his temple as he recovered.

“You know, I love you and everything, but I need you to get me home so you can fuck me properly,” you said, the serene smile on your face in sharp contrast to how needy you felt. Fox pulled back, leaving one last kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Are you ever going to learn to behave?” he said with mock exasperation.

“No, you like me better this way,” you teased back, making yourself presentable before pulling a lovestruck Fox out of his office, the two of you too enamored with each other to register the catcalls from the other guardsmen.

#commander fox x reader #commander fox fanfiction #commander fox smut #tcw fanfic #the clone wars smut #the clone wars fanfiction #commander fox #cc 1010 #cafeacademics 104 celebration

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jessepinwheel · 2 years

Note

hey how about that story where obi-wan and rex go on a walk and nothing bad happens. maybe they could even hug and maybe have a tiny smooch if they want. they deserve nice things

okay fine they can kiss just this once

"Rex, your boyfriend is here to pick you up!" Jesse shouts from across the apartment.

Rex's cheeks turn hot from embarrassment. "Shut up! He's--he's not my boyfriend!"

"Well, yeah, if you don't sack up and make a move he sure won't be," Jesse says, moving to the doorway. "You've shared a bed with him like twice and still haven't even kissed him? I'm getting blueballed just by watching you. I'm serious, Rex. Secondhand blue balls."

Rex doesn’t get why Jesse’s blue balls have to be his problem. It’s not his fault Jesse can’t mind his own damn business. "He doesn't--Jesse, Obi-Wan doesn't do that kind of thing, just lay off already.”

"I don't know about that, he seemed to like Fox well enough," Jesse replies.

Rex flushes harder, if that's even possible. Even if Jesse hadn't told him about it directly, it would have been completely impossible to miss the most recent hot gossip that Obi-Wan had gone on a dinner date with Fox and kissed him. There was holo proof and everything, and...

There was Fox’s expression, shocked and also so...unguarded. Like he hadn’t expected it, but not in a bad way. Just like he’d discovered something he hadn’t known existed. Rex has never seen Fox look so relaxed, and apparently neither has anyone else. It’s no wonder everyone’s talking about it.

Rex knows whatever feelings Obi-Wan has for Fox, it doesn’t negate anything Obi-Wan feels for him--and it’s not like Obi-Wan has ever stayed over with Fox or shared a bed with him overnight. But still, Rex can’t help but feel a little...jealous. What does Fox have that he doesn’t? Besides being a CC and a bad attitude, neither of which are exactly selling points.

Well, Obi-Wan previously had some kind of thing with Jango--maybe he’s into people who are assholes.

Jesse crosses his arms. “Hey, Mission Control to Rex, your boyfriend’s still waiting. If you keep moping around, I’m gonna put on a blond wig and go on your date myself. He’ll be surprised when he sees how much more handsome you got since the last time you went on a date.”

“Yeah? And how are you going to explain the huge tattoo on your face?” Rex asks.

“Well, obviously you were so impressed by your favorite brother Jesse who’s such a big inspiration that you just had to emulate his impeccable--”

Rex throws a pillow at Jesse. “Piss off, Jesse.”

Jesse catches the pillow and rolls his eyes. “All right. I’ll tell him you’ll be out in a few minutes. But seriously, make a move, Rex. All your pining makes me embarrassed I’m related to you.” He sets the pillow on Rex’s dresser, then goes to talk to Obi-Wan.

“I’m not pining,” Rex mutters under his breath as he pulls on his jacket. He hurries to get out, because the longer he leaves Jesse out there alone with Obi-Wan, the more likely it is Jesse will say something completely mortifying.

Two and a half minutes later, Rex goes to the door. Sure enough, Obi-Wan is there, not dressed up dressed up but still in a crisp shirt and a long embroidered jacket. His hair is twisted up and secured with a pair of shining brass pins with colored glass drops dangling from the ends. Rex still doesn’t know why Obi-Wan started wearing nicer clothes more often, but he’s not complaining.

Obi-Wan smiles. “Rex,” he says. “It’s good to see you. Jesse was just telling me about how your studies were going.”

“And that’s all he said, right?” Rex asks, glaring at Jesse.

“Rex! I’d never say anything bad about you,” Jesse says, looking perfectly angelic like the wonderful supportive brother he isn't. “You shouldn’t be so hostile to your brothers, sir.”

“If you keep this up, I’m going to tell Kix what happened to his favorite caf steeper,” Rex hisses.

Jesse’s eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

Rex wouldn’t, but Jesse doesn’t have to know that. “Get out of here, soldier. Don’t destroy the apartment before I get back--you know how Kix is about the deposit.”

Jesse salutes. “Yes, sir. Have a good time!” He makes some kissy faces for emphasis, then closes the door.

Obi-Wan hums. “Should I be concerned about that?”

Rex sighs. “No, it’s just...sibling things,” he says as he starts walking. It’s nearly sunset and cooled down because of it, and he’ll enjoy the weather better the sooner he’s away from any of Jesse’s potential ‘assistance’. “I love Jesse, but sometimes he drives me up the damn wall.”

“Ah. I had some siblings like that. Truly, nobody can annoy you like family can,” Obi-Wan replies.

“I thought you didn’t remember your family,” Rex says. “The Jedi took you in when you were one or something.”

Obi-Wan glances over at Rex. “No, I never really knew my birth family. But I was adopted into the Jedi Temple. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Oh,” Rex says. He knows the Jedi are...close to each other, especially between Masters and Padawans, but all the Jedi? He's not sure how he feels about that. “I don’t...I don’t know.”

“I don’t think it’s so difficult to understand. We grew up together, we learned together and supported each other. We spoke each other’s languages and ate each other’s foods and found comfort in each other’s company,” Obi-Wan says. “If you and all your brothers are a family, I don’t see why the Jedi wouldn’t be.”

“But you’re natborns,” Rex says. “It’s different. Your birth family is supposed to be...important, right?”

“I don’t think it’s unimportant,” Obi-Wan says. “But blood relation isn’t in of itself that big of a deal--it’s not as if you feel much connection to Jango, do you?”

Rex’s stomach twists. “That’s hardly the same thing. Jango sold us so we could be part of some insane genocide plan. Of course I don’t want to be associated with that bastard. Your family...they’d never do anything like that. Right?”

“No. In that regard, Jango was a very special type of deplorable,” Obi-Wan says. “My birth family gave me to the Jedi because they believed I would have a better life in the Temple. I’m sure it was a difficult choice for them--I sincerely believe they cared deeply about me, as most parents care about their child. I’m glad for what they did, but all the same, I don’t feel much connection to them, certainly not just because I share genetic material. The Jedi are the only family I ever truly had, and it’s a good family. I grew up loved and cared for and happy--I’ve never felt the absence of my birth relations.”

Rex considers that. He and his brothers never had what Obi-Wan or the Jedi had--nurturing figures and teachers who actually gave a damn about them as individuals. More than anything, Rex feels his bonds with his brothers are forged not because of some inherent connection between clones of the same template but because it was Kamino and the trainers against them, so they had to cling together because that was all they had--brothers watching out for brothers because nobody else would. In some hypothetical world where the clones could exist without the context of the war and the training they endured and the people they lost, Rex can’t imagine they ever would have grabbed so tight to each other.

The Jedi aren’t like that. They had peace and safety and built connections from food and stories and lessons that didn't have to hurt so bad they’d crack a tooth trying to keep the screams from coming out. Perhaps that's a family, too--one that isn’t forged from having to fight just to survive. Rex can’t even imagine what that’s like.

“Did you love them?” Rex asks. “The Jedi.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says. “In many ways, I still do.”

“But...” Rex hesitates. It’s not like he and Obi-Wan haven’t talked about heavy topics before, but it seems...not right to be so frank about these kinds of things.

“If you have a question, you can just ask,” Obi-Wan says. “I assure you, whatever it is you have to say, I have heard much worse.”

Rex takes a deep breath. “If the Jedi were your family and you loved them so much, then...why did you leave?”

“Hm. I wonder that myself all the time,” Obi-Wan says distantly. “I've already told you about the choice I made at Melida/Daan. If I were in that place again, knowing what I do now, I don’t think I would choose differently.”

Rex bites his lip. He can’t imagine leaving his brothers for anything, much less to...to walk away like Obi-Wan did, and never come back. He can’t understand why Obi-Wan would ever give up that safety of the Temple and walk face-first into war and bloodshed and death. And for what--a missing hand, a lifelong banishment, and decades drifting the galaxy?

“I admit, sometimes I wish it didn’t happen,” Obi-Wan says. “It's impossible not to, after everything I lost there. If I could be in a kinder universe where that did not happen to me, I would wish to be there in a time and place where I still had my faith and my family and my entire soul. Of course I would. But if all that hadn't happened, I wouldn't be who I am now.”

“I...I see,” Rex says. He can understand that, sort of. He knows what it's like to resent the war and Kamino for everything it's done to him, but feel irrevocably indebted to it for making him who he is. If he took a knife and ripped the war out of his soul...there would hardly be anything left.

But it doesn’t have to be like that. He’s learning--slowly, but surely--how to be someone in a world without the war. He’s building himself outside those lines, defining himself in new terms and relationships and maybe one day he won’t need the war at all anymore.

Obi-Wan’s been indelibly marked by his ordeals in similar ways, but that doesn’t mean he’s lost everything forever.

“Obi-Wan,” Rex says. “If you still love the Jedi...why don't you go back? They missed you, and there's so many people who remember you. They would love if you returned. If you want your family still, there’s a place for you there.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says softly. “I’ve changed too much since I left the Temple--it’s not my home anymore, and it never will be again.”

“Why not? Just because you’ve lost the Force? I don’t think they’d care that much--you’re the one who says it takes a lot more than the Force to make a Jedi,” Rex presses. “If you just asked, they’d welcome you back with open arms.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t respond straight away. He guides them down to the Coruscant promenade, which is swarming with people shuttling between shops and taking evening walks of their own. The setting sun casts long heavy shadows across the square, and Obi-Wan stops next to a large fountain, looking down into the softly lit basin.

“The place reserved in the Temple isn’t for me,” Obi-Wan says. “It’s for the ghost of a thirteen-year-old boy that they will never find in me because I killed him twenty years ago.”

Rex tries to respond to that, but finds himself bereft of words.

“I lost a lot more than the Force at Melida/Daan, Rex,” Obi-Wan continues. “I lost my faith, I broke my vows, I knowingly and willingly killed innocents. I’m a betrayer through and through, and I’ve committed crimes I’ll never be able to make up for. If someone like that can be a Jedi, then what is the point of being a Jedi?”

Rex takes a deep breath. “So, what, you feel like because you did horrific things when you were young and in a terrible situation, you have to...suffer to make up for it? Denying yourself your family because you think they won’t forgive you?”

“You misunderstand me, dear. I’m not trying to repent and I’m not trying to get forgiveness--and it’s not as if the Jedi could forgive me anyways, because they’re not the ones I wronged,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m just trying to be a better person and find some kind of inner peace, and I don’t think I can do that in a place that reminds me of all the things I’m not. When I go to the Temple and the Jedi look at me, they don’t want me, they want that murdered thirteen-year-old boy. They want to see the shape of his faith and love and kindness and not the walking coffin he’s buried in.”

“I--I think you’re not giving the Jedi enough credit,” Rex says. “I don’t think they only want who you were back then--they understand you’ve been through a lot, and they want to know who you are now.”

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan allows. “But no matter what, they’re still looking for that ghost, and I can’t stand that--being compared against everything I could have been. It’s why I like Coruscant. I could be anyone and nobody would give a damn where I came from or who I was. Nobody can judge me for anything except who I am now.” He glances over at Rex. “Aren’t you ever the same way? Don’t you ever wish people would look at you and not see Jango’s shadow?”

“Yeah, I do,” Rex admits. “Sometimes, I wish I could be out there and just be a person without all the baggage of being a clone or the things Jango did to us. But at the end of the day, I am a clone, and you did come from the Jedi Temple. Neither of us can escape that.”

“I’m not trying to run away,” Obi-Wan says. “I loved the Temple and the Order and I still do, but its time in my life has passed. It’s not a safe place for me anymore--and not just because I have a medical condition that makes it difficult to visit. There’s only bad memories there now, and I don’t think it’ll do any good to my health to expose myself to that if I don’t have to.

“I know the Jedi would accept me if I asked it,” Obi-Wan continues, leaning down against the edge of the fountain and gazing somewhere far into the distance. “If I asked, they would forgive me and do everything they could to help me and let me have the family I lost so many years ago. They would do that in a heartbeat, but I don’t want that. I don’t want them to make exceptions for me--I don’t want to have the title of Jedi, I want to be a Jedi, and I’m not...not capable of that anymore. I can’t swear those vows or uphold those duties, and I won’t insult the Order by pretending I can. I respect them too much for that.”

On some level, Rex can understand that. He’s spent plenty of late nights thinking about his rank and if he really deserved it or if he was just there because someone thought he would be someone to fill the ranks. There’s a lot of responsibility and expectations with being a Jedi, and having the rank without the qualification is a slap in the face for everyone involved. Rex doesn’t think he’d want that either.

“So you’re giving up on your family because you can’t be a Jedi?” Rex asks. “Because you have bad memories of the Temple and you’re scared of being compared to who you were?”

Obi-Wan turns to face Rex, and there’s a deep sorrow in his eyes that’s hard to look at. “Rex. The Jedi Order hasn’t been my family for a very long time. I spent twenty years believing they did not want me, and they spent twenty years believing I was dead. The Jedi are important to me and they always will be, but they’re my past and not my present. I have a life now--one that I built for myself with my own two hands. I won’t drop everything to chase old ghosts.”

Rex doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. He won’t kid himself and say he completely understands, because he still can’t imagine a circumstance where he wouldn’t want to come back to his family, no matter how long it’d been, but...twenty years is an unimaginably long time--his entire life twice over. In that time, Obi-Wan has found duties and people he can’t abandon--Organa, Boba, Feral and Savage. It wouldn’t be fair to them if he were to uproot everything to try and chase old dreams of Knighthood.

Obi-Wan stares up into the sky, letting the silence stretch. The two of them stay leaning against the fountain and watch the red sky turn purple and gray as the sun dips below the horizon. It’s a heavy silence, but not an uncomfortable one.

“I'm sorry,” Obi-Wan says eventually. “It feels like this happens every time we spend time together.”

“What do you mean?”

“We talk, and I say something that makes you uncomfortable. We were supposed to have fun today, and I've killed the mood. I'm sorry,” Obi-Wan says.

“No, it's fine,” Rex says. “I like talking to you, Obi-Wan, I just...didn't know what to say. It’s a lot to think about, that’s all.”

“Sometimes, silence says a lot all on its own,” Obi-Wan says. He scrubs a hand over his face, then stands up properly. “It’s getting late. Are you hungry?”

“I wouldn’t say no to some dinner,” Rex says. “Did you have some place in mind?”

“Well, we’re already in the promenade. I’m sure we can figure something out,” Obi-Wan says, setting off in some random direction.

Rex follows after him. “Do you eat here often?”

Obi-Wan nods. “Coruscant street food is pretty good if you know what to look out for. Convenient for cases where you don’t have a lot of time to stop and eat. Here’s a stand I visit a lot--the owner usually gives me extra dumplings.”

This is how, ten minutes later, the two of them are on a park bench sharing a large box of fried dumplings.

“These are good,” Rex says, chewing on one. The meat filling is tangy and not too salty while the dough outside is crisp without being hard. “You said these are called dumplings?”

Obi-Wan nods. “Most cultures have some form of dumpling because filling wrapped in dough is a very straightforward blueprint. I’ve always had a soft spot for them--at the Temple, making dumplings was a common get-together activity. I usually helped making the dough for the wrappers and rolling them out. Bant liked to fill dumplings for me that were full of seafood. Honestly, with all the different fillings we worked with, it’s a miracle we didn’t have more cross-species poisoning incidents.” He helps himself to another dumpling, looking wistful. “I never have the time to make dumplings by hand anymore. It’s a lot of hassle if you’re by yourself.“

“Um,” Rex says. He’s got the opportunity, so he has to take the shot. “Well, if you--I mean. I could help, if you wanted. I’ve never made dumplings before.”

“What, just the two of us?” Obi-Wan asks, raising a brow.

Rex flushes. “I, I mean, it doesn’t have to be, we could invite Ahsoka and some other people too, or--”

Obi-Wan sets a hand on Rex’s shoulder and grins. “I’m just teasing, dear. If you want to visit sometime and make dumplings together, I’m certainly not going to say no. Nothing would make me happier.”

Rex’s heart flutters. “Yeah, we--we should do that sometime. I think I’d like that.”

Obi-Wan smiles softly. It occurs to Rex that this Obi-Wan is one that not a lot of people ever get to see--out of the aloof and all-knowing private investigator guise, reminiscing about a brighter past and trying to find small joy in a tumultuous present. Obi-Wan always seems so strong and capable and self-assured that it’s hard to believe even he feels things like doubt and personal conflict--in moments like this, Rex remembers that Obi-Wan is only a person just like anyone else. Sitting here so close, Obi-Wan feels so huantingly human, and Rex wants to reach out and touch him, just to be sure it’s real. He wants to put his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders and press close enough to feel his warmth. He wants to keep this moment and--

“Is everything okay, Rex?” Obi-Wan asks, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I...” Rex looks away. “I think so.” Now that he’s thought about it, he can’t stop thinking about it, and unbidden, the image of Obi-Wan pressing lips to Fox’s cheek drifts back to his mind.

It’s so inconsequential. It doesn’t mean anything at all, but stars if Rex doesn’t want it.

But Obi-Wan makes no move even now to kiss him, and Rex doesn’t understand why--if it was just how much he cared, surely Obi-Wan likes him more than he likes Fox.

“Are you sure? You seem upset, Rex,” Obi-Wan says.

“Why did you kiss him?” Rex blurts out.

Obi-Wan blinks. “Pardon? Who am I kissing?”

“Fox,” Rex says. “Why did you kiss Fox?”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says. “Well, he asked me to.”

Rex’s mind grinds to a screeching halt. “Wh-what? You--He--” Rex takes a deep breath. “He asked you? That’s it?”

“Well, not in so many words. There was something about his brothers giving him a hard time so he made a bet with them without thinking about it,” Obi-Wan says. “So I gave him a kiss. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

“So you mean this whole time I could have just asked you to kiss me?” Rex asks. “You--you’re not--”

Obi-Wan shrugs. “I don’t really see the appeal of kissing. So it’s not something I think to do on my own.” He glances at Rex. “Is this your way of asking?”

“Yes--no. Yes?” Rex says. “If that’s--if it’s okay with you. I mean.”

“I don’t mind. It’s just a kiss,” Obi-Wan says.

Rex nods. “Yes, please, I want to--if you can--that’s...”

Obi-Wan laughs. “It’s okay, Rex. I think I get the idea.” He sets the dumplings down on the bench, then gently holds the sides of Rex’s face. “Don’t think too hard about it, okay?”

And then he kisses Rex directly on the mouth.

Everything in Rex’s mind stops working all at once. He can feel firm fingers on the edge of his jaw, the press of lips beneath his, the soft sigh of breath in his mouth. Without thought, Rex makes a noise from the back of his throat, his eyes fluttering closed as he tries to lean into the sensation. There’s scratchiness of hair against his lip and chin, a mass of warmth against his side, and Rex reaches out to hold that warmth close almost on animal instinct.

And then, as suddenly as it started, it’s over. Warmth recedes and cool evening air rushes in, and Rex nearly collapses against the bench, gasping for breath. He feels like he’s seeing stars. “What--” he says. “I--Obi-Wan--What was that?”

“A kiss?” Obi-Wan says.

“But you--on the lips? What--”

“I’m sorry, did I misread your intentions?” Obi-Wan asks. “When you said you wanted me to kiss you, I thought you meant...”

Rex shakes his head. “No. I mean yes. That’s--” He swallows and tries to reboot his mind into something resembling function. “I liked that.”

Rex feels like he’s been hit with a bolt of lightning, and his lips are still tingling just thinking of it. His heart is pounding--he’s not sure if it’ll ever calm back down.

“Is kissing always--always like this?” Rex asks

Obi-Wan shrugs. “I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t see the appeal of kissing. I don’t really enjoy it--it’s tedious more than anything.”

Rex blinks and looks at Obi-Wan. He’s not smiling now. Cold realization washes through Rex that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “Obi-Wan...did I pressure you into something you didn’t want to do?”

“No, I genuinely don’t mind,” Obi-Wan says. “It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t mean anything. As long as you enjoyed it, that’s what matters.”

He says that, but Rex can see it plain as day--best case scenario, Obi-Wan is indifferent to kissing, and worst case scenario, Obi-Wan is actively uncomfortable with it. Maybe he doesn’t mind, but Rex has found there’s a lot of things Obi-Wan doesn’t mind that he probably should.

Rex wants it again, but...in the end, it’s just a kiss. The two of them have shared a bed and food. They’ve bared their hearts to each other and chosen, again and again, to make time for each other because it makes them happy. Compared to that, what’s a kiss worth?

Nothing at all.

“I did enjoy it. Thanks, Obi-Wan,” Rex says. “I won’t ask again.”

Obi-Wan glances at him in surprise, then his expression softens. “Thank you, Rex.”

The two of them lapse into silence, making their way through the no longer hot box of dumplings. Rex settles himself against Obi-Wan’s side, and Obi-Wan sets an arm over his shoulder and pulls him in so they’re butted against each other. It’s a peaceful silence, together in the coolness of night, and Rex thinks to himself that he wouldn’t trade a million kisses for this moment.

Still, he has to ask.

“Was I a good kisser?” Rex asks.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Well, you were better than Jango.”

Rex sputters. “Obi-Wan, what--why would you say--that’s completely--”

Obi-Wan laughs and sticks the last dumpling in Rex’s open mouth.

#star wars #fanfic #fic: asynchronous circuit #rex #obi-wan kenobi #jessepinwrites

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whatanoof · 3 years

Note

hello there mesh'la, i'm a major cal kestis simp and i absolutely adore your work! i don't know if you normally do requests but if you do, i had an idea! can you do one where cal and his girlfriend spend the night making love very loudly, and then the morning after the crew of the mantis teases them about it - and they point out that the both of them are covered in hickeys? xd

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: references to sex, swearing, rather cruel banter until you consider that they're family and it's all good natured teasing?

A/N: Anon this would totally happen, I'm not going to lie to you. Cal would get so lost in the sauce that he wouldn't think too hard about holding back in any way. The found family dynamics are high in this one guys, not gonna lie, but the prompt is so freaking funny in concept that I couldn't resist? Also, I've totally moved into just finding Cameron Monaghan gifs that really fit the vibes, because Cal Kestis gifs tend to be super serious

Greez snaps awake, scared and disoriented. What had woken him? There’s a rhythmic squeaking coming from the wall, and heavy breathing echoing around the tinny walls of the Mantis.

“Fuck, please!” Someone groans, long and drawn out and breathless and loud.

Oh. He rolls his eyes, grabs his pillow, and smushes it as tightly as he can around his head. It does the job decently well, he supposes as he drifts back to a fitful sleep.

---

Merrin was already awake when the noises began to filter through the walls of her quarters. Dathomirian Nightsister texts are scattered haphazardly through her quarters, half of them skimmed through tonight and another two floating before her.

“You feel so good, baby.” A strangled moan follows the words, someone keening rather high, enough to rival that of a shrieking bird that she had heard back home. “Fuck, can I move?”

It takes a few seconds for the words to pull her attention from the texts, but when she notices, all she does is huff a heavy sigh. Green magic spins around her before expanding to press to the inside of her room.

She listens carefully for a few moments, but no sound gets past the magic barrier. She curls up under the covers and continues to read. At least someone is having fun tonight.

---

Cere is on night shift in the cockpit. No physical sound reaches her, but her connection to the Force twinges. She lowers the noise of the comm chatter and magnifies the Force sensation, identifying increased pleasure and thought projection coming from the aft quarters of the Mantis. Not again.

She sighs and pushes the Force as far as possible from her mind. Turning up the comm chatter again, she continues to monitor the surroundings.

A high pitched groan pierces through the stillness, echoing from inside the air system and managing to be heard by Cere even through her headphones. Her temper flares, but she inhales sharply and calms herself. There’s nothing to be done about it tonight. There will absolutely be words in the morning.

---

“Good morning!” Cal all but skips into the kitchen towards the caf machine. “How close are we to Bogano?”

He is greeted with less than an equal amount of cheer. Greez sends a highly unimpressed look his way over a cup of caf. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

Merrin snorts, “I bet I could tell you why.”

Cal blinks at them, looking like a swampling caught in headlights. “What?”

Cere appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, “I believe that they’re referring to last night’s activities. Very loud activities.”

Cal says nothing, but the expression on his face can only be interpreted as, ‘oh shit.’

You really couldn’t have timed it better if you tried, because you chose that exact moment to appear from the back hallway, blinking sleepily with mussed hair and a truly impressive array of blue and purple dotting along the skin exposed by the neckline of your pajama shirt. All eyes land on you the second your foot hits the threshold, and you freeze at the sudden attention.

“What’s wrong?”

Merrin breaks the tension, “You got a little something there.” She gestures to her own neck, and your hand flies to yours to mimic hers, trying to peer down and see what she is pointing at.

“And there. And there.” Greez pipes up, and you rub your skin a little more frantically. “And there. Oh, you missed the one there.”

Cere shoots them a look. “Behave, you two.”

Cal moves to your side, leaning to whisper in your ear, “Sorry, I should’ve warned you this morning when I got up, but you were still asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Warned me about what?” You’re going to blame your sleep-addled brain because you are not getting anyone’s meaning at all.

“I--uh--I marked you up a lot last night.”

Your jaw drops when you finally understand. “Cal Kestis!” You hiss furiously, glaring at him while you try in vain to pull the collar of your shirt up to hide your skin better.

“Leave it. Everyone’s already seen it anyway.” Merrin calls from her corner of the table, an amused grin spreading across her features.

“Everyone heard it too last night.” Greez chortles, hands slapping his side in mirth. “You are a loud one,” he said, referring to you.

Now it’s the second time you’re confused this morning. “What are you talking about?”

“You were moaning very loudly last night. Impressively high-pitched too, maybe you should consider joining a choir.” The Latero laughs at his own joke rather explosively, but your brow only creases further.

“I wasn’t making noises last night. Cal gagged me.”

A shocked silence spreads over the group as everyone turns their attention from you to the redheaded Jedi trying to edge back to the hallway leading to the quarters. He stops when he notices that he’s been caught, raising his hands in the air with a guilty smile on his face, “Sorry about that?”

Greez cackles, hands slamming onto the table and nearly upsetting his cup of caf. “That was you?!”

Merrin’s laughing too, “I thought those sounds weren’t within the range of a normal human male. Congratulations on your excelling vocal chords.”

Cere’s chuckling too, “Maybe she shouldn’t be the one wearing the gag.”

Cal’s flushed bright red, and he turns and sits at the table with a defeated air. “Okay, eveyrone just get it out right now and we can move on.”

“Oh no, we are never going to move on. You sounded like that Shyyyo bird on Kashyyyk, pretty boy!”

You sit beside Cal with a modest smile, squeezing his hand. “I suppose we deserve it for ruining their sleep.”

“You’re damn right you do!”

“And now that you know, it better not happen again,” Cere interjects with a stern gaze on the both of you, causing you to shrink under the severity. “We have to get sleep if we’re to keep running missions of such a dangerous nature.” You both nod sheepishly. “But--” You look up at her slightly amused tone, “Cal you really should consider joining a nature group. I’m sure you could imitate most of the bird calls in the higher range. It’s truly a lost talent.”

Cal groans as he thunks his forehead down on the table, and you pat his hand reassuringly. If Cere has jumped on the train of ridiculing, then the subject truly will not get dropped for sometime. It may be time to consider getting Cal a gag as well if you’re going to continue.

Cal Kestis Taglist:@marvelassassin221b, @my-awakened-ghost, @katethecrazy, @gabile18

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #found family dynamic #greez dritus #cere junda #nightsister merrin #let's pretend that bd-1 is deactivated and charging through all of this

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cyncerity · 3 years

Note

Mmmmm.,, thinking about how if Tubbo nommed Tommy and Tommy grew just enough in his stomach to make a little bump.,,

Ok when I asked for sizeshifter Tommy getting nommed prompts, you got the message. You understood the assignment completely, you genius anon. Funnier yet, I had the same thought about Tommy shifting while in someone earlier, so you’re pyscic and also very much pandering to what i like to write and it’s working very well.

tw: vore, cursing

Btw, I took my shitpost idea from this post and made it a full story

“Tubbo, no.” Tommy deadpanned at Tubbo, who looked back at him with puppy eyes. “Tubbo yes!! You actually studied for this and I didn’t and if I flunk another test my dads gonna kill me!” the shorter teen whined. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. “Well then maybe you should’ve studied! I’m not gonna help you cheat this, I don’t even know how i would do that!”

Tubbo pouted and gave him a death glare that he ultimately couldn’t hold as long as Tommy could, so he sighed in defeat and started to get ready for school.

*****

School went pretty well for Tommy. He’d been pestered about the test a few more times by Tubbo, but he ignored most of the advances. He was just walking from the class he’d taken the test in to his next class when he got a text from his best friend: ‘meet me in the storage closet by the caf.’ Huh. Odd. Nevertheless, Tommy shrugged and headed that way. Not like he had much else to do at the moment.

He soon stepped into the storage closet, the heavy door closing behind him and shutting him in almost complete darkness as he fumbled around looking for a light switch. He could hear things clattering around him, but every time he reached in the direction of the noise, more noise seemed to come from another direction. What was going on? “Tubbo?” Tommy whispered. “You in here, big man?” Tommy said, a bit louder. No response, except the noises. Tommy could feel himself start to shrink in a bit as his movements became more sporadic looking for the light. “Seriously man, this isn’t funny!!” Suddenly, a loud clap sounded from behind him, scaring him and accelerating the shrinking he had already subconsciously been doing as he shrieked, now a measly 3 inches tall.

Suddenly he felt himself be lifted off the ground as the lights finally came on. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked up to see Tubbo holding him by his shirt collar, the heavy, large textbook that Tubbo had violently shut to make the clap noise now laying closed on the floor, looking smug with himself. Tommy glared daggers at him. “That was a low blow, Tubso.” “Of don’t be over dramatic,” the bigger teen smirked, “I’m just getting the help I need.” And with that, Tommy was tossed up into the air and quickly caught in Tubbo’s mouth. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing!!” Tommy shouted as Tubbo’s tongue lapped at his face. He was unceremoniously pushed into the side of Tubbo’s cheek as he tried to respond. “You just took the test, I’m going in to take the test now, so you can at least help me get some answers.” “You little-“ Tommy tried to finish before he was cut off by a loud swallow.

Tommy felt his legs get pulled down into the tight muscles of the throat. He tried to punch at Tubbo’s tongue to get his friend to spit him out but he only heard Tubbo chuckle as the muscles pulled him down to his shoulders and eventually sucked him in completely. Tubbo left the storage closet once he couldn’t feel Tommy in his mouth anymore and made his way to class. Tommy landed in his stomach with a dull thud as he heard the storage room door close and felt Tubbo start walking. Great. Didn’t this asshole know he had school, too?

Tommy pouted and laid back one of the wet spongy walls and slid down, begrudgingly accepting defeat. Eventually he felt Tubbo sit down, and he heard the lecturer start to speak, before silence once again. Tubbo poked his stomach. Tommy kicked at the wall where he had been poked. “You can’t just eat me and expect me to help you. Prick.” Another poke from the outside. Tommy kicked again.

There was an annoyed scoff from outside and soon the small space Tommy was sitting in practically folded in on itself as Tubbo moved to sit with his knees pressed against his torso. “Oh, fuck off, you dickhead!” Tommy shouted. “I’ll give you the fuckin answers, Jesus, just let up!!” Tommy could practically hear Tubbos smug grin as he put his knees back down and sat normally. Tommy sat fuming, giving Tubbo the answers to the test, waiting for the signal tap that signified his giant friend was ready for the next answer. So as Tommy sat and mindlessly rattled off information, he thought about what he could do to get a little revenge for the impromptu nom session. It was hard to think of something good enough. He needed something that was funny, but inconvenient, and that he could do from the stomach he was stuck in. Something that would piss Tubbo off in a playful way, and nothing that would cause him pain, maybe a bit of discomfort…wait. That’s it, that would work, all he had to do was time it right. The logical and mature side of Tommy’s brain said it was a bad idea: he’d never tried shifting while in a person before. Well, that part of his brain could fuck off for all Tommy cared. He’d never listened to it anyways. ‘Oh, this is gonna be so funny…’

****

A half an hour later, Tubbo finished the test. He was pretty proud of his successful plan to get Tommy to help him cheat, and he couldn’t see himself getting caught. There was no physical evidence of it, and he knew that as annoyed as he knew Tommy was, his best friend wouldn’t rat him out. He even made sure to fill in some answers wrong, it was foolproof! Tubbo leaned back, feeling the minuscule weight inside him, and if he focused hard enough, could even feel Tommy breath. He’d never get tired of how weird that felt, no matter how many times he ate Tommy. It gave him a sort of peace. He felt kind of bad for practically forcing Tommy into sitting in his gut, but it was his fault in the first place! If Tommy hadn’t refused to help him, Tubbo wouldn’t have had to resort to this! And he knew that Tommy would try to reign hell on him for this, but for the moment, he put that thought aside. There wasn’t much revenge Tommy could do from his stomach.

Tubbo soon heard the bell ring. And as soon as he went to stand up, he felt something inside him move. No, not move, grow. Double, triple the size Tommy was when he was swallowed, bigger than anything he’d ever even try to get down his throat, and all within the span of a second. The sudden shock of the change mixed with the uneven and unfamiliar added weight in Tubbos body made him fall backwards with a yelp, landing on his ass and knocking over a chair in the process. He heard some kids laugh at him on their way out the door, and saw other just stare. He could feel his face get hotter from the embarrassment. He not only heard, but felt Tommy laugh at him, the shifters now louder voice making the stomach walls around him vibrate slightly. And, oh god, that was a weird feeling.

Tubbo clutched his gut for dear life as he tried to stand. He grabbed a nearby desk and pulled himself up, doing his best to steady himself. And as soon as he finally managed to get used to the weight, more was added. He felt his stomach stretch around Tommy, more weight being added, making him stumble a bit more before he elbowed himself in the stomach, pulled his hood over his head, and tried to walk as quickly as possible to anywhere private, ignoring Tommy’s laughing fit.

Ten minutes later, Tubbo found a private, hidden area under a set of outdoor steps near his school. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and put it up to his ear just to be sure that if anyone saw him, they wouldn’t think he was a crazy person talking to himself. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Tubbo yelled, making Tommy laugh more. “Oh, you have no idea how much I would’ve paid to see the look on your face!” Tommy wheezed. “What did you do?” Tommy’s laughter died down as he tried to answer the question. “Well, I think that’s pretty obvious big man. I shifted.” “In me?!” “Well, yeah. Consider this payback for scaring me shitless and swallowing me without permission.”

Tubbo face palmed with his free hand and started to pace, feeling Tommy’s much larger form sway in his stomach and stretch it with every turn he made as he walked. “Ok, ok, fine I guess I deserved that. Just, why’d you have to do it in class? People were looking at me like I was an idiot. And how big are you even right now?” “Cause you are stupid,” Tommy answered part of the first question, but pondered the other. “I’d say a foot tall? Maybe a foot and a half?”

“A foot?!” “Yeah, that’s what I said. Listen, maybe.” “Alright, alright, ok, you’ve had your fun, now shrink so I can get you out of there and we can both go about our days.” Tubbo sighed. “No can do, big man.” Tommy replied simply, as if Tubbo were to have expected that answer. He didn’t. “Why the hell not?!” Tubbo yelled again, sitting on a step, to frustrated to keep pacing. “You put me in here in the first place. I’m now your responsibility, and you did this to yourself.” Tubbo felt a somewhat uncomfortable pressure on the front of his stomach and pulled up his shirt, partially horrified and partially amazed to see the front of his belly pushing forwards, slight imprints from under his skin. Tommy’s hands. Before Tubbo could even get a word out, Tommy finished: “Remember, I’m not stuck in here with you. You’re stuck out there with me.” The pressure released, and Tubbos abdomen went back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be. It still looked somewhat bloated for obvious reasons, the outline of Tommy practically indistinguishable from any other stuffed gut to everyone but Tubbo, but it wasn’t anything his hoodie couldn’t hide. Tubbo made it a point to stand up from the step quickly to try and jostle Tommy, but only succeeded in making himself feel a quick pit in his stomach, making him instinctually hunch over as it stretched downwards to accommodate Tommy’s weight. “Whatever. I’m done talking to you.” Tubbo replied sternly before walking off to his next class, which he was now horribly late for. “Sounds good, but I’m not quite done talking to you yet.” So the next 10 minutes was spent with Tubbo walking to class and Tommy rambling about increasingly bizarre topics in an attempt to irritate Tubbo, and with Tubbo unable to respond without being heard since he’d put his phone in his backpack like an idiot and now couldn’t reach it.

***

He walked into his next class 20 minutes late, and as quickly as possible made his way to his empty chair next to Ranboo, who started giving him weird looks a few minutes after he sat down. Tubbo gave him a weird look, and Ranboo looked back utterly confused and somewhat distraught looking. Tubbo shrugged and went back to his work, trying to pick up what the teacher was saying and drown out Tommy’s nonsense. Ranboo didn’t stop giving him weird glances though, and he seemed to be getting more and more anxious. Tubbo was about to ask him what was wrong when surprisingly Ranboo stood up and addressed the teacher. “Excuse me, I have a really bad headache. Like, it’s hard to concentrate and I’m seeing spots and it’s all around just really awful, can I go to the nurse, please?” He was given permission and was told to take someone with him, roughly grabbing Tubbo by the arm and practically dragging him out of the classroom as fast as possible.

At this point, Tubbo was worried. Ranboo was an introverted guy, there’s no way he’d draw that much attention to himself in class unless it was an emergency. He got even more worried when Ranboo dragged him past the nurses office and into a storage closet not dissimilar to the one Tubbo and Tommy had been in earlier. “Boo, are you alri-“ “Out of curiosity, where’s Tommy?” Ranboo interrupted. Tubbo froze. “Ummm…I don’t know, why do you ask?” He replied, trying not to sound as guilty as he was as Tommy, who had been silent since Ranboo had dragged Tubbo out of the classroom, mumbled to himself. Something about Tubbo being an asshole. “Oh, maybe because once you came in late and sat down I started hearing Tommy. Quiet, muffled, even, but I know his voice. That, and literally no one besides Tommy can talk about absolutely nothing for so long.” Tubbo heard Tommy let out an offended scoff and a “fuck you” at Ranboo, who apparently also heard it. “See, there it is again! You can hear him to, I know it. So where is he? I thought he was in your backpack, but you didn’t bring it with you to the ‘nurses office,’” Ranboo said, putting in air quotes, “so I don’t know where else I’d be able to hear him from.” Tubbo was left speechless again. Luckily for him, or actually rather unlucky, depending on how you look at it, Tommy was incapable of being left speechless. “In here, Ranboob!!” Tommy shouted, punching the front of the stomach walls, making Tubbo let out a hiss of pain as he punched himself in the stomach. Ranboo just stared blankly. “He’s…he’s in there?” Ranboo asked, pointing at Tubbo’s midsection. Tubbo sighed and nodded. Thank god he had to explain this to Ranboo and not some rando who didn’t know that he and Tommy did this regularly. “I thought that no one besides you could hear him when you ate him? I’ve never heard him from in there before.” “Probably because I’ve never been this big in a person before.” Tommy shouted in reply. “He’s a fucking foot tall, Ranboo. He’s making me miserable.” Tubbo deadpanned. “Just returning the favor!” Tommy shouted. “Ok, ok, wait, what happened, I’m so confused.” Ranboo questioned.

Tommy and Tubbo filled Ranboo in on what went down, who had his face in his hands by the end of the explanation, his thoughts clear to Tommy and Tubbo: ‘why do I have such idiot friends?’ “…ok,” Ranboo finally spoke out, “If anyone asks, I have a fever and you two, er, well, Tubbo helped me walk home. School ends in, like, 3 hours anyways, so it should be fine.” Tubbo and Tommy both seemed ok with that idea, so they went back to Tommy’s house, since Tommy’s family was at work, where Ranboo made both Tommy and Tubbo apologize for being assholes to each other, eventually convincing Tommy to shrink back down and finally give Tubbo a break. Tubbo didn’t spit him out though, and from the one sided conversation Ranboo was hearing, it seemed like Tommy was fine with that. Soon enough, all three were taking a nap.

***

At 2 o’clock, Phil got home, surprised to find the front door unlocked. He carefully made his way inside the house, looking for anything that could have been stolen or god forbid a thief still in the house. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until he got to Tommy’s room, where he found Ranboo and Tubbo asleep on a backup comforter they kept around for the two when they slept over. Phil only had to wonder briefly where Tommy was, until his mind registered Tubbo’s hand, which was pressed protectively against his stomach. ‘Wait, shouldn’t they still be in school?’ Phil thought. But he took one look at the sleeping teens and decided he would chew them out later, turning of the light and closing the door.

#Slime this is what I told you about #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #g/t #tw vore #sizeshifter!tommy au #cynwrites #cyncerity

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mermaidxatxheart · 3 years

Text

Better Together Chapter Seven

Chapter 7 already? I must really love you guys. I hope you enjoy. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask. My work is not to be reposted under any name or anywhere else. Reblogs and comments, however, are always welcome.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: trauma, probably language, descriptions of violence, torture, blood.

Word Count: 2k

Series Master List

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

The sunlight is bright and you twist your face into Poe’s chest, trying to hide from it. You feel him chuckle under you and it’s only then that you realize he’s awake already.

“Morning.” He says softly.

“What time is it?” You mumble.

“Early, about six.”

“How can you sleep with the sun shining in your eyes like that?”

“I like getting up early.” His fingers trail lightly over your arm and he pulls you tight against his side.

You’re quiet for a long time, but it’s not because he’s lulled you back to sleep. You feel bad for waking him up so late last night. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” You say finally.

“It’s okay. I’d rather you wake me up if you need me than suffer by yourself.” He brushes your hair back behind your ear. “I don’t sleep much anyway.” He admits.

“Because of dreams?” You ask, twisting your head back to look up at him.

“Among other things, yeah.”

You squint and he smiles softly. If you had to pick which is brighter, the sun or Poe’s smile? Poe’s smile wins by a landslide.

“Here, roll over.” He urges, guiding you onto your other side. He turns behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“This isn’t any better.” You huff. His chest shakes behind you as he laughs. You lift his arm and roll back over so you’re facing him. His soft brown eyes are watching you, amusement sparkling in them as you shift.

“Now you’re facing the window again.” He points out. So, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and take a big, satisfying breath. “G-good now?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.” You whisper, eyes already drooping shut again.

***

“I can talk to Leia, you don’t have to do the report.” Poe says.

“I told her I would. She said I could take time but I was petty and angry at the time and said I would have it for her by today.” You tell him, pushing yourself up from the bed.

“So that means you can still take your time.” He says, catching your wrist gently. “Stay.” He whispers and you turn back to him. “Please?”

“Come with me. You can get some food. I know you need caf. I kept you from doing your usual stuff all morning.” You say, kneeling on the bed. This feels dangerous. It feels like flirting, like crossing a line. But you meant it when you said that Poe is the easiest person to be around.

“You should get food, too.” He says, pushing himself up closer to you. One little inch and you’d be almost touching. You could kiss him. You could feel his lips on yours, tell him how much you…

Your eyes close and he pulls back. You should have expected it. But that doesn’t stop you from feeling like the floor is falling out from under you. Suddenly, you don’t want him to go with you. You straighten up, feeling dizzy and unbalanced. You feel numb, you can’t feel your pulse, can’t hear the way you’re breathing too quickly.

“I just remembered. It’s been a while since I’ve showered. I should do that first.” You mutter, already turning for the door.

“Y/N,” he calls, but the door is already shutting behind you and you squeeze your eyes shut. You deserved that. Why would you think he would want to kiss you again?

Poe can only be your friend. Nothing more. He doesn’t want anything more from you. And honestly, count yourself lucky that he even wants that much.

You hurry off to your room, locking the door behind you. You just want to be alone. That’s what’s best for everyone. Painfully, you peel off your clothes, wincing as every move causes you pain.

You shower quickly, blindly, taking no more time than is absolutely necessary. It would be so easy to just let yourself cry, pretend it’s the water dripping down your face instead of salty tears, but you can’t go there. You can’t let yourself feel sorry anymore. You made this mess, ruined a perfectly good friendship, cheated on your boyfriend and now you have to deal with the consequences of that. You’re in your comfiest clothes, settled at your desk to start your report. You wish you had thought to ask how much detail Poe had put in his. He clearly exaggerated about your part in what happened.

Your hands hover over the keyboard, waiting for your brain to tell them what to type. The longer you wait, the more they start to shake. You yank them back against your chest, squeezing them painfully to get them to stop. You welcome the pain, it somehow serves as your penance for what you’ve done.

Your door tries to open and there’s a muffled curse outside, startling you. You quickly unlock it and outside is Bryce. He holds out a caf silently and your eyes widen and you realize you promised him you’d be in the med bay after his shift.

“How was it?” You ask, taking the cup and backing up to let him in.

“Boring as always. I hate post work. Nothing ever happens.” He grumbles, following you and flopping on your bed. “What happened?” He asks, balling up your pillow and stuffing it under his chest to rest on.

“Um,” you clear your throat, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t start a fight. I went to sleep with the guy you hate would definitely start a fight. “I couldn’t sleep. Kept waking up. Then I just said screw it. Been trying to work on this stupid report of what happened.” You gesture and he nods, understanding. At least, understanding your words. You know he doesn’t understand what you’re feeling. Nothing bad has ever happened to Bryce.

“What did happen?” He asks, tilting his head to look at you.

The blood drains out of your face and your hands start to shake. Your stomach falls to your feet and your knees get weak. “I-I don’t… I don’t really wanna talk about it.” You mutter, sitting back down before you fall down. You take a sip of the caf and try not to blanch. He never makes it how you like it and every time you forget.

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk about it. People are gonna wanna know.” He says, his voice gentle like he’s trying to be kind. But it feels like a punch to the gut. Why would people need to know what happened to you? Before you can protest, there’s a knock on your door. Bryce glares at it before looking at you. “Expecting someone?” He asks pointedly.

“No. I wasn’t even expecting you.” You stand up and press the release, even more surprised to see Snap on the other side.

He looks nervous as shit, holding out a bag of food from the commissary, and a caf. He has never ever brought you food before. “P…” he cuts off and glances down the hall. “Pando in the lab wanted me to remind you that he needs your help analyzing those plants you brought back.” He says, rolling his eyes at the name.

You frown in confusion, taking the bag. “Pando?” You repeat.

He narrows his eyes and slides them to the right, back down the hallway where he looked the first time. “Yeah. Pando. That’s what he told me. He needs your help.”

The name is entirely unfamiliar. As far as you know, it’s not even a name at all. “Alright… well, if you see… Pando, then let him know I’ll be there in a while. I have something to finish.” You say and he nods. Abruptly he turns and walks down the hall to your right and you blink. Maybe Snap is losing it? Too many missions? Flying too close to the sun? Maybe his ox-mask isn’t operating at full capacity. You poke your head out to watch him, wondering if he’s okay, and a figure darts from view before you can catch a good glimpse.

“That guy.” Bryce shakes his head.

“He’s a good dude. Just under a lot of pressure.”

“Who’s Pando?” He asks, taking the bag of food from you and rolling over onto his back.

You have a feeling you know who Snap was talking about, but why would he lie? Do you keep up the lie? Something in your gut tells you that telling the truth would be a bad idea. “Just one of the guys from the science division.” You shrug.

Bryce digs into your food and you frown. “I thought I knew all the freaks you work with.” He tilts his head, biting into a yacba fruit.

“They’re not freaks.” You snatch your food back. “And you don’t know everything about me. I have work to do.” You say and he rolls his eyes.

“So? Do it. I’m not stopping you.” He sighs, stretching out and laying back.

You want to hit him with something, that rage burning through your veins again. To save your holopad, you grab it, the bag of food, and the caf from Snap and march out of your room. You’ll find somewhere to eat in peace and then go to the lab and find this Pando.

There’s an observation tower on the outskirts of the compound that isn’t used anymore. You climb to the top, leaning against the stone post overlooking the woods. Finally, peace and quiet.

While you eat, you try to get as much of the report done as you can. You decide to be vague on the method of interrogation, instead focusing on what they wanted to know.

The lack of horrific details in your report doesn’t stop you from remembering them.

Hours. He has been asking you questions for hours. For every one unanswered, he slices at your best friend, nicking his skin all over. His face, his hands, his arms, his chest, his legs. There isn’t a body part left unscathed.

For his credit, he never wavers, never gives any sign of weakness, never cries out. He just clenches his jaw, and squeezes his eyes shut.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop crying. You’ll keep your promise, but seeing your best friend in so much pain hurts more than anything you’ve ever experienced.

In the back of your mind, you wonder how he knows about being tortured. As far as you know, he’s never been captured. He’s an excellent soldier, always on guard, always alert. He knows his shit, he’s good at this.

Until he goes on a solo mission with you.

And then you kiss him. And he drops his guard. Now he’s being hurt.

The trooper grunts in dissatisfaction and sets his blade down. “Seems like you rebel scum like pain.” He says, starting to take off his gauntlets and gloves.

Your stomach tightens, nerves spiking as you watch his movements warily. Is he going to give Poe a break, and turn on you?

“Nothing’s as painful as living in the world of the First Order.” Poe replies calmly.

Before you can see it coming, the trooper throws his fist, slamming it into Poe’s solar plexus. Poe doubles over as much as he can, coughing hard and gasping for air. You press your lips together to keep from crying out as your tears spill over. The trooper rains down blow after blow all over his body. His lip splits against his teeth, blood dripping down his chin. Around his eye, his cheekbone, along his jaw; you can hear his ribs shifting, maybe cracking.

Your heart breaks for him. You want to do something to help him, but you’re useless against your restraints.

“Ready to give up your precious General?” The trooper sneers, grabbing Poe’s thick hair and pulling up on it to see his face.

“Who?”

The trooper drops his head unceremoniously and turns to you for the first time. “You can stop his pain.” He taunts. “Just give us the location of your base.”

You straighten yourself as much as you can in defiance. “What base?” You ask coldly.

He grumbles and grabs his gloves, stalking from the room. Poe lets his head sag, breathing hard. You don’t dare speak. Blood drips from his mouth slowly, pooling on the floor.

You twist your face away so you don’t have to see your handiwork, crying silently. You can only hope that for the next session, they turn their attention to you instead of Poe.

He deserves so much better.

Chapter 8

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staranon95 · 3 years

Text

DinCobb Week Day 5: Sharing Cultures (SFW)

for @dincobbweek with a wedding!!

@astrangebird drew some fantastic art and i decided to write a piece about it. that’s that. that’s all of it.

AO3 Link

Wait For Me Here

“We should get married,” Din idly said one day when they were in bed, side by side to wait out the worst of the day’s heat.”

“Oh yeah?” Cobb asks. He’s on his stomach, pillowed on his arms. Din knows this without even having to look because he knows Cobb likes sleeping on his front, usually one leg tucked up a bit, sometimes one arm stretched out for Din as if he’s reaching for him in sleep.

“Think about it. We live together.”

“Mm.”

“We cook together.”

“Mmhm.”

“We fight together.”

“Mm.”

“And we have a child together.”

Cobb snorts. “Sharing custody of your child with a Jedi might be putting it a bit generous.”

“There are also the school kids.”

“’cause half the time I have to tell them not to get into shit they shouldn’t.”

“Still.”

“Still,” Cobb says and breathes in. Then he opens his eyes and Din turns on his side to face him. “Marriage, huh?”

“Mmhm. Unless if . . .”

“Unless?”

“I don’t know what marriage customs are like on Tatooine, and the ones I’ve been invited to were Tusken in nature.”

“Well, shoot, partner, I reckon we go just as hard with our wedding flair as them Tuskens do.”

“Is that so?”

Cobb nods tiredly against his arms and closes his eyes. “Two-day affair most of the time. Eat and drink late into the night, sleep a few hours, and then get up in the morning for the breakfast feast. Everyone comes out with everything. Real big community thing as well.”

“I, I might like to see that.”

“What about you Mandalorians though?” Cobb then shifts suddenly, rising up long enough to lie himself across Din’s chest and hold him close with a leg in between Din’s. “I know you’ve . . . I know it’s not easy for you.”

Din sighs. The fallout from the survivors of his clan is still fresh. At least they didn’t strip him of his armour, but he doesn’t think they see him as Mandalorian anymore. He saw to their relocation on Tatooine with Boba Fett’s help, and finally they can live without the fear of being seen or being caught. But they will not accept Din as one of their own, not anymore, not after he gave up the Darksaber, allowed his face to be seen, and nearly broke every Creed he had taken on as a young adult.

“Well, the weddings were mostly, they were short,” Din admits. “Usually it requires an exchange, especially if one member were coming from a different clan.”

“An exchange of what?”

“Equipment. Weapons or armour. I once saw someone approach the Armourer to ask her how to show them to make a knife for their betrothed. It’s meant to be personal to a degree. Either you got this weapon in battle or you’re offering up a piece of yourself, your beskar’gam.”

Cobb hums. “Sounds very official.”

“Marriage is a pact. You raise warriors. You grow the clan. You protect the clan.”

“Mm. I can work with that.”

Din smiles. “You’re a very agreeable partner.”

“I try.”

…

What starts out as a simple comment quickly turns into nearly a town wide event. Neither Din nor Cobb know how the secret got out. They were thinking, originally, a small affair with their closest associates. Boba is even willing to host at his palace, and Din is fine with that. But then word gets out, as it always does, that the Marshal and the Mandalorian are planning to get married, and now here they are, eating breakfast at Werlo’s cantina, getting approached by one of the mothers in town who’s there after dropping her kids off at the school, no doubt, casually talking like Din and Cobb know what’s going on.

“Marshal! Have you decided on a date yet?”

Cobb blinks and looks to Din before looking at the woman. “Excuse me?”

“For the wedding! Gaia said you and the Mandalorian were planning to marry.”

Din chokes on his caf.

“Um, well.” Cobb reaches out to pat Din’s hand. “We were planning a small ceremony.”

“Nonsense! I know you’re both busy men. We can handle all the logistics for you. All you and your fiancé need to do is show up to the day!”

“Well, Lee, thank you for the offer,” Cobb says, and Din can see he’s trying to be polite about it, but Din knows Cobb has a hard time turning down any of the favours the townspeople show him.

“It’s my pleasure, Marshal. It’s been some time since we’ve had cause to celebrate! We’ll be in touch!”

“Yeah, Lee. See you.”

Once she’s gone, Cobb looks to Din, and Din tries to smother his smile behind his hand.

“Hey, this is your town too,” Cobb says.

“I know. I guess a small ceremony is no longer in the works.”

“They were going to find out one way or another.”

…

From how Cobb explained it, Din thought he had a good idea of what entailed a Tatooine wedding from the settler-slave population. Good food, good drinks, good company.

“Have you thought about a house yet?”

Din looks to Jo as he’s elbow deep in a speeder. “What?”

“You know,” she says like Din should know. “A house.”

“Why would I—”

“Oh. You don’t know. Right.” She pops her lips. “It’s a Tatooine thing. ‘specially for freed slaves and poor settlers. It’s a thing of pride to be able to provide a place like a home. I know my dad worked hard to get an apartment for me and my ma while he also worked to get our manumission. Tiny one bedroom place ‘til I moved out here. But he was very proud of that place when he had it. Point is—what are you bringing to the table, Din?”

Din blinks and reaches for a towel to wipe sweat from his brow. “I hadn’t thought of anything.”

“Let me give you the one up ‘cause I know the Marshal won’t be asking’ for it himself.” She slides down from her perch on a workbench to lean over the speeder. “Man needs himself a proper house. And I’m talking a proper house. Most of the buildings here are temporary. They’re not built for long term which is why they require so much maintenance. Houses underground are the way to be. They take a while, sure, but when you’ve got a village.”

He frowns. “I thought that was for raising children.”

“Villages are for everything here, Din. If you want to give him something good, really show you love him, come find me when you’ve got free time. I’m pretty sure I can help you out with that issue.”

She then leaves and Din tries to return to his work at hand, but he’s stuck on the thought of a house. Of building a house for him and Cobb and for Grogu when he and his Jedi visit. Where they can host friends and not feel too crammed in Cobb’s home as it is. Where they can actually bring their lives and interests together in one shared space. A shared unit.

Cobb enters the garage looking like he’s dressed up to head into town, and Din stands to greet him. “Hey, darlin’!” He kisses Din on the cheek. Din wrinkles his nose.

“I’m dirty.”

“We’ve been worse to each other. Now. I’m headin’ into town for a bit. Told Jo to hold down the fort and you’re here for back up.”

Din nods. “You don’t want me coming with you?”

“Baby, I know you don’t like to travel to Mos Eisley. Take it easy. I’ll be back shortly after dinner.”

“Okay.”

He helps Cobb push out his speeder onto the main street of Mos Pelgo and kisses him once more before Cobb pulls his scarf up over his mouth and nose and pulls his goggles down over his eyes and offers Din a two fingered salute and then he’s off.

Din trudges down the street towards where Jo is leaning against the wall of the cantina. “So. A house.”

She nods. “Come on. Let’s talk logistics.”

…

In what they originally wanted to be a quick and short wedding turns into a several month-long affair as Mos Pelgo comes out in spades to support their Marshal and Mandalorian in tying the knot. They plan for food and for drinks. They send out invites to the local Tuskens, who also seem enthused that Din is getting married. They think it a good match, and well, at least Din has their approval.

The building of the Marshal’s new house is quietly under wraps. All Cobb knows is that a new house is being built, but he thinks it for one of the families in town, even comes by to watch Din at work in the staked-out pit, helping to dig down and remove sand until they come to the more compacted ground that they can put stabilizers against and hold in place before they’re pouring the plaster and concrete for the walls.

Whenever Din has a spare moment, he plans with Jo for the interior. A nice open kitchen. A large room for the both of them with an en-suite bathroom. There is not only one guest room but two. One that will largely be Grogu’s when he’s here to stay, and also one for the Jedi if he plans on staying the night. Sometimes he does.

Then there’s the living room, circular in design that could hold a dozen people comfortably, and knowing Cobb, he’ll like the opportunity to entertain more. Din thinks it’s perfect, and he finds as he puts the work into making a home, he realizes he’s looking forward to it not just for Cobb’s promised happiness, but also his own. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually had a proper home like this. Not since Aq Vetina anyway.

“You’re in a good mood,” Cobb says that night when they’re finishing the dishes after dinner.

Din shrugs. “Just happy I guess.”

“Good.” Cobb kisses him quickly on the cheek. “You deserve to be.”

…

One of the next steps for the wedding is the clothes themselves. For Cobb it means he’s getting a robe made for himself. White, flowing fabric with a fancy gold trim around the hems. It’s a standard piece of Tatooine marriages, and Din feels himself sort of bereft that he doesn’t have something similar.

So he plans a visit to Boba’s because they have a shared lineage, and Din can’t exactly walk up to where his old tribe is and ask, “Can any of you help me dress for my wedding? Even though you see me as dar’manda and probably wouldn’t accept my marriage to an outsider?”

Best not to think of it.

He rides with Cobb to the palace, but Cobb isn’t planning on staying.

“I got business in town,” he says. “Might be a while. You okay staying here tonight?”

“Of course.”

“’kay. Kiss.”

He tilts up for Din to lean down and kiss him before waving him off. Then Din heads towards the palace and is let in by the guards.

It’s one of Boba’s work days, meaning he’s not seeing court, which means he’s pouring drinks for him, Fennec, and Din to enjoy. He always serves the strong stuff, which makes Din’s throat burn, but he’s getting used to it.

“So how is it anyway?” Boba asks, reclined on one of the sofa’s where Fennec can press her feet against his thigh.

“Going well,” Din says, keeping his eyes on the dark liquor in his glass. “The house is coming along.”

“You still haven’t told him yet?” Fennec asks.

Din shakes his head. “I want to keep it a surprise for him.”

“Sounds like you got it bad.”

“And you don’t?”

Fennec chuckles and Boba smiles amusedly.

“Fennec’s not exactly my queen here,” Boba says.

“That’s right. I’m an empress.”

“Still. A house sounds like a good idea. Putting down roots. Settling in.”

“It’s about time,” Din says, taking a sip. He smacks his lips. “But it’s getting close to the day and . . . the seamstress offered to tailor me something, but I was hoping for something more—”

“Familiar?” Boba offers. Din nods.

“I think you can help with that,” Fennec says. “Despite what he might say, Boba’s become a real fashion snob.”

“It’s not fashion when you have to wear it to impress people who won’t take you seriously otherwise. The battle armour doesn’t always work.”

“Sure,” she says. “We’ll go with that.”

“I’ll see what I got.”

They eventually move to Boba and Fennec’s shared private quarters where Din can examine the clothing in front of a mirror.

“If you’re looking for something more Mandalorian,” Boba says from within his closet. “I’d suggest the lavalava. Especially if you’re aiming for tradition.”

“Bring out the blue one if you have it,” Fennec says.

Boba returns holding what Din first sees as a skirt, but recognizes the design of it when he was first living in the Fighting Corps’ barracks as a child. It’s meant to be a more formal piece of Mandalorian wear for more casual settings if one didn’t want to dress up in full battle armour. It’s meant to just sit on the hips.

Boba gets him to try it on right there. “You’d probably just wear a light pair of leggings underneath,” he says.

“Oh, and then,” Fennec says, rising to her feet and entering the closet. She returns with a lighter blue cloak and a red sash. “Tie it off with this sash here.” She wraps it around his waist. “And then the cloak like this.” She lets it sit on one shoulder and brings the two ends together to pin at his other shoulder. “You know, I might have a broach that could fit this. Din, hold this for me. I’ll be right back.”

He does as he’s told and looks at himself in the mirror.

“Not bad,” Boba says. “Colour suits you.”

Din turns a bit to admire himself in the mirror. He looks at Boba in the reflection and asks, with his stomach fluttering, “Have you spoken to the clan?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Last week I think.”

Din hums.

“They’ve settled in just fine. Getting along with the Tuskens just fine, but seems like they got more in common than they do the settlers.”

Din nods. “I had a feeling they would.”

“Have you . . .”

“Not since they relocated.”

Boba hums.

“Here we go,” Fennec says, coming back into the room with a silver brooch—in the shape of a Mythosaur skull.

“I didn’t know you had that, cyar,” Boba says.

“It was a gift from a long time ago. Guy who gave it to me certainly wasn’t Mandalorian, but I think it’s best to return it to someone it should actually belong to.” She fixes the brooch to the cloak and then turns Din to face the mirror directly. “There. Now you look ready to get married.”

Din runs his fingers through his hair. He might want to get it cut before the wedding, but he knows Cobb likes it when it’s longer and it holds its waves more. He should at least shave. The uneven scruff on his jaw isn’t all that appealing to himself.

“Stars, it’s going to be a mad house on the day of,” Boba says. “Seems like we’ll have to bring the good stuff, Fennec.”

“You’re telling me.”

…

In the days leading up to the wedding, Din sees to the final touches of the house, ensuring the furniture is in place with room for more when they make the final move. He plans on surprising Cobb that day.

They have a good celebration the night before at the cantina, drinks on the house, and then, in Tatooine fashion, the couple are separated the night before. Din is headed off by Boba and Fennec to Din’s new house, and Cobb is dragged away by his deputy Jo to his house.

“Rest up, vod,” Boba says. “You got a long day ahead of you.”

The next morning, Fennec helps him get ready for the day, making sure his hair is just right, and the cloak is sitting on his shoulders just so. Boba is there in his armour, and Din feels a sour note in his stomach that he’s not wearing any of his. He wouldn’t feel right after his expulsion from the clan.

“You still want the Mandalorian vows?” Boba asks.

Din nods. “If you can.”

“I’d be honored, vod.”

And then he’s led out with his friends on either side of him down the main street with everyone and then some—Tuskens, out of town friends, some of Boba’s closer associates—have come out in full force down the street as it’s been fully decorated for the day.

The ceremony itself is held at one end of the town where an arch of bone from bantha horns has been carved as a gift from the Tuskens. And that’s when Din sees him—Cobb, dressed in white with gold trim and with the hood up over his head, a red sash at his waist as if to match Din’s without even knowing. His back remains turned as Din walks up the aisle towards the arch and then he’s standing next to Cobb, shoulder to shoulder, with Cobb’s lifelong friend and impromptu wedding officiator Issa-Or standing before them. Din keeps his eyes forward for now, waiting for the right moment to face his soon-to-be husband head on.

“Now, I know ya’ll have come out and taken time off of your busy schedules,” Issa-Or says. “And we don’t have much time to dilly-dally like they did in the nicer districts in Mos Eisley and the rest. Time wasn’t a luxury for people like us, so we had to make do. Which is why we’re here to see that Cobb Vanth, Marshal here in Mos Pelgo, spends the rest of his days married to none other than a Mandalorian! Someone he chose to let into his life, his home, and share the rest of his time in this mortal coil with.”

Din feels himself blushing, feels a smile breaking out over his face.

“Cobb?”

He sees Cobb lift his head.

“Why don’t you take a look at your man?”

He feels Cobb reach for his hand and Din gently turns with a little prodding. And as he turns, he sees Cobb pushing back his hood, and Din feels as if he could cry at the sight of him.

He sees Cobb’s lower lip tremble before he smiles, as bright as Tatooine’s suns themselves. “Din.” Cobb lifts Din’s hand and holds it between both of his own. Then Cobb laughs despite himself. “First time I’ve been without words in a while.”

There are a few laughs among the crowd.

“Darling, my love. First day I laid eyes on you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. And I am a richer man for having you. Even if I don’t got much but my name and my reputation and the good will of the people before us, I hope to give you everything you could ever need.” Then he raises Din’s hand and kisses the back of it tenderly.

“At this point, we’d say a done deal and have a feast,” Issa-Or says. “But as it is, Din is a Mandalorian, and we want to respect that part of him, so he comes with his own vows.”

She steps aside to let Boba come up.

“If you’ll both repeat after me,” he says. “We are one together.”

“Mhi solus tome,” Din says, quietly, only enough for Cobb and Boba to really hear.

He watches Cobb smiles, the pink curl of his tongue before he’s repeating in Basic. “We are one together.

“We are one when parted.”

“Mhi solus dhar’tome.”

“We are one when parted.”

“We share all.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“We share all.”

“We shall raise warriors.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“We shall raise warriors.”

“Oya, vod,” Boba mutters.

And Din finds himself feeling bashful, and that’s when Cobb pulls him closer by his hands.

“Now I consider that we’re well and truly hitched now,” he says, and Din rushes in to cup his face and kiss his riduur in front of an adoring and loving crowd.

…

The rest of the day is pretty much a blur of being at Cobb’s side, being dragged away from Cobb, of Cobb being dragged away from him. Dance until his feet ache and he’s dizzy. More food than he’s used to. More drinks than he can tolerate, and falling asleep in a tent when he’s imbued too much with a pink cheeked Cobb next to him.

A few hours of sleep later and they’re back at it again for a more restful filled breakfast and relaxed conversation before finally, the festivities are over and people begin to head back to their business.

“Do you want to go home?” Din asks.

Cobb stretches and yawns, looking exhausted but content with his station in life. “You have read my mind.”

They walk down the street together, their clothes in a state of disarray before Din is leading him elsewhere.

“Babe, where . . .” Then it dawns on him and Din can’t help but smile. “No,” he says.

Din nods. “Come on. Let me show you to our home.”

Cobb is speechless when they enter the new partially buried house. He’s taken by how large it is, how high the ceilings are now, and how cool and inviting it is. Then he rushes forward to kiss Din and hold him close. “Oh, you are full of surprises.”

“Jo told me it’s a custom.”

“Well, not always a custom, but we pride ourselves on being able to provide.”

“Then let me provide for you.”

They kiss again, deeper this time until Cobb pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “Mm. As much as I’d like to christen this place, I’m bushwhacked.” Then he’s pulling Din into the bedroom where they collapse onto the bed as husbands, as riduurs.

…

“Hey, Din. You awake?”

Din stretches out on the bed and opens weary eyes to find Cobb kneeling on the ground next to the bed.

“What time’s it?” he asks.

“Afternoon-ish. Just went out to get some things from the old place, and, um, I guess now is as good a time as any to give this to you.” He sets a bundle of cloth knotted off with string on the bed before Din, and Din rises up on one elbow to look at it.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Din says, tugging at the strings.

“Yeah, well.” Cobb rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his. “I felt like I had to for this one.”

In the cloth is an ornate dagger with its own leather sheath. When Din pulls the blade, he’s mesmerized with how the blade shimmers. A single piece that looks like it’s been carved from onyx.

“Cobb, I—” Then he sees the mark in the hilt of it.

The mark of his tribe. The Mythosaur skull. On the other side is the mark of the mudhorn.

He looks up to Cobb. “Where did you get this?”

“Well, I, I went to your clan.”

Din breathes out and sits up in full with the dagger in his lap. Cobb comes to sit on the edge of the bed.

“When you told me about your customs, and seeing your armour just sitting in our wardrobe for months, I wanted, I wanted to confront your clan. I know things are rocky between you and them, but I went in there to just speak with them at first. Then next thing I know, I’m sitting on the ground drinking tea with your matriarch.”

Din closes his eyes for a moment.

“And I don’t tell her everything, I don’t ream her out or nothing. I know you hold her in high regard. But I told her I was intending on marrying you and I wanted to do it right by you. No one else. So, she said she’d show me how to make something. And each time I visited, she’d ask about you and I’d tell her that, oh, you were a guest speaker in the school today, or you had fixed the power generators. And she’d tell me my smithy skills were shit and tell me to begin again.”

Din laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“Then she asked me why I wanted to marry you. And I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my days making you happy, giving you everything you could ever need. And she said, he deserves it.”

He lifts his head to look at Cobb. “She said that?”

Cobb nods. “I think she misses you. She won’t say it, but she does. I think it’s just taking some time for her and some of the others to come around to this new world order of theirs. But next time I go, I want you to come with me.”

Din nods. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kisses Cobb several times and holds him close with the knife on the bed spread next to him.

They don’t plan the trip out to Din’s clan for some weeks yet. They have a house to settle into after all. But then one day, they’re setting out on Cobb’s speeder. This time Din is wearing his armour with the knife at his hip. And this time they are facing Din’s clan together as one.

#dincobb #din djarin #cobb vanth #mandalorian #dincobbweek #dincobbweek2021 #dincobb week #star speaks #star writes

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