#Flight into Hull

[metacrisisdoctor]

DOCTOR WHO: FLIGHT INTO HULL (2018)

[darklinaforever]

tysm for defending my homeboy tentoo ily for this! he is a VALID regeneration of the Doctor and I am fully convinced that he is living his best life in Pete's World flying around in his TARDIS with my girl Rose thank you for coming to my ted talk

Tentoo is definitely living his best life with Rose in Pete's World :

[owlsinathens]

Seasmoke really said, "You there! You look close enough to my bff, get up there before they send more unqualified personnel!"

[go-to-the-mirror]

I am in agony.

[claudiatherelentless]

Ok but I SWEAR TO GOD theres a brief clip of a Black Woman with Dark Hair watching a Dragon fly past her in the teaser and I'm screaming is that Nettles or Marilda of Hull? WHO ARE YOU?

*edit*

BAM! NAME THAT QUEEN!

[apas-95]

Did you know that NASA engineers considered the failure rate of some critical shuttle parts to be about 1 in 100 (significantly greater than what NASA upper-management considered the failure rate to be, and what was considered at all acceptable by the certification process)?

Do you know that NASA engineers currently have no idea how many rocket launches the next mission in the Artemis program (in 2 years!) is meant to involve, because the mission plan relies on SpaceX being contracted to deliver a supply of cryogenic fuel to the crewed Orion (™ Lockheed-Martin) capsule in orbit - a procedure that 1: has never been attempted before on any spacecraft, let alone the Orion™ capsule, not even in uncrewed technology demonstration flights; and 2: would require an as-of-yet unknown number of SpaceX 'Starship' launches, because said vehicle does not actually exist at time of writing?

Did you know they're planning on using this 'starship' as the crewed lander? A design for a lunar ascent vehicle, that is, that does not use hypergolic fuel, that relies on a swing-out crane as the only entry and egress point? During the original moon landings, the LEM had so many redundant methods to make sure it got astronauts off the surface of the moon, that in the most absurd, extreme case, where every single mechanism fails, there's a procedure trained into the astronauts to climb around the outside of the capsule, take a pair of bolt-cutters from the equipment box, physically cut the couplings holding the capsule to the lander stage, and take off to get home. Artemis' proposed lander, on the other hand, is planned to be a vehicle whose design didn't even include heatshields until it was realised it would obviously need heatshields, which are ceramic tiles bolted after-the-fact directly through the steel hull, because SpaceX had decided to mass-produce the original-design hull sections all at once for all the 'starships' first, before doing any integrated testing.

We're seeing the exact attitude that led to the shuttle disasters not being prevented now expressing itself in (and even through) the Artemis program, a project pushed harder and faster through the gates than it should be, by a government (and NASA administration thereby) desperate to advance the eponymous Artemis Accords (that goes unsigned by China, Russia, and much of the world) and reneg on all previous space charters that onsidered ownership, commercial exploitation, and military usage of space forbidden. Something bad is going to happen, and it's going to happen for the sake of SpaceX and the military-industrial complex at large.

[mulderscully]

i need everyone to know that in the tentoo big finish audios it's canon that he doesn't like pickles (gherkins)

this picture is so bisexual of them. YES he's her little wife

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 15th

Day 15: Hair Pulling // Glory Hole // Teasing

Mando x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Glory hole, anonymous pleasure, idiots, blow jobs, vaginal fingering, Mando being impatient, deep throating, cum swallowing

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Needing to be alone in that ship is a luxury neither one of you have. The sleeping shifts in the little bunk aren’t working. He can’t even take his helmet off without inhaling the scent of whatever soap or perfume you use. Filling his nostrils and making his cock ache in the darkness. He can’t even take himself in hand to relieve the problem. Too wary of you hearing his grunts and groans as he fucks his hand, you seem to hear every sound he makes as it echoes through the metal hull of the Razor Crest. 

Finally, he’s ready to return to Nevarro. To dump off the bounties that you’ve collected and gather more pucks. His rifle is left behind this time, not needed for where he will go after his meeting with Karga and he doesn’t want to have to store it somewhere else. The little storefront he will visit doesn’t allow rifles, just regular blasters. 

Running through the sandy alleys of Nevarro, you tread a familiar path. One that you slip off the ship and escape to every time you are here. Mando never asks any questions, never tells you where he goes for hours at a time. Both of you have a don’t ask, don’t tell policy about your time spent on this planet and you are happy for that. 

You had found this place by accident. Looking for a store that sold display arrays that you could modify to fit the Crest, you had walked into The Hole. Karga had mentioned it once, chuckling and telling Mando about the wondrous treasures that could be found within its hallowed walls. The wall of metal beside you had practically shoved you from the booth and told you that you were leaving, your questions about what kind of place it was left unanswered. 

You had assumed it was a junk store. A place where people deposit their junk that is treasures to someone else. You had gone looking for it when you were bored and discovered why the Bounty Hunter’s Guild leader chuckle was so dirty when he mentioned it. It was a Glory Hole. 

You love going. The woman’s side is alright, but after one experience with a Twi’lek’s fangs, you had decided to stick with giving rather than receiving. So you come here and sit behind the wall to suck a stranger’s cock, fingering yourself while you do it. 

The Sullustan that runs this place doesn’t mind it at all. He doesn’t pay you and he gets to have a paying customer pleased. For him, it’s a boon when you walk in the door and he makes sure that he always assigns you the first customer to come when you are in your little booth. 

Mando stalks down the street, his head turned straight as he walks with a purpose. He will just slip inside The Hole and lay down a few credits. Get some relief that is sorely needed to make another trip with you on his ship. The payment from Karga was generous, but half belongs to you. The pucks on his belt will be dealt with soon enough, after he’s lightened his load in the anonymity of the glory hole and finds you again. 

He doesn’t know who is on the other side, but he always imagines you. Takes fragments of expressions you’ve given him over the months together as he closes his eyes behind his helmet and lets the mouth around him suck him off. Already hard beneath the flight suit, he steps inside the door and finds the proprietor to give him the required credits. 

Waiting never takes long. You’re already slick with arousal, fingers rolling over your clit teasingly and lightly dipping inside your cunt as you kneel in front of the hole. The cushion for your knees is a lovely little boon to your aching bones from kneeling on the metal grate floor of the Crest when you are working behind some mech panel. You hear shuffling, cunt clenching in anticipation for the cock that will be fed through the hole and presented to your hungry mouth. 

The booth is private. Something that Mando appreciates, even if he doesn’t do more than pull his cock out of his flight suit. He can relax, enjoy the pleasure without worrying about an attack from behind. Shuffling inside and closing the door behind him, he works on pulling his stiff length out with a quiet groan. 

You freeze. Aware of that groan, that sound. You know who makes it and yet you can’t fucking believe it. Mando couldn’t have come here. There is no way he would do this. You break your own rule and crouch down, peeking through the hole and choke when the familiar flash of orange tipped gloves can be seen. 

Pulling back, you don’t know what to do. You should say something, stop him. You know that he doesn’t want you, he’s never made any move on you. Never given you any clue that he finds you to be anything more than adequate help and an annoyance. 

Before you can find your voice, the thick heft of his cock slides through the hole and into sight. It’s fucking gorgeous. Making your mouth water at the girth, the length. He’s more than a mouthful and you want to taste him. You swallow, still unsure of what to do. 

Mando looks down, his cock is in the hole and yet there isn't a mouth around him. Pulling his hips back slightly and pushing forward again, wondering if the worker isn’t paying attention. He’s already aching, the head of his cock nearly purple with repressed need and his voice is slightly impatient. “Suck it.” 

You shiver, the growl coming from the other side of the wall shoots straight to your core and you can imagine that impassive visor looking down on you mercilessly. This is your fucking dream come true and he doesn’t even know it’s you. 

The small drop of liquid built on the tip calls to you and leaning forward, you lap at the tip, eliciting a dark, deep groan from Mando on the other side. Tasting his very essence and enjoying the salty drip on your taste buds before you start to lick down the length of him. 

His head tips back, visor pointed up at the ceiling as the wet heat drags up and down his cock. He needs this. Perhaps needing a pussy more, he will take this blow job and imagine you on your knees in front of him. Taking his cock down your throat and looking up at him with those pretty big eyes of yours. “Fuck.” He hisses. 

Your cunt quivers, fingers slipping in the slick that is now pouring out of your needy hole and you take the head of his cock into your mouth right as you bury your fingers down to the knuckles in your pussy. 

His fist curls tight, resting against the wall as he feels the mouth take him deeper. Eyes rolling back in his head as he groans again. Letting the pleasure of this wet heat surround him. “Take it all.” He growls. 

Fuck. You whimper around his cock because the man will be the death of you. He gives dirty talk a first class name through that modulator. Doing as he ordered immediately and taking him deeper into your mouth, you hum around him and push your fingers in and out of your soaked cunt. 

He gets lost in the sensation. The soft sucking and the hollowed cheeks when the pull on his shaft is a bit stronger. The fluttering of the tongue around him and driving him crazy when that mouth pulls back and that tongue presses against the slit. Whoever it is has some talent and he still imagines that it’s you pleasuring him. 

You put everything you hand into this blow job. Your hand that isn’t buried in your pants is wrapped around the base of his cock, wanting to keep as much of him on this side of the wall and give him as much pleasure as you can. The fact that your fingers barely fit around the base makes you moan around him, trying to stuff a third finger inside your aching cunt while you bob your head. 

“That’s it.” He growls, his body tensing under the pressure of that mouth on the other side of the hole. “I’m gonna cum, cyar'ika.” He hisses. “And you’re gonna drink every drop.” 

You whine, wanting that more than anything as you plunge your fingers in and out, rolling your hips down onto your hand to ride it while you suck his cock. You want every drop, you want to drink him down and make him limp with pleasure. 

Your own pleasure is so closely linked with this moment that you feel your body starting to prime to cum when his cock starts to pulse. 

It takes just a moment, from the pulling of his balls against his body to the stream of cum that bursts onto your tongue with a low groan of praise that you can’t even hear because your blood is rushing in your ears as you start to swallow down great, greedy gulps of him while your cunt spasms around your fingers. Moaning Mando’s name around his length inaudibly, rolling your eyes at how much you love that this has happened. How you want it again already. 

Your name is poised on his lips, barely being able to hold it back. Riding out his orgasm with slow rocks of his hips as the mouth moans and whimpers around him. He’s never had such an active blow job before and he’s already wondering how fast he can capture those bounties so he can come back to The Hole to seek it out again.  

[jedi-hawkins]

Callsign: Omega

post-s3 finale head cannons (spoilers, duh)

Omega, she’s become one of the most famous pilots for the rebellion.

She names her x-wing “Havoc 5” for her brothers

Of course it has their ct numbers written across the back, right behind the cockpit, for they’re always watching her six. She can't see them when she's flying, and frankly doesn't look at the worn numbers there every day, but they're there always.

The belly of her x-wing is covered in tally marks. The blue ones are for each clone she’s helped free, an ohmage to a clone her brother Echo told her about, ARC-5555. The black ones are for every other being she's helped free. And the red ones, those are for the lives that have passed on and become one with the Force.

On part of her landing gear is a blue pawprint.

On her helmet she only has five things painted, a knife, a crosshair, a tooka doll, a handprint, and a pair of goggles.

On the shoulder of her flight suit, she adds another CF 99 patch, just like the one on her jacket.

She goes by callsign “Omega” for she is the last. The end. The final thing her enemies will see, the last thing the Empire will feel as it falls. She is the being that brings an end to the suffering that so many clones have faced as wards of the Empire when she shows up to liberate them. Omega.

Bonus: The first time she returns to Pabu, Hunter immediately notices the nose art she's chosen to paint on her shuttle, the one built from the Marauder's salvage. It's a stark replica of the nose art that once adorned the original ship, back in the Clone Wars. His stomach plummets and he can't even find the words. As his daughter strolls down the ramp, she immediately bursts into laughter at the look on his face.

Her brothers, Crosshair and Wrecker stroll into the courtyard, the larger of the two asking loudly, "What's so funny, 'Meg?"

"I think that is what's so funny." The lankier one replies, gesturing to the nose of the shuttle with his left hand. He's forgone his prosthetic today. Some days he wears it, others he chooses to wear his cap with pride.

Wrecker scratches his beard and both his eyes widen, "WAIT- IS THAT?"

"So, it would seem." Crosshair says, placing a toothpick between his lips. "Breathe, Hunter." He says pointedly at his brother, who still looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"I-uhh. It's good to have you home, Omega." He finally stutters out.

He wraps his arms around her tightly as always, but his eyes are still glued to the hull of her shuttle. "Done some decorating, I see?"

"Yeah." She replies simply, giving Wrecker and Crosshair their own due hugs. "You like it?"

"It certainly is... something." Hunter gets out, stumbling over his words yet again.

"I found the image in some old Republic files we recovered, it reminded me of something I saw as a kid, but I don't remember where." She says, coming to stand beside Hunter again.

"Ehhh... Omega." Her father groans, running a hand through his greying hair. "Do you... Do you remember what the Marauder looked like when we first met?"

She turns to him. "No, why do you ask?"

Hunter finally peels his eyes away from the shuttle to face his daughter. "That picture you found... That was... That was the Marauder, that's where you know it from. You only saw it once. We scrubbed it off as soon as we decided to come back to Kamino for you."

"Really? I had no recollection." Omega tries to stop the grin from spreading across her face, but she can't help it, and Hunter, still perceptive as always scoffs at her.

"Why you little..." He growls at her, stifling his own laughter.

"I think she knows..." Crosshair chimes in, running his hand through his silver locks.

Wrecker's jaw drops, "Wait, you know where that's from?"

Omega shakes her head at her brothers. "Of course I know, I never forgot how awkward you all were when I asked about it. It didn't click exactly why until I found that old picture. Thought I'd bring it back for old time's sake, eh Hunter?"

Hunter's eyes widen as words escape him once again.

"Kidding," Omega teases. "I just wanted to see what your reaction would be."

Crosshair steps closer to the shuttle to examine the paint job. "Though this has been wildly entertaining, it might be best for you to scrub it, 'Mega."

Omega crosses her arms. "Why? You did it first little brother."

His eyes narrow at his sister, he's the only one she ever pulls that with and though he secretly loves it, she can't know that. "I mean it." He says sternly, pointing his toothpick at her. "Otherwise, Hunter is going to have an aneurysm every time you come home."

Omega looks to the clone beside her, just barely an inch shorter than her now. She places a hand on his shoulder, "Of course I'll scrub it. Echo thought the idea was hilarious. Plus, it gave me an opening to show you this."

She gently reaches into her bag and brings out a holoframe, turning it so Hunter can see. It looks just like any other quick photo taken in a Republic shipyard. Troopers are milling around in the back, by the looks of the landscape it might've been Ryloth. The focus of the photo, however, is a black Omicron-class attack shuttle and five clone commandos posed in front of it in red and black armor.

Their helmets are off, their faces young and confident, proud of their most recent mission. Though, the sniper has a rifle held in his right hand, and the one crouched in front doesn't have his goggles on. But it's clear who it is, all five of them. And on the nose of the attack shuttle behind them, is the striking portrait of the last senator of Naboo.

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and The Raven Chapter 11: The Dragon Prince

Chapter Summary: As Princess Aemma is convinced to stay on Dragonstone for the remainder of her pregnancy, the greens ally with the Triarchy. Who battle to break through the Velayron blockade at sea. Prince Jacaerys leading the dragon seeds, and Princess Rhaenys has decided to showcase the true power of the dragon.

Tags: slight Fluff, slight nsfw, angst (I got a little teary-eyed writing it)

Taglist: @callsignwidow @whimsicalmystic02 @mercedesdecorazon @rhaenyrathecruelwithteats @ithilwen-blackwood @poppyflower-22 @alastorhazbin

Masterlist

Word count: 4.2K

In Dragonstone, the last dragon, Sheepstealer was claimed by a young girl named Nettles; she was a rambunctious girl with brown skin and brown coily hair. No one knew from which line she came. If she were part of the Velayron line, it would not be through Corlys, as he did not claim her like he did with the Hull brothers. The remaining dragon seeds that could not claim a Dragonstone were allowed to stay on the island, bringing their families and finding work in the village on the gloomy island. Aemma, Jace, and Rhaenys took the time to help the new Dragonriders learn High Valyrian, at least a good amount to communicate with the dragons. 

To Rheanyra and Corlys's surprise, Jace and Aemma greatly liked the newly named Addam Velayron as he did with them. They spent much of their time with their dragons flying around Dragonstone until Sliverwing would forcibly land, telling the princess that her time in the air was up. Aemma would always huff in annoyance, complaining to both Benjicot and Rhaenyra as both quietly laughed, Rhaenyra assuring her daughter that Syrax would always do the same thing during her pregnancies. 

Benji was glad to see his wife happy while at Dragonstone, his fears moving away as he had seen how, with each day and each moon, his wife would grow more and more ethereal with her pregnancy, which now smoothly progressed. It eased his mind to leave her on the island. As much as he wanted her by his side, The queen quietly spoke to him about how she thought it was best for the princess to spend the remainder of her pregnancy at the dragon castle, safe from any potential dangers in the Riverlands. He had contemplated moving her to Raventree Hall, as he and Aemma discussed during one of their first nights on the island, but a letter from his aunt and his discussion with the queen changed his mind. 

Raventree Hall would be safe if those craven Brakens had not declared for Aegon, but since they did, if they should see the princess alone, they all feared the Brakens would do something drastic to harm the princess. He would rather stab himself than let any Braken touch his wife or child. Now, convincing Aemma to stay here and not follow him back to Harrenhal would be the tricky part.  For that reason, he was nervous about the feast ending, seeing how relaxed and joyous she was talking to her brother and newfound uncle. He felt terrible for being the one souring her mood for the night, but he hoped with the help of the queen, his dragon princess would understand. 

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

Everyone but Rhaenyra, Aemma, and Benjicot had retired for the night, leaving the raven lord sighing as he placed a plate of lemon cakes, hoping his peace offering would ease the news he and the queen were going to give. Rhaenyra smiled at her daughter, remembering how much she craved lemon cakes when pregnant with the crown princess. She let her daughter indulge in the sweet treat as she cleared her throat and spoke to her good-son. 

“Lord Blackwood, I suppose everything is prepared for your departure tomorrow?” she said, seeing her daughter pause from eating and returning her lemon cakes.

“Yes, my queen, everything is ready for my flight back to Harrenahl tomorrow morning,” replied Benji, glancing at his wife, who looked at him in confusion. 

“I was not aware we were leaving tomorrow, Ben. I haven’t even checked on Sliverwing for the flight…” checked Aemma, seeing her husband grimace. Growing more confused, she turned to her mother, giving her a look of pity. 

Rhaenyra stood, walked towards her daughter, and sat beside her, delicately placing her hand on her. 

“No, my sweet pearl, your brother Jacaerys will fly to Harrenhal tomorrow to check on Daemon’s progress. Benjicot will leave with him-” 

“But then my husband will be returning... right… so then I will leave with him back…” interrupted Aemma, taking shallow breaths and looking back and forth from Benji to her mother. 

Once Aemma saw the shared look between them, her eyes watered as she shook her head. 

“No, you will not leave me here… Ben, we discussed it… it was either I stay at  Raventree Hall or Harrenhal…” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. 

Benji hated being the reason she cried. As he reached to wipe the tears from her face, Aemma closed her eyes, trapping his hand underneath hers. Aemma held his hand momentarily before opening her eyes pleadingly, hoping he would break and go against her mother. Rhaenyra, knowing he would break, sighed as she turned her daughter's face to her. 

“ñuha prūmia do not cause him heartache. We, Alyssane Blackwood, your husband, and I made this decision carefully. Sliverwing will not take you on long dragon rides anymore. Sailing from here to the Riverlands is growing dangerous with talks of the Triarchy are moving again. The Brakens have declared for Aegon; who is to say they won’t try to harm you or your babe when you are alone? The safest option is to stay here… please my pearl, understand we are considering your well-being.” assured Rhaenyra, hoping her daughter would see reason. 

Aemma sobbingly sighed as she looked at her mother, purple staring at purple. She knew they were right; she was safe with multiple dragons guarding the island. The Greens would be foolish to try an attack, but this… her relationship had just established a strong foundation. Having each other to be separated for an extended time frightened Aemma. Her whole heart belonged to Benjicot now. Should something happen to him, it would break her. Aemma turned away, reaching for Benji’s hand, smiling at how quickly he intertwined his finger between hers. 

“I’m scared you will miss the birth of our babe… I do not wish to go through it alone,” she confessed, remembering how Laenor or Daemon weren’t there for her mother when she gave birth. She did not wish for the same fate, she wanted Benjicot in the room with her. 

Benji smiled wistfully. He, too, wanted to be there when their babe decided to come into the world. He promised as he stroked her knuckles.

“I will come back once you reach your eighth moon. That way, we can ensure I do not run the risk of missing our child’s birth. I will be right next to you throughout the day, and once they arrive, I shall be the one to place our babe into your arms.” He kissed her cheek, seeing her smile at him. 

Aemma looked again at her mother, who agreed with Benji’s promise, whispering that she agreed to the plan. She will spend the remainder of her pregnancy at Dragonstone, hopefully after she can convince them to let her follow her husband after the birth. The couple wished the queen a good night as they walked hand in hand to their chambers. Benjicot sent away the servants, stating he would help his wife. As he began unlacing her from her gown, Aemma turned to him. Looping her arms around his waist, she pressed a long kiss to his mouth, pressing her body to him. Benji, quickly falling into his wife’s charms, placed his hands on her waist, pulling her closer as he reciprocated the kiss, deepening by running his tongue on her lips. Before Aemma allowed him access, she pulled away, breathing heavily. 

“If you are to leave me tomorrow, I need you to leave me with a gift to remember you during our time apart…” As she closed her eyes, she leaned in again, her lips barely touching his own as she continued. 

“Make love to me, Ben; carve your love to every part of my body… leave a reminder of you on my body.” she pleaded as she opened her mouth, allowing her husband’s tongue to enter her mouth. 

As the two continued to kiss, Benji raised Aemma to the bed, quickly undressing both her and him. He would spend this whole night loving his wife, making sure that he, too, would have reminders of her back before leaving for Harrenhal. The night ended late with fiery passion between the princess and her raven lord, whispers of love filling the air. 

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

The following day came as the royal family sent their goodbyes to Lord Blackwood and Prince Jacaerys. Aemma and Benjicot shared a sweet kiss goodbye before the young lord knelt at his wife’s swollen belly, caressing it; he promised he would be back and pressed a long kiss, grinning as he felt a tiny kick. Their babe had just started making their presence known to their parents. Rising from his position, he provided one more small kiss to Aemma as he left, bowing to the queen and climbing behind his good-brother. Vermax rose, adjusting to the newfound weight and launching himself into the air to make the long journey to Harrenhal. 

Aemma watched until the emerald dragon became a speck in the sky. Turning, she inhaled deeply. She would be counting the days, hoping time would pass quickly so that she could have her husband back to her side. She intertwined her arms with Baela, smiling as they returned to the castle. 

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

Two months had passed since Benjicot left Dragonstone, Jace having returned a month prior. Aemma was now seven moons into her pregnancy; she walked into her mother’s war council. She was given a place as an advisor to her mother. Although Aemma hardly enjoyed being there, many of the men, mostly Lord Celtigar, would criticize and undermine her mother’s decisions the whole time. As she felt another headache brewing, Aemma sighed; rubbing her forehead, she felt her babe kick her to soothe its mother’s mood. Smiling, Aemma stroked her belly, looking up to see Jace grin at her and roll his eyes at the arguing lords. Aemma grinned back, careful not to laugh. It would not do any good if the lords thought she was making fun of them. As the meeting ended again, with no clear direction or command, Aemma walked out with the help of her brother. The two walked out to the balcony, hearing Grey Ghost calling out as they saw Addam soaring, commanding the dragon to do flips and turns. 

“Who would have thought such a shy dragon-like Grey Ghost would come out of his shell in a few months.” pondered Jace, seeing how the dragon flew close to the ocean before slipping away and soaring higher. 

Aemma nodded, grinning as Addam passed the Targaryen siblings waving at them. Jace nodded, and Aemma enthusiastically returned the wave. Addam and Alyn were proving to their family how loyal and hardworking they were, and Corlys discussed with his family who should take the burden as Heir of Driftmark. Aemma pleaded for Addam’s case, while her grandmother Rhaenys pleaded for Alyn.  Both men had excellent qualities to take on being the future lord, so Aemma supposed time and Corlys would tell who would be chosen. 

A raven interrupted the siblings' musings. Grinning, Aemma recognized her raven, a gift Benji gave her when they first started courting. Taking the letter from its leg, Aemma placed the Raven on her shoulder, walking back to her chambers, with Jace following his sister. Opening, Aemma read the letter from her husband. Jace sat on her chaise, serving himself wine and sipping the sweet liquid while waiting for his sister. 

My Beloved Dragon, 

How are you faring this moon? It would be your seventh, yes? I have been missing you more these past few days, wishing you were here so I could nuzzle my face into your soft curls, pressing your body to mine as I inhale your sweet smell. I hope our babe has not kept you awake these nights. Tell them that I shall be returning soon. 

I’m sorry that the lords of your mother’s council have been causing you headaches. Again, I wish I was there to relieve your tensions in any way, whether by my hands or ….. Through my tongue, sweet girl. Knowing I am far from you, I shall not tease you because that will only backfire on me, causing me to ache for you and your gorgeous body. 

Harrenhal has been… busy. I fear something might be troubling your father; he looks like he hasn’t slept well. I will make sure to keep an eye on him from the distance. I wouldn’t want my head to be chopped off by a ticked-off King Consort. In happier news, I think we will be celebrating a wedding soon. Cregan asked for my blessing to court Aly. I, of course, gave him my blessing, telling Cregan that if I didn’t, I would have to fear the wraths of Black Aly and the Dragon Princess Aemma. They are positively smitten with each other, more Cregan, I fear; he follows my aunt like a lost puppy. Of course, I have been the annoying nephew and teased them endlessly, which may not have resulted in a few bruises on my body. 

I will count the days until I call upon Jace to bring me back to your arms. I must go now; send my warm greetings to your family. I adore you, sweet girl. 

Forever yours, 

Benji Blackwood. 

Aemma smiled, blushing slightly at her husband's teasing words. She knew Aly and Cregan would soon fall into each other's arms. As she raised her gaze to her brother, Jace raised an eyebrow, smiling teasingly. 

“Should I even ask what was in that letter? I don’t want to be scared for life…Ouch!” exclaimed Jace, sending a playful glare to his sister. Aemma grinned as she threw a pillow at her childish brother. 

“I was going to share the happy news, but now I will not..” teased Aemma, laughing as Jace mocked, gasped in outrage, and protested. 

“You are such a cruel sister; I pray your child is nicer to their uncle.” jested Jace, smirking at his sister, who rolled her eyes. 

“Oh hush, Let me share the great news, at least for me. It seems Cregan will become family with me, as he and Alysanne Blackwood have begun courting,” shared Aemma, grinning as Jace gaped at his sister. 

“Truly! Well, good for Cregan; House Blackwood must have a certain charm to snag a Princess and a Paramount lord in such a short time.” Chuckled Jace, grinning as Baela walked into the room. 

“Yes, Let’s thank the gods there are no other eligible unmarried maidens, or I will need to fear that my betrothed will run off with one,” teased Baela, laughing at Jacaerys’  pale face. 

“Never, my heart lies with you and only you, Baela. There shall never be another close to you.” professed Jace, taking Baela in his arms and kissing her shoulder. 

Aemma smiled at the two, only missing Benji slightly more from the scene before her. As the three young dragons continued chatting, enjoying their snacks and company, Rhaenyra quietly walked in, smiling. She loved it when the three could enjoy their youth and the thoughts of war being banished to the backs of their minds. She hated being the bearer of bad news, but it was urgent. As she called out, the three young dragons stood bowing to their queen. Rhaenyra apologized for interrupting their time to relax but said that Corlys, who had just arrived from Driftmark, had urgently called for another council meeting.

As they walked in, they noticed everyone's dire mood. Sitting next to Jace, Aemma listened as Corlys explained how the Triacrchy had sided with Aegon and the Greens. Providing the Greens Ninety warships to break House Velayrons siege on the Gullet. Everyone tensed at the news. They knew the greens were being too quiet after Rooks Rest; it was only a matter of time, which had finally come. Corlys stated that the greens also took the bait of thinking the princes Joffery, Aegon, and Viserys were on their way to Pentos and were planning to attack a small ship that they believed held the youngest princes. Aemma sighed, relieved her brothers were still safely at the Vale with Rhaena. The council spoke about who should go to the Gullet with Velayron warships to destroy the Triarchy fleet and win a battle against the Greens. Jacearys automatically called upon himself with his grandmother, Addam, and Nettles. Saying how it was time the greens saw their true power. Many in the council agreed with the Crown Prince, saying that Prince Aemond couldn’t leave the Red Keep since he was prince regent. 

The only ones who did not want Jace to go were Rhaenyra, Aemma, and Baela, for they did not want to risk him getting injured or worse. Aemma bit her lip, grabbing her brother’s hand and squeezing it as they made the plan. They would leave tomorrow for the Gullet. As the meeting ended, Rhaenyra took her son into her arms, whispering to him her pleas. Asking Jacaerys to lead the fight but also pleading that he flies higher than the other dragons whose sizes were larger than Vermax—asking him to fight fiercely but safely so that he may return to them. Aemma agreed with her mother, and she hugged them, too. Jace promised his safety, leaving with Baela. Both mother and sister knew to let the young couple spend time together. 

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

Jace stood with the others the next morning, saying goodbyes to his mother and sister. Embracing his mother, he promised he would make her proud. Rhaenyra smiled into her son's curls, kissing his crown; she reaffirmed that she was always proud of him. Holding him at a distance, she again expressed concern for his safety as the prince nodded. 

Turning to his sister, Aemma tried to put on a brave face, but her emotions betrayed her. Tears streaming, she held on to him. 

“Please, Lēkia, please be safe,” Aemma asked of her brother, her grip tightening as he returned her hug. 

Jace kissed his hāedar’s forehead, “I promise, Aemma, I shall return, bringing a gift of a toy from Pentos for my niece or nephew. After this battle, I will fly straight to Harrenhal and bring Ben with me.” 

Aemma sniffed, smiling tearily at her older brother, stating how she would pray to the Fourteen Flames for a speedy victory and safe return. Jace grinned, thanking his sister, turning to Baela and pressing one last kiss to her cheek, for they already said their goodbyes yesterday. Climbing onto Vermax, Jace commanded the rest to follow, shouting Sovetes; the four dragon riders left the island. 

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

“Once you see the Triarchy ships, do not hesitate; let them have a taste of fire and blood. They will regret the day they thought they could win against the dragons!” yelled Jace as he led the assault on the enemies' warships. 

Vermithor let out a mighty roar as the bronze fury burned five warships in a single fire breath, his heat melting the metal into the soldiers’ skins, their screams piercing through the sea breeze. Grey Ghost and Sheepstealer worked together to burn another five ships, the two dragons dancing in harmony. Jace smiled with pride as he saw ship after ship sinking. Noticing how his grandfather, the Sea Snake, and his fleet began engaging in a sea battle, canons after canons exploding. With the Sea Snake’s fleet having the upper hand, the Triarchy grew irritated and fearful of how quickly their ships sank. 

As the Dragons continued their assault, no one noticed one warship that began unraveling a scorpion. The heavily breathing soldier focused on Princess Rhaenys, trying to get an aim on her or the eye of the Bronze Fury. After a few missed aims, the soldier growled quickly, turning to look at different dragons. There… he thought, the emerald one; as Vermax flew close by, burning another two ships, Jace heard the whoosh of a giant bow. Turning, he stiffened, seeing a fast bolt flying straight to his dragon. As fast as he could, he could not fly fast enough, the bolt striking Vermax in the eye. The Emerald dragon screamed in pain, crashing into the waves below. Jace jumped off his dragon, choking on seawater. Addam screamed for the prince as he flew down to grab him, flying as close as he could; he asked the prince to reach up and hold onto his arm. As Jacaerys reached for his uncle, he felt the stabbing hot pain of multiple shots in his back. The remaining soldiers began shooting arrows at the dragon prince before aiming at the grey dragon. Yelling in anger and despair, Addam fell back, moving away from the flying arrows, staring in horror, seeing arrow after arrow piercing through his nephew. 

As Jace felt the coldness wash over him, he heard his grandmother’s screams. His eyes closing as his thoughts went to the people he loved, past and present. His fathers: Harwin, Laenor, and Daemon. His grandparents and his newfound uncles. Rhaena and his youngest siblings he was glad knowing that they were safe. His marvelous mother, the best mother he could have asked for. He felt like he failed her as an heir. He thought about his love, his fierce Baela, and his regret not marrying her. His good-brother Benjicot, who he knew would have to pick up the pieces of his sister’s heart. His hāedar, his sweet Aemma, he broke his promise to her. He would not return home, and he would not be the one to bring Benjicot back to Dragonstone. He would not get to meet his nephew or niece. With a lone tear, Prince Jacaerys, the heir to the Iron Throne, left the realm of the living and slowly entered the realm of Balerion. 

Addam, burned with anger, commanded Nettles to follow him, and the two turned their attention to the warships. Letting Fire and Blood rain on them and burning 31 more warships. Addam tightly closed his eyes, feeling tears prick his eyes. Jacaerys was too young. Why him… 

Rhaenys screamed, asking Vermithor to sweep down and pick up her grandson’s body; she would not leave without his body. They would not have another boy lost at sea; Rhaenyra deserved to burn his body, not just his clothes, as they had done with Luke. As she ordered Nettles and Addam to return home, she saw that they, too, were crying for the prince. She was not sure she could take much more heartbreak. With her heart at her throat, she flew back to Dragonstone, dreading her arrival. 

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

Aemma, Rhaenyra, and Baela were enjoying a pleasant lunch, each sharing a few lemon cakes with each other. They were brainstorming some names that Aemma and Benji could consider for their child. They paused their conversation, hearing a commotion coming towards them. The three stood as the doors banged open, the council members pale, Rhaenys with bloodshot eyes, and Addam looking at Aemma with regret. 

Aemma gasped, not wanting to think the worse, but thinking of the worse as she looked at Addam Velayron and her grandmother…no she thought… Rhaenyra started breathing heavily, asking the group what happened when Baela gave a strangled gasp. In walked in, Corlys Velayron, with a haunted look, tears flowing down his dark cheeks, holding the lifeless body of Jacaerys Velayron. 

Aemma sharply inhaled, seeing her older brother's body pale, with his wet curls covering his closed eyes. Aemma closed her eyes, clutching her stomach, wailing in anguish, her heartwrenching screams vibrating through the halls. Sobbing, she sunk to the floor, screaming for Jace, screaming for her brother, her brave, sweet brother. 

Rhaenyra let out a silent scream, running to her son’s body, snatching him from Corlys as she desperately tried to wake her son. Jace couldn’t be gone; he was just sleeping. Rhaenyra pleaded to any gods to wake her son. Her Jace, not her Jace, she whispered as she pressed kiss after kiss to his brow. Pleading for him to wake. 

Baela turned to her grandmother, who tried to hug her but walked away from her arms. Jacaerys promised they would marry after he returned. She was supposed to marry him, not mourn him. Why would he do this to her….

As everyone mourned for the dragon prince, Elinda Massey quietly gasped, seeing her princess groan and struggle to stand. Quickly, she ran to help her, asking her what was the matter. Aemma fearfully looked at her mother’s lady-in-waiting, stating it was too soon. Both gasped, Aemma feeling a clear liquid begin to run down her legs and onto the floor. Aemma sharply groaned as she leaned on Elinda. Everyone quickly turned to see the princess bent over her stomach, liquid spooling down her feet. Rhaenys ran to her granddaughter, helping her stand as she screamed for healers and maesters to prepare the birthing chambers. Princess Aemma was going into early labor. As the Princess sobbed, stating how it was too soon, Rhaneys and Elinda, nearly carrying her, led her out. Rhaenyra, torn between staying with Jace or running to her daughter, commanded that a raven be sent out urgently to Harrenhal, letting Daemon know that he needed to return to Dragonstone with Benjicot; Aemma was giving birth.

[metacrisisdoctor]

DOCTOR WHO: FLIGHT INTO HULL (2018)

[darklinaforever]

Tentoo is the human version of Ten with Nine's impulsiveness and a quote from his sister Donna in addition. The perfect combination.

I listened to the Big Finish audios and it's one of the best things in the world ! The relationship between Jackie and Tentoo !!!

Also, it's so funny to listen to Jackie talking to you like you're her friend on the phone.

[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Receipt (part one)

AO3

PART TWO

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, soft!Mando, helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

The ramp of the Crest lowered, revealing the bright sun and arid atmosphere of the random planet Mando chose for a pitstop. In the distance were jagged mountains, the colors of orange, red, and brown coming together to paint streaks across the rocky range. Sparse populations of trees littered the distant landscape. Large–but tiny from a distance–birds flew from tree top to tree top, wings fanned outwards to catch the air currents beneath their wings.

To your left was Mando. His silver beskar armor glinted in the light as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. Broad shoulders blocked a sizable proportion of your peripheral vision. Observing the new planet, he stood like a statue.

Tall. Solid. Strong. Capable. Protective.

Biting your lip, your gaze traveled up and down Mando, head to toe. He certainly had an idea of how intimidating he looked. Yet, he had no idea how that intimidation made him look so good.

People always snuck glances at you and Mando when the pair of you were in public. Whispers could be picked up on as well. Rumors about his Creed. The state of the planet of Mandalore. How dangerous Mando was.

The danger he possessed only made your feelings for him deepen. You knew what he was capable of, but you also knew he would never use his capabilities on you. Not that you didn’t want him to…

Maybe he could lift you up. Carry you across the hull. Place you on the bed in his bunk. His large, gloveless hands smoothing up and down your sides. 

Mando could pin both of your hands above your head while he–.

Ok. Stop. That’s enough.

You cleared your throat, hoping to snap Mando out of his observational state, and you out of yours. “Alright, so we need five things: bacta, medkits, rations, a new flight suit, andddd soap?” You listed as you turned to him. Feet shifting, he turned his helmet to look at you. Shoulders that donned beskar pauldrons followed suit. The classic Mandalorian T shape of the visor burned into your pupils.

He paused, as if he was looking over his own checklist. “That should be it,” he confirmed with a nod. You returned his nod and added a small smile.

“Ok see ya!” You threw over your shoulder as you quickly bounded down the ramp of the Crest.

“Dank farrik, hold on, hold on,” Mando’s modulator gritted out as he clicked a button on his vambrace to close the Crest, running to get caught up to you. He rarely let you stray too far, especially when on new planets like this one. But, the Mandalorian read about the planet–and the quarry on it–before landing. 

“This planet is under the jurisdiction of the New Republic, so crime rates are low,” his modulated voice filled your ears once he caught up to you, “You’ll be on your own for this supply run.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, your shoes crunched against the brown substrate underneath them as you turned to face the man, “Really?” You asked, eyebrows shooting towards your hairline.

Mando responded with a hesitant nod. “I have some business to take care of, business that your presence isn’t required for,” the beskar pauldrons lifted and lowered in a shrug, “I figured you would enjoy having free range over the market.”

“Are you sure?” You replied.

He crossed his arms, the muscles in them appearing larger when pressed together. Mando’s helmet cocked to the side and his hip jutted out. The chin of his helmet lifted slightly as it motioned towards the market. “Go before I change my mind.”

Smile spread across your face, you did a hop of excitement in place and continued towards the market.

Trudging along to explore the unfamiliar marketplace, you recalled the previous supply run at a more populated planet.

—

Mando’s finger was perpetually hooked through one of your belt loops as he dragged you from stall to stall with him.

“Mando, I’m not a child,” you told him. Your eyes rolled as he tugged you along, your hips jerking along with the movement of his arm. Sometimes your hands wound up on Mando’s arm to maintain your balance. The muscles underneath your hands hardened and flexed as he maneuvered through the crowd.

“I never said you were,” he stated as his gaze remained focused on the crowd. His eyes constantly scanned the marketplace. Beings of different cultures and origins milled through the alleyway lined with stalls. The crowd of the market was average sized–no hustle and bustle but also no empty stalls. The occasional sound of credits clinking rang throughout the dry air as someone dug into their pocket to pay for their purchase.

You scanned the market just as Mando did, following his metal gaze to try and catch a glimpse at what he was seeing. “Are we in danger?” Your voice dropped to a whisper, uncertain about what’s going on inside that beskar helmet. 

Deadpanning you once again, he responded, “Not that I am aware of.” The T-shape constantly spun on an axis, and the grip of his finger tightened on the fabric of your belt loop.

Brows furrowing, you finally turned your head fully towards him, “Then why are you doing all this?” You gestured with one of your hands up and down his body. His hand jerked to tug you along, your hip following in response.

A large inhale and exhale made his beskar-plated chest rise and fall, “I want to make sure yo-,” he paused, then quickly continued, “Just want to make sure we’re safe.” He nods. The one he gives you when he's confirming something you said. Like his approval of the items you listed to get on a supply run.

Which brings you back to now. Receiving that same nod made a series of connections go off in you. For the past week you’ve been thinking about what he said. His finger tugged your hips with him, his verbal slip-up found its way onto the center stage of your thoughts every night cycle on the Crest.

“I want to make sure yo-.”

It felt like a confirmation.

—

You started as an assistant, helping Mando with whatever he needed. Marketplace runs? Check. Bounty information? Check. Small ship repairs? Check. But, calling someone an assistant sounded…weird to Mando. He didn’t enjoy the air of subordinacy the word possessed. The Mandalorian thought back to his days with his fellow Mandalorians. The covert worked as a team, with no hierarchy. Sure, some people were assigned roles, but no one was above anyone else. Everyone was part of one unit.

You worked on a small, galactically insignificant planet at a small-items repair shop. Mando entered one day with a scope for one of his blasters. Impressed with your knowledge and efficiency–the scope being repaired in less than ten minutes–the Mandalorian inquired about the chances of hiring you. “Partner,” he said with a nod, when he offered you the job, “You’ll be my partner.”

You both met at a cantina after your shift. Mando explained job responsibilities, pay, and the lifestyle that the job required. Sitting across from the man covered in beskar was intimidating. But near the end of your conversation you realized he was just soft spoken. He was also all business. Any conversation was focused on logistics of the job. He didn’t ask you weird personal questions. He respected your skills and your opinions. There were definitely worse bosses to have, you figured. Eager to explore the galaxy and leave behind the little planet, you loaded the Crest with your personal belongings the following week. 

Living in the Razor Crest with Mando was awkward at first. Mando would keep his interactions with you to a minimum. You noticed that he only left the cockpit when he knew you were occupied, asleep, or off of the ship. If he had to be in the same space as you, he would leave at least a meter of distance between your bodies. Like you were two magnets of the same polarity, refusing to go closer to the other.

All business.

But that didn’t stop you from being friendly. Whenever you did see Mando you would offer him a, “How are you?” Or a, “How was your day?” His responses were consistently short and to the point. 

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Dinner was when you typically saw him. He would come down to grab a ration pack and scurry back into the cockpit. You also saw him when he returned from hunts, dragging the bounty behind his beskar frame. His grunts echoed throughout the Crest’s hull as he pulled the quarry up and froze him into carbonite. You claimed a small section of the hull as your living quarters, so you had no choice but to watch.

Trying to break the tension, you asked, “How was your day?”

Mando huffed, his broad shoulders covered in beskar lifted and fell, “Nothing you want to hear about,” he deadpanned to you. If he did offer any emotion, it was cut out of his voice by his helmet’s modulator.

“Try me,” you crossed your arms and raised your eyebrows. Leaning back on the cold wall of the hull, your chest thrummed with nervous energy as you waited for his response. Was that too much? Were you just going to push him away?

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out, “Not too fun.” His helmet tilted to the side and he squeezed his hands together that were clasped in front of him.

The Mandalorian’s wide frame took up the majority of the door frame that separates the carbonite room from the hull. Large gloved hands remained clasped together while he shifted in place, eventually settling on leaning against the frame.

You stood still in shock for a couple seconds. If you listened closely you could have heard the hearts beating in the hull. That was the most that Mando has ever said to you at once. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you started.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he brushed past you towards the ladder going up to the cockpit, “It’s my job.”

You turned towards him, which halted his ascent, “That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” your eyes widened and you tried to backtrack, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks,” you blurted out in an attempt to save face.

Mando met your gaze with the T of his visor and replied, “My job does suck.”

Did he just try to be funny? A giggle bubbled out from your chest. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

His attitude slowly and steadily transformed after that night. 

Mando lingered in the hull longer in the mornings and in the evenings. The mornings were when you asked, “What’re the plans for today?” And the evenings came with your, “How was your day?”

At one point he started making you a cup of caf every morning when he was awake first, and he usually was. He knew you favored the drink in the mornings so he began to regularly purchase it, and he built up a sizable stash in the Crest.

His preferred distance from you shrunk and shrunk. The broad Mandalorian opted to stand next to you in the mornings, helping you make breakfast as well as he could. Ever-so-subtle brushes as you passed each other on the Crest became more frequent. Sometimes he would touch a hand to your waist as he passed, or on the small of your back if you weren’t facing him.

The beskar warrior spoke more too. He taught you a few words in Mando’a, which consisted of a couple basic words and some insults. 

“Di’kutla,” he spat out as he struggled to repair a part on one of his blasters.

“What’s that one mean?” You asked over your shoulder, looking up from the article you were reading on your Holopad.

Mando huffed in frustration and gritted out, “worthless…stupid,” as he continued to try and force the part off of the blaster.

Chuckling, you repeated the word in your mind and watched as Mando continued to struggle. You stored all of the words he shared with you deep in your brain, not wanting to forget this special part of himself that Mando shared with you.

One of your evening chats came to an end and the broad beskar man was drifting back to this bunk. For the first time, he paused and looked at you. You knew his gaze underneath the helmet met yours. No proof, but you knew.

“Goodnight,” the word gently flowed through his helmet’s modulator. 

He’s said it every night he’s been on the ship since then. Sometimes his gaze lingered on yours too long. A couple times you swore you saw the center of his chest rise, as if he was about to say something, but it stopped mid-exhale and Mando retreated into his bunk.

You found yourself to be increasingly longing for the sound of the ramp descending, signaling his return from a hunt. He trudged up the ramp, quarry in tow. Freezing the person in carbonite was always fast. Usually small pleasantries were exchanged before he used the fresher to clean off. 

If your mind were to venture towards more perverse thoughts, your favorite part was after he used the fresher.

He always emerged in a pair of black pants, a black t-shirt, and of course, his helmet.

No armor. No gloves. Not even the usual long-sleeved layer underneath his t-shirt.

When he turned to toss his clothes into a small hamper, you swore small tufts of dark brown hair peaked out from beneath his helmet. Nevertheless, a combination of factors had you in awe. Watching as Mando hauled the quarry into carbonite like it was nothing. You saw the toned muscles in his arms, developed from decades of finely tuned combat. The broad expanse of his back, rippling underneath his t-shirt. His calloused, capable hands are composed of thick fingers. You were in awe at his physique, his presence, the things he did to provide for the both of you.

And it hit you like a cold, ocean wave just how unafraid of him you were.

As if your fondness towards the Mandalorian couldn’t grow any more, he started returning from supply runs with gifts for you. Although he rarely let you go on runs alone, he did have the decency to give you space during pit stops. You would wander near him while looking at all of the different crafts the stalls had to offer.

One day you were peering at a set of comfortable lounge pants. You managed to whittle your wardrobe down to one set after damaging pair after pair when repairing the Razor Crest. Shoulders slumped, you thought about how comfy the pants would be when sleeping in your makeshift bed on the floor of the Crest. You knew you didn’t have enough credits, so you moved along to purchase the items the pair of you actually needed.

Milling about the market weren’t many people, which was most likely why you were alone on this shopping trip. The brown sands of the marketplace intruded upon the surroundings, leaving dunes of sand curving up and into the stalls. Sun rays blared down from the cloudless sky. Heat already seeped through your airy shirt and throughout your skin, conjuring up a layer of sweat. After visiting four stalls you purchased all of the necessary items. 

Bacta. Soap. Rations. Spare parts. You confirmed each purchase on the receipts from the market. A step you always took to make sure nothing was forgotten.

You met Mando back at the Razor Crest and started unloading your bags. Item after item piled on the center of the ship's floor. Rations. Bacta. Medkits. Sweatpants. Ammo. Ra-.

Sweatpants?

The sweatpants were identical to the ones you stopped and looked at while shopping. Your hands reached for the sweatpants and marveled in their softness. Pausing, your gaze lifted to meet Mando’s T-shaped visor. “Did you buy sweatpants?” Confusion oozed from your voice.

His gaze remained on yours and he replied with a slight nod of his head, “Yes. They’re for you.” 

“Mando, you didn’t ha-”

“Take it. Please. I feel bad enough making you sleep on the floor,” he insisted. His gloved hand gestured to the sleeping pad, pillow, and blanket neatly stored in a corner of the hull. 

“Honestly it hasn’t been that bad. The sleeping pad you got is pretty comfy.” You shrugged and told him the truth. Sleeping on that plush pad was infinitely better than the hull’s cold, metal floor.

“You have to set it up every night. You at least deserve a permanent bed,” his modulator made his words sound like churning gravel.

You stared into the black T covering his face. His shoulders drooped, like he gave up on trying to convince you. The gesture was a silent plea to just accept the gift.

“Thank you,” you said to him softly, “it means a lot.” 

It was his turn to shrug, “That’s why I do it.”

—

Today marks a year since the two of you became “partners”.

For you, that marked a year since you’ve met the man you had a heart throbbing crush on. 

You knew Mando wasn’t much of the sentimental type. Everything he kept was for a purpose. Any sentimental things had extreme meaning to him. If you were reading the situation correctly, you had a burning suspicion that the beskar covered man liked you back. So suggesting you two get matching bracelets at the market wouldn’t be completely farfetched. Even if he didn’t like you back you could just play it off as a gag gift…right?

After trudging across the brown landscape for twenty minutes, Mando at your tail, you arrived at the market. 

“We meet at that stall,” you heard from over your shoulder. Your eyes followed Mando’s finger to a bright red food vendor stall, “in 2 hours. Understood?”

A smile plastered itself onto your face and you gave him a sarcastic salute, “Understood.”

A breathy chuckle passed through Mando’s modulator. He shook his head softly and motioned for you to get a move on. You turned on your heel and walked to your first destination.

—

Bacta? Check. Rations? Check. Soap? Check. Medkits? Check.

The only thing left was a new flight suit for Mando.

As you walked towards the clothing section of the market you stopped at a men’s clothing stall to purchase an extra large black flight suit. Once your transaction was completed you walked further into the alleyway lined with stalls selling dresses, flight gear, loungewear, jewelry, bracelets. Bracelets. 

Your eyes landed on a stall with various fabrics on display. The front tables of the vendor were packed with different colored bracelets. Bracelet materials ranged from metal, leather, twine, thick cord, beads, and some materials you’ve never seen before.

The stall became even more enchanting as you got closer. Signs displayed prices, sizes, and ongoing sales. Immediately your eyes landed on a vast array of multicolored bracelets. You were thinking of getting something green since Mando told you that Grogu is green. 

A couple months ago he told you about how he had to give Grogu to a Jedi to train, since Grogu could use the force. Your heart sank. Mando often turned the metal knob of the thruster–a silver ball–over and over in his hand. He only told you recently that it was Grogu’s favorite thing to steal from him.

Your eyes danced over the section of green bracelets. Some were too dark, some too vibrant, others were just ugly. Finally, your gaze landed on the bracelet.

A fine, light green thread, you assumed somewhat close to Grogu’s color, was intertwined with thicker silver and brown threads. Light green and silver streaked across the rough brown surface of the bracelet. It reminded you of light streaking across the windshield of the Crest while in hyperspace.

This was the one.

Sifting through the different sizes you picked out one in your size and one you guessed would fit Mando. The bracelets were adjustable and hopefully that would help if you got Mando the wrong size. Setting the bracelets down to sift through your pockets for credits, you looked up at a weathered sign displaying the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

As you reached into your pockets and retrieved your last credits you realized you didn’t have enough. Only twenty five credits sat in your palm. Not in the mood to haggle with the vendor about the price, your shoulders dropped and you returned the bracelets to their original places.

You checked your watch. One hour left until you met back up with Mando. Making it from one end of the market to the other took forty five minutes, so you figured you could take the scenic route back to the meet up point. Getting to see the new sights could cheer you up after not being able to afford the gift you wanted to get for Mando.

Walking up on a familiar intersection, you opted to take a right this time instead of a left. The path on the right was much more…interesting…than the path on the left. One vendor sold exotic pets. The next sold potions that promised to give the consumer various effects. The next stall was not a stall, it was a large establishment.

The establishment stood tall amongst the surrounding stalls. Solid brick walls were painted a dull gray. A sign with old, faded letters was centered on the front wall between two windows. The tall windows of the building were heavily tinted. Shadows of different figures danced across the glass. Some bodies were indistinguishable from the ones they were next to. Music blared from inside, but it barely covered the sounds of moans and the slapping of skin on skin.

Looking up, front and center on the building reads: BROTHEL

Brothels weren’t a common occurrence on the supply runs you’ve been on, but you suppose the service was in demand. You shrugged and walked past the gray building. The moving bodies in the windows almost allowed your vision to gloss over him.

Tall. Broad. Covered in beskar. A black T shaped visor gazing down at a man.

At first you froze in shock. Was this the business Mando had to attend to? The one that, “didn’t require your presence”? You never pictured the Mandalorian to be a man that required services like these, but he is a man nonetheless.

A soft breeze sent goosebumps down your arms towards your fingertips. Realizing you’re out in the open, you ducked into an empty market stall. A gap in the wood planks making up the stall’s sides gave you a clear view of Mando’s encounter with the mystery man.

The man was in all black with a silver name tag on his chest. By Mando’s serious demeanor you could tell that the conversation was strictly business. The Mandalorian’s helmet tilted in question at the man and Mando pulled out a pen and pad to write on. From the man’s stance and close position to the building you could tell he was the bouncer, plus the presence of a name tag. 

The bouncer pulled out an identical pad and began to speak. You couldn’t hear a word they exchanged, but you could tell Mando was writing down a list. A finger on the bouncer’s hand came up everytime he stated something else from his list. Mando jotted down a few things, closed his pad, and returned it to a pocket in his suit.

Then he reached into a different pocket, pulled out a sizable amount of credits, and handed them to the bouncer.

Did he just buy a night at the brothel?

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Blood rushed towards your head and your vision slightly blurred. You felt stupid. You fell for a guy, pretty much your boss, you don’t even know what he looks like, and he didn’t like you back. You were even going to buy you and him matching bracelets. Breaths exited your mouth in stutters. The realization of how naive you were radiated throughout your being. Mando was just being nice to you. He managed to warm up to you. That’s it. 

But you were also so confused. What were the fleeting touches in the Crest? The gifts he gave you after trips to the market? The early morning and late evening conversations? Feelings bubbled up from your stomach and started to seep out of your body in the form of tears. 

You spent a year getting to know this man. Kriff, it took you a couple months before he started replying to you in full sentences. No one else has experienced Mando like this. You didn’t want anyone else to see his ungloved hands, the rolling muscles of his back in just a t-shirt, the way the helmet softly shook from side to side when he heard a bad joke. Those small, “Goodnight”s, are yours. The modulated chuckles are yours. The way he makes a cup of caf for you on most mornings. That’s yours.

Of course Mando wasn’t yours, but jealousy managed to seep into your bones regardless. 

Zoning back into the situation, you realized Mando started walking back in the direction towards the meet up point. Scrambling to get to your feet, you jumped over the wall of the empty stall and made your way back

—

Upon seeing the size of the bag you carried, Mando slipped it from your grasp and into his. He stuffed a small piece of paper, a receipt, into the bag before swinging it onto his shoulder. 

The walk back to the Razor Crest lacked conversation. Sounds of crunching ground underneath your shoes echoed in your ears. Mando followed your lead and kept the trek speechless.

The Razor Crest steadily became larger and larger on the horizon. Once orange, brown, and red mountain ranges were now painted in hues of pink and purple. Colors of the rocky formations reflected off of the Razor Crest.

You bounded up the ramp as soon as it was lowered. Mando followed suit and began to empty the bag of its contents. Each item fell onto the middle of the hull’s floor.

Bacta. Medkits. Flight suit. Soap. Rations.

The beskar man dug around in the bag for a second more and retrieved a handful of receipts. 

“Here,” he said as he handed them to you, “I know you like to look them over.”

Your stomach flipped at the thoughtfulness. Reaching your hand out, his gloveless fingers brushed yours in the handing off of the receipts. After they were straightened out you began to look through them.

First receipt, bacta and medkits.

Second receipt, rations and soap.

Third receipt, flight suit.

Fourth receipt.

Wait. Fourth receipt?

Your eyes scanned the lines of the flimsy paper. The date was from today, so it wasn’t old. But you didn’t visit the vendor listed on the receipt. Pupils skipping a few lines, you read the items purchased.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

For the second time today you froze. Blood rushed up towards your head as your vision blurred. 

He really just bought a night with a worker at the brothel.

From the little details you had, you tried to make sense of the scene you stumbled across earlier in the night. Mando talked to the bouncer, probably asked who was working that night, wrote down the workers he was interested in, and paid for a night with one of them. I mean, what else could you possibly be talking with a brothel bouncer about? The weather?

Good thing you didn’t buy those bracelets.

PART TWO

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Kinktober Special Part 2

Mo’s Kinktober Special

The Crew’s Whore (Part 2) (+18)

Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your power fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy. 

Pairing: Franky x afab!reader

WC: 3100 I'm so sorry

TW: IS THIS A SAFE SPACE?!?! Banging a robot, alcohol consumption oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, crying, forced orgasm? face shot, heavy use of pet names, cringe, his body is a sex toy idk, cringe, so much cringe, please forgive me I love him, idc

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Robo-boning uder the cut:

Chapter 2: The Cyborg

It was a breezy evening aboard the Sunny as you sipped from your wine glass while leaning forward against the railing of the deck. Sanji had once again prepared the crew a fantastic meal and you felt full and comfortable with the cool sea wind blowing through your hair. It was late, most of the crew had returned to their quarters. Zoro was up in his crows nest dojo having a late night workout, Franky had returned to his workshop to fiddle with some new cannon technology, Luffy was in a food coma and snoring loudly laid up against the mast, and even Sanji had finished dishes with Robin’s help and excused himself to bed. Robin was always so helpful with the dishes with her Devil Fruit powers and all. 

You were alone out here with only the sounds of the waves crashing against the hull and your captain’s aggressive snoring. You thought about how you missed your old life, but also how happy you were with the Straw Hats. You loved your job at the brothel and it certainly was less dangerous… but this new life? It was… exhilarating. You loved it. 

*I think I need something stronger* you thought to yourself…

You looked at your empty wine glass and walked into the galley for something more exciting. It was spotlessly clean and empty. You opened up the liquor cabinet and perused your options. Vodka, tequila, gin, rum.. hmm… 

*It’s a pirate’s life for me, I guess.* You giggled and grabbed the bottle of spiced rum off the shelf. You realized that taking it straight from the bottle was a little barbaric for a late night solo cocktail and went to the fridge for a mixer. Orange juice, mineral water, nothing suitable to mix with rum. You wracked your brain, what would go well with rum?  A lightbulb went off in your brain, there’s an obvious choice. Cola! 

Rum and cola went together like peanut butter and jelly, like pancakes and syrup, like tea and honey. Your mouth watered at the prospect of a tasty drink… You knew there wasn’t any cola in the kitchen, but you knew exactly where it was. You filled a glass from the cabinet with ice and held it in one hand and the bottle of rum in the other. You pushed past the swinging galley door towards the hallway that went to the center of the ship. You skipped down a flight of stairs until you reached a wooden door marked with blue cartoonish stars. Blue lettering adorned the top of the doorway reading ‘Franky House.’ 

*So nostalgic of him* you chuckled to yourself before knocking twice. 

“What’s up?” You hear Franky’s booming voice from the other side of the door. You opened the door and sidled in with your glass and bottle in hand. 

“Oh heyyy pretty thing, what are you doing up at this hour?” Franky turned on his stool next to his workbench to look at you. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You smiled at him as you strode confidently towards the fridge you spotted in the corner of his room. “Fancied myself a rum and cola, figured you’d be the guy to call about finding a bottle of cola around here.” 

“Yeah babe! Mi cola es su cola!” He flashed you a winning smile before he turned back towards his work bench and continued fiddling with whatever gadget he was working on before your intrusion. You grabbed a bottle of brown syrupy liquid from the fridge and brought it over to him. You said nothing, just pointed the head of the bottle in his direction. He barely looked up as he reached his large hard out and popped the cap off of the bottle for you. You smiled. 

“Thanks, handsome.” 

You returned to the desk in the middle of the room where you had set your rum and glass, setting the cola down. You picked up the rum and poured a GENEROUS amount over the ice. You topped it off with the freshly popped cola and brought the glass to your lips. Holy shit you over did it with the rum but damn, that’s good. You took a few more sips and let out a big sigh. 

“Rough day, sweet cheeks?” Franky laughed after hearing your exasperated sigh. 

“Hmm.. I guess. Just feeling a bit nostalgic is all.”

Franky’s hands continued to manipulate the mechanical item on his work bench.

“Yeah I get it. It happened to all of us, ya have this whole life and then all of a sudden you’re a pirate. It’s super weird. You’ll get used to it, y/n, we all do. We can talk about it, if ya like.” He doesn’t turn around. He had always been so good at expressing his emotions, such a tender and kind soul. He knew how you felt, and wanted you to feel heard. 

*Such a sweet heart for a robot* you thought to yourself. But he wasn’t a robot, he was still a man. Sure, his body was more metal than flesh at this point, but it didn’t take away from what a gentle spirit he had. You started to wonder what other human instincts he had left… 

“Honestly Frank? I’m kind of trying not to think about it. What are you working on?” You walk over to his work bench and lean up next to him, against the table backwards, able to see the item on the table but facing his body. 

“Oh this? Nothing totally crazy, just something I was thinking about for my forearm cannon. You see this part here…” He was excitedly telling you about his work, clearly passionate about his science. You nod and give him “hmm”’s here and there. You pour another strong drink and bring it back over to Franky’s work bench. You set the glass in front of him.

“I can’t be the only one indulging tonight, right?” You say seductively as you slide the glass towards his massive chest. 

“Well little lady, I’m usually a cola purist, but I guess one drink won’t hurt.” Franky grabs the glass in his large hand and slams the drink in one gulp. He hisses out, not prepared for how strong you made the cocktail. 

“My god girl, you’re trying to get me drunk?!”

You laugh out loud and pour yourself another drink. 

“No no, just trying to get more comfortable!” You laugh again. “Now tell me more about this hydraulic, fusion combustion, thingy again…” 

You say this as you set yourself down on Franky’s wide lap, drink in hand. 

“Okay so if you can see this piece right here…” Franky continued explaining his latest project to you as you became distracted by his handsome features. He had a strong, chilled jaw, defined abs, incredible thighs and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to his swim briefs. Was it still real? Did he have anything or was he like a doll?

You let your thoughts get the better of you and you set your glass down on the workbench. You slid to your knees in between Franky’s spread legs and let your head rest on his thigh. 

“WoAAhhh sweet thing, something else on your mind?” He dropped what he was working on and lifted his sunglasses onto his head as he looked down at you. He leaned back. You giggled up at him while stroking his crotch slowly. 

“mmmm yes. How could I not wonder? I’ve thought about it so much. Never had someone like you before…” You drew your face closer to the growing bulge in his swim briefs as you palm him. 

“Are you sure? How much do you want it? It might be too much for ya, doll face…” Franky puts his large palm on the side of your face, seemingly a bit concerned. 

“I want it. I can take it, please show me.” Your fingers worked at the hem of his tight black speedo before he helped you bring it down to his ankles. You pull them all the way off and return to your kneeled position between his legs. 

“Wow…” 

His cock was so gorgeous. It had to be real. It was so long, thinner than you’d like, but the length was truly impressive. The base was decorated with tufts of blue hair. 

“Is this good for ya, babe? Tell me what ya like and I can make it happen." Franky stroked your hair as you were staring at his cock from between his knees. 

“What?” You didn’t know what he was talking about. Was he that confident in his sexual abilities? You felt your cunt clench in anticipation. 

“No, this," He nods his head down at his erect cock. "I can make it anything you want. Too big?” You stared up at him with wide eyes. 

“Want bigger? Maybe you’re a little size queen?” Franky smirked at you with those last words. 

“No no,” You stuttered out. “Could you… could you maybe make it a little… thicker?” You were so embarrassed, you felt so silly asking for this man to change up his own cock for you. 

“Of course doll, if you want to be stretched out real good, who am I to deny you?” Franky smiled as he pressed his metal nose. 

You stared at his erect penis as it became girthier right before your eyes. 

“No way…” You gasped quietly to yourself. 

“Yes way baby! You really thought I would rebuild my own body and not give myself an incredible dick?” He grinned down at you between his legs. “Now… where were we?”

You felt his hand gently push the back of your head towards his newly engorged cock. You were snapped out of your stupor and grabbed the thick length with both hands and began to pump it slowly. 

“Perfect….” Franky cooed at you as you stroked him. 

You leaned forward and took his tip into your mouth. He groaned loudly. You knew he would be loud, he always is, why would now be any different?

You gradually took more and more of his cock into your mouth and bobbed your head up and down. With each pull backwards you slurped and dragged your tongue across the bulbous head of his dick. 

“Fuck, shit, just like that…” He tried so hard not to ram his hips into your face, knowing it would scare you off. His body was too strong. 

“Shit baby… You’re way too good at this… get up here and let me stuff you.” 

Once again your pussy squeezed around nothing, pushing out a drip of your arousal. Franky leaned down and grabbed your hips to pull you upward. 

In a moment you were on your back on Franky’s workbench, his projects swept to the the floor with one brush of his huge forearm. He was man handling your body to pull all your clothes off of you. You lay back down on the table, now fully bare in front of him.

“Franky, fuck me. Please. I want it.” 

He hovered over you, massive body eclipsing yours. 

“And you’re sure? I told you it might be too much… Once I start… well it can just be a lot for someone who isn't used to it.” Franky asked you for the last time, making sure you knew what you were getting into. 

“Yes, Frank. I’m so sure.” 

He pushed you down forcefully, but you protested by rising to your elbows and catching his lips in a wet kiss. He accepted your kiss and forced his tongue past your spit covered lips. You groaned at his dominance, such a change from how you were used to being with your other lovers. 

After making out for several moments, you whined a bit too loudly when he pinched at your nipple. 

“Okay okay needy girl, I’ll give you what you want now. But don’t say I didn’t warn you…” 

He pushes your thighs up with one hand as he lines his perfect cock up with your sopping hole with the other. He squeezes himself in slowly. 

“Holy FUCK, my GOD Franky…!” You shout out as he sinks balls deep inside of you, having you in a mating press with one hand due to his large stature. 

“Oh pretty lady, we haven’t even started.” He begin to pull out and shove himself back into your cunt, slick coating his cock more and more with each thrust. You slammed your eyes shut in pleasure, his dick was hitting all the perfect spots inside of you almost like it was made perfectly to fit your body… oh wait… it was. 

All of a sudden you felt a new sensation along with his heft length splitting you open. Was he… vibrating? Your neck snapped up and your eyes shot open to meet his above you. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that. Had to add something for the ladies pleasure, right?”

“FRANKY!” Your body lurched forward and grabbed his biceps. You had never felt anything like this before. It’s like your body was lit up by electricity. The smooth drag of his vibrating cock against your g-spot was complete sensory overload. 

Franky chuckled. He continued railing into your tiny body, chasing his own pleasure, not worried that you’d reach yours. 

“Frank I’m going to-!” You yelped as your body tumbled over the edge in pleasure. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your spasming cunt pushed out your release all over your lovers abdomen and legs.

“Wow doll face, I never thought you’d be a squirter!” Franky laughed over you as he drilled his hips into yours further, not concerned about your recovery from your intense orgasm. Your body was limp in his hold now, not able to produce any sort of coherent phrase. 

“Franky wait, I feel like-Ah!“ 

You were cumming again. It was only a few moments after your last orgasm and your center was  squeezing and creaming on Franky’s thick robotic cock again. You had lost full control over your body, it was like nothing you’d ever experienced. You screamed. You had no idea what words you were trying to scream, but you screamed. 

“You like that, huh baby? How about one more for me? I think you can do it, right?” Tears streamed down your face as you laid on his workbench, boneless. Your cunt was throbbing in both pain and pleasure. You were being thrust into so forcefully that your body slid back and forth on the table, your breasts basically hitting you in the chin as they bounced so aggressively. 

“Mmmm.. Hmm. FUCK! Yes I can do it, I can take it!” You felt drunk on pleasure, barely able to keep your eyes focused. The sensations in your pussy were unlike anything you’d ever experienced. As your cyborg lover pounded into you at an impossible speed, you felt the familiar wave of pressure bubble up from your center, but this time far more intense than the others. 

“There it is baby, I can feel it, I knew you could do it for me sweet thing.” He coaxed you into tipping over the edge. Your back arched and you shrieked up at him. You vision went completely white for a moment as you felt your massive release splattering against Franky’s thighs and cock. Wet, sloppy noises filled the room as you felt your cunt start to tingle with numbness and overstimulation, 

“Can’t… it’s too much!”  You whine loudly at him as you make a feeble attempt to push at his abs, not entirely sure what you wanted yet. 

“That’s just fine doll face, I’ve got something else in mind anyway.” He flashes you a huge grin before grabbing you around your ribs and setting you down on your knees on the floor in front of him.

“Open wide, pretty lady!” He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail with one hand and stroked his massive cock in front of your face with the other. 

Obviously after 3 earth-shattering orgasms you were putty in his large hands. You stick your tongue out and look up at him. After seeing the makeup smeared on your face from spit and sweat and tears, there was no way he could hold back any longer. 

“Fuuuuuuuck…!” He groaned out as he painted your eager, wrecked face with simply so much cum. It dripped off your cheeks and your chin as you happily kept your mouth open for him. He finally finishes his release and taps his cock on your tongue, so you can taste the last bit. 

“Shit you look so super like this!” Franky beamed down at you covered in his thick cum. You grin back up at him, delirious from exhaustion, cum dribbling down your neck. “But I guess I can’t leave ya like that huh?” He grabbed a clean rag from a drawer in his workbench and started wiping his seed off your face, you were so exhausted your eyes fell closed and you held your head in his free hand. 

“Hold on hold on doll, I’m almost done then I’ll put ya to bed.” Franky finished cleaning your face and picked up up off your knees and set you down on his bed. He tucked you in and went to put back on the little clothing he had on in the first place. He moved towards the door of his room. 

“Well thanks for the break, little lady! I have a repair I need to finish up on the deck tonight, but you get some rest.” Franky says from over his shoulder on the way out to the rest of the ship. You close your eyes and relax your bruised and exhausted body into Franky’s mattress. 

"Hey, if you’re feeling up to it when I get back, we can have a round 2! You haven’t even seen half the super stuff I can do, I just went easy on you!” He shouted as he left the room with his toolbox and the door closed behind him. 

Your eyes snapped open.

“WHAT?!”

---

a/n I again, am so sorry lol but Franky needs more love. Justice for Franky Fuckers.

[colibrie]

Uncharted Territory, part one.

All love and credit to @trilobitepunch, for the amazing art work,the listening ear, and the endless encouragement. You are amazing Trilo!

“I’ve got snacks!”

Mikeys cheery voice cut through the racetrack of his thoughts, shepherding Leo’s attention back to the bustle and hum of the fuel depot. His younger brother was skipping towards him, boxes of ration bars and a few brightly colored bags filling his arms to near bursting. 

“The selections not that great,” Mikey continued, cheeks puffing in annoyance as he reached Leo, hopping comically on one leg as he fought to open the cargo hatch with his toes. “But I did manage to finagle two boxes of the better rations out of the shop keep, aaaaaand she even threw in some of those sweet sticks I like!”

“The ones dad banned you from having because of that time you were literally bouncing off the walls?” Leo teased, leaning casually against the ship’s hull as he flashed a smirk at his baby brother. “Force help us all.”

“Leeeeo!” Mikey whined, beak wrinkling in embarrassment as he scowled affronted at big brother. “I was six! Don’t be a jerk!”

“Hey, as the only other person stuck in an incredibly small ship with you for the foreseeable future, I think I have a right to be concerned!” Leo goaded, reaching out to casually flip the fuel valve off as the warning chime sounded. 

“Just for that, I’m gonna hide the good rations from you,” Mikey shot back as the hatch finally opened with a soft hiss. “You get the spinach and spiva protein flavors, while I get the strawberry and chocolate.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you got strawberry?!” Leo squawked, arms flailing as he spun around, feet briefly slipping on the steel grating. “Hand em over!”

“No!” Mikey jeered, sticking out his tongue as he shoved the boxes and bags into the hold.

“Miiiikey.”

“Who’s the funny one now Leon?!”

“Your face,” Leo muttered lamely, pursing his lips into an exaggerated pout as he disconnected the hose. He projected a cloak of sulky energy, shaking his head with covert fondness as Mikey crowed in triumph and bit into one of his sweet sticks. He could let his little brother think he’d won this round. At least one of them deserved to laugh through this.

He blinked, and the world fell away once more.

Crimson blades reflecting off obsidian armor. The wall crumbling under his shell, like wet tissue paper. Screams of anger and fear as the darkness closed in, air cut off as something heavy twisted his lungs…

“So!” Mikey’s voice snapped Leo back once more to the fluorescently lit present. The smaller turtle had ducked under the shuttle’s wing and now stood at his side, oblivious to Leo’s lapse in attention as he worked with way through his treat. “What do we do now?”

Leo quickly turned away, scowling at the fuel hose as he wound in back into the holder.

“What do you mean?” he asked, proud of how even his voice stayed as he worked to get his face back into a casual smile.

“I mean, we’ve covered step one, right? We’re far enough away from home that no one will recognize us. We’ve got a full tank of fuel and enough rations to last two weeks if we play things right. What’s step two? How are we going to get Raph and Donnie back?”

“First off, we are going not talking about things where anyone passing by could hear us,” Leo chided under his breath, turning back to Mikey with a roll of his eyes.

“There’s hardly anyone around!” Mikey protested.

“And there are even less people around in hyperspace,” Leo retorted, flicking his fingers in a dismissive shooing motion, “so go start the pre-flight checks so we can get out of here.”

“Ugh! Fine! Be that way,” Mikey groaned, stomping away towards the cockpit with an energy only the youngest member of a family could muster.

Leo watched him go, sucking in a subtle breath through his teeth once his sibling was safely ensconced within the metal walls of the ship. He let his body sag for a second, leaning his temple against the riveted metal. Exhaustion seemed to press in from every angle, cheerfully reminding him of how large his sleep debt had grown in the week since they’d left their home and their father behind. How many nights his insomnia kept him awake, listening to Mikey’s squeaky snores while his thoughts raced at double time. Hours spent staring out the view screen as stars blurred past, fighting to keep his gritty eyes open as incomprehensible nightmares hounded the darkness behind his eyelids. What little sleep he had found was haunted by his twins’ parting words, repeated over and over like a tattoo beaten into his brain.

Find me. I need you. Find me. I need you. Find me. I need you. Find me, find me, find me…

I’m coming. I swear.

“Cmon Leon,” he muttered, pushing himself upright, shaking out his sluggish limbs and angling body towards the hatch as the engines hummed to life. “You got this.”

“Good job on the pre-flight munchkin,” Leo called, plastering a bright grin as he sauntered through the door. “Now outa my chair.”

“Doesn’t have your name on it,” Mikey supplied the rote reply, fingers tapping a happy beat on the consul. “I can launch us.”

“Not on your life brat,” Leo answered as he shoved his brother out of the pilot’s seat, snickering at the indignant squawk that followed.

The controls were comforting weight in his palms as he smoothly guided the ship up and out of station, the restless need to move in his soul settling slightly as velvety folds of the cosmos greeted them once more.

“Can we talk about things now?!” Mikey asked peevishly, flopping into the copilot seat.

“Sure. We can talk. We can talk about the stars, or the latest holo’s. Or where you put those strawberry ration bars. Or-”

“Leeeeeeeo,” Mikey cut in, drawing his brother’s name out in a sing-song tone that barely covered the hard edge reflected in his smile. “What’s the plan? I know you have one, you always do.”

“Of course I have a plan,” Leo hedged, careful to keep his eyes forward and smile easy as Mikey eagerly leaned in towards him.

Perhaps “plan” was a generous way to describe the looped track of findthemfindthemfindthem that had dominated his mind from the moment he’d stormed away from their father, drowning in a hurricane of disbelief and fury. He could not remember where he’d gone to wait out the remainder of that day, or what he might have done. He could barely remember sneaking back into the house to fill a bag with clothes, food, and a few meaningful trinkets. The need to move, to do, to fix things had simply been to great for rational thought to penetrate.

Finding Mikey waiting by the shuttle that night had been like a bucket of ice water to the face, the tempest of his emotions spluttering under his baby brother’s boundless spirit and unyielding will. Every smile, laugh, and hug soothed the embers further, calming the storm enough for clearer thoughts to fill his sleepless nights. Thoughts that wasted little time in confirming just how supremely stupid he’d been acting. Donnie and Raph out matched them in both strength and training, and if their last meeting was any indication, neither was likely to be open to simply talking things through. Mikey’s force abilities were fledgling, and Leo’s were inconsistent and unstable at the best of times. Following his feelings would have led him straight into an early grave. and now it wasn’t just Leo’s shell on the line.

Leo could admit, if only to himself, that he was still flying utterly blind through this. He did not have a plan. No clear course to retrieving those they had lost. But Mikey didn’t need to know that. Leo was nothing if not a proficient performer. Short a plan, he reached for his next best skill, improvisation.

“We are never going to match the people who have Raph and Donnie as we are now. They've proven they can wipe the floor with us,” Leo started as he sat back in the pilot’s chair, idly scooping up a spare gasket to roll through his fingers as he stared hard out the view screen.  

“What’s this “with us”? I seem to recall only one of us getting their shell beat,” Mikey answered with a proud smirk, only to let out another squawk as the gasket nailed him between the eyes.

“As I was saying,” Leo grumbled, “If we want to stand a chance of saving our brothers, we need to get stronger. And to do that we'll need a proper teacher.”

“But who could do that?” Mikey questioned, absently chewing on his lower lip as he cocked his head in thought. “All the Jedi are dead.”

“Splinter survived with two kids in tow,” Leo countered, smiling his most confident smile as he piloted them away from the fuel station. “If he could do it, I am sure there had to have been others who got out and went to ground.”

“Yeah, but… finding a random Jedi hiding in the galaxy… isn’t that is like finding a needle hidden in an ocean of needles?”

“You’re right,” Leo acknowledged, thinking hard. “But we aren’t looking for any random Jedi. We… are… going to find Master Karai. She was Da-Splinters Master. If anyone survived the purge, it would be her, I know it. We just need to find her somehow.”

“Oh!” Mikey perked up, sparks dancing in his smile as he reached out and unsteadily called the holocron to him with a wave of his palm. “We can use dads holocron and the force to find her!”

“Huh?!”

“If she was dad’s master, then he must have gone a lot of places with her. Places she might have gone to hide when the temple was destroyed. If we use the force to look through the maps, maybe it will tell us which one.” Mikey reasoned, tongue poking out between his lips as he tossed the glowing cube between his palms.

“A nice thought, but that's not how the force works Mikey,” Leo declined with a shake of his head.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“How come?”

“It just…doesn’t?”

“That doesn’t sound like a good reason to not try. The recordings of Master Plo Koon said that the force is in everything.”

“It is, but it is not like my magic tricks Angelo. It can’t just make things appear,” Leo tried to explain, struggling to dig back into hazy memories of temple classrooms and supreme boredom. “They told us Jedi masters could use it to pick out individual force signatures in a crowd, but only if they were familiar with the person or knew what to look for. I mean, not even Grandmaster Yoda could find someone all the way across the galaxy!”

“Master Plo also said the force has a will of its own. What if the force wants us to find her?” Mikey countered, staring hard at the holocron before looking up at Leo with hope burning strong and bright. “It led Raph and Donnie to us, I know it. And, I don’t think it would have done that if it didn’t want us to help them. If finding Master Karai is what we need to do that, then I just…I have a feeling the force will steer us in the right direction.”

“Mike…”

“What do we lose by trying?” Mikey coaxed, holding out the holocron.

“It’s…yeah, okay. Sure. Knock yourself out,” Leo sighed, looking away with half shrug.

“We. We can knock ourselves out. Because we are going to do it together.”

“Uh, no we are not! Do I need to remind you of all the reasons why it would be really bad for me to try to use the force? Particularly in a tiny ship in the middle of outer space?!”

“I don’t remember her. Not like you do. And you were the one who just said that a Jedi needed to know the person they were looking for. You don’t have to do anything big, just try to focus on your memories of her. What did she look and sound like? How did she feel in the force? Tell me about it, and I’ll handle the razzmatazz side!”  

Maybe it was the sleepless nights, or the lack of better options no matter how hard he scoured his brain for one. Maybe it was that he had never developed a full proof defense against Mikey’s “please” face. Either way…

“Fiiiine,” he groaned, engaging the autopilot with a flick of his wrist before flopping back in his seat. “I want it on the record that I am humoring you, because there is no way that is going to work. And I am calling the right to rubbing it in when it doesn’t work.”

“And I will be happy to make you eat an “I told you so” sandwich when it totally does.” Mikey replied, beaming. “Now let’s do this!”

Leo reluctantly swiveled the pilot’s chair to face his brother, knocking their knees together. Mikey released the cube, the device opening as it rose to float between them.

“Man, this is stupid,” Leo muttered, begrudgingly holding his hands out, palms turned towards the cube as though warming them on the world’s worst campfire.

“You’re being stupid,” Mikey replied absently, copying Leo from the other side. “Stop complaining and tell me about Master Karai.”

“What’s there to say? She was a dedicated Jedi. She was awesome with lightsaber combat and could be strict when it came to training.”

“How did you meet her?” Mikey coaxed.

“She volunteered to take shifts in the creche whenever she rotated back to the temple,” Leo replied, taking a deep breath to steady himself before reaching back into cobweb covered memories. “She could be a bit awkward sometimes, but she…she cared.”

Leo smiled faintly, eyes slowly losing focus as his attention turned inward, mind wandering further down the paths of remembrance.

“She was loyal to the council, but she never really followed their stances on not forming attachments. Even though she wasn’t in the creche often, she was one of the few people who took the time to understand the four of us. Our personalities and what we needed as individuals. You used to spend time between her visits drawing her all kinds of pictures, then you’d make her sit down and go through each and everyone of them. She’d give you her full attention, every time.”

“She sounds nice,” Mikey murmured, eyes falling to half-mast as he tried to reach for that fickle feeling of the force inside of him.

“She was one of the few that had the patience to understand Donnie, to see him for the genius he was. She never scolded him for things he couldn’t control. She tried to learn what set him off, and tried to get things that would help him cope when I wasn’t there, even though it was against the rules. And she was always there as a listening ear for Raphie. He always looked out for us, but Karai was the one he went to most with his problems. She could always tell when he was getting upset, and she’d take him somewhere to let him blow off steam.”

“And what about you?” Mikey mumbled, closing his eyes fully as something warm bloomed in his chest. Something that crackled like the brightest bonfire, filled him from head to toe with warmth. It swirled in his veins, happy to dance, happy to be, yet unhappy to be so alone. It stretched instinctively towards a distant, cloudy aura, a weak glimmer of deep blue lightning flavored with ozone and storm winds. Seeking, searching.

“She got me,” Leo trailed off.

Lightning blue flinched, shying away as the golden fire prodded it.

“What did she look like? What did she feel like? Do you remember?” Mikey mumbled, fire following some unspoken instinct to keep going. Between them the holocron began to rapidly cycle through maps.  

“She was about my current height. Long black hair. She liked to wear two strands down by her face with the rest pulled back. Light skin, black eyes. She liked to wear long green robes while at the temple, and we used to love to pretend to hide in them. She was…she felt like your favorite blanket after a day in the cold, or my favorite cup of tea. Soft and reliable, and safe…”

Fire hummed. Lightning sparked, finding that tiny, barely mended gap.  

“She made us feel safe.”

For a moment, lightning touched fire. Something snagged, a loop of thread pulling tight. Mikey snapped his hands closed, holding onto it with everything he had. The holocron went still, washing the cockpit with a triumphant glow as it presented the chosen map.

“Omigosh it worked!” Mikey cheered, eyes snapping open to eagerly take in their new destination. They had done it! He had done it!

“Take that Le…Leo?”

His older brother was pale, beak scrunched and shoulders faintly trembling with pain as they curled inward. One hand covered his eyes, fingers digging deep into the sockets as the other hand clutched his chest. Sharp breaths whistled between clenched teeth as a slick of dark red rolled steadily from his nose. The impression of wind and ozone quickly fading away as Mikey scrambled out of his seat.

“Shell Lee, I’m so sorry! What can I do?!”

“It’s fine,” Leo mumbled, leaning away from Mikey as he pulled himself upright. Enthusiasm for their accomplishment fizzled out like a dying sparkler as Mikey watched, chewing anxiously on his cheek as he frantically ran through a check list of this brother’s symptoms.

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Is anything numb? What’s your full name? Where are we? Who is the-“

“Whoa Angelo! Slow down. Kinda to the first, meh on the second, no on the third, and I don’t need a concussion check. It’s the usual stuff. Mainly just a headache.”

“You sure? The way you’re holding your chest-”

“Yes, I’m sure. Relax Angie, or you’ll start getting wrinkles to rival Splinter.”

The balm of relief coated his nerves as Leo relaxed back into his seat, expression shifting from a pained grimace to an indolent grin as he casually wiped his face with the back of one hand.

“Plus, I didn’t blow anything up this time, so score me some bonus points!”

Mikey huffed, gently shoving at his older brothers’ shoulder before pushing himself back to his feet. Headaches weren’t new. Headaches they could handle.

“Do you want a stim shot?” he asked, glancing at the ship’s small med kit.

“Nah,” Leo denied with a dismissive wave. “We’re better off saving supplies, just in case. I’ll just nap it off once we set coordinates for… the Yakai system?”

“Yeah, that’s what the holocron landed on! Do you know it?” Mikey inquired, leaning in to admire the holomap that still floated between their seats.

“No but look at it Mikey. There’s nothing there. Just an asteroid belt and some low-grade planets.”

“Sounds like the perfect place for a Jedi to hide out!”

“Low-grade means no organic life dumb dumb. Nothing lives there.”

“But there isn’t any harm in going to look!” Mikey rejoined, straining to lean across his brother towards the autopilot.

“Ack! Mik-sto-getoff! We aren’t wasting the fuel.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Mikey chirped, beaming as consul chirped to indicate the successful input of the coordinates.”

“Ohmi-”

“Lets just go and have a quick look! If we don’t find anything we’ll do things your way from there. Unless you’re scared to admit I could be right…”

“…Fine. But not only do I get to rub your face in it for eternity, you’ll owe me. Whatever I want, whenever I want it.”

“I can’t wait. Now go lay down. Autopilot says six hours till we reach Yakai.”

Leo whined and grumbled as he was prodded out of the pilot’s chair, dragging his feet as Mikey herded him to one of the benches.

“You nap, I’ll fly.” He insisted, pretending to ignore the dark bags gathered beneath his brothers’ eyes when he pulled off the blue mask.

“It’s not flying if the autopilot’s engaged,” Leo sniped petulantly, laying back reluctantly when Mikey pushed on his plastron.

“Whatever you say. Nighty night bro!”

[mulderscully]

“He tells me that he absolutely, 100%, loves Rose. And that he loves me. He tells me how my daughter - my wonderful, beautiful, clever, little girl - saved him from himself before. And he says that’s all because of me. Because I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”  — DOCTOR WHO: FLIGHT INTO HULL (2018)